For the most part, I reckon bands nowadays make a better fist of 1980s music than the ‘80s bands did themselves. I’ll admit to being more into Miffy the Rabbit, Thomas the Tank Engine and Panini sticker albums at the time, but I do recall that most music I heard during my formative decade was pretty shit. So the electro revival that’s been kicking around these past few years is just dandy by me – it sounds like the ‘80s should have been; less Milli Vanilli, more industrial beats and luxuriant, wall-to-wall synth.

Which brings us, in a roundabout, rambling sort of way, to Sierra Maestra. When the south London five piece took to the Water Rats stage I was wilting visibly, a brewlicious afternoon in the pub followed by a long, hot gig having reduced me to a sad human dishcloth. So thank God for the electro ripples of opening number ‘You I Fear’ that presaged a refreshing shower of brooding poptronica. And cheers to the deity of your choice for the other tunes that made up rest of Sierra Maestra’s set, such as the rather excellent ‘If This Goes Right’ and closing number ‘When The Lights Go Down’.

The sincerest form of flattery it may be, but Sierra Maestra fortunately avoids the pitfall of slavish imitation – there’s a refreshingly contemporary sensibility to all these retro shenanigans. Fortunate also that frontman Richard Acosta has got the right voice for the job, flitting like a chamois of the Alps from detached downbeat to classic indie; on ‘Desert Waters’, for example, his voice takes on almost Gallagheresque tone (minus the overdone Salford accent, that is).

Hopefully it’s only a matter of time until some label lassoes Sierra Maestra – if this is what they sound like after a scant few months’ active service, it’ll be interesting to listen to them when they’ve got an album or two under their collective belt.

Trudging to the Old Blue Last on a chilly, downright Dickensian evening, I would quite happily have chucked the whole shebang for a night in front of the TV, watching River Tam kick people balletically in the face. The wind was biting; the plus one stroppy. Add a smattering of raggedy chimney sweeps and tubercular flower girls, and the scene of misery would have been complete.

So it’s testament to the quality of the gig that the reviewer who emerged three bands later was a cheery, benevolent sort of reviewer, full to the brim with the milk of human kindness. Well, three-and-a-bit bands to be absolutely accurate; things got off to a cracking, albeit unexpected, start when Ross from folk pop four piece My First Tooth hopped onto the rather bijou stage to play a few tunes.

Then on to the first scheduled group in the shape of Surrey boys Stagecoach, who for me were the biggest and most welcome surprise of the evening. Songs such as ‘Hot Doggin’ and ‘Ice Ages’ showcased the group’s bouncy mix of power pop and post-grunge, topped by a sense of humour and the most rock ‘n’ roll application of the mandolin since Cobra Killers. However, Stagecoach’s stand-out moment was undoubtedly ‘We Got Tazers’, title track of their latest EP and possessor of an ear worm chorus that I’m still trying to shake off.

Next up were Screaming Maldini, a Sheffield sextet formed out of the remains of the Situationists. Eclectic, enthusiastic and frankly exhausting, ‘restraint’ wasn’t a word in SM’s vocabulary – each song being a witches’ brew of interesting noises. When it worked, it was heady, exciting stuff; when it didn’t, things got a touch overcrowded and busy. Fortunately, hits far outnumbered misses, with numbers like ‘Secret Sounds’, ‘The Extraordinary’ and the ‘The Albatross’ going over big with the many-headed.

The final act of the evening didn’t disappoint either; Stars And Sons’ consignment of feelgood summer pop proved the perfect antidote to a dreary February, with tunes such as ‘In The Ocean’ and upcoming single ‘If It’s Good For Me’ driving away the clouds with copious woo-hoos, shimmering keyboards and sunny guitars. Props also to the Brighton-based five piece for ‘4 Stars’, a catchy Eels-esque song about playing Grand Theft Auto. In short, three interesting groups; each different; all entertaining – and lucky old indie label Alcopop! has ‘em all.

Dressed all in black, and barely cracking a smile, the Filthy Tongues launched straight into the rhythmic spoken word number ‘Dreamcatcher’. Isa remained off stage, her sultry vocals permeating the room, with only a twitching mic lead to hint at her presence.  It was a smart piece of showmanship, creating a sense of anticipation in the audience. Isa (aka Stacey Travis) eventually ambled on stage for the second number, to groove and flounce provocatively through a tight and potent set of non-nonsense, lo-fi indie rock.

Isa & the Filth Tongues are from the Velvet Underground / New York Dolls / Jesus & Mary Chain school of dark and moody. Hypnotic, shoe-gazing tracks such as ‘Finders Fuckers’ were delivered with characteristic nuance and flair. A light sprinkling of truly upbeat rock numbers such as ‘New Town Killers’ and the outstanding pixyish ‘Do What I Want’ gave a well balanced set lift at the right times, along with faster paced rockabilly numbers such as ‘She Said Yeah’ . Isa postured and prowled around the stage, sometimes predator, sometimes princess. Guitarist Martin Metcalf really belts out the riffs with fire and force, and switched tempo and distortion at a impressive speed – a genuine pro at work. The additional mini-encore track was a slightly ill-judged eco-ballad, whose lyrics included images of oily birds, forests being destroyed and bulldozers. Musically, some nice blues guitar, but it just seemed a little out of place for a finale. Plus, it reminded me a bit too much of Avatar!

Erland And The Carnival sounds like it might be the name of the kids’ TV show, but in fact they are a band who have set themselves the objective of creating a fresh style for British folk music.  This involves writing tunes that are inspired in equal measure by traditional songs and darker post-punk sounds.

Frontman Erland Cooper is reminiscent of Ian Curtis in his movements, and wields his guitar like a Tommy Gun.  He continually switches between electric, acoustic and no guitar at all, and even when he’s not playing he can’t seem to decide whether to put his guitar down.  He binds his hands up in his microphone cable, discards plectrums as if on a whim, and fidgets constantly.  But he never seems nervous.   “Are you frightened of us?” he asks at one point.  “Sometimes we’re frightened of us too.”

With Simon Tong (of The Verve and The Good, The Bad and The Queen) on guitar, expectations for instrumentation might well be high, and this is certainly fulfilled.  Guitar and keyboards work in tandem to the point that sometimes a wall of sound builds up and looms over the small venue.  But then, the beginnings of folk song melodies can be heard breaking through it, and these two halves of the music come together.  It shouldn’t work so harmoniously, but it does.

The most striking thing about Erland & The Carnival as a live band is the level of noise they generate, and the speed with which they play.  In under an hour, they belt through the entirety of their recent debut album and still have time for a couple of B-sides.  About a third of the way through the set, after the outright frenzied ‘The Derby Ram’, Erland suggests speeding thing up a bit, and from there the pace rarely lets up.  They conclude with a rendition of ‘The Sweeter The Girl The Harder I Fall’ that sounds about twice as fast as the album version, and twice as loud as anything anyone purporting to be playing folk has ever thundered it out at.

Dag For Dag are an exiting prospect to keep an eye on this year. With debut album ‘Boo’ due for release on Feb 22^nd, this trio of Swedish indie rockers, including brother and sister Sarah and David Snavely, are slowly gathering a lot of new fans.

‘Something Beginning With L’ opened the evening at the Old Blue Last with a very accomplished set. Assured and melodic female-led indie with touches of Throwing Muses and The Breeders. Some impressive layered riffs, mellow arrangements with synth pop leanings, they displayed an interesting range, with bursts of raw rock and roll energy.

Second up was the wonderful ‘She Keeps Bees’, aka New York soulful singer / songwriter Jessica Larribee. A powerful performance, complete with Patti Smith-esque swagger, a stunning voice, and deep lo-fi dirty blues reminiscent of The Black Keys. Disarmingly hilarious in between songs, Larribee rambled charismatically to the crowd about life on the road and wardrobe issues, then switched back to another consummate performance.

Dag for Dag swung into action with a tense feedback intro, then tore into a high energy performance, jerking and posturing manically around the stage. They soon settled into a rhythm with what proved to be a devastating set; full of flair, originality and innovation. With tracks like ‘Hands and Knees’, ‘Silence as the Verb’ , ‘Animal’ and ‘Ring me Elize’, Dag for Dag demonstrate that rare quality of exciting, stirring music. As haunting melodies swing into visceral rock and roll. You can hear a bit of American indie ala Sonic Youth, which goes a little Nico at times. In particular, when lead singer Sarah Snaveley produced a violin for the melancholy ‘Boxed in Pine’. With a couple of psychedelic wig-outs adding to an unpredictable, but compelling performance, it was a bold and blistering set from an outstanding band, possibly buoyed by the strong female performances that preceded.

Celebrating the launch of their debut single ‘Phonographic Love’, funky indie-pop trio Cha Cha headlined the Friday slot at 93 Feet East on Brick Lane. The assured Lyrebirds gave solid support; with some bold guitar work, and excellent lead vocals. They sounded a bit like early Echo and the Bunnymen and look a good prospect.

There was an upbeat party vibe to Cha Cha’s set. A performance of un-cynical  indie pop numbers, showcasing the single ‘Phonographic Love’. They were well received by a crowd more familiar with feedback and shoe gazing. A bright and polished set with a retro-disco feel followed.  Typified by ‘Sit You Down’ and perhaps the highlight, a new track being piloted called (I think) ‘Associate’ which had some great lead guitar work. The summer ska number ‘Windows’ also went down well, and the set ended on a high with the extended dancey number ‘Juicy Luicy’.

There is a refreshing positivity to Cha Cha’s music, which follows a sort of 80’s pop formula with a funky twist. Imagine a British version of The Rapture after eating too much sugar. Lyrically, a couple of the tracks performed were a little lightweight, and threatened to go all New Young Radicals. But with a tight feelgood disco groove, Cha Cha  just stay on outskirts of cheese town –  great sunny day music.

Californian stoner rock veterans, Fu Manchu kicked off their two month European tour last night at Islington’s 02 Academy.

Since the release of their 1994 debut album, ‘No One Rides For Free’, Fu Manchu have gone through a number of different line up changes including briefly recruiting ex-Kyuss drummer and now solo artist, Brant Bjork, but despite this, their live shows have always been consistent.

Kicking off with the blistering heavy fuzz classic, ‘Hell on Wheels’, beginning with Bob Balch’s throbbing guitar, that slowly morphs into a deadly thunderous roar, shows that Fu Manchu are a band on top of their game.

‘Bionic Astronautics’, the first track from their new album, ‘Signs of Infinite Power’, harks back to the bands, hardcore punk roots and a break down that echoes back to early 70’s era Black Sabbath.

A flurry of tracks from their new album followed, as the band threw themselves into ‘El Busta’, ‘Steel.Beast.Defeated’, ‘Webfoot Witch Hat’ and ‘Gargantuan March’, all of which were received well by the sold out crowd and hinted at a return to the glory days of the genre classics of 1996’s ‘In Search Of’ and 2000’s ‘King Of The Road’ releases.

‘California Crossing’, the main stay of many of Fu Manchu’s recent set lists, starts with the Scott Reeder’s thundering military style drumming, before vocalist Scott Hill unloads: “Twenty years or more/We had a plan/To build the finest street ride/In the whole damn land”, which sparks a mass three minute sing-a-long.

Despite a mixed reception for the bands previous two releases, ‘Start The Machine’ and ‘We Must Obey’, Fu Manchu’s greatness is still here. Lynchpin guitarist and front man Scott Hill’s laid back, West Coast Californian croon, Scott Reeder’s and Brad Davis’ driving rhythm section and finally Bob Balch’s thick fuzzy guitar licks make you wonder why these guys are not as big and well received as their Californian neighbours, Queens of the Stone Age.

Despite the emphasis being on the bands new tracks, fans were treated to a flurry of classics including, ‘Eatin’ Dust’, ‘Laserblast!’, and ‘Evil Eye’, a brilliant, psychedelic tinged hard rock classic that is arguably one of the strongest tracks the band have ever released.

The 90 minute set list finished up with eight minute, psychedelic, down tuned, doom rock onslaught of ‘Saturn III’, with vocalist Scott Hill commenting that Islington was: “Not a bad way to start the tour.” And it wasn’t a ‘bad way’ to spend my night either.

With the pseudonym Is Tropical, you could be forgiven for imagining that these musician’s were to be a tanned bunch of lascivious Adonis’ meticulously crafting an amalgamation of flagrant licks and bleeps. Well, the second part is relevant. The first is just a premonition- Is Tropical is in fact a trio shrouded in their own tatty scarves with just a mere snippet of their peep holes visible. And, I’m sure underneath, skin as ashen as an albino.

With this their first headline tour, the band decided to make it a little more prominent in the eyes of indie scamps by inviting fellow buzz band Egyptian Hip Hop along as joint headliners. So, for tonight at Stealth in Nottingham Is Tropical and Egyptian Hip Hop join alliances in an adolescent shit storm of beeps, glitches and communal sweat.

Is Tropical are first onstage, masked throughout as aforementioned,  detonating their subsonic burr of twisting rhythmic beats in front of a backdrop of fuzzed out television static waves. They fire through the fairly placid yet hooky new single ‘When O When’ sublimely until a minute in when a shift in pace starts the Is Tropical sea shanty shenanigans. “And when the French handed me over, to the white cliffs of Dover” line is sung a smattering of the lyrical swagger of a certain Damon Albarn’s early years in his writing of the ‘Parklife’ album seems evidently linked. But it’s the beguiling shape shifting ‘Seasick Mutiny’s set closing jaunt that devours the crowd and give it a good fuckin’ shake.

Next Egyptian Hip Hop bound onstage amid the thick muddy-PR storm that has entrenched their recent months. These, like Is Tropical are cunning artists of psychological distortion – they categorically do not come from Cairo nor do they partake in any Hip Hop! And after their very own pimple faced adolescent front man named only as A.H arrogantly bosses the sound engineer around for ten-or-so minutes they get knee-deep into their set.

They meander through a set of watery guitars, chiming keys and soaring synths. Egyptian Hip Hop lay the same effervescent wax-sealed spindly guitars and dream hoody electro polished foundations as American outfit Solid Gold showed the underground indie haunts last year. But the complex structures and insipid live performance doesn’t match the all-together finely tuned performance of the band before them.

Two words are prominently lodged in my mind after tonight’s proceedings…IS TROPICAL!

Anyone with a passing interest in the beautiful game knows that wearing golden boots is a bit of a statement. David Beckham could; Tomas Brolin not so much. So when Volcanoes frontman Sam Bedford rocked up on stage in aureate sneakers, the chunk of this reviewer’s brain that is forever football curled a metaphorical lip, as if to say ‘Think we’re good, do we? We’ll see about that’.

Which only goes to show how warped and cynical the f.f. part of my b. has become, because the Yorkshire four piece had class enough to spare. Bedford, guitarist Kevin Shirley, drummer Chris Hall and improbably-named bassist Boa Internationale gave Camden a set made of pure grade indie goodness, with songs such as ‘She’s On Me’, ‘What You Came For’ and the excellent ‘Temple’ showcasing their funky hooks, tight guitars and clear, Arctic-Monkeyesque vocals. There’s also more than a smidge of The Coral’s psychedelia in Volcanoes’ make-up, as the second song of the evening, ‘Lucy Lambado’, made evident.

However, none of this quite puts the finger on Volcanoes’ ingredient X, that nebulous quality that makes a group stand out from the good, but ultimately forgettable, bands that you can hear every night in pubs and clubs across the country. Perhaps it’s that Volcanoes have a breath of fresh air feel about them; a bunch of likeable guys playing catchy, inventive indie pop and having fun while doing it. At the risk of getting all hagiographical ‘n’ shit, Volcanoes gave us a full-length set that seemed over far too soon. Gentlemen, you can wear whatever shoes you like.

Tags: Adam Hussain, Asbo4Life, Billy Webb, goldie lookin chain, Maggott, Worzels

Bringing festive cheer to the capital on a bitter winter evening, Goldie Lookin’ Chain burst onto the stage in a whirlwind of banter, bling and funky hip-hop. The GLC Office Christmas Party tour treated the small but spirited crowd at Islington Academy to greatest hits such as ‘Billy Webb’s Lament’, ‘Your Mother’s Got A Penis’ and ‘Half-man, Half-machine’ from their 2004 breakthrough album of the same name. Adding to mix were a smattering of pre-fame, brasher numbers along with solid new  tracks such as ‘Everybody Is A DJ’ and the excellent ‘By Any Means Necessary’. GLC are a hilarious live act that keep up a fun tempo of party anthems. They are dirty, offensive and just don’t seem to care what they say on stage. This is a good thing. It’s refreshing for a live act to drop any pretentions and have such a great repertoire between themselves and the crowd.

All said and done though, it’s difficult to find a home for the GLC outside of the festival circuit, where their effective brand of comedy, retro 80’s references, and fine hip-hop will always find favour. The weed-smoking, porn-watching collective capture a certain frame of mind – albeit it intelligently and with great humour – that early 20’s laddish faze of partying, pot and failing to get laid. The problem GLC have is that their audience is growing up and the generation behind will simply not relate to the many of the lyrical references.

The organised chaos of their live act (despite the reliance on pre-laid backing tracks) is very entertaining, and when ‘Guns Don’t Kill People, Rappers Do’ and ‘Soapbar’ ring out you remember what heights the GLC can reach. 2009’s ‘Asbo4life’ is a return to form, but this likeable bunch will have to work hard to avoid ending up being trapped as sort of a novelty hip-hop Worzels.