- Independent UK Promoting

COG Review - 1/8/09 (Outside Royalty/D.Moscow/S.Signs/Kaiko)

Club Night Review

Saturday 1^st August at the Lexington

Bands: The Outside Royalty, Defend Moscow, Stealing Signs, Kaiko

Pleasurable rambunctiousness aside, is there any point in paying two feeble old tramps to fight you? Of course there is. You’re exercising yourself, removing two unproductive non-tax payers from existence, and creating a snuff film that would thrive in the darkest internet cauldrons for many months. On the bad side, you might contract Hepatitis C, the tramps might win, or you might be sent to jail due to video evidence of your crimes, and then, in a prison with a deliberate shortage of Vaseline, the rambunctiousness won’t be so pleasurable.

With all the risks tied to tramp-beating, a better way of occupying your monthly urge for excitement would be to listen to fresh new indie music in a central London location, say, at the Lexington near King’s Cross, where COG’s monthly club night hosts the brightest up-and-coming bands in the nation.

This particular summer evening started with Kaiko, an unassuming four-piece on their third COG outing. With static-screen TVs placed around the stage, they played mellow songs accompanied by the memorable vocal style of lead singer James Tyler, whose timbre and delivery is just different enough for him to not be called a Thom Yorke copy.

Their compositions meander with purpose, always remaining vital, fresh and attention-grabbing. They exhibit an air of sophistication, borne of simply yet beautifully crafted songs. With wistful tunes like ’Wisdom Tooth’ they show themselves to be, unfortunately for today’s market, an act that require attentive listening. The reward is beautiful music that easily surpasses more successful contemporaries like Interpol and Athlete, and show Kaiko to be a quietly magnificent group.

The next band, Stealing Signs, were compared to At the Drive-In by a reporter in the NME, a reporter soon to find his own ignorant, putrid intestines draped around his bedroom before being skullfucked to death with the business end of a crowbar. For to compare Stealing Signs, an average indie band from Essex with clean-cut looks, who make as much of an impact to music as Drive by Argument (exactly), to At the Drive-In, the seminal post-hardcore band from El Paso, Texas, with heroin-influenced entirely metaphorical lyrics of astounding perception, is to state, undisputedly, that you know nothing about music at all. Which isn’t much of a surprise for NME. This is actually topped by some unknown fool claiming the band are ‘kings of life’.

In fairness they’re not a bad band, with some accomplished musicianship (particularly the drumming) and not a single terrible song. However, nothing stood out either. They weren’t offensive to have on in the background, but the same can be said of Hitler’s speeches. It’s unfortunate that to be middle-of-the-road as they are is probably worse than being bad. After all, everyone knows who the Wombats are, and their name will forever be etched into my brain, right alongside smelling rotten-egg farts and the sudden death of my gran.

But there’s definitely potential there, and although some impressive bands have been showcased as their influences online, they would improve for certain by listening to more varied records. Who knows what they can accomplish if they added a little blues, thrash metal or stoner rock to their palette?

The main support followed. Defend Moscow have two vocalists, male and female, a guitarist, a bass player, a drummer and a synth machine. Their MySpace page almost crumbles under the weight of glowing reviews from a plethora of notable indie media outlets (and NME). They’re extraordinarily memorable, in that they are not a band. No way can that word be used to describe this Kylie and Jason revival group. Their misguided Scandinavian/80s pop is so listless and cheesy they make you think the Ting Tings purvey authentic musical integrity. They are so bad I would rather listen to 2003 UK Eurovision contestants Jemini.

Of course it’s all a matter of perspective. As a comedy act they’re fantastic, from the topless drummer to the two singers staring at each other while spouting the most asinine lyrics ever shitted from the bowels of Pete Waterman. If there was any justice in this world, they’d be confined to doing ABBA themed weddings, but as this world is to justice what prescription meds were to Michael Jackson, they’re a hot new band on the rise. By this point, the fact a band as good as Kaiko had opened the evening seemed like a distant happy daydream.

After a set that left drunken birthday girls happy but everyone else crumpled into the foetal position begging for the pain to go away, on came the headliners. The Outside Royalty have been on a Club COG stage three times, which is a good indication as to what kind of band they are. Tonight, they played the role of saviours, and they played it with aplomb.

Intelligent indie with cello and violin that’s actually integral to the music instead of being used as a gimmicky afterthought is rare enough. But when you add to this songs with quality, drive and substance, carried off by a band with spirit and charm, you have a unique combination. I say unique, because other bands like Tigers That Talked may contain many similar qualities, but none possess the hook-laden hit collection of The Outside Royalty.

Tracks like ‘Palladium’ and ‘A Lightbulb Turning Off’ are instant classics for this wave of indie, easily superior to anything created by Franz Ferdinand, Kasabian, Kaiser Chiefs, The Killers, Razorlight, Kooks, The View, The Fratellis, Bloc Party and Keane in the last couple of years. The reason, apart from obviously having more artistic integrity than most of the aforementioned acts, is the gravitas of their songs. The vocal delivery is passionate and meaningful. The drums are not heard, but felt. The bass kicks and provokes. The guitar and classical string instruments dance to the foreground, with the keyboard anchoring songs like ‘Safety in Numbers’ majestically.

There’s a feeling that The Outside Royalty just know what a good song is, and as they ended their set to cheers, there was an individual cry of disappointment by a moustachioed freakboy (who is in no way an acquaintance of mine) that the quite magical ‘Voice Beneath the Rubble’ hadn’t been performed, due to the cellist being overseas. After some animated begging by the mentalist (seriously, never seen him before in my life) and a check that time would be allowed, the band played it anyway, much to the crowd’s delight. Even with a key instrument missing, ‘Voice Beneath the Rubble’, perhaps their most beautiful and invasive piece, is a memorable experience, and one that comes highly recommended to anyone who likes indie without fitting into jeans meant for 14 year old girls.

All’s well that ends well, and the night ended very well indeed. Their set even had the cap-wearing miscreant satisfied (I promise he’ll never come again). I’m off to see if my uncle would beat up my granddad if I promise to give him his insulin back. Hopefully Diabetes Death Fights III would be the one to catapult me to directorial stardom, I’m running out of elderly family. Hollywood, here I come. Until next time,

Muhammad Odeh