The xx - Live at Tripod
Notes are botched here and there but it’s perfectly befitting of the uncomfortable dynamic.
Celina Murphy, 21 Dec 2009
Low key from the glum expressions to the near matching get-ups (they are head to toe in black, naturally), the XX appear on stage at Tripod to a rowdy audience. Or perhaps it just seems that way because the happily awkward trio are the least rowdy outfit this joint’s ever seen.
It’s a different set-up to the one we loved at the Electric Picnic; percussionist and producer Jamie Smith has taken on ex-member Baria Qureshi’s weight, now balancing drumming, loops, and keyboard duties. But fear not; the Londoner’s understated beats are still every bit as potent as the smites of the best power drummer.
While not staying entirely true to the album’s running order, ‘Crystalised’ and ‘Islands’ appear early in the set as they do on record, while ‘Shelter’ and ‘Infinity’ make for a glorious double-header of dream-pop. We’re also treated to two covers, a stripped back version of “R’n’B princess” (cheers, Wikipedia) Kyla’s ‘Do You Mind’ and the 80s-tastic 'Teardrops' by Womack & Womack, which has been transformed into a chimey electronic tragedy.
Tales of agony, longing and obsession abound (growing pains are clearly the order of the day) but the crowd boasts more than a few salt and pepper heads. The XX seem to have nailed that coy naivety that strikes a chord with anyone who’s ever found themselves saying ‘Please don’t say we’re done/When I’m not finished’.
Po faces aside, there’s a distinctly warm feeling coming from these cold young things and there’s something wonderfully odd about a sound in which Chris Isaak’s ‘Wicked Game’ is as palpable as The Cure. Countless influences are present but the XX are not a “kitchen sink” band - they’ve left space in all the right places.
20-year old vocalists Oliver Sim and Romy Madley-Croft grew up together and it shows. "We learned to speak together,” Sim has said and they've rarely gone it alone since. Tonight, crucially, the non-couple’s twin voices sound every bit as emotional as they do on record, if a little more expressive. Notes are botched here and there but it’s perfectly befitting of the uncomfortable dynamic. In a way, what we’re witnessing is effortless.
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