Overheard
conversation in the bar, prior to this gig:
"They're only playing German music."
"German?"
"German. They're only playing German music. No English."
"They're only playing German music?"
"Only German. I said, 'Have you got any Green Day?' She said,
'Are they German?' I said, 'Er, no.' She hasn't got any English
music. Only German."
We manage to drag ourselves
away from this eavesdropping fun in time to catch the end of
No Hope For New Jersey who, we think it's
safe to assume, aren't from New Jersey or anywhere near it,
and should therefore rename themselves No Hope For Jersey immediately.
We are not particularly impressed by what we hear of their
professional yet predictable radio-friendly rock, but the place
is absolutely rammed, and a massive exodus takes place as soon
as they finish, so what do we know? Plus the singer has great
hair, which is half the battle won in our experience.
X Is Loaded elicit the response "It's Therapy?!" from
Tinyvoices' companion, and indeed there is something quite
early-to-mid '90s, pre-post rock, pre emo (premo!) about their
earnest pop-rock meanderings. We suspect any allegations of
anachronism would matter not one iota to the singer: he clearly
believes he has "arrived", as demonstrated
by his failure to tell the audience the name of his band (a
bad move from a publicity point of view, as us so-called writers
hate doing even the bare minimum of research involved in asking
the guy on the door what the band are called) and employing
every hackneyed stage tic at his disposal: climbing on the
monitors, announcing he is going to "jump into the moshpit" (moshpit?!),
doing a kind of dead-eyed stare thing which we think is supposed
to be menacing and punk rock...
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