TV on the Radio kick off the first night of their sold-out three-day residency in north London with a deceptively mellow thrum – the kinetic sort that holds the promise of electricity. The band were originally a pivotal force at the start of the millennium, nourished by the New York ecosystem that gave birth to groups such as Yeah Yeah Yeahs, the Strokes and LCD Soundsystem. TVOTR always remained a band apart though. Back then, phones didn’t take pictures and genre constituted a meaningful set of parameters. TVOTR were ahead of their time: nimble wrongfooters of expectations, neither wholly TV nor radio, majority Black and influenced by a range of disparate sources.
This most eclectic of indie bands remain masters of the slow, layered build; of gratification tantalisingly delayed. This low-key reunion tour eases fans back in with a similarly assured hand. For several minutes. Kyp Malone and Jaleel Bunton’s twin guitars feel restrained and painterly, while lead singer Tunde Adebimpe shakes bells, whistles into the mic, then layers effects on to his “woohs”. Soon, keys player Dave Smith whips out a trombone and the band light up, resolving into a maturing glare of sound. This is TVOTR’s breakthrough early track, Young Liars, in which Adebimpe’s lyrics overflow with classy agitation at a breakup.
Their next one, Golden Age – from 2008’s career-high Dear Science LP – is a utopian funk cut via David Bowie, sung by Malone, who is dressed head to toe in rainbow patterns. Not long after comes the soulful brooding of Dreams – from the band’s 2004 debut Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes – punctuated by sonar bloops. Their whole set is packed with menace and cheery “doo, doo, doos”, saturated with ache or racked with elegantly articulated lust. Tonight, they dedicate their song Killer Crane – written in response to the death from cancer of their bassist Gerard Smith in 2011 – to Nikki Giovanni, the Black Arts movement poet whose death was announced last week.
Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes has just had its 20-year anniversary reissue, the hook for these celebratory gigs. Regrettably, TVOTR find themselves without founder member David Sitek for this run. He went on to become a busy producer, remixer and collaborator, and was briefly in Jane’s Addiction about a decade or so ago. While it’s a shame Sitek is not here, the six-strong band on stage don’t feel short-staffed. Wolf Like Me – TVOTR’s certified floor-shaker – is replete with great noises and galloping pace, with Adebimpe scything the air with his spare arm, likening desire to lycanthropy.
Adebimpe has always been a multidisciplinary figure – a visual artist as well as a musician. Now he’s become an accomplished actor as well, with increasingly meaty roles in summer’s Twisters and more recently in the latest Star Wars series Skeleton Crew.
The band’s last full record, meanwhile, was 2014’s Seeds, which ended TVOTR’s run of leftfield albums with a more mainstream offering, after which they went on hiatus. And if they haven’t exactly had an unexpected TikTok moment in the intervening time – the galvanising force of many a vintage band’s fortunes – their music has ended up in some interesting places. DLZ, one of TVOTR’s more intense cuts, was the soundtrack to the pivotal moment in episode 10 of series two of Breaking Bad, where Walter White warned off rival meth makers. The song’s lyrics might have been written for the scene: “Never mind, death professor,” they run, “Your structure’s fine, my dust is better.”
He makes no mention of it tonight, but Adebimpe has just released an excellent solo single, Magnetic, a pulsing new wave pop gem. His debut solo album is ready to roll out in 2025 via the celebrated indie label Sub Pop. Recently, Adebimpe told Mojo magazine about its gestation, which was slowed by the pandemic and put on hold by the death of his sister soon afterwards.
Likewise, there is no hint tonight whether new music may be forthcoming from TVOTR themselves. Their catalogue, though, is ample. Adebimpe’s hectic, ranting delivery in Dancing Choose and the band’s final cresting wave of instrumentation on Staring at the Sun fulfil the promise laid in the breadcrumb trail of sounds at the start of the set. Between songs, Adebimpe seems genuinely touched at the warmth in the room for this accomplished cult act. “It’s so nice when someone gives a fuck,” he laughs.
