April 23, 2005
There’s always a revival on the horizon. Lately, we’ve seen the resurrection of hair metal with The Darkness, a warning that we’re only ever one Lycra jumpsuit away from the heyday of Motley Crue. Then The Killers proved that 80s synth-pop never really died, it just fell asleep for 25 years and awoke in a slightly less grumpy mood. With Britpop firmly marked on the agenda, tonight’s all about looking to the past, but with a post-Millennial twist.
While tonight’s headliners, Kaiser Chiefs, clearly spent 1994 in thrall to Blur, Pulp and the other Britpop major players, Nine Black Alps were probably more interested in what was going on across the Atlantic. They sound so much like Nirvana that it’s uncanny, oozing undoubted potential with their dirtily melodic set. ‘Cosmopolitan’ is a cutting rebuttal of shallow, faceless drones that could peel paint off the walls from 100 yards, while ‘Not Everyone’ sounds like Abba, had they spent less time in the sauna and more time listening to AC/DC. Rock on!
Kaiser Chiefs are just one of a crop of current bands dreaming of the heady days of the mid-90s; Franz Ferdinand perfectly fill the outsider-chic gap vacated by Pulp, while Kasabian seem convinced that the world began and ended with Oasis. Then there are the Kaisers themselves, who might as well cover Blur’s ‘Parklife’ and be done with it. Hell, this is so much like 1994 that I’m half-expecting my Mum to phone and tell me to get on with my maths homework.
With a handbag-full of incredible songs that any milkman would be proud to whistle, Kaiser Chiefs sound magnificent tonight, tons better than on the disappointing debut album, ‘Employment’. In particular, ‘I Predict A Riot’ and ‘The Modern Way’ both sparkle - without question, indie anthems in the making. They occasionally come unstuck (a brace of mid-set tracks lacking in imagination provides a slight lull), but Ricky Wilson is a truly dedicated frontman, employing killer dance moves, demented acrobatics whilst hanging from the lighting rig and random crowd-surfing throughout the show.
With the ability to write a tune as undeniably great as ‘Oh My God’, no doubt they’ll develop into a truly amazing band in time. This was always going to be the highlight of the evening, and it doesn’t disappoint, sending the full house surging up, down, left and right. In many cases, all at the same time.
Whether they can last the pace is anyone’s guess, but the second album is likely to hold the key to their long-term success; if it’s filled with songs of the calibre of ‘Oh My God’, they’ll be laughing. Tonight, we’re the ones with smiles on our faces, and that’s more than enough for now.
While tonight’s headliners, Kaiser Chiefs, clearly spent 1994 in thrall to Blur, Pulp and the other Britpop major players, Nine Black Alps were probably more interested in what was going on across the Atlantic. They sound so much like Nirvana that it’s uncanny, oozing undoubted potential with their dirtily melodic set. ‘Cosmopolitan’ is a cutting rebuttal of shallow, faceless drones that could peel paint off the walls from 100 yards, while ‘Not Everyone’ sounds like Abba, had they spent less time in the sauna and more time listening to AC/DC. Rock on!
Kaiser Chiefs are just one of a crop of current bands dreaming of the heady days of the mid-90s; Franz Ferdinand perfectly fill the outsider-chic gap vacated by Pulp, while Kasabian seem convinced that the world began and ended with Oasis. Then there are the Kaisers themselves, who might as well cover Blur’s ‘Parklife’ and be done with it. Hell, this is so much like 1994 that I’m half-expecting my Mum to phone and tell me to get on with my maths homework.
With a handbag-full of incredible songs that any milkman would be proud to whistle, Kaiser Chiefs sound magnificent tonight, tons better than on the disappointing debut album, ‘Employment’. In particular, ‘I Predict A Riot’ and ‘The Modern Way’ both sparkle - without question, indie anthems in the making. They occasionally come unstuck (a brace of mid-set tracks lacking in imagination provides a slight lull), but Ricky Wilson is a truly dedicated frontman, employing killer dance moves, demented acrobatics whilst hanging from the lighting rig and random crowd-surfing throughout the show.
With the ability to write a tune as undeniably great as ‘Oh My God’, no doubt they’ll develop into a truly amazing band in time. This was always going to be the highlight of the evening, and it doesn’t disappoint, sending the full house surging up, down, left and right. In many cases, all at the same time.
Whether they can last the pace is anyone’s guess, but the second album is likely to hold the key to their long-term success; if it’s filled with songs of the calibre of ‘Oh My God’, they’ll be laughing. Tonight, we’re the ones with smiles on our faces, and that’s more than enough for now.