Scala is their “welcome party”.
Words: Ned Botwood Smith
It’s only two minutes into their set – after an exodus of gig-goers from Scala’s cavernous smoking area into its attic venue, and the bridge of opener ‘Memo’ is building to a climax – when the first piece of lingerie lands on the stage. Frontman Ed Vyvyan hangs it on his microphone with a seasoned nonchalance. “We’re House of Lions and w—” is choked by a roar of approval. Business as usual for the Camden five-piece.
“Should we be bitter? Women never pelt us with underwear until we’re on a stage.” It’s a week later, and they’re reminiscing in the band flat. It’s a noisy evening. Someone’s broken the light, and their smoky apartment is red-lit by the traffic on the high street. “They didn’t stop there man, I was frightened. There were enough offerings on stage to clothe our bassist properly.”
Enter the bassist, confused. Will has just returned from a day of doorstep charity work. This occupation doesn’t surprise me; he’s charming. They’re all charming and effortlessly articulate. Reclined on their raggedy sofa, they look as if they belong to five distinct film genres, if not beautifully stylised ones. “It’s our musical backgrounds, isn’t it” observes Will, who has taken a seat. Will is to New Wave as drummer Jake is to R&B, and guitarists Tom and Dougal are to AOR. While the band are unmistakably in the post-Foals tradition of math rock, their tastes, evidenced in their mismatched instrumental styles, culminate in something far fuller sonically. And crucially, more human. Ed’s choral background allows him to sing with an impressive range of expression without ever moving off-key.
Scala has been the best showcase as of yet for the band’s dynamism. Having played gigs together since they were barely pubescent, their setlist is a polished record of their musical progression, united by Tom’s distinctive staccato riffs and their bold bridge-sections. ‘Memo’ was always energetic but, thanks to the mentorship of producer George Apsion, its new incarnation can only be described as triumphant. While Ed’s voice has retained its characteristic warmth it is noticeably raspier than it once was on the track ‘Nobody’s Watching’. This is cultivated, in part, by a long-term smoking habit but it mainly feels like a symptom of the new, more experienced House of Lions. You can no longer apply the word “sweet” to ‘On My Own’s’ pleading three-part-harmonies —there’s a conscious sexual frisson in the growl of its verses. Were this to affect Ed’s voice by the end of the set, there would be no cause for alarm. By the time they reach the piano outro of ‘Closer’, the singer can take a step back — there are two hundred-odd others to do his job for him.
It’s a testament to House of Lions and their committed fan base that a supporting band, in an evening of performances including DJ sets from Bloc Party and Alt-J, they should be the most attended act. Scala is their “welcome party”.
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