|
|
In The City. There’s a thousand things they wanna say to you.
In The City. By day, chance for the music industry to put its collective heads together and discuss the issues of the day (or judging by the updates on the ITC website, hurl abuse at each other). By night, chance for them to run the rule over the country's top emerging talent. Like a big box of chocolates without the map, ITC scatters its gigs across Manchester and you hit and you hope. So who were the Milk Tray and who were the Green & Blacks? (Yeah, yeah...I'll stop with the chocolate thing now)
So, the journey begins in Australia. Not literally, but the Aussie-themed Walkabout bar over on Quay Street. London's 1914s couldn't be more 'now' if they tried. Female fronted? Check. 80's synth n' drum machine? Check. 80's wardrobe? Check (guitarist Jimi Scandal sports a nifty moustache that's about the only thing about 1914s that reflects their name). Gotta love the band that issues itself with fantasy noms-de-plume - Jimi is joined by vocalist Shay S. Phibbs and keyboard/bassist/beatsmeister Miss Jospehine. Shay (for that's what we'll call her) is a captivating presence onstage, possessed of a titanic voice and losing-it dance shapes. I shouldn't think too many of 1914s' reviews get very far without mentioning Yeah Yeah Yeahs and I'm not for bucking the trend, although it's as much to do with Jimi Scandal's Zimmer-framed guitar riffs as Shay's insouciant delivery. The songs themselves feel a little unfinished, but there are enough moments within them to add up to a lot of promise. Shay's a little disappointed with the crowd reaction - "You're not pissed enough" she glumly mock-admonishes - but all in all, ITC's off to a good start in this part of town.
Quick glance at the schedule reveals time to hang on at Walkabout to catch Outside Royalty. We've already visited the 1980's tonight, and we're time travelling again with Outside Royalty fairly quickly revealing themselves steeped in the seventies. More specifically, with their Eno-ish keyboard stabs and frontman Adam Billing's Ferry-ish croon, Outside Royalty don't so much wear their Roxy Music influence on their sleeve as their whole smoking jacket. There's a strange dichotomy between Billing's chirpy showman between-song banter and the, at times, rather overwrought performance, but Outside Royalty do have songs that will appeal - single 'Lightbulb (Turning Off)' has a nagging hook, 'Falling' could come straight from the Roxy songbook (and that's no criticism) and closer 'Palladium' sees them take a turn for the 90's (yep, it sounds a bit like Pulp).
Time to move on though, back up Quay Street, over Deansgate and on to Peter Street's Chicago Rock Café. Usually home to the weekend handbag & gladrags hordes, tonight, Chicago Rock is stuffed full for (nearly)hometown stars ascending, Dutch Uncles (playing the first of two gigs in two hours - grade A for effort, boys). They're fresh from a support slot with Maximo Park at the Apollo and given that they share a lot of common ground with that band, they'll have come away from that with a lot of new friends. That said, Dutch Uncles are a band with Their Own Sound; spiky, intelligent punky pop where thick slabs of bass underpin weaving, angular guitar lines. In Duncan Wallis, Dutch Uncles also have a frontman of genuine star quality, an effete, engaging character with a pure, pure voice. And the worst shirt this side of Primark, but let's not hold that against him. You have to remind yourself that this is an industry organised showcase for unsigned bands - seriously, in crowd response and Dutch Uncles' evident zeal, this has all the feel of a headline show all of their own. And if we're looking for the ultimate rubber-stamp of approval, there's indie kingmaker Steve Lamacq casting a favourable glance over things. It's tempting to leg it to Deaf Institute to catch them all over again, but that would just be greedy now...wouldn't it?
And so, down the steps to The Studio for The Tatianas. Now then, a quick glance across the ITC schedules throws up bands from across the country, with a pretty heavy loading of Manchester and London. Well, here come The Tatianas all the way from Paris. As in France. Now that's commitment. In a way, The Studio should be the perfect venue for a bunch of Parisiennes - small, dark, vaguely decadent. And so it is. The smallish crowd that greets The Tatianas swells throughout their show and by the end it's largely won over by their Gallic take on British pop n' roll. The Libertines are a clear reference point - it's in their jaunty guitar riffery, the occasional Carl n' Pete style face-ups between band members and mostly in singer Pierre's throaty delivery which very much recalls the heyday of Pete (as he was then) Doherty. They tear up a terrific noise though, Pierre spending a fair bit of his time lurching about in the void to the front of the stage, appropriately louche bassist Timothée drifting around all in a reverie of his own. Worth the trip? Time will tell. Pierre flings his guitar into the drumkit and they're off, entente cordiale secured for this Sunday night at least.
Same time tomorrow? Be rude not to...
Tags: the tatianas dutch uncles outside royalty 1914s in the city matt rynn 360 degrees
comments 0
|
|
