overlap

Despite certain reservations when I saw them a few months ago, the Hot Leg album release date was on my calendar, and it remains the only time this year I've rushed out and bought something on the day of release. It partly brings to mind White Sister's Fashion By Passion album from 1985, though where FBP is brutalised by over-production, Red Light Fever doesn't quite go over that edge. All the same, with Roy Thomas Baker even appearing in the thanks list, you know there's going to be at least one kitchen sink on there. Hoping that familiarity with the material would make some difference, I figured turning up to pay £13 on the door was also a good investment in keeping local venues going, in a week where one of my favourite venues has gone into administration. For once I didn't have any tickets for there on my pinboard, though I don't think it's me that's singlehandedly been keeping the place going! Walking up to the venue and hearing noise spill out on to the street isn't always a tremendously musical experience, but it's credit to to the PA and to the support band that it sounded like an album turned right up rather than a messy mix coming off a stage, so that was a good start but also a moment of worrying I'd missed something, then the singer announced they had a couple more songs to do, so I had enough to go on. As band names go, The Crave aren't in danger of topping my league of rubbishness, but it's not exactly terrific, is it? As unknown support bands go, on the other hand, I got as far as checking if I had the cash to pick up their album, so they've got to be doing something right, despite the distraction of a guitarist who looks like a bad Russell Brand, a lead singer and drummer both with dodgy dreads, which is a style crime in itself but in the case of the drummer, the combination of that with a barely there immaculate George Michael tidybeard seems incongruous at best. I like that they have backing vocals aplenty, and the odd moment of striking guitar solo, and that they obviously know their way around a stage. There is no question of whether they mean it, or that they might be filling time before going off to become accountants, and as I type this up I've got their myspace tunes running in search of soundalike comparisons. I guess it's somewhere between the melodic sensibilities of the sublime Little Angels, and the slightly more bluesy angle of Glasgow's Gun. From the extra prominence of the guitar on Right Side Of The Tracks they nearly register as sounding like Gigolo Aunts, which is about as well rated as praise gets in my world, but what you mostly get is the pop end of Terrorvision missing a little of the urgency and bounce factor. That said, High is a classic hit single for summer radio, just needs a bit more guitar solo cutting through the massed vocals, and given the chance I'll be checking them out again for sure. As for Justin's band, they do seem to have grown into their haircuts a bit more, and over eighty minutes they play the whole album, Todd Rundgren's Dust In The Wind and a couple of other tunes and generally do what it says on the tin. I know people are bound to have their own ideas based on Justin's previous band, but how can you seriously doubt a band where the sleeve credits the members as follows: Justin Hawkins: lead singing, lead guitar, lead synthesiser Pete Rinaldi: lead guitar, lead BVs Samuel Stokes: lead bass, lead BVs Darby Todd: lead drums, lead drums I guess that like Hot Leg, you'll either get it or you won't, but where the Storys was a good show, this is a good party, and it's great to see a band who realistically are unlikely ever to scale the heights of popularity that the other lot did, and who seem to be having a perfectly good time just getting on with doing what they are doing. There's a lot to be said for that.

Labels: gigs, Hot Leg, The Crave

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