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Review: Grimes, O2 Academy
Fresh from the muddy fields of Glastonbury, Canadian cult producer extraordinaire Grimes takes to the Bristol O2 Academy in pinstriped trousers and a giant bow, looking like some sort of Mad Max faerie. The sold out venue shrieks and bounces as the juddering synths of opener Realiti are unleashed, mirrored by Grimes and her trio of dancers who match the crowd’s energy with female ferocity.
Real name Claire Boucher, Grimes has long been something of an indie darling, her 2012 album Visions, a ground-breaking collection of sonic oddity and innovation, garnering her widespread acclaim. 2015’s release Artangels, while altogether much poppier, saw Grimes’ honing her song-writing into more structured soundscapes which still retained their edge and, most importantly, their weirdness. As one of the most exciting artists out there and 100% self-written and produced, this is the sort of pop music the likes of which Myley Cyrus and Lady Gaga wish they could write.
Despite saying she’s sick with flu (“I’m super pukey”), Grimes attacks her set relentlessly. Abandoning the static producer-pressing-buttons trope, she dashes across the stage, slipping more than once. On Flesh Without Blood, a self-aware stab at the music industry, she’s strumming a guitar, on Venus Fly she’s head banging demonically to the ritualistic beat, on Scream she’s writhing on the floor (unsurprisingly) screaming. Oblivion, voted by Pitchfork as the best song of this decade, rides propulsive percussion with bubble-gum vocals, at stark contrast with it’s dark lyrics: the refrain of “see you on a dark night” referring to Boucher’s sense of vulnerability after an assault.
Grimes’ dancers, including her support-cum-protégé Hana, gesticulate wildly throughout: they twirl ribbons on the Japanese-sounding Genesis, daggers on the explosive dubstep chorus led Go. Later on, they don gloves that shoot lazers from their fingertips. It’s electric stuff and they seem to be genuinely full of infectious glee.
Grimes dives straight into her encore (stage fright means she can’t actually leave the stage for it), with Kill V Maim. A song about a gender-switching cosmic vampire Michael Corleone (yes, seriously), it’s an aggressively crazy track and has the crowd jumping feverishly, shouting the chorus “Hey oh, don’t behave”. It’s weird, it’s wonderful, it’s Grimes.
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