Disappears, The Borderline

Sometimes you stare at live bands and question why they bother. It’s a pact - the band plays, the audience looks on and claps. Last night’s debut British show by Chicago's Disappears raised that question. The night before, they’d played Amsterdam’s Paradiso and here they were at a venue in central London with an audience of 60 or 70. White-light intense, their conviction shone. This hypnotic show became a secret, even with the draw of Sonic Youth's drummer Steve Shelley in their line-up. But still, Disappears delivered.

Disappears’ intense psychedelic rock is relentless, hypnotic and seductive. Barking out lines, singer and guitarist Brian Case is unmediated. A cross between Rich Hall and early-model Colin Newman of Wire, in a sensible shirt and scuffed boots he looks more science nerd than rock‘n’roller.

The first Disappears singles came in sleeves aping the imagery of the Can album Delay 68. They weren’t shy about saying where they were coming from. A live CDR was then followed by their debut studio album, issued by Chicago imprint Kranky. That set, 2010’s Lux, was wild. In 29 minutes, Disappears ground their way through 10 muzzily recorded mantras with biscuit-tin drums, repeat-riff echoey fuzz guitar and Velvet Underground-derived “Black Angel’s Death Song” squalls. The indistinct vocals seemed to reference pain and Jackie O. Most striking was the album’s pre-punk feel – there were similarities with Nineties drone-rockers Loop and the early Cramps, but overall it felt akin to mid-Seventies Ohio bands like The Electric Eels and The Mirrors: bands from an isolated scene inspired by the Velvets. This year, second album Guider took it even further with the 16-minute closing track “Revisiting”. The minimal isn’t stretched this far very often.

Live though, more was revealed over 35 minutes and 12 songs. As one tailed off, the next song instantly kicked in. Lurching into Lux's "Marigold", Disappears sidestepped any current templates. All of the above was there, but Pink Flag-era Wire snuck in too. The loping rhythms of Wire's “Lowdown” weren’t far. It was as if music had stopped at the moment of art-rock's realisation of punk, yet had now become alive again. Guitarist Jonathan van Herik peeled off minimal reverb solos and evoked an earlier psychedelic era. Bassist Damon Carruesco filled the sound out with McCartney-esque "Paperback Writer" fills while Steve Shelley surged.

Disappears are straightforward. It brings power. But it felt bad that a band this terrific didn’t have the reception they deserved in our capital city.

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Watch the video for Disappears' "Superstition"