Live Review: Mount Kimbie, KUČKA, Christopher Port

12 March 2018 | 9:45 am | Matt MacMaster

"It's been a weird ride, with plenty of acclaim, but even now it still feels like there's something scratching at their skin from the inside."

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Four albums in and Dominic Maker and Kai Campos aka Mount Kimbie have evolved from clear-eyed students of dubstep's fringe to fidgety post-punk expressionists. It's been a weird ride, with plenty of acclaim, but even now it still feels like there's something scratching at their skin from the inside. They're not done flexing yet.

Playing a short set for Taronga Zoo's Twilight At Taronga series, the Brighton duo brought along two more members and a full kit, and whilst the show was perhaps missing a solid centre, they still gave us a decent sense of where they're at. Their older tunes sounded good, but songs from their recent output sounded far better, far more urgent and their rough edges gave them a nebulous appeal that was hard to pin down.

Melbourne producer Christopher Port was a good start. The giraffes seemed to be cool with it, seen in graceful silhouette under a pink evening sky. His warm Burial-influenced arrangements floated over the enclosures, welcoming us as we made our way down the curving ramps of the zoo. He owes a lot to the aforementioned elusive English musician (what serious electronic artist doesn't, post-Untrue), but his gentle, glitchy take on house and footwork was also definitely his own, with several passages making a strong impression.

Future pop wunderkind KUČKA was a quiet revelation. Her natural vocal talent is astonishing and, as well as her uncanny ability to hit pitch with laser precision, she's able to control intonation like a seasoned pro, successfully mining simple melodies for gold. She sounded like a younger bubblegum version of Jessie Ware and although her DIY bedroom R&B set was short on diversity, her voice carried the slack.

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Mount Kimbie's recent turn towards analogue noise translated well onto an outdoor stage. Opening with Four Years And One Day, the brittle compressed bassline and sketchy kit work was in stark contrast to later numbers from their smoky debut, Crooks And Lovers. Controlling live samples and replicating ticks and skips wasn't an issue, resulting in an organic, free-flowing show, smothering the paranoia and anxiety lurking in their recorded catalogue. Their animal puns were hit and miss (we'd be lion if we said otherwise…) and their banter was perfunctory, but ultimately the show was a fine demonstration of their current trajectory. If they were to drop their pads and stick to post punk I think we'd be totally okay with that.