Whilst the paper based version of NME now sells fewer
copies than the Justin Lee Collins Good Times Guide to Relationships it seems
that their website’s now the world’s biggest standalone music portal with 7
million users a month...yes, that’s a whole 2,000 more readers than The Hearing
Aid...ahem. Of course all that’s infinitesimally small when you compare it to
the number of hits that videos of small children doing something nauseating on
You Tube get but still, not bad eh?
Given this NME still clearly has a place in the
hearts and minds of a significant number of music fans around the world so
tours like this should be rammed, right? Sadly not. This gig was demoted from the
Institute’s mid size venue to its smallest one and even this seemed a little
empty by the time opening band Gross Magic came onstage. Whatever the reason for
the low attendance people missed a treat. The initial signs weren’t encouraging
though. Gross Magic’s lead singer seems to have gone all out to wear possibly
the worst outfit ever seen, black school type shoes, white socks, what looked
like his little sister’s pyjama bottoms and a charity shop t-shirt. Still, this
ain’t a fashion show right? What counts is the music and Gross Magic were
surprisingly good. Jaw droppingly good in fact.
Lead singer Sam McGarrigle has the
kind of trippy, teenage girl meets science nerd kind of vocal that makes Girls’
ex-vocalist Christopher Owens seem overtly macho. Musically the band plays an
intriguing hybrid of grunge, glamrock, shoegaze and prog with some surprisingly
sophisticated chord progressions in there, no doubt honed though many long dark
nights playing along to Frank Zappa albums in their bedrooms. Put these two
disparate elements together and you’ve got something that’s heavy enough for old
hippies and rockers to love, but with the added lyrical and vocals twists that
will appeal to the pale and interesting young folk. Thought my head my explode when they played this at the end (the video really doesn't do them justice)...
It really shouldn’t work,
but dammit it does. Magic.
Next up Irish math rockers The Cast Of Cheers who’ve
fused the complex skittering sounds of bands like Foals to more of an anthemic
indie sound resulting in tracks like the endlessly addictive Family, the
inevitable highlight of the set.
“Best drummer everrrrrr” cried out someone in
the crowd in their best Comic Book Guy impression after the band’s octopus on
steroids like sticksman had meatily beaten a couple of songs to death. I wouldn’t
argue with that. Well I could, but he’d probably just drum my skull into dust.
Finally, all the way from Minneapolis, Howler, proclaimed
by NME as the third best new band of 2011 and fronted by 21 year old Jordan
Gatesmith, who also made their 50 coolest people list. That’s a lot of cool to
live up to. Perhaps Jordan was feeling the pressure as he quickly announced that
he was feeling sick and might vomit all over the front row. Cool. Given the
coolness surrounding the band they’ve attracted a small but enthusiastic group
of fans, all looking for this generation’s Ramones / Strokes / Libertines all
of whom have clearly influenced Gatesmith and co. In fact Howler have even gone
as far as covering the Libs Up The Bracket which they steadfastly refused to
play this evening despite increasingly desperate requests from one or two well lubricated
members of the audience. What they did run through at a fair old pace though were
just over half a dozen garage / surf rock tinged tracks kicking off with one of
their slower numbers, Back To The Grave, and ending chaotically with their
biggest hit to date, Back Of Your Neck. At times Jordan seems a little
perplexed especially when it came to communicating with the audience. “Where
can I buy spray paint from?” he asked mid set. Someone helpfully shouted out “Halfords”.
Jordan looked puzzled ”Wholefoods?” A suggestion that he go to B&Q didn’t
get through either. “Black Lagoon?” Hmmm, maybe it’s the Brummie accent. I
guess looking a little perplexed is cool though eh? As the set wore on the
crowd got livelier culminating in a fair percentage of them spilling over the barriers
to join the band onstage, much to the annoyance of the security dude who
rapidly disappeared under a sea of teenage (and one or two middle aged) bodies.
There are worse ways to go I guess. Some of the band actively encouraged this
anarchy, swapping places with the crowd and joining the few remaining audience members
on the dancefloor in a gloriously messy end to a hugely enjoyable gig. Howler
might just be another in a long line of skinny young dudes with attitude but
they pull it off better than most. Cool.
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