Justice at Birmingham Academy

Justice are like an act cobbled together by people keen to give music journalists an easy life. Whether it's the ease of comparing them to that other French electronic music duo, the gift of the heavy metal cross imagery, or the Genesis T-shirt in the On'n'On video making every reviewer bring up prog, there's a lot to write about. This obviousness translates to their music; whilst not quite reaching Skrillex levels of insulting simplicity (I picture him as a frenetic version of Ross Geller playing the keyboard - which someone else has OBVIOUSLY already created) the continuous womp-womp bass and guitar sound hardly carries the complexity of the prog that these people seem to think runs through their sound.

This point is where the Catch-22 of the successful electronic music act arises. Club music is about never, under any circumstances, stopping the party. However much DJs talk about building a vibe and changing the mood throughout their set, it isn't the same as a concert band with hits at the beginning and the end, banter with the audience, and breaks between songs. This works so well in a club because there is a culture of taking a break whenever you like, for as long as you like, and expecting to be able to return to the party much as you left it. With strict curfews and horrific bar queues, this culture doesn't exist in concert venues. At times Justice got repetitive and dull, yet it felt sacrilegious to take a break from the set in a way it never would in a club.

Still, you can't begrudge their success, and it was the components of this success, the standout hits from the debut and new album, that made this an enjoyable night. Genesis is still the best opening music for any act ever. The Party, Waters of Nazareth, DVNO, and D.AN.C.E. are incredible. On'n'On is a great addition. The highlight of the night was where they held the part in Waters of Nazareth where all the sound drops out for absolutely ages, with the lights ups, before letting loose the vocal from the We Are Your Friends remis that launched their careers. Even though it was a party that ended at 10:30, it was still a party.

Two Door Cinema Club at Birmingham Academy

There was some fitting St Patrick’s Day fare from Northern Ireland’s Two Door Cinema Club at Academy 3 last night and, even though most of the audience looked too young to have been on the Guinness, they weren’t acting like it. There is little adoration as powerful as the adoration of 16 year-olds for their favourite band, but over some serious handclaps and word-perfect singalongs it sounded like this lot might have made a poor choice when preparing their tunes for time on the road.

Birmingham is hardly known for great audiences at gigs, but a new generation in the surprisingly well lit Academy 3 suggest that the future might be different. Bouncing from the opener, singing throughout most recent single ‘Undercover Martyn’ and hardly stopping for breath until the encore, the atmosphere was frenetic. An especially energetic welcome was reserved for ‘What You Know’, yet to be released but all over the Hype Machine, and surely pencilled in to the immaculately kept Moleskine diaries at Kitsuné HQ.

Sadly, though, the sharp synthesized drums of the band’s recordings have been replaced by an actual human being - an attempt, the press release assures us, to bolster their live sound. However, cool electronic drum sounds complement their art rock perfectly, making last night's live drumming sound messy. This was especially true of ‘Costume Party’ which, after the intro, had the synth and guitar parts so low in the mix that they drowned under splashy cymbals.

Because of this, the live show straddled indie dance a little uncomfortably and I found myself silently willing the band, as they tuned their guitars through the great wash of electronic sound that introduced the encore, to just put them down instead. Unfortunately psychic abilities are no more advanced in Bangor than it is in Birmingham and they launched into yet another arch dance tune transformed into something you would hear in the main room at Propaganda.

The closer was ‘I Can Talk’ which, despite having an intro that has dined out with Delphic’s ‘Doubt’, finally sounded like the band promised by their debut album. The band are set to explode all over this summer's festivals, but they might be wise to rethink what they offer as a live act before they go out to win any more fans.

On Spotify.

The amazing 'Undercover Martyn':

Pop Polaroids:Black Kids at Birmingham Academy

This was a night that seemed far more surprising for the band than it did for the audience:

2 songs in: "This is our first time in Birming-ham, please be gentle"

3 songs in: "Wow... what day is this? Wednesday? This is a Wednesday night! You people sure are wild"

This comment acted as a call-to-arms to the crowd, prompting the band to play the rest of the set with a expressions veering between concern and a blank lack of understanding as a circle opened a few feet from the stage into which overexcited 14-year-olds and one really fucked man in his thirties and, inexplicably, a white vest threw themselves.

This could be interpreted as a physical response to the truly awful support in the shape of the Magistrates - with anger only intensified by the absence of promised support act Ladyhawke, to whom the Magistrates vapid falsetto-pop was an insult.

On the other hand it could be seen as a misguidedly positive response to the headliners, whose chunks of synth-drenched 80s influenced pop were just as lively as they are on record. Siblings Reggie and Ali Youngblood (vocals and guitars, and keys and backing vocals respectively) provide the main force of the band's live show, performing with the enthusiasm of true stars, with the rest of the band paling in comparison. "I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You" was the tune of the night, the sound of an original Cure tribute - timely as Robert Smith's seminal outfit are about to receive an NME Godlike Genius Award. Are the Black Kids just 80s revivalists riding a fashionable wave? From the evidence of the first album, yes - but it is a thrilling wave nonetheless.

Foals and Holy Fuck at Birmingham Academy

One song in to Foals' set at Birmingham Academy last night and, during a great show of lights and leaps from singer Yannis Philippakis, the guitarist's amp blew. A failure of substance behind a bright presentation provides a convenient metaphor for the band's output. With choppy rhythmic devices and appearances in Channel 4's Skins and on Kitsune Maison compilations it would be easy to slap Foals with the label of 'sound of a generation.' Easy, were it not the case that these appearances are just that, a veneer of invention that masks the lack of originality or excitement in their songs.

However, 'all style and no substance' is a familiar accusation for pop acts, and something that has been dealt with by a variety of argumentative stances, including the idea of the necessary uselessness of art and, less esoterically, the amount of enjoyment and meaning that pop music brings to vast amounts of people. The latter was certainly evident last night as the student-heavy crowd lapped up all the band had to offer, you can only hope that they weren't all taking it too seriously.

As if arguments such as the necessary uselessness of art and the creation of meaning and enjoyment for others weren't enough, support act Holy Fuck provided a polar opposite to Foals' pop posturing. At the beginning of their set I was most excited about hearing lead single Lovely Allen live, but when it arrived, inevitably as an encore, it sounded weak in comparison to the brilliance of the rest of the set. There were no unnecessary distractions; the band members faced each other as if reluctant to leave a pre-gig huddle, and vocals were kept to a bare minimum, filtered and distorted. This meant that the expansive and carefully layered mixture of crystal-clear melodies, wailing electronics and primal rhythms, was everything. There was a sense that the audience could have stumbled in accidentally to a throbbing, dusty room where the band had been playing all day, and would carry on regardless.

A set containing tracks as insistently amazing as The Pulse, however, should be heard by as many people as possible, so it can only be a good thing if a few more of Birmingham's students found themselves inadvertently crashing Holy Fuck's commune.