While support act Thoom chant »Free Palestine!« at the end of their short set (which, surprisingly, was met with a unanimous cheer), Skye could only manage the tongue-in-cheek comment »I can smell weed…« between songs. In any case, the roles played by the London duo seem to be clearly defined: a calming influence and a frontwoman, a source of inspiration and the one who picks up what everyone else puts down. It’s charming, it’s fun, and the crowd of probably less than 300 celebrate euphorically, singing along especially to the hits »Concrete Over Water« and »Glasgow«.
While support act Thoom chant »Free Palestine!« at the end of their short set (which, surprisingly, was met with a unanimous cheer), Skye could only manage the tongue-in-cheek comment »I can smell weed…« between songs. In any case, the roles played by the London duo seem to be clearly defined: a calming influence and a frontwoman, a source of inspiration and the one who picks up what everyone else puts down. It’s charming, it’s fun, and the crowd of probably less than 300 celebrate euphorically, singing along especially to the hits »Concrete Over Water« and »Glasgow«.
Rollercoaster loops
As on the album, the two Londoners begin their set with »Neon« and end it after a crisp hour with »50/50«, which makes sense as a dramaturgical device, even if it’s not exactly exciting. A seemingly chaotic musical roller-coaster ride takes place in between, switching back and forth between different moods almost every minute: Euphoria and vulnerability, world-weariness and self-empowerment, panic attacks and sexual freedom are treated with sensitivity, sometimes with humour, sometimes with nonchalance.
The fact that the two, who met at the Guildhall School of Music & Drama, are musically trained can be heard in their virtuoso melodic arcs, successful contrasts and stylistically confident and knowledgeable references to pop culture. With her precise and artful vocals, Ellery even manages to make lines like »You fucking love, you love to fuck, to fuck it up« (from »Angst«) sound like a sugar-sweet, harmless piece of radio pop.
So it should only be a matter of time before Jockstrap are seen as the next big thing everywhere, not just their native Britain. At the end of their set, they look into each other’s eyes with satisfaction and a little pride before dismissing the rapt audience into Berlin’s cold November rain.
