Caribou at Plastic People. 29/01/11

Good old Caribou. Dan Snaith. The nerdy musician who likes maths. His latest work, Swim, was the best album of 2010. (Or the 7^th if you read the Guardian… 17^th if you read Pitchfork.) In fact I’m listening to it on my iPod now, which is a little keen as I’m waiting in a queue to see him perform. I’m outside a venue in Shoreditch, the area that was cool in the early-noughties. Like Camden a decade earlier. When Blur was around. I wait for just under 2 hours sipping John Smiths on the sly. This is Plastic People’s new management. They search through every single wallet.

Inside it’s much warmer. I look around at other Caribou-fans as heat and feeling is restored to my toes. They’re all pretty nerdy. Shit t-shirts and jeans that really aren’t skinny. Am I one of these? My attention is diverted by a glimpse of Snaith at the decks. He’s doing interesting things with some obscure funk. I make my way through the crowd. If I get close enough maybe I can touch his face.

I notice Four Tet nearby, nodding darkly in the wings. He gave Snaith his break about a decade ago and now he’s here, supporting his old friend in the venue where he perfected his last album. Later, Four Tet mumbles an excuse and leaves. As he shuffles through the crowd, an enthusiast tells him how his music helped him get off cannabis. Four Tet offers a bashful grin: he still gets shy about his musical genius. I vaguely follow him out but I’m forced to leave early for standing outside the smoking area. The bouncer rips off my wristband and tells me to leave like I’m a silly drunk.

Image: Musical nerds, Caribou (Dan Snaith) and [behind] Four Tet (Kieran Hebden) performing at MoodFest last year.