overlap

Having a past can make for an almighty albatross, but at the same time it's also the foundation for whatever happens next. Which is how last night saw me watching a packed crowd cramming themselves into any space to get as close to the stage as possible, the first time I've seen that since my last enormo-gig, I think. More on support bands with iffy names - I'm not convinced Saving Aimee is anything like a great name for a band, which is a shame, because they have the makings of of a great band, and the Aerosmith rip-off logo is something that should be easy to improve upon too. I know my future holds ever increasing opportunities for watching bands full of kids young enough to be my own kids, but I'd certainly be proud of what they are turning out if that were the case here. It'll be very interesting to see them in six months or a year once the debut album is complete - the singer has a great voice, they have the right mix of guitar and keyboard melodies that I go for, and they are shaping up as the perfect replacement for the mighty A in the field of boisterous pop-rock. The third song opens up with a load of keyboards and for the first thirty seconds it sounds just like (the song) American Heartbeat. Youthful enthusiasm and great tunes with guitar solos that echo the vocal melody lines - very promising, right up my street, and I want more. You can download Small Talk for free (on supplying an email address) from their website. The last time I saw Justin Hawkins he was on a twelve foot long fibre glass white tiger suspended from the rafters in front of several thousand people. This time it's a crowd of seventy-odd tightly gathered in anticipation such that wearing heels would have been a decent enough idea to get a reasonable view, but then my idea of rock chick chic ultimately lost out to the ageing pragmatism of sitting on the floor waiting for the stage to be occupied. It seems to me that whatever does happen next, he can't really win. If the new outfit turn out to sound like The Darkness he'll be pilloried for having no new ideas, and if they don't he'll be criticised for diverting away from what he became known for. Nevertheless he makes a lot of effort to introduce the other members of the band to avoid the appearance of it being just a single ego-vehicle, and with a distinctive voice like that he's in no danger of suddenly being mistaken for Tom Waits. As to what they sound like, well if you imagine The Darkness doing ZZ Top's Tush, you're in the right area. That is his voice, after all. There's a bit more grooving around the riff, and there's a few choruses currently residing in the where are they now file, but unfamiliar material is always going to come across as a bit uncohesive, especially when it's got to overcome preconceptions. Myspace-familiar tunes Heroes and Trojan Guitar offer exactly the sort of big dumb hairy sweaty rock you'd expect from Lowestoft's answer to Vince Neil, and they're obviously enjoying themselves. I'd rather see Justin happy on stage than in rehab, but I'm hardly rushing to see them support the reformed Extreme in the near future. I’m in no doubt that some people will, but it speaks for itself that with an extra restricted view despite being no more than five metres from the stage, I wasn't having such a fabulous time as not to be on the verge of leaving before they finished until a very eloquent chap’s repeated shouting of ‘Put your effing camera down you tosser!’ finally had said tosser obliging. When the most you can see is the head and shoulders of the band over people’s heads, some tosser endlessly waving a camera around like Tibetan prayer flags in a gale is at best unnecessary, and at worst enough reason to turn tail and go home.

Labels: gigs, Hot Leg, Justin Hawkins, Saving Aimee, The Darkness