There were blue skies over Lloyd’s Amphitheatre as gulls stole the food from the hands of unsuspecting punters waiting for Placebo to take to the stage for their sold-out Bristol Sounds gig.
While keeping one eye on their hog roast, the crowd gathering early doors was treated to Friedberg’s catchy post-punk. The All-female London-based four-piece were as bright as a sunny day. Mixing strong vocals from frontwoman Anna F. with great synthwork, driving guitars, and fantastic hooks, they did a brilliant job of getting the crowd going with standout tracks, including The Greatest and Hello. Check them out. Seriously, they were ace.
Then, after a weird musical interlude ended with an impromptu outing of Slipknot’s Wait and Bleed, the slowly gathering crowd at the surprisingly intimate mini-festival was treated to Porridge Radio. The Mercury-nominated slacker indie band from Brighton put on a great show and gave off serious Florance + The Machine vibes. Dana Margolin’s confessional, heartfelt lyrics reaching a painful wail, while the rest of the band brought the house down during the Back to the Radio was a clear highlight, as was Seven Seconds, a weirdly jolly slice of post-punk that got a big pop from the crowd.
Then, before even hitting the stage, Placebo managed to destroy all the goodwill in the venue, with frontman Brian Molko presenting an incredibly ill-advised PSA about not taking pictures or filming the duo while they were playing.
Now, I understand how irritating it can be to have some amateur videographer standing in front of you trying to bootleg the entire performance with their finger over their phone’s mic. However, I’m also more than well aware of the current state of gig going, and the days of security marching people out because they had a camera are long gone.
Then, as the veteran alt-rockers took to the stage, almost out of spite, there was a sea of screens as everyone who has ever been inclined to film a stage decided that they really wanted a soon-to-be-forgotten clip of Taste in Men live at #BristolSounds.
From that point onwards, Placebo seemed to be all business, blasting their way through Beautiful James and Scene of the Crime before Molko dedicated Happy Birthday in the Sky to his late brother.
A strange animosity between band and audience seemed to form in a way I’ve never seen before as for all the cheering and genuine good times that were happening with a group boogying by the portaloos and the rapturous response to the opening chords of Every You Every Me that saw the whole place erupt in one word for word sing-along that almost drowned out Molko’s pitch-perfect vocals, whenever the band played anything released past the early 2000’s there was a noticeable exodus to the bar.
It’s a shame, really, because Try Better Next Time, from their latest album, Never Let Go, was a clear high point of the set for anyone who wasn’t making their tenth trip to the bar because they hadn’t played Special K yet (and they didn’t, or Pure Morning for that matter).
Other highlights included Molko not commenting on Stephan’s huge instrument before a really tender rendition of Two Many Friends that seemed to trigger a lot of hugs and half-smiles in the audience and funk-fueled “Dance Rock n Roll” of For What It’s Worth.
However, the animosity between the crowd and the band persisted when Molko very pointedly sang, “All you cunts do is look at your phones.” and the great exodus to the bar continued.
Tensions hit their height at the end of their main set, when Molko essentially held the crowd hostage, by insisting people put away their phones or he wouldn’t play their last song. He then dressed down a guy near the front to film them.
Then, Nancy Boy, and all seemed to mostly be forgiven with another huge pop from the crowd and the second big singalong of the night.
After a quick break, the European band bounced back on the stage with a shit-kicking rendition of Infra-Red that saw half the audience decide to get away before the crowds and then end the night with one hell of a diva move, their superb cover of Kate Bush’s Running Up That Hill.
It may be true that no one hates Placebo more than its fans, but it felt like the feeling was mutual during this set, where you wondered why half the crowd had even bothered to buy a ticket.
Still, you can’t deny the quality of Molko and Olsdal’s musicianship, the power of Molko’s lyrics, and their ability to engage with a crowd for better or worse. Placebo is an act that never disappoints, and, through sheer weight of hits, always leaves you wanting more.