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< Enter Shikari
words by Kate Hutchinson
pics by
Unless your head has been buried in Country Living for the past four months you’d know that Enter Shikari were the second unsigned band to sell out throne of rock, Hammersmith Palais. Expectations are always flying high for their shows and so too are the glowsticks. The historic venue is swamped with pre-pubescent teens lit up like Christmas trees, frantically waving flashing lights and balloons around to the ‘Now Dance ’92’ soundtrack. Like their fans, the four screamo ravers do their best throughout their frenzied performance to prove that they really are ‘mad fer it’. Doomy hard dance booms over the speakers to signify their entrance as they bound onstage, flickering rings and sunglasses in tow. They leer wildly at the audience like Bez imitators, the drums taunting and cymbals simmering until vocalist Rou’s screech of “Shiiit!” launches grinding guitar crunches and blow torch-like bass rumbles.
Their confidence is striking. From early statements like, “Lock up your daughters, your mother, your grandmas and cats: we’re Enter Shikari,” to later anecdotes about safe sex cartoon Johnny Sniper, they know exactly how to maintain memento, yo-yoing the tone to keep their set, as well as the crowd, bouncing.
However, for a band that is hailed as a torch holder of the DIY hardcore scene on these shores, their enthusiasm is as laughable as a Hasslehoff calendar. The appearance of a large cardboard smiley mask with flowers for eyes is not the only thing that warrants a cringe. Ministry of Sound-sourced synths weave between grim beatdowns one minute, then fade out like an indie pop song the next. Rasping growls pivoting on banal lyrics (“We’ll break the walls” and other gang vocal-inspiring elegies) rouse thrusting fists, but bassist Chris’s warbling counter vocals instead channel Will Young, projecting his public schoolboy choir chirrups over the brutal aural tapestry. ‘Anything Can Happen In The Next Half Hour’ bumps up the bass drum and the dance parts give them that oh-so-desirable Linkin Park edge, but it’s the high energy rave interludes that get the most whoops and cheers.
After a short sonic pummelling, Enter Shikari move onto fresher material. Their first offering, ‘No Sweat’, tops high school politics off with classic hardcore group chants, but the try-hard seriousness of the song is demolished by the last line, to the effect of “I’ll bite your fucking fingers off.” It can’t quite match the following ballad though. Guitarist Rory swaps his axe for an electro-acoustic and sways along to some genuinely stunning harmonies, but whatever this lighthearted, pretty little ditty’s intentions, it indicates a turn for the commercial. It’s a direction far from the band’s roots of metal and early heavy dance music; it’s a Million Dead ‘slow one’ stripped of all its grit, with angelic choral effects rising in the background and a twinkling melody; it’s all U2 and no balls, well, until the final bars where the band tries to redeem themselves by amping up and screaming incessantly.
Redemption proves unsuccessful too. After an intermission where hyperactive drummer Rob comes to the front of the stage to flaunt his see-through Bring Me The Horizon-styled long shorts and (unfortunately) self-styled dance moves, the raconteurs break into former single ‘Sorry You’re Not A Winner’. What starts with good intentions as a forward-thinking assault on the ears then tries to fizzle them with its chop-happy tempos and haphazard synthesizer.
In the current neon climate Enter Shikari are destined for greatness and despite their weak musical ability tonight they are truly worthy of their success. They fashioned their unique style long before ‘new rave’ ever broke into Topshop and have secured their legions of fans through relentless touring. It’s just a shame that despite their aggressive armour this metal and dance crossover outfit is tonight little more than McFly in fluoro.
Originally appeared in volume 1, issue 21 of Loud & Quiet magazine
