Having snatched up Darlia’s gig at the Water Rats, Camden, at the very last minute, once again I found myself on my own, standing in the corner, staring into space.

After missing their Barfly gig at the end of January, despite being burdened by a sling and an undeniable sense of abject sobriety, I had vowed to see them before the second quarter and kept my promise regardless of limitations such as sleep-deprivation or partial bodily immobilisation. However, I think it’s fair to say that the night didn’t quite begin as I had hoped in my fantastical world of endless distracting meet-and-greets and life-threatening mosh-pits.

Situated in a homely pub not that far from Kings Cross St Pancras station, this was the smallest venue I had been to in a long time. In what seemed to be the back of someone’s perfectly sensible pub, embellished by chandeliers, candles and everything to make it seem, well, normal, beyond the safety of two thick wooden doors existed a whole new world.

Starting out with about 10 people, Dumb opened the night well with a relevant, appropriate sound, passing it off with that blasé veneer of toned-down indifference. After a dynamic set, the band casually dispersed to make way for Sun Machine, a band comprised of multi-talented members with obvious 70’s influences that appeared to be fronted by Jamie Bell in Peter Jackson’s King Kong. With strong hooks and riffs, and the occasional parallel to mid-late Floyd in instrumental experimentation, the crowd doubled and tripled until it felt like a gig. Nervous but memorable, Sun Machine held their own against the crowd with modernist vocals and wildly distinctive acoustics until their set was done.

The waiting began.

 After reading Ella Scott’s Gigslutz interview with Darlia vocalist and guitarist Nathan Day, I was keen to talk to him or at least get a glimpse to certify that he actually existed. From what I’d read he seemed articulate – focused, perhaps – regarding what it was exactly that he was creating. It did, therefore, seem a shame as he drifted elusively through the venue, never really in one place or another. Whilst Bentham (drums) and Williams (bass) were happy to mingle (which was something I heard regularly praised afterwards), it seemed that despite an explosive on-stage persona, Day was the one behind the camera, seldom in the photo.

 

Adamant in dispelling the grunge label that he felt some (myself included) were describing the sound as, Day performed incredibly, not at one point making it sound like just a cheap copy of something else. It was gritty, sure; Heavy, totally; Loud, insanely – but apart from a jaunty Nirvana riff halfway through, Water Rats was defined by Darlia that night. They made it their own.

I mean there were influences, of course, and that was illustrated by the suitability of the supports and the interlude music between acts, but this wasn’t an imitation. As stated in my review of Candyman, Darlia are definitely beginning to find their own sound, ever digressing from any limiting stylistic parallels. In response to Day’s rhetoric of “Who the f**k is Darlia?”, 2014 marks the point in which people are developing their own answers to that question, some going as far as seeing them 5 times to confirm.

Equally, the power through drums and bass used to augment and galvanise the Darlia sound contributed hugely to its success with the crowd, which had now easily bypassed the 50 mark in this room the size of a small garden. I found myself practically copying out the setlist in an attempt to write down everything that was good. Vanilla, undoubtedly, is one to watch out for. And Pandemonium. And the one they did after Candyman. And the one after that…

With a post-show not-so-subtle hint at a rather large festival to be played this summer and an album to come out later in the year, bearing an almost aggressive support from fans keen to argue with strong optimism against my ‘cult’ comment (“[…]and if this isn’t the case, then, well, “this is how you live a life in two days”, and I hope Darlia receive the cult following that they deserve”), and a sound no-longer limited by recycled labels and tags, Darlia has exploded into contemporary culture, earning their acclaim by talent and focus – not as conformists to a genre that must approved of by society first – but as a sound, an enthusiasm and an icon.