Crazy in the Coconut: The Avalanches, Live in London

23 June 2017, 15:12 | Written by Adam Elmahdi

(Live)

(The Avalanches)

If someone had told me a couple of years back I would be watching an Avalanches gig in the year 2017, I might have accused them of imbibing too much Four-X. The Aussies' critically-acclaimed debut Since I Left You came into the world at the dawn of the millennium, but despite a myriad tantalising rumours and false promises, their follow-up seemed fated to become the Chinese Democracy of Antipodean sample-based electronica - an album that, if it did ever emerge from its decade-long gestation, was destined to be a crushing disappointment.

Thankfully, Robbie Chater and crew share little in common with Axl Rose, and though children born at the time of the first album are now able to marry and drive around in their L-plated Corsas, Wildflower finally bloomed into the world last year. Its troubled genesis, incorporating acrimonious departures, substance abuse and a Brian Wilson-esque obsession with sonic tinkering may have been described as "seven shades of shit" by the band, but the album proved a good 'un, delivering enough off-kilter summertime jams for most to forgive the sixteen years of waiting. Yet one had to wonder - how would it translate live? Well, on the basis of tonight, the answer is: pretty damn well.

The remaining original Avalanchers (Chater and Tony Di Blasi) seem content to leave the majority of audience engagement to two new recruits: Baltimore rapper Naeem "Spank Rock" Juwan and Australian singer Eliza Wolfgramm. Similar to live hip-hop shows, they hold the dual role of hyping up the audience and providing some depth to the otherwise pre-recorded vocals, and they happily fulfil both aspects with electrifying vitality. "Frankie Sinatra", a perky, if slightly irritating, earworm is transformed into a live juggernaut thanks to Juwan's playful energy and powerhouse drumming from Paris Jeffree; an unexpected cover of The Clash's "Guns of Brixton" sees Wolfgramm twirl a baseball bat with the swaggering menace of Gang of Four's Andy Gill.

There are a couple of mis-steps. Truncating their quirkiest, greatest hit, "Frontier Psychiatrist", is a peculiar choice, though mashing it up with Nina Simone's take on "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood" and the Rolling Stones' "My Generation" was an inventive touch. It's also one of the songs they're clearly not sure how to effectively perform live, with the most of the heavy lifting left to its - admittedly brilliant - music video. The brevity of the set might also raise a few eyebrows, with twelve songs (two of which are covers) performed in total, resulting in a headline set that barely hits the hour mark.

But as I glance around the venue, watching 2,000 sweat-drenched people, arms aloft, singing with various levels of skill to all-time summer classic "Since I Left You", it strikes me that you wouldn't have to be crazy in the coconut to realise that despite their flaws, the suffocating humidity and the consistently dodgy acoustics of the Kentish Town Forum, this is a show we're pretty lucky to be experiencing. Let's hope it's not another sixteen years until the next time.