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Date -
24/11/04 |
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| Readers' score - None |
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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." |
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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 but actually looks a bit retarded, and dragging a girl on stage to sing.
You might argue we are merely jealous of his good looks, slightly posh accent, promising musical career, and success with the ladies; and you'd be right. Damn him and all his kind! Anyway, X Is Loaded are a very well-rehearsed, highly-polished outfit, and knowing you lot they'll probably do quite well for themselves.
Famously, writing about music is like blowing glass about synchronised swimming, and as such it's hard to explain why thisgirl are so much better than their support. A four-piece from Rotherham, this gig comes at the beginning of a 20-date tour taking in seven countries to promote their current album Uno, and whip up interest in the follow-up, to be recorded over Christmas. They seem suitably excited at the prospect: as with the previous lot, frontman Liam Creamer (yeah, you heard) gives it his all, arriving on stage in a bobble hat which falls off during his jumping around to the first song, which is just about as impressive a statement of rock 'n' roll intent as we have witnessed all year. This bounciness is kept up throughout the performance, which also includes instigating arms-in-the-air handclapping in the audience and, at one point, segueing into a Police song. What marks them out is that it seems raw, fresh and spontaneous, like some kind of crazy impromptu salad, and the same is true of the tunes, which keep you guessing rather than following a linear template. The band defies easy classification: they describe themselves as punk-funk-alt-indie rock, but for the sake of the argument we'll call them emo, as we tend to when we hear any noise we don't immediately recognise. Kind of imagine a crunchier, punchier Muse, without all the wailing and histrionics and general awfulness which makes Muse as bad as they are (actually, perhaps this Muse comparison wasn't a very good one). All of which leads us to conclude we should probably beg, steal or borrow a copy of the album forthwith, especially as it was allegedly recorded with minimal production jiggerypokery to remain as faithful to the live "experience" as possible. I'm sick of this review now. It's not really going anywhere, is it? It's more a kind of series of disjointed thoughts stuck together with bad English. Anyone would think I had a few drinks at the gig and had to rely heavily on rambling notes made on the Tube home. And what on earth is a "linear template"? That would be a ruler, then. I ask you. Here's a number. |
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| Mat Beal |
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