Toothpaste are a grungy shoegaze act from London with a respectable repertoire. Having previously supported greats of the genre, such as Slowdive, they attract a sizeable and expectant audience, subsequently proving themselves as greats in their own right. Their set begins, quiet and unassuming. There’s an understated gentleness to the way they approach music/songwriting, embodied particularly in the style of vocalist Amol Prabhu. Each note seems almost like a sigh, and even in moments where I can’t make out the words, their music is carried by atmosphere. “It’s bedtime”, he says, epitomising the gentle start.
Standing out with heavy drums, raw vocals, and a commitment to dental hygiene, Toothpaste certainly don’t let genre limit them. I will suggest shoegaze as an apt description; when fiddling with their respectable pedals (pictured) it really looks like they’re gazing at shoes! When asked for requests, an emboldened audience member yells “shoegaze”: Prabhu apologises. “Don’t know that one”, he says, facetious. With a loyal following from the London indie scene, they transport an atmosphere of warmth and tongue-in-cheek self-awareness. The audience rise to meet them, anticipation rising into jumping and dancing crowd, earning smiles from the band.
Later, a particularly friendly audience member brings them a round of beers, which they react to with slightly befuddled gratitude. They’re cool, but with a distinctively English politeness. That reserved attitude that doesn’t for a second stand between them and the delivery of intelligent, challenging, unexpected tunes. Behind that reserved modesty is genuine accomplishment. Toothpaste are seasoned performers, and since their first single in 2017 they’ve developed and nuanced into experimental and intelligent performers. Their style is best described as wandering. Melodies waft past, distorted riffs rise and fall and rise again, chasing feeling and creating atmospheres of contemplation, longing, or melancholy. Often such musical odysseys end up somewhere unexpected, shifting tempo.
Recent single Hazelwood has proven itself an immediate- and deserving- fan favourite. It has a disarming simplicity, meditating on the beauty of the everyday through drifting imagery of TV screens and Carrie Underwood. All of their typical, delicious haze still manages to articulate feeling with immediate clarity. To me, this is an anthem of longing, the motion of reaching itself embodied through the rising and falling chord progression. All are accomplished instrumentalists, playing with keen attention to one another. Everybody gets their time to shine; I particularly like the bass in Call it Home, which strips back elements and increases the pace. The instrument itself is also incredible, with a PECTAGONAL body (also pictured). The vocals are stylised, with delicious moments of rawness, Prabhu is an expressive performer, at times smiling wide at the audience’s dance moves, at times joining in with the dancing, at times hugging himself, and always alive, just as swept up by the music as the rest of us. It’s a delight to share this experience.
My favourite of the night is a song “about my dog”. It’s Toothpaste at their finest, reverb cranked up to the max. I can feel each beat in my stomach; that immense, physical effect. Their music is moving, often in a literal sense; a full-body experience. That grungy style always runs the risk of becoming featureless noise, but the muffled drums never lose their punch, and a sharp riff cuts through mournful chords.
Just before the final song, they stop to tune, taking all the time they need with characteristic precision. We all know it’ll be an immense one, and they don’t disappoint, inviting the audience forward, comfy but “not too comfy” (true artists need their space). We’re all asked to “boogie”– although, most people stick to the humble headbang. It’s a fantastic closer, an instrumental outro stretching every last second, savouring every moment, every chord, lighting up every inch of the shared space. I emerge buzzing.