I love this club; the ostentatious pretension, the fervent clamor and indelible freedom it inspires. The grainy atmosphere in the catacombs of the Buffalo Bar always reminds me of black-and-white films of the cheap tawdriness of swinging go-go delights; the ravenous pulchritude of Vivienne Westwood; the deft shattering of innocence by unabashed hedonism and voluptuous debauchery. It is entirely appropriate that we begin on a glitter-clad stage with a slight young faerie, garlands in her hair, giving a reading from Oscar Wilde’s 'Orlando'. With a breath she ends the poem in a puff of shimmering cloud of pixie dust. The hot-panted MC leaps back up onto the stage in the whirl of applause and announces this evening’s events to come: laughter, dancing, a song by Tim dedicated to the impending departure of one of their core, and Nemo.

Born in 1999, Nemo came together through the shared love of electronic pop and new-wave. Inspired by the likes of Joy Division, Television, Human League and Talking Heads, James Cook, Milan Adamik and the man known as Section Q took what they did best as a platform for seeing what comes next. Pushing off from this oft imitated history they’ve created a genre unto themselves. Despite a whack-load of buzzy attention last year, ‘internal conflicts’ meant that things were starting to look a little grim. And then along came Kev Kennedy, a fantastic multi-talented guitarist. They met at Kinki, a retro futurist club in Soho in May. It was love at first sight.

Tonight’s show is their first gig since Kev’s induction into the fold. You’d think that combined with the bias to the left (right-hand PA blown during the soundcheck; James’ collarbone injury two days before) would make them even a little apprehensive, and if any anxiety remains it immediately dissipates the second they hit the stage. James’ punky cabaret vocals and intense smirk have the aching ability to leave his audience gasping; his egregious flair for knowing what his audience wants both disarming and intoxicating. The bass and drums from Milan and Section Q send the heart reeling in an aural beat-down, while Kev’s sweet guitar and pretty little harmonies sets the room alight. Theirs is a brand of postmodern looping sci-pop that infiltrates the body with exacting inebriation, burlesque glam and glippy space-pops hurtle about propelled by unparalleled voltage.

The pop-y electro-jangle of 'Living Room' sets it up with sing-back choruslines, thumping basslines and James raving gleefully at centre stage; their methedrine energy cleaves the room with head-spinning ferocity. 'The Colour of Sound' dances in hues, starry 'Signals' hum and gash in a tumultuous seduction accompanied all the while by quantum pop and glammed up space blips. By 'Masters of Disguise' their proclivity for the synthtastic is luminescent. With a bit of more traditional keyboards, the thudding graze of bass and drums clash in a precise waltz with nigh-on angry vocals. It’s a much harsher number, set in immediate juxtaposition to high-string glitzy synth. James’ droning scream arcs above it all before seething into nothing. From the gloriously retroglam of 'Rescue the Revolution' to the hauntingly, almost Triffidianly, postapocalyptic and glitchy Piccadilly in Sepia, Nemo is nothing short of dirty sophistication that will threaten your sanctity and fill you with ecstasy.

****Chris Corner of the Sneaker Pimps is mixing their new single, a double A-side single of The Colour of Sound and Rescue, release date tba.








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