East India Youth

When one first hears the music of William Doyle – no, not Arnold Rimmer's alter ego in that classic Red Dwarf episode, Back To Reality, but the artist better known as East India Youth – he or she is tantalised, even enthralled, by the prospect of something rather different.

Were "reality" the overwhelming blandness inherent in the modern music scene, Doyle's tuneage would not look back to reality for a second. Rather, it would be a wholly welcome step back from reality, a perhaps not overly revelatory but distinctively retro journey into the heart of early 1980s new wave funk, merged with cut off, existential, angsty vocals and any other influence that fits.

It's an odd but intriguing recipe for success, to be sure, one that Derry-based support act Ryan Vail adheres to entirely when he adorns the stage of Belfast's Black Box with his calm, cool, concentration. Defying his deceptively dreary appearance, Vail fully allows his low and throaty voice to successfully complement rhythmic beats and a varied series of impressive sound samplings, creating the ambience of a chilled out disco for a soon to be fully settled venue. 

Even without recent regular sparring partner Ciaran Lavery (it's actually Vail's first solo show for over a year), Vail displays remarkable composure, his trance-like mastery of his instruments transmitting the power from the raw, unforced heart within to everyone in the audience. The set is machinic in its execution yet vibrantly human in its expression; Vail literally unveils multiple sonic layers beneath the surface electronica he is best known for.

This could warrant the price of admission on its own, but the arrival of Doyle himself will take things to a whole new level. Again, one cannot judge a book by its cover; the Mercury Prize nominee's black suited, white shirted, red tied, nerdy frame masks the powerful presence about to emerge before us.

Primarily reliant on keys and a Macbook, but also, of course, his voice, Doyle begins by dousing our senses in a fountain of loudness, before a startling combination of electronic synth and eccentric swaying intervenes. You might think that Doyle – or should that be Sir Sways-A-Lot? - might be thrown off balance by the overall effect, but he handles it superbly. And, when he picks up an electric guitar to accompany his moody keys and broody vocals, you can tell he means business.

By channelling his inspirations with a virtually un-recyclable vibe, Doyle breathes new life into seemingly familiar technical and musical gimmicks. Even when his drum beats – created, ingeniously, by playing a drumstick on a speaker – get a little repetitive, it is not too long before the vocals return and the set list takes another of its many idiosyncratic turns. Stepping beyond the 1980s influence at the core of his sound, Doyle intertwines aspects of The Who and the horribly dated dance craze of the early 1990s with his own funky and catchy keyboard riffs. The overall effect is - sometimes surprisingly - unique and hypnotic, though Doyle's command of his tools is such that one almost deems the lyrics an irrelevance.

Almost, but not quite. The passion in his instrumentalism is eventually matched by his vocal delivery, ultimately culminating in "Carousel". This odd but rather touching number works ideally as an appreciation of the audience in attendance and for everything that has come before it. It is, arguably, the highlight of a memorable and extremely well-produced package of mood, movement and melody, one that fully enlivens and enlightens both the Black Box and the eleventh annual Out To Lunch Festival.

Simon Fallaha

East India Youth played the Black Box as part of the Out To Lunch Festival.