The most unassuming of the Academy venues seemed to be the perfect fit for John Maus, the esoteric cult leader of experimental synth music. As the lights dim at exactly 9pm, a man dressed in trainers, blue jeans, and a blue shirt scampers onstage; as DIY as ever as he connects his laptop to a mystery machine in the corner of the stage. Silence follows before the piercing bassline of ‘My Whole World’s Coming Apart’ fills the dingy, low-ceilinged venue. As the song title suggests, Maus has established himself as a hero for deeply emotional, sensitive, and slightly pretentious souls.
‘Because We Built It’, one of the lead singles from Maus’ recent album — his first in seven years, Later Than You Think — follows. The track marks a departure from the reverb-drenched vocals that saturate his earlier albums. Instead, Maus’ resonant baritone sits above a simple bassline, showcasing his lyrical prowess.
Experimentation seems to be what draws the crowd to Maus, true not only of his music but also of his on-stage performance. “We’re gonna see John Maus die tonight”, says one audience member midway through the show, with genuine concern. An intense dedication to art, experimentation, and emotion characterises not only Maus’s discography but his performance too. Each song sees him running in laps, striking his chest, screaming with a fist in the air, and becoming increasingly sweaty until, by the end of the show, his shirt is soaked through.
Bewildering it might be, but Maus’ idiosyncratic performance style proves intoxicating to many in the crowd: a few songs in, and everyone around mimics his moves. Maus’ descent into the audience during ‘Do Your Best’, plucked from his sophomore album, affirms his quasi-cult leader status. “I felt his sweat!” shouts one man, as if it were the blood of Christ.
The shift to Maus’s earlier music continues, with early classics ‘Do Your Best’, ‘Keep Pushing On’, and ‘Bennington’ following. The drum machine on Maus’ earlier records invokes that of the Cocteau Twins‘ Treasure; the DIY tones of eighties shoegaze permeate these earlier tracks, pairing nostalgia with cinematic synths and deconstructed vocals.
‘Just Wait Til Next Year’ similarly proves a classic as the audience sway and dance with a heightened intensity. Maus does not need to utter a word; it feels as if words would shatter the illusion of his performance, the room instead transformed into a centre of cathartic emotional release. The synth seems to bounce from wall to floor and into the bodies of the audience, with Maus’ aggressively hypnotic swaying motion slowly infiltrating the audience’s bodies.
Nineteen songs later, Maus shoots off stage, returning moments later for an encore of two songs. 2013’s ‘Believer’ fittingly closes the set, in the same way that it closes Maus’s most prolific record We Must Become the Pitiless Censors of Ourselves. The song contains perhaps his most distorted vocal performance, submerged under layers of melancholic synth and obscured by a humming bassline. However, it provides the most euphoric moment of the gig, with the infusion of church bells and fireworks characterising the final chorus. The rich layers of sound fill every inch of the room, transcending space and time so the audience feel almost part of the soundwaves themselves.
John Maus’ live show at Academy 3 was one to remember, cementing him as a leading figure within synth-based experimentalism. Here’s to hoping he can ‘Keep Pushing On’, transcending the boundaries of music itself.
