Saturday Night Gym Club

As current trends in electronic music become harder and harder to pin down, it feels as though the indie music scene is attempting to follow suit, leading to a sudden increase in the number of laptops and synths present in dingy basement venues up and down the country. And whilst this might look shiny and exciting, the hit to miss ratio is perhaps in need of some rejuvenation. Yes, elements of modern electronic music are getting through to indie, but it's the task of successfully integrating the two different sounds that seems to be causing problems for bands. So far we've had clear success stories from the likes of Vondelpark and Cloudboat, and although these bands are crafting some incredible music, it's all a little downtempo, as though the ambient sector of electronic music can be crossbred with indie sensibilities with greater rates of success than the upbeat, more dancable side.





This EP from Anglo-Irish 4-piece Saturday Night Gym Club casts off the shackles of lacklustre electronic implementation that so boldly and unavoidably underlines indie music today. The 6 track-strong 'How to Build a Life Raft' sounds consistently fresh from start to finish, with innovative ideas constantly being thrown into the mix. The vocal cuts arranged in opening track 'I Know' sound as though they could have been spliced together by an up-and-coming garage producer, but it's when the song takes on a more organic feel that the real difference between SNGC and your average bedroom music maker becomes so very apparent. The soothing vocals from Ellie Walker build the song up as layers and layers are subtly introduced until all of a sudden this originally cold, almost robotic track is galloping along with a real essence of humanity pulsing through its veins.



The tropical disco vibes of the title track are as bodily rousing as they are soothing, it's a song that calls for a hazy blissed-out sway and brings back fond memories of summer (or at least how we like to imagine summer on this cold rainy island we inhabit). The positivity of 'How to build a Life Raft' bleeds pleasantly through into the subsequent track, which, laden with bouncing synths and distant all-encompassing vocals again subscribes to this play on triggering thoughts of warmer climates. But before we have time to get too comfortable in our little cloud, the EP takes a dive bomb into a somewhat more ominous tone. Forlorn vocal duties from Chagall create an atmosphere that teeters on the edge as the EP threatens to collapse into an altogether darker place, yet refrains from doing so through carefully placed electronics, once again pulling the piece out of the pit of mediocrity which is all to easy to fall into. A fully enjoyable sensory overload, How To Build A Life Raft constantly pulls in different directions, but as a final act of originality the closing track pulls so hard it breaks away into completely different territory. The orchestral piece jabs at the heartstrings with reverb-soaked piano strokes, and caresses with gentle violin lines to devastatingly melancholic effect. But in a truly terminating change of direction, sadness turns to head-spinning frustration (in a good way) when pounding, IDM-esque rhythmics are added to the mix in a thrilling climax to a song that really defines the EP as something that's not to be forgotten in a hurry.



From the wide range of styles covered by the band in such a short space of time, you could be forgiven for perhaps assuming that it's not a project that flows smoothly as a comprehensive piece. But the arrangement and production somehow manages to draw all these sounds together in a way that distills the most entertaining parts of each and compresses it into an all wheat, no chaff solid that really deserves an attentive listen. - Beard Rock

I was supposed to be in the pit taking photos of Saturday Night Gym Club when they performed at Radio 1's Big Weekend, but when they played this track Lituya Bay, I seemed to slip into a tribal trance-like state of awe, where for an entire 4 minutes I was transfixed by the sounds and the atmosphere of that moment, and forgot that I actually had a job to do (don't worry boys, I paid much more attention to the photography during the rest of the set).

Once I snapped out of it and landed back on the soft Carlisle earth, I felt that same sense of admiration around the whole tent. Four young lads describing themselves as a 'grouping of Anglo-irish dancefloor storytellers' had just created a feeling of warmth that's difficult to achieve at a cold rainy festival. The intimacy of the tent, the co-ordinated sounds, the soft orange lighting peering through the smoke filled stage, it all seem to work together effortlessly.

Arranged in a straight line like some kind of militant musical group, they came armed with a host of electronic instruments, synths, keyboards, mixers, laptops, drum machines, but the thing that really got the hairs standing up on the back of my neck was the violin. A beautifully soothing addition to the electronic lineup.

This track, I Know, is the latest addition to the Radio 1 playlist. It's a track that entices you in with an introduction that sounds like an electronic tide sweeping peacefully in and out from the coastline. As the vocals and bassline slowly build and merge together seamlessly, you feel like you're basking in the sunshine of a glorious electro beach.

Ok, maybe you don't feel like that if you're stuck at work on a rainy Monday morning after a heavy weekend. However you're feeling, have a little listen. - BBC