Elbows, feet, flying pints, killer guitars

And So I Watch You From Afar are living in the present with their searing new album and uplifting live shows

And So I Watch You From Afar soundchecking before their explosive Whelan’s show. Photograph: Brenda Fitzsimons
And So I Watch You From Afar soundchecking before their explosive Whelan’s show. Photograph: Brenda Fitzsimons

And So I Watch you From Afar
Whelan's, Dublin
*****
All Hail Bright Futures:
the message in the title of And So I Watch You From Afar's latest album is impossibly positive. And it's that ethos that the Belfast band brings to Whelan's for the first of two nights. The tracks from the new record ping throughout the venue, air steaming with sweat. By the time Seven Billion People All Alive At Once comes along, the meditative aspect central to ASIWYFA's music takes hold. Search: Party: Animal , Set Guitars To Kill and A Little Bit Of Solidarity Goes Along Way are as transformative as ever, transferring the euphoria between guitar licks into the mosh pit as elbows are used as protectors against fans flying across the floor.

Wrists are strengthened for crowd surfers overhead. The top third of pints aren’t safe. The added vocals ASIWYFA have on the new record are bellowed: “The sun, the sun, the sun, is in our eyes . . . ”

If it's at all imaginable, ASIWYFA are tighter than ever. Niall Kennedy has strengthened his position on guitar in a majestic manner, matching Rory Friers head-shaking lust for intricacy. Johnny Adger is stoic as the bass-playing central figure, and Chris Wee's drumming pummels all the way to the core of a largely instrumental sound that revs with whiplash-inducing velocity.

It’s strange that a band known for their loudness actually reach their most euphoric moments in the more pensive moments. As quiet riffs are plucked out and cymbals lightly touched, the crowd is on the edge of a precipice. Below this edge, amps buzz and kickdrums are belted. But just before that, there’s a sense of falling, diving into a sound that’s almost galactic, frozen in space and time.

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Then they take off. As Friers and Kennedy are crowdsurfed back to the stage while still playing The Voiceless , hands reach for them and for the ceiling. There is a real sense that yes, as their song puts it, A Little Bit o f Solidarity Goes a Long Way . Men and women our held aloft, feet kick heads, pints fly, but no one cares, lost in music, lost in time. All hail bright futures? Why not, when the present is this good?