A brief stint as the NME's band du jour at the turn of the century aside, ...Trail of Dead are a band whose epic soundscapes have largely gone unnoticed by all but their underground army of fans.
And you know what? That's the way we like it. They're our little secret. Our diamond in the vast quarry of turgid shit that is the world of rock music these days. But there's no explanation for Trail of Dead's lack of popularity. Their name is scattered across music forums and Madonna and Source Tags & Codes are held up by fans and bands alike as two of the greatest albums of recent years. Sure, they've had their blips. Let's just brush 2006's So Divided under the carpet and pull the coffee table over the top. The neighbours don't need to see that, do they? We'll chalk that up as the band's off day. We all have them, and The Killers seem to make a living out of theirs.
There's a feeling of relief in Camden's Electric Ballroom tonight. Two nail-biting years after Conrad Keely and co. vomited out an overcooked, under-developed train of thought onto CD and called it an album, February saw the release of album number six: Century Of Self. And thank Christ above, it's fucking glorious.
And maybe just maybe a duff album is exactly the rocket-up-the-arse that
Trail of Dead needed.
Maybe they knew it, too. That's it! They knew it was whack. They knew it wasn't what we wanted to hear. Hell, they even toured the release of So Divided without ever playing more than one song from the album they were promoting.
With one hand, they took away the pounding, driving rock juggernauts that littered Source Tags & Codes and the theatrical, intricate melodies of Worlds Apart.
And with the other, they delivered Century of Self the surprise sucker-punch that left you floundering in the corner, winded but a little exhilarated. That's how it feels tonight. The Electric Ballroom is full of people just happy to have their old, familiar friend back. Gone are the duelling pianos of
Trail of Dead's last tour. Back are the twin drumkits adorning centre stage, facing each other ready for battle.
Singer Conrad Keely's passion is back, too. His face contorted, he spits lyrics between frantically throwing his head from side to side and lunging backwards towards the thundering drums.
The theatrical meandering of Will You Smile Again? is dispatched early, before the band launch into a set packed with crowd favourites.
If I could make a list of my mistakes and regrets, I'd put your name at the top. And every line after that, screams Keely as the six-piece tear into another classic from the
Trail of Dead vaults.
Meanwhile, it's evident that, for all the personnel changes over the years, the real magic still lies between the band's founder members, Keeley and drummer/singer Jason Reece.
Reece takes vocal duties on the bounding Caterwaul and stalks the stage, snarling into the microphone as he paces towards the Ballroom's balcony.
Keely and co. are at their schizophrenic best tonight the geeky, comic-book-loving recluses and the crowd-surfing, headbanging rockers interchanging at the flick of a drumstick. It's the same mantra that's powered
Trail of Dead since the very beginning: Expect the unexpected. Tonight's show ends with a frenzied ten-minute outro tacked on to scream-fest Totally Natural, and Reece's trademark drumkit destruction.
The band leave as the last shell of shattered drum comes crashing down... only to return later to Conrad's confused voice.
OK, so they told us we have one more song. But we kinda broke stuff a little. Cue an electro-jazz/r&b interval while roadies frantically scrabble together a working drum kit to close the show.
Chaotic, unplanned, untouchable.
Trail of Dead: From the ridiculous to the absolutely fucking sublime. Welcome back, guys. We missed you.
Trail Of Dead official site
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