The majority of critics having jadedly brushed them aside as a histrionic, pretentious bunch of Joy Division “wanabees” riding merely on the image of a beautiful bass player, tonight’s showcase for the new ‘I to Sky’ album sends out a resounding and somewhat thrillingly defiant message that they’re ready to go it alone down the increasingly well-trodden path of the gloriously misunderstood.
In the light of this potent opera of youthful exuberance, what can immediately be deciphered is the fact that 2000's eponymously titled album was merely adequate in introducing us to the musical potential of the dissenting and precocious choir boy at its helm. The songs from ‘JJ72’, when performed here tonight, although still at times undeniably enthralling and affecting, ultimately serve to represent the road to a far more complex output. ‘Long Way South’ the quintessence in rage of this general precariousness of fragmented brilliance, the new songs in contrast shimmerer with an assurance of form and substance, a new precision of melody knitting through them like a golden thread.
Opener ‘City’ enshrouds the audience with a brooding maturity in controlled aggression that sets a perfect tone. Having the sort of bleak shimmer that Joy Division themselves would have been proud of, it instantly underlines how much JJ72 have progressed since the drum machine of the aforementioned ‘Long Way South’ was lifted straight from one of their songs to form the integral part. Similarly ‘Formulae’ is a nugget of eloquently expressed frustration - a million miles away from the music by-numbers it comes across as on the screens of MTV2, it connects with the old faithful at the front like a twin brother of greatest hit ‘Oxygen’, soothingly providing the link to what could have been a perilous journey to greater artistic depths.
In ‘Brother Sleep’ Greaney seems to have found new melodic pastures in which his burgeoning poetry can take on lush new depth. Creeping along with a tangibly immensity, it chills the audience into an awed silence and immures them in its dark beauty. Following this, and touching upon a more ornate guitar scope that matches anything thrown up by the innovations of another Greaney passion, The Smashing Pumpkins, the rumbling poetic feel and artistic austerity of ‘7th Wave’ evokes personal associations with the early films of Fellini and Pasolini, a dark landscape slowly coming to life with sultry and earnest fervour. ‘Sinking’ – a gripping rumination on its title subject – is an equally intricate rock monument elegantly carved.
Another dimension is given in a series of perfectly formed love songs to which Greaney’s sumptuous falsetto give an air of sweeping magnificence. ‘I Saw a Prayer’, the beautifully zealous ode 'Always and Forever' and the glittering ‘Half Three’ towards the end provide an uplifting tenderness that assures the audience leave for home beckoning further aural assault. The much debated significance of model bassist Hillary Woods made to seem foolish by the music, the spotlight inevitably falls on Greaney. Utterly free of the baser pretensions accorded him, tonight he resounds with a talent to be savoured. Right down to the artwork on the new album it seems he’s putting more if not all emphasis on this controlled, artistic, poetic nuance – tempering his rage in order to fulfil his artistic dreams, and the live performance is no different. Far too subtle to become a rock monster, a talent that propels his music to the farest reaches deserves a broader critical audience.
