Their appearance is captivating enough; they look like a Black Sabbath tribute group lifted straight out of the 70s. Their black locks cover their faces, drooping down below their waists. Some members wear male Kimono-like garments.
I would label their demonic, innovative style as goth/psychedelic/punk/death/whathaveyou with the key underlying motif to deafen their onlookers. Sonically, their set encapsulates post-rock-esque riffage, heavy metallic chords, a prevalent grunge-tinged funk bass aspect (this stands out in the 8-minute 'Kage'), swathes of reverb and maniacal disintegrations. Indeed the latter are rife, and the epitome comes in the closer (God knows what it was called) in which the drummer stands, thwacks his kit at 1000s of bpm, bassist/vocalist Taigen circles his guitar around his head like a deranged baseball player, another guitarist flails his guitar lead, it all culminating in the band wilting and melting into the stage. Top class entertainment, I'd say.
All this abrasion is in stark contrast to their grateful crowd communications interspersed throughout the set: 'Thank yooo', they coo repeatedly.
9/10
This time they are bear-less, but just as momentous. A huge screen displays visuals throughout and once again, flags are hung, twigs are stacked on Marshalls and entwined round microphones. Black and white footage plays on the backdrop and a multi-coloured horse mystically spins (the same horse as on the recent album sleeve). The six members subsequently traipse on stage to a near full-house, and begin what will be a retrospective, career-encompassing set.
They open with the blaring 'Who's in Control', the rampant intro off Valhalla Dancehall, immediately drawing us in. What with the crowd comprising many students, and this of course being the protest-hub that is Cambridge, lines like 'I wish protesting was sexy on a Saturday night' seem rather appropriate.
From then on we get the best of The Decline of..., 'Carrion', 'Fear of Drowning', 'Something Wicked' and 'Do You Remember?' sounding as sprightly as ever, Noble's fierce energy on lead guitar permeating the lot. Open Season is represented via its mellower moments, 'The Land Beyond' and 'Oh Larsen B', the latter a global warming plea that eschews politics and exudes humour: Larsen B is lead singer Yan's 'favourite coastal antarctic shelf' apparently.
BSP are always criticised for not interacting with the crowd enough. But tonight they refute the allegations. Noble dangles his microphone in the mosh pit on occasion, new violist Abi provokes handclapping and the majority of setlist includes chants that directly involve the audience. New song 'Luna' is a triumphal example- 'So go forth Luna, go forth' - as is 'No Lucifer' - simply, and hooliganisticly 'easy! easy! easy! easy!'.
The highlight comes in 'The Great Skua'. In one word you could describe it as 'epic'. There is no other way to do it. Its post-rock-lite ascension of whooshing guitars fits the celestial movie backdrop of flying puffins like a key in a lock. Stunning.
There are some lulls, however. New electronics pervade on a few older songs and dampen their usual raw aesthetic, and newbie 'Mongk II' doesn't work as well in the flesh as it does on record. But as an overall performance, it seems BSP are still on superfine form. Closing with their 2005 breakthrough, 'It Ended on an Oily Stage', they assert their new position as a national institution, no longer some obscure, nature-obsessed niche.
9/10
