by
Juno Daily
on 30.05.2025 at 11:06am.
Last edited: 02.06.2025 at 14:54pm.
Sharp as ever
Untimely. The word has, quite rightly, been used many times to describe the passing of Andrew Weatherall in 2020.
He was a mere 56, of course, but in his time on this earth he did manage to create thousands of hours of wonderful music, from stone cold classics to deep cuts and sonic experiments that are still being unearthed and discovered today.
Compare that gargantuaan output to the mayfly-like lifespan of The Sabres of Paradise, the band he formed in the early 90s and promptly disbanded in 1995. They shone brightly – very brightly indeed – with landmark tunes, acclaimed albums and a tiny handful of gigs. But as the deacde progressed and the likes of Orbital, Leftfield and Underworld became massive combine harvesters of filthy lucre, they’d already moved onto other things.
While the decision to reform the band without Weatherall for a string of shows in 2025 did raise some eyebrows, who can really blame Jagz Kooner and his fellow bandmates for relighting the torch. There’s is a fearsome catalogue of amazing music and one that’s hardly had an outing on the live stage until now.
This show is a relatively intimate warm up for a Sydney Opera House headline on Sunday, with Primavera and Amsterdam shows to follow. Where else would it be?! It has to be fabric, much beloved of The Guvnor himself, and the only venue to turn its unofficial blue plaque (see above) into an official one. It has to be fabric, whose subterranean depths mean all internet connections are wiped out and the sellout audience is ‘reduced’ to the old time entertainments of dancing and smiling at each.
Even the venue’s red ambient lighting feels Sabres-branded, as we descend the stairs to find David Holmes (below) in action, gradually easing the crowd into the evening’s proceedings with chugging, sub-120 grooves and then, finally, some heavy digital dub gear that pushes the air a brutal pressure.
At 9pm prompt, The Sabres arrive onstage in a blaze of wailing sirens, clad in a mixture of Kray Twins suits and Clockwork Orange hats, with drummer Rich Thair stood behind his kit proudly bearing a Palestinian flag on his t-shirt. Kooner, meanwhile, in blood red shirt and skinny black tie, stands at the centre manipulating a large mixing desk, very much ringleader of the circus.
They start with ‘Tow Truck’, beats like a hip-hop juggernaut, echoing percussion through the desk and live beats seamlessly fusing, guitar picking out a 50s style flicknife tremelo line, keyboards sliding their way through a skyward octaves.
They double down on the heavyweight sound system pressure with its Depth Charge remix, similar but even heavier and bassier, Thair evoking the ghost of go go gods Trouble Funk with his chunky tom fills and ride-clonking cymbals.
The distinctive bold brass stab of ‘Theme’ elicits a huge cheer, the first anthem of the night, executed with plenty of verve and too live to be a recreation of the record, without straying so far from it it doesn’t seem right.
Weatherall would certainly approve of the way the set list turns the whole traditional gig template on its head. By the time we’re just over half way through we’ve already had ‘Theme’, the haunted New Orleans jazz skank of ‘Wilmot’ and a stunning, beatless rendition of ‘Smokebelch’.
In lesser hands that’d be a case of playing your best cards too early in the game. But this experience is arranged more like a great DJ set than your average live show and the band have enough confidence in the wealth of top material at their disposal to truly pull it off. They subtly shift a gear down for the lithe electro glide of ‘Ballad Of Nicky McGuire’, a sparkling, spooky ‘Clock Factory’ and a moody ‘Ano Electro’, before the technometer is cranked up for the finale of ‘Still Fighting’, echo chambers again set to overload with overtones of another classic Weatherall production, Primal Scream’s ‘Don’t Fight It, Feel It’.
The return for an encore, the techno-edged remix of ‘Smokebelch’, is a suitably emotional end to an emotional evening. People catch each others’ eyes and grin, memories of the past and those who didn’t make it this far flashing through our collective mind. And they dance, of course. Everyone dances and dances and dances.
Jagz Kooner recently commented that the band “like to think he’d be standing in the wings, giving us the nod,” of their missing comrade. There’s no doubt he’d approve of this, much more a celebration than a memorial. We can only hope their second incarnation lasts a little longer than the first. But just in case, our advice would be not to risk it. Catch it while you can.
Ben ‘Wilmot’ Willmott
To pre-order the reissued versions of Sabresonic and Haunted Dancehall, due out on Warp on August 1, click here
