Raw Power: LUH live in Kingston

Deafeningly loud at times, LUH created an arousing cacophony of crashing cymbals; rumbling sub-bass; industrial guitars; and shimmering synthesisers. The likes of “Lost Under Heaven” and “Beneath The Concrete” were pure rushes of anthemic, aural adrenaline. Both turbo-charged and laced with distortion to create a monstrous roar, they benefitted greatly within the live environment. “Beneath The Concrete”’s tribal drums for example, were played with such force that one could be fooled into thinking that Immortan Joe’s feral marching band from Mad Max: Fury Road had pulled up inside the venue.

Yet, comparable to one’s first listen of LUH’s debut record, so much power can be bewildering. The so-called “party-song” (as described by the band themselves), “$oro” proved to be the set’s most divisive moment. Flexing their sonic musculature to full capacity, “$oro”’s rave synths and pulverising Gabber coda, arguably, left some of the Kingston audience bemused, while others shook frantically to its intense pulses of white noise and punishing beats. If anything, LUH themselves also appeared to struggle to know what to do when the beat counter approached the two-hundred mark.

Although LUH succeeded for the most part in recreating the widescreen arrangements and dense production (courtesy of The Haxan Cloak) found on Spiritual Songs For Lovers To Sing, “Loyalty”, bereft of its charming cellos, highlighted an apparent room for greater ambition within the live setting. Whilst MIDI controllers can provide an array of samples, they lack the sonic dynamism and aesthetic pleasures of live instrumentation. Thus, the addition of a small orchestral section analogous to These New Puritans’ early live representations of Hidden, for example, may give LUH a small push from greatness to the truly sublime.

There was an undeniable chemistry present between Ebony Hoorn and Ellery James Roberts, as the pair shared a number of tender glances across the small Hippodrome stage. This tangible connection acted as form of covalent bond that successfully aided in bringing to life the grand, escapist tales found on Spiritual Songs For Lovers To Sing.

If LUH is the absolute product of this remarkable creative bond, then Hoorn and Roberts are the elements of this unpredictable molecule, each with their own distinct properties and characteristics. Hoorn, who had not performed live music prior to LUH’s debut shows in March, showcased an innate confidence, which for the most part matched Roberts’ cocksure swagger. Her vocals ranged from playing foil to Roberts’ larynx-shredded calls in “I&I”; to angelic falsettos on a reworked “First Eye To The New Sky”; to finally spitting defiant and venomous rhetoric throughout the likes of “$oro” and “Lament”.

Whilst Hoorn directed much of her performance to the small but appreciative audience, Roberts appeared a man possessed, wildly strumming his guitar with heady abandon. With his eyes rolling to the back of his head on several occasions, his performance was purely visceral and arguably, for Roberts himself, spiritual. Filling the cavernous three storey-venue, his reverb-laden vocal was a marvel to behold during the likes of “Loyalty”, “Unites” and a brief, one-line snippet of “Here Our Moment Ends”. With its beautiful gruffness underpinned by a purely guttural howl, his vocal ultimately proved to be LUH’s most disarming weapon in the live setting.

There was an exhilarating raw energy to LUH’s live show. The set was by no means perfect, with errors creeping in at several points, but their skyward songwriting and brute strength were enough to dazzle and delight. With minimal modification, these could be spiritual songs for thousands to sing.