Bonobo at The Olympia | Review

Bonobo at The Olympia on October 3 2013

British producer Simon Greene–aka Bonobo— is in town, bringing his minimalist brand of electronica to the grand surroundings of the Olympia. The DJ’s previous albums have all been quite ambient; all doused with a healthy slathering of penetrating bass.
His live set-up is anything but a mimic, with a full ensemble band adding a new flavour to his enrapturing sounds while helping to bring a rich texture to the tracks otherwise missing on record.

It’s a packed house, and out from the smoky stage he emerges—looking enigmatic but apologetic at the same time. He’s straight into Cirrus; orange and blue hues flash behind him as he builds the sound laboured under it. He plays like clockwork, and it sounds like it too, with rhythmic bells and chimes ticking by. Greene is the structure, the engineering behind it, keeping it running so that not a second is missed.

Then there’s the stomper Sapphire, starting off slow to ease us into the deafening vibes that plant themselves right through your body. It’s a sin not to dance, if there is indeed any other option when faced with the slithering funk. Greene is not content with just playing the guitar, standing behind his keyboard and synthesiser as if to flex the chest and roar, “I can do it all”.

Panels behind him pulsate with a visualiser that wouldn’t be out of place on a retro Winamp player, hypnotising the audience and preventing them from getting lost in the darkness of the collective bop.

But of course, the stand-out factor of a Bonobo show are his accompanying musicians. They come and go as needed, used and abused–but it isn’t about them, and it’s a subtle but admirable way of making sure we know it. He’s not a dude with a macbook, but he’s got the rightful ego of one. During Heaven for a Sinner and First Fires, a trumpet, saxophone, trombone just stand at the edge of the stage, attached to a human. Greene stands behind them with an Elvis-like curl, shaking his guitar a bit, disillusioned by the whole thing. El Toro sees gorgeous strings and a drummer (Jack Baker) intent on breaking his sticks, giving it everything, momentarily taking attention from Greene before it’s stolen back again for a keyboard and guitar fusion from the man himself.

But it’s not a show of masculine competition, singer Szjerdine steals all eyeballs with her blinding sparkly dress, smooth vocals and disinterested cool. Nailing each note, she points to various audience members in a kind of ironic adoration. She literally shines on the airy, smooth Towers and Transits, and is a definite must-have to lighten this thundering harpoon. The mixture of a hazy smoke and deafening beats are intoxicating, with the clouding air holding a misty stoner vibe about it.

Greene’s ambient, downbeat electronica is the kind’ve stuff that translates the lights going up as a smack in the face. No, he’s not just pressing play, and no one can ever accuse him of doing so with shows like this.