Live Review: Ngaiire Northcote Social Club Giuliano Ferla

Ella Thompson, our first act, croons. Thompson and her guitar accompanist sound like a younger Beach House. Her voice is powerful and the guitar is layered and wet with reverb. Together they hold court as the audience quietly drifts in.

Yeo is next. The pop-electronica songs are infectious. The arrangements are full and intricate even though there are only two people onstage – Yeo and his drummer. The majority of the instrumentation is pre-programmed from Yeo's laptop. The hooky, feverish dance music gets the crowd moving and Yeo interacts with the audience in a disarmingly genuine way, but the heavy reliance on his laptop prompts a question: how much pre-programmed music can you use in a live set before it's not a live set anymore? Nevertheless, Yeo is a very gifted multi-instrumentalist and songwriter. 

The balance of whim and calculation is better demonstrated as Ngaiire and band take the stage. A sample from Kanye West's Black Skinhead blares as drummer Evan Manell cues it from his sample pad. Manell then starts improvising rhythms with the sample, tapping away and turning something pre-recorded into a new instrument for the live setting. Ngaiire, wearing a black-feathered headdress and mile-wide smile, steps on. She is chanteuse-like, a costumed eagle energetically engaging, connecting and captivating. The songs pound and heave through complex progressions as Ngaiire's voice arpeggiates, distends and proclaims. Manell and bassist Tim Curnick have a palpable connection as they slide, groove and play together. Niall Anderson on keys seems to be Ngaiire's emotional anchor as she and he link together for the ballad ABCD. There is no chatter. The crowd is focused as Ngaiire sings. Uranus is the standout song for the night, wild and much more dangerous live that in it is on the album. And the same goes for the closer Dirty Hercules. As a live band, they spiral and have a raw excitement that isn't there on record. But maybe that's the point.