BRIGHT blokes, Foals. Within the opening seconds of this trip through last March’s invasion of one of music’s more grandiose venues, “communion”, “myriad” and “navigation” have cropped up in the self-commentary on their music.
Most bands coming out with this would be ridiculed as highfalutin, but Foals can get away with it for one reason.
They’re now a top-class band whose walk matches the talk. How precise and confident their performance has become shines through not just on material from the superb Holy Fire – Bad Habit and Late Night the standouts, although Inhaler is one of those songs which will never sound as menacingly brilliant live as it does on record – but also on their earlier work, particularly Olympic Airways and the mayhem of Two Steps Twice.
As the backstage footage in Dave Ma’s film shows, this is a close-knit, switched-on, serious outfit, if still wary of giving too much away once the amps are off. When they give everything they’ve got to the show, maybe that doesn’t matter.
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