Review: Fago.Sepia, Gwdihw

It strikes me that no one really knows how to dance, or at least, at the gigs I attend, everyone is unsure of how to execute dancing without bringing attention to their awkward bodies. A few years back when at a Johnny Foreigner gig in Bristol I witnessed (and was complicit in) an apparently spontaneous choreography in which the audience danced en masse with a thrust forward of one shoulder, propelling the other back. That was it. In time with the music, we relegated our movements to our shoulders only.

Math rock music is particularly susceptible to this dancing affliction: arguably, it’s the subgenre most enticing to dance and has attracted dedicated fans who are keen to express their enjoyment and appreciation thus, but the unpredictability of the music leaves us vulnerable to misplaced shapes being pulled left, right and centre.


Fago.Sepia’s debut gig in Wales is no exception. Like at jofo, dancing seems concentrated in one body part, although it differs for each member of the crowd: shoulders, hips, heads, waists; no doubt the French band have the power to afflict an entire, collective body with their confidence and expertise.

Their outfit is one that brims with self-assurance and an impressive certainty in their skills – a certainty that every twist and turn will infect the crowd with a glorious delight. They share in this very same delight: part way through their set, they thank us for their hot hearts (warming their hearts – this corporeal English idiom is about as graceless in translation as the dance moves I, for one, am attempting).

Onward, with their riffs that pirouette, gyrate and invite us into the over-excited frenzy, the taut structures tumble into dissolution. They clatter, they lull, they storm through our circulations with a wild precision to fuel a body of rhythms more toned, supple and tight.



They deliver their final punch of fun with quatorze – the first song from their 2010 release, the resume – a fantastic texture of cool, jabbing guitars, intermitted with a yelp of joy reminiscent of that starting The JB’s Gimme Some More. Apt, as the bodies cease with their flailing limbs and shout an “encore”, before a steady dispersion.

Photos: Oli Montez, Circuit Sweet,