Sonic Youth - London Scala

Sonic Youth’s final release for Geffen, albeit a compilation of rarities rather than an album proper, was called ‘The Destroyed Room’. Tonight, it proves a wholly appropriate title: with a new set of songs at their disposal, set for release via Matador next month as ‘The Eternal’, and seemingly a new fire in their bellies, the veterans lay absolute fucking waste to a packed Scala.

Few in attendance could have predicted such energy – guitarist, beanpole, inspiration Thurston Moore is 50 years old, his front-woman wife Kim Gordon 56 and guitarist Lee Ranaldo 53, yet each indulges in the sort of physical performance that utterly defies the onset of so-called old age. Moore in particular is a sight to behold, a spinning top of furious, possessed intensity, his guitar playing technique crossing into descriptors like ‘mangling’, ‘shredding’ and, frankly, ‘assaulting’. It’s as if the man’s fuse is forever only an inch long, and he could explode any second; so now, in this moment, he’s going to own the attentions of every soul in the room.

Sonic Youth have seen it, done it, and sold a shit load of t-shirts, but the band’s reputation as a difficult, compositionally puzzling listen isn’t borne out by the experiencing of shell-shocking sonic skull-fucks such as middle-set high ‘Schizophrenia’, lifted from their 1987 album ‘Sister’. While a fixture on far from the group’s best-known long-player, the song’s reception suggests said record is every bit as cherished by the assembled throng as the seminal ‘Daydream Nation’ of 1988, from which the Ranaldo-led ‘Hey Joni’ is aired.

With a staggering sixteen studio albums to choose their set list from, it’s hardly a surprise that not all bases can be covered, especially with a new LP to promote – from ‘The Eternal’ we’re treated to impressive offerings ‘Calming The Snake’, ‘Antenna’, ‘What We Know’ and ‘Sacred Trickster’. But never does the pace relent, and although few in the crowd have heard the freshest cuts on show the response is uniformly positive, with the front-and-centre moshing rarely relenting whatever the musical period visited. Of course, the biggest reaction is reserved for Sonic Youth’s calling-card indie club classic, ‘Kool Thing’, which brings proceedings to an explosive climax when wheeled out as a second encore. Both band and crowd erupt as one, united in escape into an immersive other place where nothing but this song matters for a solid four minutes. It. Is. Brilliant.

Moore throws himself into the PA, writhing as he takes his instrument of choice on a journey few other guitarists could manage – through sounds so acerbic, so blindingly violent, that you hear colours and see patterns of notes fall apart like a street collapsing mid-earthquake, destruction as a beauty unparalleled. Rearrange the characters, readdress the balance, reformat the familiar: for almost 30 years Moore and ‘the’ Sonic Youth have laid down a succession of songs that completely changed the face of rock music. Sure, Nirvana were the big guns – but no Sonic Youth, no Kurt Cobain and no… well… just think where we’d be without Nirvana.

Absolute fucking wastes, probably.

As the shattered bodies and fractured minds of the throng muddle out onto the street, leaving behind them a venue still shuddering with shockwaves several minutes after the Mark Ibold-boosted five-piece have finished destroying the room, one thought rings crystal clear above all others: when they’re on form like this, like tonight, Sonic Youth are head-and-shoulders the best rock band in the world. The best rock band in the world. Nobody, whatever their age, touches them. All should dance ‘til dizzy in reverence, and all must appreciate their place in a world blessed by such magically influential musicians as these. Without them… actually, it doesn’t bear thinking about.

Photo: Holly Erskine