Music review: Of Monsters and Men, Shepherd's Bush Empire, London

 

Enjoli Liston
Wednesday 06 March 2013 14:23 GMT
Comments
Of Monsters And Men
Of Monsters And Men (Getty Images)

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

“This is in your native language,” jokes Ragnar Þórhallsson, singer and guitarist for Icelandic indie-folk act Of Monsters and Men, mocking the crowd’s lacklustre response to his attempts to start a singalong for radio favourite Mountain Sound.

He need not have doubted the fans packed around the small, brightly lit stage. By the time his vocals chirped the song’s upbeat, festival-friendly refrain (“Sleep until the sun goes down”) with fellow singer/guitarist Nanna Bryndís Hilmarsdóttir, the venue is jumping and singing at full volume.

The six-piece has added a seventh member on trumpet for tonight – the first of three sold out nights at London’s Shepherds Bush Empire following the success of 2011’s My Head Is An Animal, released in Europe last April after gathering acclaim in the band’s native Iceland.

The effect is more cacophonic than the recorded material suggests it would be, with the flourishing keys, wheezing accordion and modest vocals creating the backbone of the band’s signature kitsch sound.
Despite efforts to diversify their offerings, that sound remains one-dimensional for the hour-long set; Hilmarsdóttir promises a “dramatic” turn for the lovesong “Love, Love, Love”, but it is merely slower and slightly quieter than the rest.

The simplicity of “Lakehouse” is charming, and gets the crowd clapping, but it is no departure or expansion on what has gone before. The “la la las” liberally sprinkled across their repertoire do not help matters, and the band comes across as a safer version of the Mumfords. The song is decorated with excitable lighting and burst of confetti that rain down on the jumping fans below, though it is difficult to shake off the feeling that this set is perfect for a summer singsong around a campfire, and not much more.

After a slight lull, it is another radio-friendly single, Little Talks, that re-animates the young crowd. The lyrics speak of broken hearts and lives torn apart and words never said, but the crowd is more concerned with the chorus that is interspersed with several staccato shouts of “Hey!”, which they bellow between sips of bottled beer.

The encore offers a peeled back version of Sloom. With just three members of the band providing instrumentals, it is a missed opportunity for Hilmarsdóttir and Þórhallsson to expand on their vocal styles. The band is fun, and puts smiles on faces. Nothing more, nothing less.

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in