REVIEW: FRANCOIS AND THE ATLAS MOUNTAINS AT BRISTOL EXCHANGE (26/10/12)
There’s something about homecoming gigs. Bristol’s newest venue is a well-oiled sweatbox of anticipation as the crowd impatiently waits for the return of adopted son and pop dreamboat Francois Marry. This being a Qu Junktions promotion of course, they have been thoroughly warmed up by a typically strong support bill. Local favourite SJ Esau kicked things off, showcasing a newly beefed up take on his wonky pyschedelia followed by a hearty helping of eccentric electronica from Minotaur Shock. Much was expected of The Moonflowers, obscure legends of the Bristol music scene, but here they fell a little flat, despite their attempts to fit more people on stage than seemingly possible.
Still, the stage was set for Francois and the Atlas Mountains and they didn’t disappoint. Long-time admirers of the Frenchman may remember his early sets of delicate, hushed and apparently terminally bashful indie. Somewhere along the line he has become a jack-in-the-box of a showman; strutting, wiggling and leaping across the stage like Mick Jagger on heat. It’s totally infectious; within seconds of the opening song beginning the crowd are gyrating, beaming and singing along in questionable French, putty in Francois’ hands. Percussive demon Amaury Ranger picks up the bass and joins Francois at the front of the stage, leaning over the crowd and miming sweeping gun fire with their guitars. The crowd go berserk, its terrific fun.
Recent single, Edge Of Town follows, with similarly playful choreography and boisterous audience approval. Underpinning all of this showmanship is a fierce musicality. Whilst on record these songs can sound slightly underwhelming, hard touring has turned the band into an instinctively free-flowing and winningly energetic unit. The new material suggests that the next album could be the one to capture this with funky, tribal rhythms reminiscent of Talking Heads circa Remain In Light mixed with Francois’ melodies. The set flies by as the low ceilings of The Exchange moisten and the crowd are left utterly intoxicated.
Words: Jamie Atkins
