The Kills @ Brixton Academy

The last time I saw The Kills was at Koko in Camden. I felt drained of the stamina to admire; a satisfied, electrified husk. It was a hell of a show, at the time of Midnight Boom being released. By comparison, this show was slightly more sedate and (as critics have loved to say about the band's 'new' sound) more mature, with consideration for the fresh elements added on the recent album. That said, there were some stellar sonic resurrections to please Keep On Your Mean Side proto-fans.

Alison Mosshart was her usual self, dervish-possessed, twisting, mimicing lyrics with movement where she could, particularly seen in 'Cheap and Cheerful', during which she resembled a dementedly beautiful gothic-bohemian flailing machine. This was in contrast to more tender moments, particularly during the duo's rendition of Crazy' by Patsy Cline. For this, Jamie Hince and Mosshart sat next to one another, a single spotlight on them, Mosshart's lovelorn call of Cline's vintage solitude soaring through the audience.

Nonetheless, ever the mistress of magnetic stage craft, Mosshart's trademark act of staring with a vindictive sense of desperation into the crowd was employed starkly halfway through the song, confirming the point that the punk edge of her performance is, if you ever doubted it, never lost.

Hince seemed much more involved, performance-wise, this time round. Certainly, The Kills seem to be relying on each other's abilities a lot more since Alison was in The Dead Weather, possibly because she is simply now a more diverse musician.

'Baby Says' saw Hince come to the front of the stage, while Alison offered complimentary soundscapes on the Octigan (mellotron-style keyboard), Hince stabbing at his guitar with welcomingly prominent doom towards the end of the song. Also, Hince provided the genius musicianship that Kills fans are used to during 'The Last Goodbye', a song which would be beyond saccharine were it not for his introduction of 20's-style crackling fairground organ noises, lending it the ghoulish timelessness to which much bittersweet balladry aspires.

Hince's creativity also showed in 'Nail In My Coffin', which became a slowed-down, choral dirge very gradually building in tempo, which joyfully undermined the aggressive techno nature of the recorded song.

For me though, what The Kills remain doing best is their minimal garage blues. The Black Rooster Drum Corps that were with them for the night complimented this. 'Pots and Pans' is a highlight from the most recent album, Blood Pressures, and is very much a beat generating track. It was simply amazing live. The lights dimmed to black with a hint of white. This fitted the portentous culmination of the song which involved a prog influenced ending, post-massive guitar crunch, where Alison's textured ethereal chanting was drawn-out. The Black Rooster drummers, like stoic Kraftwerk figures with flashing red drum sticks, added rhythm while the choir kicked-in just towards the song's rapturous closure.

I would have been happy if the show had finished then but the final two songs were a treat for age-old Kills disciples. They were 'Fuck The People' and 'Monkey 23'. For all the layered sophistication, gospel and reggae influences on Blood Pressures, which chimed less urgently live, there were pinnacle moments such as these.

So, if you thought that The Kills had lost their immediacy somewhat, for a more refined territory, think again. This was a message that they are still one of the most innovative garage-punk bands of the last nine years. Long may they make our hearts beat like the fucked-up drums they are.