Like the subterranean Basement next door, The Rig has a grotty ambience, coupled with a limbo-low ceiling. Sound quality was always going to be an issue. Case in point, first support band THE CHERUBS take the stage with the words ‘Hi, we’re Terrence’, at least that’s what it sounded like from where I was standing.
Terrence (The Cherubs) get down to some marching percussive guitars and some squawking drama queen vocals. They seethe on stage but this doesn’t prevent Franz Ferdinand comparisons, in fact their first song is so close to Take Me Out the crowd perform an impromptu rendition at the end. To their credit The Cherubs don’t get too rattled, but whilst their material is solid – it’s been done, and their version just isn’t different enough to merit attention.
Stoke On Trent 5-piece AGENT BLUE are something else entirely. They step neatly onto the line between sharp rock attitude and indie cool without suffering any sound-a-like associations. First song ‘New School Devil’ is plain muscular rock genius. Drummer Matt Jones spits fire from his snare with the front line putting their humbuckers to work like its going out of fashion. Forthcoming powerhouse single ‘Children’s Children’ sees frontman Nick Andrews deliver his strongest vocal amongst tide-rising guitars and a tightly locked rhythm section. Bliss.
And finally … Band Live Up To Hype Shocker!
Following a clutch of singles and the recent release of an eponymous debut album, THE OTHERS have been subject to more hype and speculation than this reviewer thought she could take. With the Libertines out of action and Pete Doherty’s Babyshambles pulling gigs left right and centre The Others look ready to rule as regent… if you believe the London music press.
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But, unbelievably, The Others deliver in spades. Fact is recordings don’t do the band’s live sound justice, specifically the driving lead-bass of Johnny Others. Where Dominic Masters’ Somerset Mockney vocals can grate on plastic, live they are visceral, with the album’s nursery-rhyme lyrics becoming blunt instruments that bludgeon. Their sparse sound and unfussy aesthetic reeks of punk ethics in a time when punk barely means anything at all. Opening with the raw ‘Lackey’ followed quickly by ‘In The Background’ the set motors along, appexing with ‘Stan Bowles’ and the blinding ‘Southern Glow’. Masters pulls crowd surfers over the barrier with glee stating no one ‘does it like they do here in the Midlands’. It’s a red rag to a bull, with the number of bodies crossing the barrier doubling instantly. The band close with ‘This Is For The Poor’, a stage invasion and the toe-curling words ‘keeping it real’, before heading to Stealth to continue the party. Job done.
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