In an interview in the run-up to their tour and special "The Fall of Math" ten-year anniversary gigs, Paul Wolinski admitted that "The biggest challenge has been fighting off our dread of nostalgia." On first glance, it's a curious sentiment that's perhaps difficult for fans to get to grips with. After all, what band wouldn't leap at the chance to dust off their very first album and try it on for size, ten years on? Give it a whirl again, return to former glories? Yet to think in such a way is to ignore the nature of musicians, artists, and generally anyone who creates for a living. We're constantly told to live in the moment, and for musicians who are constantly writing, playing and creating, stepping away from where you are artistically to revisit something that happened a decade ago (a massive amount of time in the life of a band) must be daunting. You can sense the relief, then, when he notes later on that "If the reaction hadn't been so overwhelmingly positive from our fans then I'd be having second thoughts now."
For a band that has been around as long as 65daysofstatic, there will always be a sense of tension, between nostalgia and progress. Yet perhaps one of the reasons behind the overwhelmingly positive reaction is the fact that "The Fall of Math" doesn't feel like a ten year-old album. Much has already been written on the subject, particularly following the album's rerelease in 2CD and limited edition vinyl, but it's true. The universal themes of disquiet, horror and fear for humanity are as relevant now as back in 2004.
As introductions go, "Another Code Against The Gone" is glorious. It may be grim, apocalyptic hyperbole - a slice of b-movie ham that would border on laughable were it not for what comes after - but heard live and in the flesh, it has lost absolutely nothing of its hackle-raising power. Ten years is a long time, particularly for a band. Yet the wave of dystopian electronics, ominous keys, and utterly skewed vocal stutterings that washes over the crowd feels remarkably fresh and youthful.
One of the most enjoyable bits of watching "The Fall of Math" unfold before you on stage is the tangible sense of anticipation that comes from having listened to the album more times than you care to tell. Despite the two minute slow-build to "Install A Beak In The Heart That Clucks Time In Arabic", you can feel the crowd lean in as the guitars are prepped and effects pedals pushed. Ditto the frantic tom-heavy drum break, all the more intense in its live setting. This trick is repeated again and again, throughout the evening. "Retreat, Retreat", the three-chord powerhouse with its rousing call to arms of "We will not retreat, this band is unstoppable", probably would have been enough on its own to send die-hard fans home happy.
For all the concern over returning to their debut album, it's plain to see that the set has benefited greatly from their decade on the road. Even stuttering electronic curio "Default This" fits in seamlessly, despite sounding like a tortured modem and featuring no "typical" instruments to speak of.
Indeed, while the better known tracks of "Hole" and "I Swallowed Hard Like I Understood" play out like the scorching, full throttle maelstroms you would expect, the appearances of lesser-played tracks, such as the eerily ebbing "The Last Home Recording" and the wonky, ever-shifting maelstrom of "This Cat Is A Landmine" are partly why these sorts of special gigs are so popular. And hearing 65daysofstatic close out their set with the furious "Aren't We All Running?" is to imagine what a glorious shock they must have been to eardrums, back in 2004, pummelling the clubs and cellars around Sheffield.
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What follows is a short break, the silence broken only by the thrumbing eardrums of those (this reviewer included) who have not brought their earplugs. Intelligently, the band are effectively playing a "then and now" gig, with the first set dedicated entirely to "The Fall of Math" and the second "bonus" set for their most recent material, from "Wild Light". In the end, the only track to come from outside of these two releases is in the encore, with the captivating fan favourite "Radio Protector".
This decision, despite being mildly displeasing to some of the more rabid "fans" in the crowd hoping for a further trawl through the back catalogue, is entirely understandable. Concessions to nostalgia are fine, but it is after all the now that matters most. And so we get the stately opener "Heat Death Infinity Splitter", which ferments measuredly but ineluctably, into the roar worthy of some b-movie sci-fi colossus. What's clear from this two part gig is the unsurprising difference in maturity and polish between the first and last albums. That's what ten years of continuous touring and playing will do for you, I guess. The intensely rhythmic "Prisms" - forged in the same fires as "We Were Exploding Anyway" - and the massed banks of the methodical Orbital-esque electronics in "Sleepwalk City" offer more movement than has been seen tonight. There's even time for the searing euphoria of new single "Taipei" and "Unmake The Wild Light", which mixes impenetrable, earthy bass with a screaming climax that sends the soul soaring and disappears into a haze of liberating static. The route back to earth is shown by the majestic "Safe Passage", the album's closer and another track that proudly displays the influence of the band's fantastic "Silent Running" release.
The beauty of nights such as these is not merely in the chance to drool over some of the lesser-heard back catalogue tracks (appreciated as it may be) but also in the opportunity to experience a band at its many stages of evolution. This is not simply a band playing some of their older stuff: this is a peek back in time, to the raw, youthful fury of "The Fall of Math", expertly resurrected, before leaping back forward to deliver an album that has been ten years in the making. The best of both worlds. And for a band so at home with the perplexities and intricacies of time, it's a perfect encapsulation of everything they stand for, and everything they are.
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