Gone Future @ The Social, London (Live Review) ^Featured

Gone Future

@ The Social

Words & Pics by Captain Stavros

Gone Past, Gone Present, Gone Future

Gone Future’s 'Nightcap' came across our desk back in June, around the time we were enjoying a nightcap of our own. Nicki Dar’s voice has a tone that cannot be ignored, for good or ill, and it caught our attention immediately. There was no word of tour dates at the time, but we kept our peepers peeled. Perseverance paid off.

With the warm glow of summer long gone and autumn's golden tones settling in, a Swedish invasion swept through London this past week, eventually landing at The Social. Sandwiched between label-mates Stephanie Gilbert and Sibille Attar, the punk slime outfit Gone Future would do more than simply etch their name into the walls of this subterranean bunker. But they would have to fight for their place.

By contrast to the upbeat psych vibes of Stephanie and Sibille's Big Soft Heart, Gone Future's sound is premeditated gloom, throbbing doom and a seasonal must with Halloween around the corner. The set opens with 'The Middle', its yawning synths and prominent drums finally given room to breathe in the flesh. Released almost a year ago, it's a relief to see the track escape the confines of the record and come alive onstage.

'A New Hit' follows, a freshly rejected track that was apparently shopped around to Eagle-Eye Cherry before finding its way here. As Nicki tells us, ‘but he didn’t want it’. His loss, perhaps. There's an Infinite Sadness-era Smashing Pumpkins vibe pulling you in close, all dark surf-rock undertow and bruised melody. You know the flavour.

Dar's face accidentally meets the microphone in a too-close-for-comfort encounter, which she laughs off. ‘We’re so happy to be here, do I have lipstick all over my face?’ she asks, apparently to no one in particular, before announcing the band's forthcoming debut EP, Signs, due December 4.

Then the applause dies down, only for another clap to emerge from the speakers. We know this clap. This is a VERY familiar clap. It's Peaches' 'Fuck the Pain Away', and it's a great cover, to be sure. What we're less sure about is whether the audience deserves it.

This should be the point where the room descends into Sodom and Gomorrah. Instead, a bimbo at the booth across from us carries on her conversation as though the band were merely providing background music to her evening. Apparently, saving it for the interval is beyond the realms of possibility. She bellows like a goddamned foghorn between beats, trampling over a cover that deserves considerably more than to be treated as an inconvenient soundtrack to somebody else's social life.

The tracks bleed into one another like watercolour until the drums and bass hit back like an exploding border, tearing through the haze and sending the sound crashing towards us. This is mother's milk to us: the tail end of grunge steeped in a dark tea, bitter in taste and just as rich in sound. Gone Future might be looking backwards, but there's nothing tired about the view. Catch them when they swing back around. And when you do, remember that the band are there to be heard, not talked over. STFU until the last note dies.