- It says something about the stature that Deadmau5 has acquired during the last twelve months that he can now sell out venues like The Roundhouse on a Wednesday night. Outside, the whole atmosphere had an indie gig feel to it, with the shouting touts and lines of well-behaved middle class students clutching their tickets. Walking through the entrance with only the briefest of searches by the door staff we were greeted by a foyer reminiscent of a massive sporting arena, all high ceilings, polished linoleum and fluorescent lighting.
Any fears that the sterile atmosphere would be carried through the entire building were dispelled as soon as I stepped through into the main room. With Deadmau5 already set up, sporting his infamous giant Mau5 head and surrounded by LED towers, rising up amid a sea of sweaty ravers, it was like walking into a post-apocalyptic re-invention of Shakespeare at the Globe Theatre. Having spent the last year marketing himself into an act of rock star proportions, featuring on the main stage of events of the stature of Glastonbury and Sonar, his performances are a far cry from the small, grimy club nights in which electronic music in the UK thrives.
The Camden Roundhouse, while grandiose, is built in such a way that the barrier between the artist and crowd is removed somewhat. Despite having only a single room with a 3,000 person capacity, there was a far greater deal of intimacy to his performance than when I saw him last, in the massive hangar-like Sonar exposition centre. Describing a performance in a venue of this size as intimate is perhaps a slight misnomer, however in comparison to the festival appearances of the past summer, the circular and relatively cosy feel to the Roundhouse maximised the effect that a performer like Deadmau5 has. Considering the effort that goes into his appearance, it's good to actually, you know, be able to see him.
Like Daft Punk and The Chemical Brothers, Deadmau5 doesn't just huddle behind his gear. He's every bit the showman. While purists might deride the costume and creation of a persona as unnecessary and juvenile, there is something rudimentarily entertaining about watching a fist-pumping man with a giant mouse head grinning manically at you. As well as dressing up, he augmented his set with the full works: LED towers, soaring visuals, bursting columns of smoke and even a streamer cannon which fired seemingly every time the music dropped. While he was in effect preaching to the converted, he had the entire crowd hanging on his every move. Even standing astride the PA he didn't miss a drop, bending down to bring the bass back in.
As stimulating, brilliant and inspiring as an Allien, Holden or Zabiela can be, sometimes it's refreshing to hear a person who plays exclusively for the crowd, and veers away from obscurity for the sake of obscurity. His talent for reading the crowd and the construction of his performances are of the highest quality, mixing in songs at exactly the right time, building gradually and never dropping for the pure sake of dropping. This coupled with the aforementioned streamer cannons and columns of smoke, timed perfectly to coincide with the music he was playing, resulted in enforced sensory overload, dispelling any effort to contextualise the situation. Quite simply, you had to dance.
Set-wise, it was a typically eclectic affair, with 8-bit tunes rubbing shoulders with more staple techno tracks, the requisite rehash of Daft Punk's "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger," and favourites such as "Not Exactly" and "I Remember." Even his recent letdown of a single with Rob Swire of Pendulum, "Ghosts'n'Stuff," worked well live. It was fun, well-produced and diverse, giving credence to the notion that some things are popular because they are good. Performances like this demonstrate just why Deadmau5 is being dubbed as electronica's next super star, and why close to 3,000 people will travel across London on a Wednesday night to see him.