Space - The Astoria
The scene is reminiscent of a music festival second stage: you’re sipping on a beer with your ears being pounded by a drum heavy PA mix, watching a band who you know little or nothing about ‘cos you’ve got nothing better to do until the headliners come on later. I suppose the theory behind these brat shows is to throw a couple of so called up and coming NME approved indie bands in with more established acts in a new year celebration of music. Just what we all needed.
Bedford quartet The Pecadiloes take the stage first, thumping out energetic Faith-No-More-esque tunes. They and Silversun - Beach Boy surf punk Camdenites - provided a more than adequate support and were greeted with the obligatory polite applause, from even the most stalwart of the Ben Sherman-istic Manco-Liverpudlean-worshippers.
The real stars here tonight are the Sneaker Pimps, one of Scandinavia’s finest exports - after fish, fjords and Ikea catalogues. But seriously, their ‘Becoming X’ album was one of the finest albums of last year, taking genres such as folk, punk, and drum’n’bass and mixing them into an irresistible cocktail. Ms. Sneaker takes the stage dressed in a glamourous silver sequinned evening dress, and shoulder holster - kind of Bond girl meets Tank Girl, she struts back and forth on her imaginary catwalk. The audience friendly single ‘6 Underground’ was performed, though conspicuous in their absence were epic album tracks like ‘Post-Modern Sleaze’ and ‘Waterbaby’. Instead, the Pimps opt for a shadowy set which, considering the circumstances of this gig, was extremely well received. The Pimps’ audience demonstrating once again that white guys can’t dance to drum’n’bass.
Then it was time for the band that Lad culture had come to see - those cheeky chappies, those Oasis caricatures from the land of Bread. From Norwegian Sven to ‘Little Knebworth’ in one easy set change. Cries of Liverpool from the front, replies of Everton from the band. A few empty beer cans thrown at the guitarist- and promptly thrown back with threats of ‘Do that again and we’re off’. The utter professionalism was a rare pleasure to behold. Thus began the haul through the filler tracks from their ‘Spiders’ album interspersed, of course, with the defiant ‘You and Me vs the World’, the undeniable ‘Female of the Species’, and an encore of the oh-so-humourous ‘Neighbourhood’. Mind you the spring-loaded pogo kids loved it.
Sam
