Hoxton Square Bar and Grill, London
Sunday 21st October 2012
1 Gin & Tonic
1 Vodka + Tomato Juice (#Hangover)
Dillon's support act was made up of a beautiful female vocalist, a guitarist, and another guy doing, well, everything else apparently.
They made long, psychedelic interludes which would probably have been much more enjoyable if it was 5am on a Saturday night in a grimy east London basement club and I was wasted. However, it was not, and I was not. The music was very electronic, almost tribal in places, and not something to sing along to, with no defined melody or catchy tracks. Nonetheless, the girls voice was rich.Whether she was singing words or just tuneful 'aaaaaaaaahs', I respected the interesting combinations of electronic instruments with clearly 3 talented musicians. But...none of this even matters, because they did not even introduce themselves or say hello. The mystery band of electric music-teers will remain ever
What a cute dish. Her voice, although she was feeling under the weather and perhaps a little croaky, was beautiful. The tone and German accent gave off emotions, while the interesting melodies of her songs simmered with the right balance of meaning and tune.
For anyone unaccustomed to Dillon's music, I think it's a beautiful original concotion, like Lykke Li or Ellie Goulding, with an extra bite of atmosphere. It's quirky, imaginative, and always surprising.
Again, like the inconspicuous electric music-teers just before her, Dillon lacked a certain value of entertainment, or crowd interaction, perhaps because, it's just all about the music, dude. There was very little conversation, but as things started to relax, she started to get things going, and in a magical instant she had fans, ladies, fellas and the bar staff singing the chorus of 'tip tapping', rather impressively I thought, right from the start of the song to the finish, while she set up the verses.
Despite her beautiful voice, there was no telling whether Dillon was beautiful in the flesh. The entire set was in almost pitch darkness, with a couple of strobes brightening up occasionally like a flicker of hope, before descending once more into black. I understand the atmosphere, the interesting brooding with which darkness brings, and the rich, organic concentrate of music; however I wanted to see her. It was infuriating not to be looking at this beautiful Germanic creature, to the extent that the personableness of the gig itself was somewhat lost.
But, she managed to win us back losing her voice in the final encore, revealing that somewhere in the darkness, her cute personality was quietly and demurely singing '[past lover] fuck you. And die. Fuck you. And die' before she went off to nurse a lemsip and a strepsil.
A walk to the tube in the rain, followed by a good night's sleep.