Over the past few years, Fear of Men have very quietly but confidently become one of Brighton’s biggest musical exports. Their 2014 debut Loom received international attention for its chilly indie pop and impressionistic and abstract lyrics. They now return to capitalise on that album’s initial promise with their follow up Fall Forever, which arrives in June.

But first is another band riding their own wave of hype currently, and you would have to have a pretty cold outlook not to be smitten by the indie pop of support group Girl Ray. The three-piece make music maybe a little bit too sweet for my savoury palette, but they easily win the room over with their endearingly bashful stage presence, which features a botched attempt at synchronised dancing.

They’re hardly polished, with some bum notes and the guitar even dropping out entirely at one point, but it’s all part of the charm. Add some sprightly rhythm guitar, softly spoken harmonies and singing in a broad accent and you’re on to a winner. Last track ‘Ghosty’ contains a Blur reference and an invitation to its subject to ‘call me up, we can play top trumps’. It’s catchy and fun with a characteristically British deadpan sense of humour to it.

While Girl Ray is fluffy and light, you get the sense watching Fear of Men that they want you to take them very serious indeed. Behind them are two giant neon ‘f’s’ that look like crucifixes in a Vegas church. It gives the whole thing a sombre ceremonial feel. They open with new single ‘Islands’. The delicate indie pop of their debut Loom has been bolstered with lean electronic production that has a spartan harshness to it. But they know loudness isn’t always the answer. By playing quietly, they understand that the cavernous space between each instrument is just as important as the noise they’re making. The other new tracks aired tonight all follow suit: syncopated rhythms occur again and again, alongside the ethereal, faintly folky vocals.

Fear of Men’s imagery has always had a fixation on statues and sculpture. Objects that have the appearance of the human form but are cold and hard. Likewise leader singer Jessica Weiss’ lyrics seem to be an attempt to turn herself into something as equally impenetrable, in order to protect herself from possible psychological damage: “I am an Island / I don’t need to feel your arms around me”.

It’s the older songs that add some much needed humanity to all the abstraction. The addition of Weiss donning a guitar adds a bit more warmth to songs like ‘Descent’ in comparison to the glassiness of the new track. Between songs, the set is interspersed with silences and it’s hard to gage whether it’s out of reverence and awe for the music or from a general lack of enthusiasm. Personally, it feels a bit awkward. Weightless and hard, cold but vulnerable, Fear of Men can effortlessly embody these contradictory states of being. But sometimes it makes for music that is too elusive to really have a connection with.
Louis Ormesher
Photos: Guy Christie