- The Vryll Society
So this is what the Zeitgeist looks like. I’ve seen many packed shows over the last eighteen months, but it’s been a while since we’ve been confronted by such youth. On this opening night of an unprecedented two-night run at The Kazimier, it’s clear that the creative minds of the future have come to hear what PEACE have to say.
Before that we have THE VRYLL SOCIETY, who open with what can only be described as a squall of feedback that morphs into a riff (bearing more than a passing resemblance to Avon by Queens Of The Stone Age) which hangs over the audience like a muggy cloud. Their version of what I imagine they call psych is more 1989 than 1969, with crisp, Mani-esque basslines propelling them forward, and a baby Bobby Gillespie on vocals. While it appears that all of their inspiration went on picking a name, this passionate – if limited – performance is well received by their peers.
Peace have inspiration to burn, and are keen to bring a sense of occasion to this opening night of a massive UK tour. Singer Harry Koisser descends the stairs to the stage like a debutante, and is greeted with by the kind of screaming Harry Styles still hears in his sleep.
“First night of the tour… anything could happen,” he coos as he straps on his guitar. As you’d expect from a show that sold out in hours, elbowroom is an alien concept. A sea of heads are already rising and crashing as one. It’s clear that this band have all the necessary tools for promotion to the big leagues: every song has a natural launch pad for abandon, arguably none better than Higher Than The Sun, with its muscular drum breaks and soaring chorus. And in Float Forever Peace have a bona fide festival weapon, a fact that will certainly be proved later in the summer.
New song Someday – from the band’s latest LP Happy People – is pretty standard balladry, most remarkable for the DayGlo Danelectro guitar Koisser chooses to wield for its live debut. Koisser dominates the stage, but he’s not the only member worthy of our attention. Guitarist Doug Castle plays the starring role in the swirling, eight-minute epic that is 1998, while Harry’s bassist brother Sam is Alex James reborn – hopefully without the cheese obsession or hosting parties for Diamond Dave Cameron, but more as a foppish palm tree swaying left of stage while effortlessly controlling the tempo in harness with drummer Dom Boyce. Sam’s moment in the sun arrives during the breakdown of incendiary closer World Pleasure, where his bass solo comes amid a clumsy stage invasion.
Peace may ultimately sound like an amalgamation of all of our favourite 90s bands – a dash of Suede, a dollop of Mansun, a heavy slice of Blur – but if, as this ecstatic crowd suggests, they’re destined to be at the forefront of British rock for the next few years, they have enough about them to make it interesting.