Enter Shikari: niche worlds for different echelons of society

I was in London’s Primrose Hill on Saturday night, at a cafe across the bridge from the railway line.

Upon emerging I was immediately caught up in a vast crocodile of young people snaking right back into the village. Its head wound across the bridge and down the hill to the Roundhouse.

What struck me was the order and uniformity of the queue. Most were white, there were slightly more boys than girls, and there was a very clear average age – sixteen.

I asked them who they were queuing to see. “Enter Shikari”, they chorused.

I was then taken aback to realise that they knew who I was – sixteen year olds, en masse, watch Channel 4 News? Pleeease!

Having survived the snapping of mobile phones with an arm round the shoulder, I tried to work out who, or what Enter Shikari is.

“Metallic”, “heavy”, “melodic”, “in yer face”, were some of the definitions I got. But there was a seething passion in the line, a real and tangible devotion.

But as I moved along, it was the absolute age that was intriguing. Eighteen was the oldest person I found, fourteen the youngest.

What has Shikari Entered in these teen souls to so stir their passions? I googled them and listened. A not unpleasant sound – electronic, vocal, verbal. No problem in a slow disco, but not likely to actually rock one’s socks off.

In the end it is these niche worlds in which different echelons of society get their socks off that is so fascinating. I’m not sure at sixteen my generation was so compartmentalised; it has to be something to do with the web, with social networking that explains it.

One thing is for sure, Brunel’s rejuvenated engine turntable shed was certainly spinning pretty profitably on Saturday night.