Simplicity, sincerity and camaraderie. This is the future of music in Scotland. This is a rejection of maximalism; a questioning of capitalism; a challenge to introspection without solution and greetin without hope. This, friends, is Hector Bizerk and the launch of their new album, Nobody Seen Nothing, at Stereo on Saturday night.
We’ve covered Hector Bizerk before. We’ve commented on the exemplary connection between band and audience. We’ve held them up as one of the key groups of musicians who have negotiated Scottish hip hop a seat at the mainstream music critic’s imitation art deco dinner table. But their launch of their second album seemed to be both a culmination and a celebration: a decked-out end to the first part of their career and a débutante’s ball for their hopeful entrance into a new era.
The normally homogeneously hipster Stereo was sold out by ten past eight, more diverse than it has ever been. Sure, there’s a good number of eccied up wee boys with baseball caps and nae taps but this is an evening that welcomes all: even band member’s Nans.
The opening act, Skribbo and Butterscotch, set the tone. Playing a 90’s influenced set with two MCs and one DJ there is interesting interplay between the North American and Scottish accents highlighting the fallacy of the assertion that “rap only works in American accents”. Their lyrics are dense: packed with references to literature, macro politics and micro social criticism. They win the crowd over quickly and rightly so. The hefty politicking is suitably counterpointed with funk-influenced beats recalling some of the Beastie Boys’ later work.
This collaborative trio are followed by Strange Empire. The band seem slightly confused at being chosen but their technically adept, catchy rock serves as suitable bridge between the old-school hip hop of Skribbo et. al. and Bizerk’s genre-melding music. With a singer who has both the sexual presence and, crucially, voice of Josh Homme we were convinced that set highlight “Gin & Sin” had to be an unreleased Queens of the Stone Age track. The slightly hesitant crowd were won over by the sheer presence of the band who thanked the gathered throng for “sticking around for the guitars”. They needn’t have been so humble: theirs is a solid - if conservative - sound which is destined for big things.
But, really, this was Hector’s night. Making a conscious effort to make this a party that addressed all four of hip hops founding pillars (MCing, DJing, graffiti and breakdancing). While they play, artists create an improvised collage at the back of the stage and dance crew The Flying Jalepeños perform a joyful display. Frontman Louie and drummer Audrey Tait, complemented by now full-time band members Fraser Sneddon and Jennifer Muir on bass and synth, perform a celebratory set balancing tracks from both the new album and last year’s fantastically titled Drums. Rap. Yes. The new songs fit in perfectly as the rabid fans seem to have completely accepted and memorised the new rhymes. The reggae-influenced quoting of Fleetwood Mac’s ‘The Chain’ in new song ‘Orchestrate’ slots in with the minimal pummeling of ‘Sometimes I Wonder’; the critical exploration of nihilistic hedonism in ‘Party at A&E’ contrasts with ‘Man Up’ and its exploration of millennial masculinity.
It’s a perfectly paced set. It’s a receptive crowd. It’s the admirably and resolutely DIY band’s game to lose. They’ve the potential to be the most important Glasgow band of this generation. It’s your responsibility to, at the very least, check them out with an open mind.
Nobody Seen Nothing is out now and you can buy it direct from the band here.
