- Independent UK Promoting

COG Review - 20/12/08 (Kabeedies/Once A Thief/Kids Love Lies/Kinkane)

Club Night Review

Saturday 20^th December at the Metro, Oxford Street

Bands: Kabeedies, Once A Thief, Kids Love Lies, Kinkane

Merry Winter Festival! Some people, particularly critics and writers of topical stuff, will look to add class and integrity to their work by largely ignoring the festive season, save for a couple of subtle hints as a ‘wink’ to the more in-tune reader. Here’s hoping Yule feel the same about this piece.

The jollirific stuffing-and-sprout-fest that is Christmas is edging near its bloated and underwhelming zenith. Placing the fact it’s a product of the Romanisation of Christianity and is about as far away as you can get on a calendar to Jesus’ July birth date aside, it’s a time of giving, receiving, eating, and all other manner of Clapham Common innuendo. It’s also a time for music and merriment, and if you’re a wicked-cool indie fanster (this season’s word du jour for ‘fan’), the only thing to satisfy your festive musical cravings is Club COG’s nights of top indie talent. (Obviously for merriment you’d settle for nothing less than a crack rock the size of a golf ball.)

Things pranced-on-the-stage off with the mighty Kinkane, a band who have been so successful they’ve been signed for nearly four years apparently. What do you mean you’ve never heard of them? They’re Kinkane dammit! KINKANE!! No, me neither - and this despite them having just supported the Who at the O2 - which makes you question the ability of their label, as easy mockery aside, they’re strangely good.

Their contrived songs are unique. Their standard chord structures are filled with Radio 1 riffs and lyrics a 17-year-old wouldn’t bother to finger on a condensed mirror, and yet they’re oddly compelling. It’s probably because they’ve out-mainstreamed the mainstream acts. Every mainstream act has an edge - a musical hook, be it the voice of the singer, particular guitar/piano styles, etc. Kinkane’s edge is that they have no individual characteristics at all.

Every song sounds like it could be stolen from Franz Ferdinand or Kaiser Chiefs, but more so the dull American bands like Phantom Planet, 3 Doors Down or even Matchbox 20. There’s some U2 and Crowded House in there as well, but their true musical next-of-kins are another band that love standard American rock, but as cultural outsiders never manage to get it right, and that’s Aussie favourites Powderfinger.

All this sounds distinctly negative, but they seem to do the most they can with these characteristics. They’re catchy, and they’re tight. Their sound has been honed perfectly into little pop records that could be listened to by anyone. It’s inoffensive, it’s hook-laden, and it showcases proficient musicianship. The singer’s voice is as welcome in a pop unit-shifter for the kids as it is in an underground art-house composition, and their entire image and style seems instantly marketable.

But in the end it’s not real music. There seems to be a distinct lack of indulgence and artistic freedom. It’s as if the cast of High School Musical were told to ‘rock it out’. They’ve created songs Robbie Williams could use. A professional set by a band who know how to perform, but like dating a 14 year old girl when you’re 18, there’s a part of you that just feels wrong.

So it was time to correct things with Kids Love Lies, a punky punk band from punkerton, playing indie songs except all, like, rebellious and stuff. The female lead’s vocal styling and stage persona is the typical modern punk clusterfuck of PJ Harvey, Kathleen Hanna, Debbie Harry and a whole bunch of other ‘wild girl’ luminary influences. The music is punchy, lively punk with a nice undertone of progressive lead guitar that is lost in the noise of the live performance. The only problem with them is that their sound has been done a thousand times before.

Now, this happens quite often in music. The best way to overcome this is to write songs of tremendous quality. Unfortunately Kids Love Lies don’t get above the slightly good. And if it’s slightly good then there are better alternatives to listen to, such as the icons mentioned above. Kids Love Lies offer nothing different to the norm except the occasional below par ‘story telling’ lyrics (like in ‘Morning After’, which makes not a single interesting observation in more than four minutes). They also seem to forget what they’re playing. The nature of punk music is simple and repetitive. That’s why most of the best punk songs are around two minutes (one of Bikini Kill’s finest clocks in at under 40 seconds). To stretch out a two minute punk track to three and a half minutes by repeating the chorus an extra ten times is bordering on the suicidal.

Their punk songs are about as edgy as having an extra profiterole for dessert, but when they play calmer tracks like ‘Under the Bed’ and ‘Chimera’ they show a much more promising side to them - similar to Pretty Girls Make Graves in tunefulness and head-nod-ability. Their set was tiring, but if they develop their more considered side, they really could be quite special.

On to a band who are far closer to reaching those levels. Club COG favourites Once A Thief played the role of main support with a roster of new tracks, incorporating even hookier riffs and standout solos than before. More than ever, they best represent the modern London sound, with opener ‘Slow It Down’ being the archetypal punk-ska-with-a-hint-of-techno track – think every new indie band that’s born out of that sound – Eight Legs, the Foxes, the Fullertons, etc - only actually good.

The two big songs ‘Satellites’ and ‘Sirens’ are already classics in COG regulars’ minds. The latter in particular still has the ability to burn into the grey matter until all you want is that screaming guitar effect to build up in your head ad infinitum. But the more exciting prospects were the new additions, which showed a marked development in Once A Thief’s sound, being in that they were uniformly superb, with the mellow ‘Spare Keys’ a particular highlight. There was more singing, higher tones, an accomplished solo here and there, and of course all of this anchored with a superb level of drumming by the still amusingly named Hitman. The Vested One (he doesn’t understand sleeves) proceeded to bash away as if he was being paid serious money to destroy a cymbal with a stick. William Bowerman aside, it’s hard to think of a better drummer in the scene today, and one more musically in-line with the band they’re playing for.

They finished their set with yet another exemplary new track ‘Ice Cream Headache’, that showed their back catalogue has not only increased in size but also in quality. Another top notch performance.

They made way for the headliners – a bunch of rural kids who, despite sporting trendy haircuts and tight-fitting garments, still appeared to smell of cider and horse manure. They were the Kabeedies, and they played straight indie pop with driving two-tone. They’re a standard four piece with the female lead singer being afforded constant backing vocals from the guitar and bass players.

Their lyrics sometimes shine with wit and zeal, sometimes offend with downright naivety, but it’s that naivety which makes them an excellent band to see live. They are pure energy and fun, have great chemistry on stage, and the little vocalist makes up for her average voice by jumping around like a child having been force-fed speed, sherbet and malic acid (I was acquitted). Their songs all contained sing-along choruses with overlapping vocals. ‘Lovers Ought To’ and ‘King Canute’ are particular highlights in a set fraught with liveliness and infectious, wide-eyed optimism.

If a tad unoriginal in some areas, they didn’t possess any truly bad songs. It’s as if they put all their focus on making sure every chorus is so catchy it’s wrong. Add the fact they make the cast of Lazy Town seem haggard and listless, and they could be onto a winning formula. After all, the indie kids would love a fun option to turn to when they’ve had a philosophical work-out by the poignant and contemplative Vampire Weekend.

As they finished the set as lively as they started, a feeling descended upon the crowd - a feeling of warmth, love for their fellow man, and togetherness. It even touched - nay engulfed - the icy, brutish heart of yours truly. This feeling – maybe even a spirit – changed my outlook to one of seasonal cheer and giving. And I gave a lot. It’s just a shame those alleyway tramps didn’t like to receive. Nothing a screwdriver to the eye couldn’t fix though (thrown out due to lack of evidence). Until next time,

Muhammad Odeh