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JJ72
The Grapes, Sheffield
4/5
Sorry, but this is serious. JJ72's arrival onstage should not be announced by a beery round of applause, but by a minute's silence. In seems inappropriate to whoop and whistle when death is hovering so magnificently in the air.
Mark Greaney has not a crumb of rock star pretentiousness in his soul. He merely plays his guitar, flicks his eyes from side to side and lets his impossibly beautiful, tremulous voice fill the room. The three of them are crammed together on the stage by necessity, but they must be close to create such powerful chemistry.
"Surrender" is at once a fragile tremble and a sumptuous stride, hinting at the ostentatious misery of Pearl Jam's "Alive", but only hinting. All the songs are incredibly subtle, keeping them out of the Gothic woods and always on the brink. The band are approaching adulthood, but their music is always approaching a rapturous end. Mark's voice is unearthly. Hillary's bass lines and Feargal's drum beats relentless. It's both sides of everything - delicate, forceful, gentle and damaging. The images are common, but "Undercover Angel" sounds like the first time anyone ever looked at another person and went "Fuck, you cannot be from this planet." Endings slip quietly away, verses suffer, choruses have their head on their block. "Oxygen" draws you in until you open your eyes and you're 50 feet up with only one note holding you there.
But it's "Bumble Bee" that throws you, as you think you might come out of this alive. Mark's voice is so riveting that when he and the song pause, it's like the missed breath that means life has left the body. Tears come to my eyes. It's wonderful. You could die in the arms of this music.
Sarah Bee.