- The atmosphere at the recent Clown & Sunset showcase at Camden's Roundhouse may have been the most accurate definition of "buzzing" I had ever witnessed in person. Young arty types in red lipstick and beanie hats, 20-something professionals in smart dress and aging ravers could all be seen mingling and indifferently head-bobbing in the hours leading up to Nicolas Jaar's first London performance in some time.
It wasn't that his two Clown & Sunset labelmate openers weren't impressive; Soul Keita and Acid Pauli exemplified the kind of wonderfully bastardized cross-genre sound Jaar has been pushing. This had more to do with Jaar, who released a debut album to nearly universal acclaim, played at esteemed festivals and clubs around the world and ended up on numerous "best of 2011" lists. Everyone in the sold out, 5000-capacity venue was quite clearly here to see what all the hype was about.
Contrasting this palpable sense of anticipation with Jaar's actual stage presence was something to behold. Though he had last appeared at fabric with a full band, this time around he was alone for much of the performance, shuffling his shoulders behind the glow of a laptop screen. Coursing through emotive renditions of crowd favourites "Wouh," "And I Say" and a re-work of Nina Simone's "Feeling Good" alongside unidentifiable moments of lone loops and chords, it became clear that Jaar wouldn't be riding a continuum of club-friendly beats.
Jaar would later be joined by guitarist Dave Harrington, with whom he collaborated on the recent Darkside EP. Jaar's sonic textures and slick beats coincided with Harrington's precise yet psychedelic notes, seeing a high point of whistles and cheers in track "A1." After a few jams, however, Harrington left and Jaar was solo again, revelers reeling in the wake of his sparse breakdowns and complex build-ups. Perhaps only after Harrington's departure did it become evident how much another figure onstage temporarily alleviated the empty, cavernous feeling throughout the venue, as though the space needed more presence to be carried fully.
A glance around the room would reveal a crowd with multiple personalities; many leaning against the rounded walls with eyes closed, some casually swaying and others hands-in-the-air raving front row. Even after the encore—in which Jaar reached perhaps his most dance-friendly apex in the debut of a blistering production full of clicks, claps and a flitting melody—it seemed as though those in attendance weren't quite sure what had happened. But perhaps that's Jaar's point here. Though adamant that he doesn't make music for the dance floor, Jaar seemed pretty at home in his sole throne on the big stage. Confused as attendees may have been about the experience, it was exactly what propelled him to his position on the electronic music pedestal in the first place—a strange and thought-provoking trip through sound and lack thereof.