Asobi Seksu - ULU - 15/02/08

It can't be easy being a slow burning success. Just as you can't face playing that damn album through ever again, everyone else finally 'gets it' and you're stuck in the touring loop for yet another six months, playing the same bloody songs over and over to people who could have heard them the first time if they'd only listened.

Nearly two years after the release of Citrus, there's a sense tonight that Asobi Seksu will be glad to see the back of it. This is their biggest UK headlining show to date, but singer Yuki Chikudate is quick to let the ULU crowd know that it will be their last predominantly made up of material from their glorious breakthrough album.

They follow a good but somewhat static set by electrogaze pioneer Ulrich Schnauss - the sight of a man at a laptop nodding his head is never going to intrigue, regardless of the quality of the music or the projected visuals behind him, and even if he is occassionally joined by a VERY SERIOUS young man singing about Jesus.

And Asobi, too, get off to a slow start. Versions of 'New Years' and 'Pink Cloud Tracing Paper' are hindered by a dreadful sound that alternates between tinny transistor radio fuzz and booming but guitarless lower end that only accentuates the previously hidden vocal weaknesses of guitarist James Hanna's backing parts. Dreamy shoegaze pop has never been about dominating vocal lines, and from these first few tracks it is all too clear why.

But, once the soundman has pulled his finger out, it soon becomes obvious how Asobi Seksu have reached the borderline of popularity, however long it took them to get there. 'Thursday''s gorgeous melancholia sends a shiver of nostalgic longing through the crowd, matched only by 'Lions and Tigers'' beautifully fuzzed waves of warm noise. A suitably hazy cover of Phil Spector's 'And Then He Kissed Me' follows, all distorted shimmer and sugar-sweet melody. It's a delight. Chikudate is an alluring presence throughout, iridescent behind her keyboard, her slight frame and artfully swept fringe belying a passion and commitment hitherto unsuspected.

There is a noticeable lack of new material, a slightly odd omission considering their obvious desire to move on from past, but only now truly appreciated, glories. But it's a minor complaint. Asobi Seksu may be getting bored of themselves, but they'll have to bear with the rest of us a little longer. It's not time to let go yet.