Gig review
Justice:
Astoria
14 February 2008
"WE"
Justice has been playing for an hour, as much as one can "play" a fortress of electronics situated between twin walls of Marshall amps.
"ARE"
Their trademark cross, some seven or eight feet tall, sits dead centre and beams out onto a floor of rippling bodies. Xavier de Rosnay, the half of the French duo who doesn't have incredibly rock 'n roll facial hair, once said of Jesus in an interview with Popmatters, "He is with us every night. He is in charge of all the lights." Strobes flash, spots swing, incandescents burn in frantic patterns.
Mere mortals couldn't handle such an ocular display. I suspect my retinas will need at least as long as my eardrums to recover from tonight's show. We'll say three to four days as a rough estimate.
"YOUR FRIENDS."
De Rosnay also told Pitchfork that the Bible was his favorite recent book, adding a parenthetical assurance of his sincerity. Their use of the transcendent religious symbol is not meant as blasphemy. It's more an homage to 80s stadium pop and Metallica, who they will be sampling in about three minutes.
"YOU… will NEVER BE ALONE AGAIN"
By now there's no excuse for not shouting along with the yelped vocal track. Taken from the chorus of Siman's Never Be Alone, it was used in the first record Justice ever made. It got them a record deal, and we've heard it mashed into about eight different beats over the course of the show. Gaspard Augé (the half WITH the burnsides) is urging the crowd on with wild, rhythmical hand gestures.
"well COME ON"
Bathed in purple light, the two Frenchman are the most still they've been all night. It's just the vocals and a big, warm keyboard track. Neither is Justice's trademark. The rest of the show has been almost completely relentless, with an intermission of sorts in the form of a similarly stripped-down D.A.N.C.E. Other than that it's been fuzz and scratch and wailing hooks and bass notes knocking your chest on downbeats. It's razor blades and the exhalations of ghosts. In spite of this, I challenge you to go to a Justice show and not bob your head or tap your toe once. I don't think it can be done.
"well COME ON"
Someone fifteen feet back from the stage on the right has turned around, grabbed the person behind him (whom he presumably knows) by the head and they are bellowing the words to each other. A thousand arms have been thrown into the air. They look like blades of grass in a tightly packed flesh meadow.
"well COME ON"
Somewhere in the midst of all this, de Rosnay breaks character and smiles. He's been resolute, hunched over the boards in front of him, indicating to someone off stage to crank it louder, louder, standing stone-faced to witness a well-placed beat resonate through the sold-out Astoria. But now, in the second encore, he seems no longer able to help himself from showing some emotion. When the guitar-laden finale has finished ripping through the crowd and the speakers fall silent, ten minutes from now, he will raise his hands above his head and applaud. We will do the same.
"well Come OOOON…"
- Kiernan Maletsky
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