Osees – Liquid Room – Edinburgh

I had previously taken my son to see Osees, although I can’t honestly remember what they were calling themselves at the time.

Thee Oh Sees, Oh Sees, OCS, Osees…

Keeping track of the band’s name changes is almost as exhausting as keeping up with their album releases. Apparently, John Dwyer enjoys changing the name partly to confuse or annoy the music press, which seems entirely in keeping with the band’s general attitude towards doing things conventionally.

Whatever they were called then, they were brilliant.

So when I saw they were returning and the ticket prices weren’t completely ridiculous, I decided it was Emma’s turn to experience one of the most relentlessly energetic live bands on the planet.

I suspected she would either love it or require medical assistance.

Before the sonic onslaught began, support came from Container.

It’s never easy opening for a band whose audience already knows they’re about to be hit by a freight train of noise, but Container did an admirable job warming up the crowd. Their electronic assault provided a suitably intense appetiser for what was about to follow.

Then Osees arrived.

And all notions of subtlety immediately left the building.

I’ve seen plenty of loud bands over the years, but Osees possess a very particular kind of intensity. Their music feels as though it’s constantly teetering on the edge of complete chaos while somehow remaining perfectly controlled. The result is exhilarating.

One of the band’s secret weapons is the twin-drummer setup.

Watching two drummers hammer away in perfect synchronisation creates a hypnotic effect that drives the music forward with incredible force. It’s like being trapped inside the engine room of a runaway train.

In the best possible way.

Standing close to the stage only amplified the experience. The energy coming from the band was relentless from start to finish, with John Dwyer prowling around the stage like a man possessed. Whether attacking his guitar, directing the band or simply staring wildly into the crowd, he remained the focal point throughout the evening.

Which was fortunate.

Because being so close to the stage created a practical problem for filming.

Capturing the whole band at once proved nearly impossible, so most of the footage inevitably focuses on Dwyer himself. Given that he’s essentially the band’s creative nucleus, that seemed like a reasonable compromise.

Not that anyone was paying much attention to camera angles once the music got going.

The audience spent most of the night somewhere between dancing, moshing and trying not to be swept away by the sheer force of the performance.

One particularly memorable moment came when John himself singled me out from the crowd.

For reasons known only to him, he decided to refer to me as a wizard.

Now, I’ve been called many things over the years.

Some complimentary.

Some considerably less complimentary.

But “wizard” was a new one.

Naturally, I chose to accept it as a title of honour.

Looking back, this was exactly the sort of Osees concert I had hoped for. Loud, chaotic, energetic and completely uncompromising. Emma survived the experience remarkably well and seemed to appreciate their particular brand of controlled madness.

Not everybody gets Osees.

That’s part of the appeal.

Those who do tend to become lifelong fans.

The videos below include Container’s support set, the full Osees performance and some mobile clips captured from the front lines of the assault. If you’ve never seen them live before, I highly recommend correcting that situation.

Just don’t expect to leave with your hearing, your balance or your understanding of what the band’s name currently is entirely intact.

And if John Dwyer calls you a wizard, take it as a compliment.

Here is the full set of the band although with us being so close to them it was hard to get them all in so the camera is mainly focused on the main man, John Dwyer.