@ Livewire, Foundry, University of Sheffield


DIOYY’s returning UK tour to promote their forthcoming second album Don’t Say We Didn’t Warn You (pictured) looks set to satisfy their existing faithful, while attempting to make closer contact with the sprawling arms of the kingdom of mainstream.

I wouldn’t have guessed, but mid-set lead vocalist James Rushent non-too politely confesses his embarrassment when introducing one of the band’s new ‘pop’ singles; created solely to please radio, and ultimately downloading, chart influencing types. If only every ‘pop single’ instilled its audience with the explosive energy of a Lucozade and pack of Dextrose concoction.

The self-proclaimed house, acousmatic and indie Reading quartet have a solid live set, well blended with original and new numbers which equally offer no repose for their raucous live following. With a well-presented entrance, cued by dazzling light and a growing synth sound, the dominantly instrumental act already have the Union’s Carlsberg plastic pints projectiling, dousing unsuspecting first timers. Welcome to a DIOYY gig all newcomers.

In amongst the promising new material that must certainly have cast shadows of snake pits on the Foundry’s walls were the old barnstorming tunes With a Heavy Heart (I Regret to Inform You) that loosened the belts of most jeans early doors, inflicting the first wounds and attracting the first wave of crowd surfers. The crazily named sonic, speedy, two-minute train track, mad dash Attack of the 60ft lesbian Octopus (which is hard to take seriously, dance accordingly or describe concisely) arrived later. The indistinguishable, live perfected, pogo artist favourites Battle Royale and We are Rockstars cater for all, from floppy haired types, Pendulum lovers to hardcore house fans.

New single We Are the Dead offers an interesting blend of melancholic guitar solo with a mosh-building background beat that the crowd so appreciates. It may even flirt with the UK top 40 if it receives the airtime it deserves, is advertised effectively and the myspace version is replaced with a stonking live recording.

Rushent bemoans the lack of interest at their previous Sheffield outing. Maybe the Berkshire band should question their tour manager’s decision to book a gig over Easter in a city so heavily reliant on its student population. A minority of the long standing fans are peeved at the exclusion of Lets Make Out and Epic Last Song as well as the painful slow murder of Dawn of the Dead which was surely only lengthened to offer some respite to their lary, typically energetic, sweat drenched crowd.

Most however left the Union buzzing, assessing their physical damage, clad in rags seasoned in a beer-sweat recipe, while searching for lost socks and other property. How my plimsolls stayed on I will never know.

Rating: 7 out of 10

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