Satirical newspaper "The Onion" once ran an article entitled "U.S. Dept. Of Retro Warns: 'We May Be Running Out Of Past'", and it seems to be coming true in ol' Blighty as well. This observation is based solely on the fact that opening band tonight, Heels Catch Fire, with their time sig trickery and suitably wiry guitar lines masking a pretty pedestrian pop-rock sound, make me nostalgic for bands like Hundred Reasons, Kinesis, Serafin and other such "Big in 2001" fare. This obviously doesn't make them any good, although the odd stray riff or chorus does hit home, especially in "Glass Pedestals", gamely played minus the bass, which had a broken a, erm, A string. Ultimately, Heels Catch Fire are let down by the often overblown, preening vocals and the fact that you can never imagine them producing something better than they are now.
I have perhaps been a little harsh on HSF here, considering the affront to my ears that was the second support, Educated Animals. I present my review to you in the form of an open letter to the band:
Dear Educated Animals,
Hi! How's it going!
Anyway, I have a couple of questions for you regarding your show at The Barfly, Brighton on November 15th:
1. You opened your set with an act of considerable rock bravado, namely throwing glowsticks into the crowd. Why then, instead of playing anything exiting or in-any-way-agitating, did you accidentally sound like Athlete? In a slightly wimpy mood?
2. Why did you throw glowsticks at my face, you dicks? You could have had an eye out. My eye.
barnew
(Seriously, check it, if you're a fan of the emotion of boredom: http://www.myspace.com/educatedanimals)
All became well, however, when The Raveonettes, in their current touring incarnation of Sune, Sharin and a drummer/DAT machine operator, finally emerge. Beginning with a set songs off of their new long player, Lust Lust Lust (which I can tell you from experience has the shittest 3D effect cover, but is brilliant), what is immediately apparent is how little the criticised gimmickry of the band (whole albums in one key? no live bass? Ghost Riders?) matters. Perhaps because the crux of said "gimmick", 50s lets-go-to-the-hop songs of love, speed and coy sexuality done in a dead-eyed shoegaze haze of guitar noise and cooing harmonies, is so fundamentally, accessibly fantastic, and, ahem, cooooool.
One of the new songs, Lust, sums up the appeal. As the drummer pounds out her lolloping yet pounding beat over heartbeat, programmed bass, Sharin Foo's chords are enveloped by a lead line which sounds as New York no-wave hipster as the duo look tonight, dressed in all black (the drummer, with her album promoting shirt, is a touch incongruous). The lyrics spell out visions of sin, hell and sex, and it all ends, as many of tonight’s numbers do, with the unmistakable sound of Fenders being pummelled into screaming like a dominatrix’s bitch. It's awesome.
I couldn't tell you which songs got the best crowd reaction, because when The Raveonettes play, the sheer wall of sound that hits every time a song roars, lurches or thrusts into action renders you unable to process anything but these perfect blasts of, and I'm loath to use this phrase, rock and roll. The singles fare especially well - Love in a Trashcan's (off the underrated “Pretty in Black”) domineering riff and That Great Love Sound's Spector-pop thrash and sheen - for what it's worth, and the mid-set “B-flat minor, old stuff”, as introduced by Sharin, fully deserves it’s cheering response. When the gig ends, ears-a-ringing, it's almost a surprise to turn and see a bunch of people who were mere minutes ago enjoying the stylings of Educated Animals (more than one expressing this enjoyment in an embarrassing dad-dance fashion). It’s a surprise to be in a two-for-one-on-Apple-Sourz mid level gig venue at all, such is the place that The Raveonettes take you to. Go and see them next time they're in town, not many bands could pull off what they do with the same style, sound and tunes.
Satirical newspaper "The Onion" once ran an article entitled "U.S. Dept. Of Retro Warns: 'We May Be Running Out Of Past'", and it seems to be coming true in ol' Blighty as well. This observation is based solely on the fact that opening band tonight, Heels Catch Fire, with their time sig trickery and suitably wiry guitar lines masking a pretty pedestrian pop-rock sound, make me nostalgic for bands like Hundred Reasons, Kinesis, Serafin and other such "Big in 2001" fare. This obviously doesn't make them any good, although the odd stray riff or chorus does hit home, especially in "Glass Pedestals", gamely played minus the bass, which had a broken a, erm, A string. Ultimately, Heels Catch Fire are let down by the often overblown, preening vocals and the fact that you can never imagine them producing something better than they are now.
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