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Success on this scale has been a long time coming for The War On Drugs. Before the shot in the arm came in the form of 2014's Lost in the Dream, the Philadelphia group were (however wrongly) regarded by many as a footnote in the story of Kurt Vile, former member of the band turned revered solo artist.

The band have worked away quietly for years and released a batch of excellent albums, beginning with 2008's Wagonwheel Blues, but Lost in the Dream - an immovable fixture in many 'Best of 2014' lists – signified a clear sonic progression and represented both The War on Drugs' most fevered and most mellifluous work to date. It was evidence, if it were needed, that the Vile albatross was finally gone from their necks.


Tonight, they make their way to the Brixton Academy stage. The lights dim and frontman Adam Granduciel slouches into view under the ornate proscenium arch looking a bit like a hipster James May. He hits the first huge, chorus-streaked chord of the night and plunges into 'Under the Pressure'.

There's great contrast between the introspective and the explosive tracks in tonight's set. The driving, widescreen synths on 'Red Eyes' bring to mind a great, sepia-washed American road movie: all bleary eyes and desert sunrises.

But for all the bluster, there's delicacy in the band's performance to match: 'Disappearing' is unhurried and wonderfully somnolent and 'Eyes to the Wind' forms a blissful highpoint.


Tranquil one moment, feverish the next, the far-reaching, two-hour set is restless in its dynamic variation. The band even put their back catalogue on hold at times to indulge in vast swathes of gauzy feedback, recalling shoegaze heroes My Bloody Valentine.

The set's glut of intoxicating motorik grooves recalls the likes of Faust, NEU! and Tangerine Dream, while the plangent harmonica breaks and outlook of 'Lost in the Dream' recalls Darkness on the Edge of Town era Springsteen; especially in its depiction of the American Dream. Granduciel - who delivers a powerful vocal performance throughout - hunches over the microphone and intones "…they cut it open and they sold it," with the cares of a thousand cheated and downtrodden countrymen seeming to weigh upon him.


Crepescular slow jam 'Suffering' is a late highlight and on 'Come To The City', taken from 2011's Slave Ambient, the six-piece begin with a murky and amorphous wash of guitars and modulating synths, before gradually rising into an inexorable stomp and cacophonous climax.

They may have taken a while to get to this point, but The War on Drugs' performance more than justifies their heightened status. The band's expansive set makes the Academy seem very small indeed - on tonight's evidence, arenas can't be too far round the corner.

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