Secreted away in a little North London garden, The Old St. Pancras Church, with its flickering candle light and ramshackle set of old lamps and blue lighting makes for a mysterious place to hold a gig, and a setting that’s very much in keeping with Fictonian‘s enigmatic persona. The venue, a relatively tiny space, holding an audience of only a hundred or so people, most of whom are seated, is definitely a sight to behold; its rows of wooden chairs look more appropriate for a Sunday morning service than a Thursday night gig, and the archaic decor makes the chaotic mess of equipment and instruments up on the alter-turned-stage feel out of place – almost like they’re disturbing something sacred, and that’s what’s so entrancing about this performance.
The make-shift nature of the set plays its part early on, when, during the first song, Fictonian’s guitar falls silent prompting an apology to the intrigued crowd. “I was going to say hello afterwards, and make it all mysterious,” he laments, “but I guess I’ll do it now.” He comes across as endearing and charming on his first appearance onstage, and the band’s first few songs support this impression, with ‘Anticipation’ and fan favourite ‘Double Negative’ showcasing some of the band’s percussive, folk driven tunes.
But it’s during the final three songs of the set that things really start to kick into gear. ‘Little Blue Book’ picks up the pace compared to the earlier songs, and is just the right level of Mumford And Sons to be powerful, and drive the feeling in the room to new heights of excitement, with audible whoops and cheers now being heard from a crowd that, until now, had been kept quiet by their intrigue.
The real star of this show though, is ‘Full Circle Influence’. Fictonian’s flagship song so far, this six-minute tune is the one that makes the odd, mysterious church setting feel justified. As the simple guitar riff echoes into the room, the candles around the edge seem to glow brighter, the shadows seem to elongate, and the atmosphere becomes simply bewitching. This is what Fictonian does best, and what he’s made his name on so far; being mysterious, and bewitching almost to an unnerving extent, an enigma behind a name. And that’s what he appears to be tonight as the final, euphoric notes of this track ring out in North London.
As the guitar solo growls away, the percussion beats on and the bass continues to pulsate, it’s as if everything else shrinks away into nothing, and as it does so, Fictonian grows. And, on the basis of this performance, don’t be surprised if he keeps on growing further down the line.
Words by Ben Kitto