So
I saw Deus perform in Islington last night. For me, Deus's first
album Worst Case Scenario is the art rock album of the last two
decades, so the chance to see them almost warranted being called an
Event. (Of course, if I were writing this blog in the seventeen
hundreds that'd be nothing special, since writers like Jonathan Swift
capitalised most nouns.) If I'd had a philosopher's stone to
transform the anticipation I felt for this gig into physical
form, it'd have had a mass so dense objects would've gravitated
toward it. Did the concert measure up? No, since Deus had the
unerring wisdom to choose the worst songs in their catalogue, in
spite of an obvious capacity to be awesome. If you’re a band that
has founded its reputation on rock jams coupled with
stream-of-consciousness lyrics, it don’t make sense to perform the
ballads from your last two mediocre albums. Nonetheless, Deus
proceeded to do this.
On
the odd occasion that Deus broke out tracks from their first records,
things came alive. Each of the members of Deus is a titan,
breaking six feet with no trouble, and exuding Gaelic cool. If an
eccentric millionaire decided to create sculptures modelled
on guitar bands, he’d do worse than picking Deus for his
models. In short, the band had serious presence, meaning the moment
it broke out Instant Street from The Ideal Crash or, even better,
Morticiachair from Worst Case Scenario, the audience went nuts. In terms of visuals too, Deus put on a minimal but impressive light show. The band placed spotlights behind and on top of them,
shrouding them in darkness and smoke,
enabling them to look extra iconic
while firing off guitar solos and
screaming cryptic nonsense into the mics. It’d
have been great, and could have rivalled the best gigs I’ve
been to, if just the band had picked some stronger songs.
