Review:
'CHECKS, THE/ DODGEMS, THE'
'London, Oxford Street 100 Club, July 25 2007'
- Genre: 'Rock'
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Our Rating:
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I can't remember which teacher first told me that copying wouldn't get me anywhere. But whoever said it was a lying bastard.
We live in an age where painted zombies like the Scissor Sisters can earn millions for eviscerating the spirit of Pink Floyd and dressing its innards up like a nine-year-old girl's makeover victim.
But plenty of bands have plundered from the toy box of history without becoming Girls Aloud, from Radiohead's U2-scented debut Pablo Honey to Led Zeppelin's blues shopping spree and Bob Dylan's nasal parroting of Woody Guthrie.
Both The Checks and their running mates The Dodgems are wrapped up in their influences like a thin-skinned Californian tourist in a shawl. But criticising them for that at this early stage of their musical careers is like slapping your two-year-old kid for not playing flute Mozart two minutes after he's tried to jam it up his runny left nostril.
The Checks are a blues-driven New Zealand act who are still twiddling their thumbs waiting for their debut album to drop through the letter box. But their particular brand of high-energy bouncy rock has won the heart of none less than rock Yodas REM, and they've got Lightning Seeds librarian Ian Broudie locked up in the attic working on their first record.
They're tight, musically sound and energetic enough to convince a crowd they're earning their rider. Which is a fair recipe for a good evening out, unless you wander into every London venue expecting to see the second coming of Christ (or, better still, Johnny Cash).
Better still, gig-goers also got a date with The Dodgems thrown in free. The manic Sheffield four-piece band are bouncing around in a crowded indie marketplace, but it's hard to dislike a band who sound like they've eaten the Arctic Monkeys and are busily juddering them around in their bellies like nuts in a smoothie blender.
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The Dodgems have joined the fast track to fame, with former Oasis train driver Alan McGee at the helm. And they'll be making stops at both dates of this year's V Festival, where their hard-charging, drum-rattling rampage will be absolutely lapped up by browsing field-dwellers.
They may well even have edged in front of the less-energetic headliners on the night, were it not for the support of the massed crowd that emerged from the wastes of Oxford Street later that evening.
Well, that and the scurrying fingers of Sven Pettersen on guitar.
The Checks have only just turned up to the untidy grimy blues-rock party. The White Stripes have already half-emptied the liquor cabinet.
So they're always going to need someone with elastic fingers on the axe to stop them looking like the class dunce.
Sven is good enough to fill in the widdly bits without going all Joe Satriani and making your head hurt.
At this stage, The Checks are mining some pretty reasonable blues riffs, even if they're not particularly original. But there's still time for the talented pupil to start knocking up some pretty good stuff of their own. And, even if not, quit your bitching. There are worse things in the world than a good dose of bluesy rock.
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author: John Hill / Pics: Ben Broomfield
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The Checks
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