Prog

NICE BISCUIT

VENUE sebRighT aRms, london DATE 13/05/19

- Julian marSZaLeK

There’s a moment of panic as nice Biscuit head down the home straight of their opening number, witch song: what if the rest of the set doesn’t get better than this? surely they’ve shot their bolt too early with this utterly infectious amalgam of motorik beats, surf guitar and the two-pronged attack of cooing harmonies from singers Grace cuell and Billie star? this is a strange state of mind to be in, but it’s one that thankfully dissipates as the band segue into the appropriat­ely named out of sight.

nice Biscuit are the latest third-eye cleansing export from down Under. in common with Psychedeli­c Porn crumpets (who can be found on page

19 of this very issue) and King Gizzard and the Lizard wizard, they share a questionab­le approach to nomenclatu­re. But that’s where the similariti­es end. whereas the former favour long-form freakouts and the latter specialise in heavy, twisted riffing, Brisbane sextet nice Biscuit build their oeuvre on a foundation of melody, rhythm and choreograp­hy from the most unexpected of sources.

there’s a quirkiness to nice Biscuit that’s immediatel­y appealing. dressed in matching green all-in-ones, Billie and Grace bust moves that owe a debt to aBBa’s agnetha Fältskog and anni-Frid Lyngstad, while guitarists Ben and Jess, bassist nick and drummer Kurt (there are no surnames here tonight) favour boiler suits adorned with marker pen scrawls and the gold and green stripes of australia’s cricketing team. it shouldn’t really work, but like salted caramel it goes down a treat.

But it’s with the music that nice Biscuit really knock it for six. eschewing volume in favour of measured control, the band masterfull­y combine chugging guitars with arpeggios and extended grooves. the singers’ percussive interventi­ons with maracas and tambourine­s frequently hit their targets of hips and feet and the seduction of the audience is complete by the time the hypnotic octopus reaches its conclusion.

tightly drilled, nice Biscuit’s songs flow from one to the other with nary a break between them. the approach succeeds, because once they’ve got the increasing­ly frugging sebright arms working with them, they make damn sure not to lose the momentum. there’s pace here, too. the creamy guitar licks and languid strums at the heart of Goodbye Luna evoke the Brian Jonestown Massacre as they beat tess Parks at her own game.

as evidenced by Fairfield of dreams, nice Biscuit possess their own personalit­y to transcend their influences as chanting harmonies lock in with the rhythm section’s repetitive patterns to free up the six-string exploratio­ns that reach for the stars and beyond.

Beguiling and fun, their return to these shores can’t come quickly enough.

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