- Independent UK Promoting

COG Review - 20/9/08 (Brontide/H. Scoundrels/Letters to Leaders)

Club Night Review

Saturday 20^th September at the Metro, Oxford Street

Bands: Brontide, Hoodoo Scoundrels, Letters to Leaders

Boredom leads to many things. A casual stroll on a cool, wet weekend through the side streets of the metropolis can alleviate the boredom somewhat. Accidentally bumping into a gang of ‘saaf Landan woyde boiz’ removes boredom entirely, especially if -for reasons of mischief-making and tomfoolery - you refuse to apologise and instead call them ‘a rag-tag sack of manky spivs’. As you run around the corner, slip on a piece of dog shit, and notice as you fall that a good blob of the stuff has let fly in the direction of the gang leader, you realise that boredom is the cause of all evil. As the smell of imminent violence burns the air, poorly digested pedigree chum covering the female half of the Kappa logo on his track top, you wish for a distraction, like a club night showcasing the best up and coming indie bands on the first and third Saturdays of every month, just enough to keep boredom at bay so you don’t wander off into the alleyway of your demise.

Well rejoice, because Club COG does exactly that, and presented some excellent promising talent at the Metro this past Saturday. First up were a trio that have industry insiders talking. ‘It’s been done before’ they might say. ‘Wow, they’re catchy and boy-bandy and pretty and stuff, just like Busted’ the less articulate of them might also add. Letters to Leaders is their name, playing Goo Goo Dolls-style girl-friendly tunes is their game.

When you have marketable radio-friendly tunes played by blokes who make H from Steps appear manly, it’s a good idea to have some quality about you, and Letters to Leaders certainly do. The drumming is of a high standard throughout, while the lead singer’s prominent bass drives the songs from beginning to clichéd, repetitive end. Letter’s problem is their focus on being consistently hooky and radio-friendly. There’s nothing even remotely inventive or original, and it appears even if they did manage to come up with something it would be sacrificed for a standard riff that would make girls with loud hair and tight jeans swoon.

The Exeter boys also seem to think quite highly of themselves. In some ways it’s actually refreshing to see a band take themselves seriously and have a bit of ego instead of this tired, self-deprecating pseudo-modesty we get today. It also provides laughter at their expense if they had any crap moments, which they didn’t. Unfortunately the lack of weak songs only highlighted the mediocrity of their output as a whole. They ‘rock it up’ the same way little chocolate bits turn a cereal from a healthy breakfast to a ‘naughty treat’. They’re a sheltered, middle-class take on rebellion. Ordering the crowd to pound their fists in the air before playing a song that made Bon Jovi sound like death metal exposed their blinkered view on things.

Having said this, their brand of cheesy indie pop in the soap-opera-star-venting-his-petty-worries-on-primetime-TV style is harmless. At worst, it’s still a pleasing sound in the background, and although their accessibility gives doubt to any hidden depth, they’re certainly good value as a second support act.

But the first support band were a different proposition. Quite obviously, Hoodoo Scoundrels have an astonishingly bad moniker, but they were a marked improvement. They’re a tight foursome with two guitars, also young, also playing catchy indie, with the difference being that the music contained far more personality. The lead guitar automatically gave them a more expressive, developing sound.

This more memorable band contained charismatic vocals, some adept solo work, and a general air of groove to them that comes from having older acts like the Police and JJ Cale as influences. And whilst they’re not exactly bringing the Tulsa sound to London, there’s an air of them being more practiced and knowledgeable simply because they’ve drawn blues and classic rock sensibilities into songs like ‘Murder’ and the ska-infused ‘Lost the Girl’ rather than just pilfering tired ideas from stale contemporaries.

Thin Lizzy appear to be a major influence also, especially in forming the charismatic Ned Wyndham’s singing style. He proves that, in indie-pop’s case at least, simple lyrics sung well are preferable to good lyrics sung passably. But Hoodoo Scoundrel’s difficulty with this mannerism is that the vocals become so much more important when they’re sung in the 70s rock style. The question is whether Wyndham’s voice is good enough to see them through. At the moment it’s touch and go – in some numbers he sings with soul and flair, in others he’s simply doing an impression of Phil Lynott.

There are similarities in their sound to the Arctic Monkeys, but bands with similar influences tend to share some ideas, and with their solid performance, particularly their renditions of ‘the Witch Song’ and the excellent ’57 Million to 1’, they deserve the benefit of the doubt. Like Letters to Leaders, they’re not doing anything new, but they’re a better band simply because they’ve listened to more, and different types of, music. ‘Twas a good set on the whole buy a band that, if they develop as they have started, could be something special.

The headliners on this night were something else entirely. I Was A Cub Scout fans may be recognise Brontide’s drummer William Bowerman, who leads the instrumental threesome from the back with his inspired drumming. Brontide proffer atmospheric, developing concept rock in a ‘Pink Floyd for the scenesters’ manner. They have no vocals (in case you didn’t know what instrumental meant), a sprightly bass, and simple guitar save for the occasional effects. Their compositions slowly build up to explosions of life, bringing some welcome noise to the Metro.

Aside from the fact that it’s Bowerman and his mates having some fun, Brontide appear to be a drummer’s dream. All the variation in their pieces comes from the sticks, apart from some of the solo play during the heavy parts - which only seemingly exist to provide the drummer with a platform to turn his attention to the larger cymbals. The multi-peddled sound effects guitar provides the whizz, the thunderous drumming provides the bang.

This kind of music is experimental, progressive, fun to play, interesting to listen to, and a damn site more original than a lot of bands out there. But it has its faults. For one, Brontide are inconsistent. They understand that repeating a melody twice as long as usual gives it another feel and builds tension, but the quality of their melodies and the timing of their build-ups are still up for question. Sometimes the ‘explosions into life’ don’t hit the spot, at other times they take liberties with the listeners’ patience, and occasionally sound like the Mars Volta’s over-indulgent interludes or just a band having an impromptu jam on stage, which is all well and good, except these tracks are composed and rehearsed and should be of a higher quality than mere ‘jam’ material. When Brontide hit, they hit big, but there were some misses as well.

But what’s great about them is the fact they’re producing music of this ilk at all. Hardly anyone else in the indie world is, and with further development (particularly on the guitar side of things) Brontide can only improve. Give them a few years, and they could be a shining light in modern British rock.

On the whole it was a good night at Club COG, so much so that I haven’t thought of much else since. Come to think of it, there isn’t much to do now. Oh, but I’ve learnt my lesson. No more wandering. I’m off to see if Cillit Bang will remove the poo from my top. Until next time,

Muhammad Odeh