Justice

Almost everyone here looks like a 15-year-old poster child for everything wrong with the current state of the indie-rock ‘attitude’ and its consequential fashion ethos. Let’s leave the music out of this for a minute, as its merits are debatable, but when was it ever indie to look like a coked-up Lily Allen, or member of Razorlight? For fuck’s sake, what am I missing here? Is it the aesthetic that runs the music, or vice-versa? The former is demarcating here. Also, it is rammed, The Astoria that is, illegally so. This is a dance show, and we have no room to move, let alone get down.

But it is Valentine’s Day - a happy one to everyone indeed - and Justice is on. Black lights surround the stage. A giant oddly religious cross is front and centre. There are a shitload of stacks. Definitely Justice. Two cats so cool, they probably sweat vodka and Red Bull. Said amps fortify the DJ booth. The cross is blinding and the bass is, well, immense. No need to visualize that. Cue ‘Genesis’. AWESOME.

The beat enrages the floor, coiling the demons from past club nights into action to shake The Astoria as if the show coincided with an earthquake. First comes the house, then the techno, then the mash-up of funk, ‘80s sheik and rock. All systems go for ‘D.A.N.C.E’, a prompt, bellowed sing-a-long, while ‘Stress’ sees a few hipsters crowd surf. No talking, no stopping, just Justice tonight, as the beats twist and turn effortlessly through peaks and valleys exploding in well positioned climaxes craftily attuned to bringing out the most of each beat. These two are really, really good at what they do. Each song exemplifies this.

Instead of the usual few hours Justice has to create and slowly molest the dancefloor, the duo is restricted to 45 minutes here, so the songs are short, punchy and concise. ‘We Are Your Friends’ is greeted with hysteria, as is ‘Waters of Nazareth’, but everything ends as quickly as it begins. Yet, the dirtier the bass gets, and it is fucking dirty at times, the more we shake. The Astoria feels as if it’s falling apart, attacked from all sides. But this is business as usual. More standards from the album appear, in addition to a Franz Ferdinand remix of ‘Fallen’ and an ode to Soulwax with a mash-up of ‘NY Excuse’, the Nite version. This is good, very good, even if the blend of trance, techno and dirty house is predictable from start to finish. Eyes closed, ignorant of the mass of hipsters around me, this is perfect, proof that music can trump the aesthetic.

Everyone looks the part, but only Justice is playing the part. This is – and they are – cool. The rest of us, by comparison, certainly aren’t. What a treat.