Black Kids
Clwb Ifor Bach
Unsigned just nine months ago, Jacksonville quintet Black Kids were just another
one of America’s anonymous indie bands until a flurry of global press
interest dragged them out of the also-rans. The catalyst? Well, several could
be argued but the fundamental line is that Black Kids write thrilling pop songs
that sit well with both music purists and prime-time chat shows. Despite creating
the sort of media frenzy akin to the musical introduction of Arcade Fire and
The White Stripes, the Black Kids are keeping things low-key before hitting
the festival circuit in the summer.
Lead singer Reggie Youngblood was colourful throughout and quick to point out
his appreciation to a rammed venue, saying: “I can’t believe you’d
want to come and see us instead of Boyzone – you must all be drunk.” Latest
single Hurricane Jane was another beatific piece of synth-laden pop, with Youngblood’s
glistened vocals full of ’80s balladry twisting towards the 21st century.
The ubiquitous hit I’m Not Going To Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance
is the band’s crowning glory, a song crammed full of decadent synths
and Youngblood’s yearning for the girl of his dreams. The Black Kids
look certain to continue their ascent towards the indie summit.
Keith Carey
Pigeon Detectives
Newport Centre
Last year was a triumph for loutish lad rock. Debut albums from The Enemy and
The Twang fused small town frustrations with gritty melodies to create a sound
that spoke to the beleaguered everyday man. Leeds outfit the Pigeon Detectives
use a wholly different approach to reach the masses. The band’s debut album,
Wait For Me, is a crash course in frivolous indie-pop that’s more concerned
with weaving tales about disastrous relationships than kicking their home-town
to the curb. It would have been easy for the band to rest on their laurels but
they’ve hit the ground running with their second album, Emergency. Recorded
at Rockfield Studios in the Monnow Valley earlier this year, it’s another
slab of precise lad rock with former Smiths/Blur producer Stephen Street adding
sonic rushes to a heady musical mix. The band strode confidently onto the stage
to the sound of The Who’s thunderous Baba O’Reilly and launched into
the dark pop of Emergency. The spiralling I Found Out followed, barely two minutes
of brash rock that sent the swelled crowd into a unified bounce. A hefty amount
of new material made its way into the set but the vast amount sounded like a
rehashing of former glories. The acoustic Nothing To Do With You made an exception – a
plaintive ditty brimming with original sentiment. The set ended with the vitriolic
I’m Not Sorry, a storming piece of cunning anti-sentiment. The new material
from Emergency may be a little underwhelming, but there was enough here to keep
the lad rock contingent satisfied.
Keith Carey
Escape Into The Park
Singleton Park
Swansea
The furry boots - given a run for their money by bikinis, bee costumes, ladybirds
and nurses - were out in force once again for this year’s Escape Into The
Park. Five tents were blaring out everything from trance to garage and drum n’ bass – which
nicely sated the 20,000 strong crowd who’d travelled from all over Europe
for what has become a Mecca for dance music fans. Zombie-like hoards seemed to
descend on the main arena’s sloping hill from every direction - such was
the pull of this year’s headliners. Big-name DJ’s such as Eddie Halliwell,
Sander Van Doom, Ferry Corsten and Fedde Le Grand peppered the different arenas
with differing beats, moods and styles. But there was no question for me who
the headline act were. With Rick Smith originally from Ammanford, and the band
first getting together at college in Cardiff – it felt like something of
a homecoming gig for Underworld. Albums Second Toughest of the Infants and Beacoup
Fish dominated the set. Gems like King of Snake were played early on – whetting
everybody’s appetite for THAT song. Karl Hyde might be no spring chicken
now, but he still oozes rock’n roll. Born Slippy is as exciting now as
it was in 1996 thanks to Hyde’s obvious passion - throwing himself about
the stage like a cross between Iggy Pop and Axl Rose. It was the song that many
of the dance-music fence sitters paid their sovereigns to see – and they
savoured every lager, lager, lager-fuelled second.
Jo Roberts
We just love the sound of music