Thee Comrades, Flying Matchstick Men, Good Shoes and Kubichek! @ I Fly Spitfires, Cabaret Voltaire, 22nd January
A game of two halves. Perhaps Spitfires is best as a showcase for the abundance of talent closer to home.<br/>
| 15 Feb 2006
Getting a few hundred of the capital's youngest, prettiest and best-coiffured indie kids (and that's the menfolk, excepting myself of course) in the same place on a Sunday to watch a few bands who fly under the mainstream radar is no mean feat, given Edinburgh's reputation for lacking a decent "scene".
Preppy hosts and resident band Thee Comrades (4/5) deserve to be praised for their nous and ambition in creating I Fly Spitfires, and their tight playing reflects this work ethic, with wide-eyed songs conveying a tangible sense of passion, yearning and hope, driven in an adrenaline rush by trebly, Johnny Marr guitars.
Next up are Glasgow's Flying Matchstick Men (4/5), an oddball fivesome fronted by the fantastically hyper, camp-as-tits Graeme Peel – part Jarvis Cocker, part comedian Craig Ferguson. Opening with sickly B-movie chords, their relentless, exuberant assault of circus-y synth-pop makes a zany feast of tabloid obsessions. Peel's banter – "Don't you think my synthesizer needs more BOOST?!" he squeals – warms up the initially cautious crowd, who soon giggle and dance in all the right places.
The second half is one of diminishing returns from Londoners Good Shoes (3/5) and Geordies Kubichek! (2/5).
A little too immersed in Libertines-esque stylings, Good Shoes' mastery of mod/punk cliches is impressive on one hand and lacks originality on the other. Singer Rhys Jones has a mumbled delivery reminiscent of Wire, to whom these short, sharp songs owe a huge debt. Here though, the lyrics are banal utterances on noughties' "yoof" concerns – drinking and romancing (or both).
Similarly, Kubichek! are more than competent, but their singer tunelessly belts out vaguely portentous (but meaningless) statements. The Idlewild influence is strong with these ones, and the shredded, delayed guitar sound that pervades each song soon becomes monotonous.
A game of two halves then. Perhaps Spitfires is best as a showcase for the abundance of talent closer to home.
Preppy hosts and resident band Thee Comrades (4/5) deserve to be praised for their nous and ambition in creating I Fly Spitfires, and their tight playing reflects this work ethic, with wide-eyed songs conveying a tangible sense of passion, yearning and hope, driven in an adrenaline rush by trebly, Johnny Marr guitars.
Next up are Glasgow's Flying Matchstick Men (4/5), an oddball fivesome fronted by the fantastically hyper, camp-as-tits Graeme Peel – part Jarvis Cocker, part comedian Craig Ferguson. Opening with sickly B-movie chords, their relentless, exuberant assault of circus-y synth-pop makes a zany feast of tabloid obsessions. Peel's banter – "Don't you think my synthesizer needs more BOOST?!" he squeals – warms up the initially cautious crowd, who soon giggle and dance in all the right places.
The second half is one of diminishing returns from Londoners Good Shoes (3/5) and Geordies Kubichek! (2/5).
A little too immersed in Libertines-esque stylings, Good Shoes' mastery of mod/punk cliches is impressive on one hand and lacks originality on the other. Singer Rhys Jones has a mumbled delivery reminiscent of Wire, to whom these short, sharp songs owe a huge debt. Here though, the lyrics are banal utterances on noughties' "yoof" concerns – drinking and romancing (or both).
Similarly, Kubichek! are more than competent, but their singer tunelessly belts out vaguely portentous (but meaningless) statements. The Idlewild influence is strong with these ones, and the shredded, delayed guitar sound that pervades each song soon becomes monotonous.
A game of two halves then. Perhaps Spitfires is best as a showcase for the abundance of talent closer to home.
Thee Comrades, Flying Matchstick Men, Good Shoes and Kubichek! @ I Fly Spitfires, Cabaret Voltaire, Jan 22
http://www.myspace.com/iflyspitfires