It's always easy to spot a true cult band by the dementia of their fans. "I love you," screams one girl at Gorky's Zygotic Mynci, as they shuffle distractedly about the stage. "I love you more," bawls another.
The first, though, is not to be outdone. For the entire duration of their 90 minute show, she will profess undying affection for Gorkys between every song, along with ever more desperate entreaties to play 'Patio Song'; the closest this precious and fine band have been to a proper hit. "You hate me but I LOVE you," she howls. Defeated, they play the damn thing. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she replies then, with a massive crash, falls over.
It's that kind of night, really. Good-natured madness, faintly psychotic displays of love and unexpected trips - all of these are part of the enduringly curious magic of Gorky's. First, though, there are the more dubious charms of South to navigate. When they first emerged a couple of years back, South promised to mix up epic rock with the kind of electro and hip-hop their label, Mo'Wax, was famed for. A remix of Ian Brown's 'Dolphins Were Monkeys' (under the UNKLE monicker) was especially tantalising.
Sadly, it hasn't turned out quite as hoped. Where eclecticism was once threatened, now South rely on stolid, joyless traditionalism, a po-faced reconfiguration of Oasis and The Verve's worst ideas. It's strange that they're languishing in support slots whilst similar bands like Starsailor and Turin Brakes are enjoying some success. Then the reason becomes clear: no tunes.
No such problem for Gorkys, of course. As the anguished requests suggest, there are too many wonderful ones to fit into the set, especially when there's a new album to flog. 'How I Long To Feel That Summer In My Heart' is the band's eighth, and the songs from it - notably the title track and 'Dead Aid' - are as engaging, as unquantifiably melancholy, as ever. There's a marked increase in country influences, too, to go with the starry-eyed folk vibe that they've been chasing for the best part of a decade.
But where recent London shows have focused on that wistful acoustic side, tonight Gorkys are wilder and louder than they have been in years, grappling with psychedelia and shooting off on fierce, chaotic tangents. The thumping crescendos of 'Where Does You Go Now?' eventually tumble into 'Sweet Johnny', with two mariachi trumpeters inadvertently swallowed up by the spacerock. It's then Gorkys appear like a rustic but no less impressive version of Spiritualized, with Euros Childs headbanging jerkily over his keyboards. Lost in it all - but worth your love, undoubtedly.
