Steaming Satellites, from Salzburg, were a perfect way to get into the mood; on stage, they were talkative without being excessively friendly, they laughed and played their indie rock - a little dark, a little spacey - with enthusiasm.
Eagle Seagull, whose debut album cradled me for weeks after it was released (four years ago already! whoa!), made their grand appearance in front of a seemingly adoring, though rather small, audience. Eli's forehead adorned by a strange feather headband was the first thing I saw among lights and the remnants of smoke machine fumes, like some fantastic creature come from a parallel universe. I'd been anticipating this for months, hoping for something completely wild, but the staging stopped right there. The quality of the live band was unmistakably good, brilliant upbeat freak-glitter-pop with à-la-Robert-Smith vocals, but there was a little something missing. Carrie seemed, when she wasn't playing violin or doing backup vocals which were tough to hear from where I stood, very busy pouting and making a gold dress shimmer under the spotlights; but few of the band members seemed to acknowledge the presence of the public otherwise, sadly.