And So I Watch You From Afar

When I got home to Northern Ireland, to the inevitable rain and grey skies which we have come to accept with the same tacit melancholy with which a patient dog bears an annoying toddler pulling its tail, I was excited about getting back down to Belfast to see some of the bands I shamelessly plug in any conversation about music. I was more than happy to discover then, that And So I Watch You From Afar were launching their first, eponymous album in the Queen’s Students’ Union that Saturday night, so I got my slightly expensive ticket and nabbed a lift down.

As it turned out, the ASIWYFA boys had really laid on a treat for us, with 3 support acts to keep us entertained until they took the stage. The first of which, Pocket Billiards, played some genuinely fun and bouncy ska, with even a noticeable minority of Belfast’s indie-couture scene having a wee skank along. They were followed by the absolutely incomparable Adebisi Shank, whose incomprehensible riffs and astounding bass lines really did tear Belfast a new one, with the guitarist managing to throw himself around the stage while still playing inconceivably quickly. They really were like nothing I’ve ever heard before, and their album The Album By The Band Called Adebisi Shank will be making its way into my collection at double-quick pace.

That left The Lowly Knights to play us their blend of folk balladry, which at first seemed like a huge anti-climax to the energy and noise of Adebisi Shank, but on reflection was an inspired choice by ASIWYFA, as they brought the tempo down enough for the audience to have a chat and a drink before the headliners took the stage and exploded their eardrums all over the guy next to them.

All evening it was clear that ASIWYFA had put real time and love into the event, with the video message played before they came on stage a testament to their dedication to the local scene, and a heartfelt thank you given to everyone there for their support and loyalty, which is a rare and precious thing indeed. They eventually came on stage to rapturous applause and kicked us off with ‘Set Guitars To Kill’, then proceeded to rip through the entirety of the new album in order, which has a dynamic and momentum usually not attained until a band’s fourth or fifth studio effort, never mind their first.

This is a band born of reincarnation though, with the members playing in overlapping and competing local bands over the years, which has given them a cohesiveness and drive way beyond their relatively short history playing together. Their bond is shown by their matching tattoos of their new insignia; two mirrored triangles reflecting simultaneously their angular music and their solidarity, it’s not a sprawling symbol but a firm and regular image, showing their lasting commitment to what they do.

To say that the crowd enjoyed themselves is an understatement, with the band actually stopping a song to prevent a reveler from being ejected by the over zealous bouncers, only for him to dive back into the crowd and get kicked out for a second time, then proceeding to miraculously re-emerge on stage! The band played a flawless set, dropping to pensive breakdowns before breaking the walls down with massive refrains and irresistible riffs, all underpinned by bulldozing drums and growling, gnarly bass lines which sounded like a whole forest falling, never mind a tree in the woods, and we were certainly left in no doubt that it made a (magnificent) sound.

They drew the night to a close with the last song on the album, ‘Eat The City, Eat It Whole’, after having shown us just how it should be done, leaving the crowd with feelings of both elation and a strangely poignant emotion; this really did feel like a gig which united people. In the face of renewed violence in the country and people talking once again of hatred, And So I Watch You From Afar and friends lifted a massive middle finger to all of that, and instead of wallowing in the fear and disappointment which was for so long a feature of Northern Irish life, they brought a feeling of unity and well, joy, which is no mean feat, especially for a band that doesn’t even have a singer.