Goat
Queen Margaret Union, Glasgow
Although the band members may be perpetually hidden behind a variety of masks – from Japanese dragon to fringe Bedouin, from blank mannequin to party shop improvisation – there is no great mystery to this Swedish band’s burgeoning appeal. Everyone who sees them live is inducted into the cult of Goat by dint of their irresistible shamanic performance and, if you’re the sharing sort, you will pass on the word that these guys are among the greatest live experiences on the planet, nay, in the cosmos.
Almost anything goes musically, though Goat gravitate towards anything with a hypnotic or lysergic pull. Psych rock is their bedrock but that can encompass anything from metallic boogie to West African highlife, and the invocation to dance is key to the whole experience thanks to their USP, their two magnetic witch doctors who vibed up the crowd with their banshee vocals and ritualistic energy. They are the greatest female unison vocalists this side of Chic – although there is no evidence to date that the Chic singers have any additional chops on the Scandi whistle.
Goat’s idea of a drum solo is no less of a gleeful curveball. While they have an eminently capable drummer (also a woodwind whizz), they deferred to their bongo player to keep the beat going during an extended peace anthem (“take off your clothes, lay down your guns”) and then followed this with their most acidic desert rock groover to date.
As if they hadn’t already given enough, their encore combined glam rock with tribal percussion, like Adam and the Ants meets Fun Boy Three with the acid Bananarama in tow, and the immersive ceremony ended with the sludge riffs backed by tabla beatsof perennial favourite “Run to Your Mama”.
Feature image credit: Al Overdrive
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