Bipolar Sunshine – The Ritz – Manchester – Live – 17th April 2015
Manchester’s Bipolar Sunshine – aka Adio Marchant – radiates exactly what is expected when a name of such conflicting magnitude is conjured. Set in his town confines of The Ritz, Marchant and his new band of alternative pop fashioned brothers dispatched the sound that will make yours – and whoever else stumbles on him – summer much more attractive.
Dressed sharply in a white suit resembling loosely a Spice Boys outfit of the 90s, Marchant continually delivered the sun-kissed pop tunes he has based the entirety of his career upon. ‘Drowning in Butterflies’ – scratched rhythms concocted by the on stage synth director swelled against the inherent trembling ska laced grooves from the battering guitar – felt immense shooting throughout the space; the natural hook savvy ideals Marchant prides his work on becoming ever more lucid. ‘Deckchairs On the Moon’ garnered waves of chanting. Sat upon his blue and white seaside chair, Marchant’s affable persona shone spraying words out theatrically.
The identity that festered within Marchant’s former outfit Kid British is still fresh within Bipolar Sunshine. The jerking guitars, summer touched grooving shifts that are darkly layered with seeds of fierce strength. ‘Rivers’ – vast choral responses from the audience brashly work against the dirtying guitar, contained a chorus so contagious it’s difficult to remove the hooks from within one’s cranium – and ‘Daydreamer’ – subtly enriching the melancholic ambience that ravages at the centre point of Marchant’s rapped tone – a sure feature of Marchant’s long-awaited debut album.
Bipolar Sunshine’s eternal appeal is ignited through his voice. His characteristic meandering from crumbling, spoken tone – a classic attribute filtering through his original ensemble – can rapidly become a euphoric, soul touched utterance. ‘Where Did the Love Go?’ typified this. Crushing piano patterns open; “where did the love go in your heart, oh, you look so unhappy, I know that the last man broke your heart, no need to keep on crying,” resolutely said in the earlier murmurs before the skittering drums and growing bass enter. What follows is a colossal pop song. It’s an instantly recognisable explosion of spirited melancholia.
‘Love More Worry Less’ is Bipolar Sunshine’s anthem. The idyllic marriage of emancipating narratives against a rousing refrain is where Marchant diverges from his contemporaries. “Your future standing right in front of you, staring at you in your full view, but only you can make the change, it’s up to you to break the chain,” one of the many inspiring passages of cooling lyrics.
This year’s seasonal festivities have just begun.
Words by Clive K Hammond