Originally published at kemptation.com on 25 May 2015. Words by Lumina Kemp

Not much is generally to be expected of a Thursday night show – especially for a band that hasn’t been on tour for a couple of years. They could be rusty or shy, and it being a school night it’s generally best not to hope for much. But tonight seemed to have a buzz about it and Bristol’s O2 Academy was pleasantly full with a patient flock of those in the know. Tonight, the stage was set for Django Django, with a backdrop of white drapes and screens creating a sharp contrast to a collection of instruments that also patiently awaited the show to begin. The lights flickered off and on, as if a playful child had seized control of the switch, while the lads arrived onstage dressed in smart, white-and-black-striped, buttoned-up shirts. They looked like the kind of boys you’d not give a second thought to having over for tea with your nan: polite and modest, but with an underpinning of immense and mysterious talent.

If you weren’t taken away with it all, you must have checked your pulse at the door

The fourpiece began gently, sleepily, with soft harmonies and almost ominous tones; their opening number sounded akin to the credits for an early ‘80s video game before swelling into a huge, orchestrated movie score for an unknown epic Western and later spiralling into an intergalactic drama. Songs like Waveforms and First Light were held together with a driving beat that kept hips a-boppin’ and heads a-rockin’. It was clear from the onset that they were going to give it their all tonight. Lead singer/guitarist Vincent Neff never took a shortcut on vocals, playing a whole array of extra bits and bobs; more fun was to be had as songs expanded and were improvised on the spot, spreading out the goodness like butter on toast.

As the Bristol crowd loosened up, they grew hungry for more of this cosmic stew of indie-styled, ancient surfer rock. No worries if you forgot to take your drugs, though, as the boys provided all the elements to send you to outer space and back. It was like watching a live art film unfold in real time: strobe lights and a laser show complimented their complex and seamless changing and weaving melodies. Song after song flooded the room with unpredictable, and yet perfectly aligned, changes, woven tightly and yet given enough room to roam and explore.

Halfway through the show, the quartet invited saxophonist James Murray to come up and join them, and together the now-quintet continued setting sail. They were obviously enjoying a bit of play with the audience, at one point having everyone get down on the floor only to rise back up with the beat as Wor sent the crowd completely off their feet – not even the sticky beer glue of O2 Academy’s dance floor could keep them down. So high off the rhythm were the crowd, instead of cheering for an encore, they belted out their own rendition of Wor so the boys could return to a serenade of their own tune.

By the end, Django Django had managed to strap the entire crowd into their psychedelic, interstellar spaceship destined for a better world; a world where never-ending, driving beats sync with your heart and stomping feet. Where surfer rock dines with sprawling Western scores and float together through a sea of harmoniously dreamy vocals. If you weren’t taken away with it all, you must have checked your pulse at the door.