You're usually lucky to get one good local band among four or five stinkers, so to catch three class acts playing together is a bit of a treat. Most local band bills don't sell out King Tut's, though, so perhaps it shouldn't be that surprising that this show was something a little special.
Opening act The Statler Project crank out indie rock with an undercurrent of funk, shored up by basslines fat enough to feed a family of four for a week. It's like George Clinton snuck into The Stone Roses and turned up all the bass sliders when no one was looking. No bad thing, by all accounts. The band suffer from the perennial indie fashion for nondescript blokes with nondescript haircuts, generating tunes in a workmanlike manner, but what they lack in stage presence they more than make up for with musicianship. The Statler Project play a really tight set, and have a singer who can play the tambourine
without looking like a twat. He fares less well with the bongos, but few human beings alive can play the bongos without looking like a twat. All in all, an act far too accomplished to be third on the bill. They've got a few shows coming up in Blackfriars and Firewater in the coming months, and you could do worse than to go give them a listen.
Next up are Highwatters (one word, two 't's, we're frequently informed) who would, were there any justice, be a stadium rock act, and a popular one. Ostensibly another indie rock band, in their singer they have an asset who raises them far above that label. When the guy lets loose and starts to wail it's really quite magnificent, even if he does sing with an American accent. Another act possessed of enviable musicianship, Highwatters are able to take the energy that's been built up by the first band and run with it, generating a considerable atmosphere despite, once again, mostly just standing still and getting on with things in the grand old indie tradition. If you were deaf you'd maybe wonder if The Statler Project hadn't just come back out with different clothes on.
Highwatters rattle through a set of bouncy, boisterous tunes that really ought to be filling a larger arena.
Hey Girls sounds alarmingly like an up-tempo version of Aerosmith's
Shut Up and Dance, but it gets bodies moving and nobody seems to mind. The band recall
Nimrod-era Green Day, only less rubbish and without the sap. And with a really good singer. Did I mention that their singer's really good? Because he's cracking.
The Hedrons are polar opposites of the bands that have come before. They approach their instruments with the devil-may-care attitude of The Stooges, with more of a focus on having fun than on getting everything note-perfect. It's an infectious mood, if one a little at odds with sobriety. The Hedrons ought to be playing to a room full of spilled booze, flying sweat and indistinct blurs as people throw themselves against walls and each other. What they get is a room full of cheering and polite applause, but I guess you take what you're given.
Raucous rock and roll with a riot grrl veneer is what
we're given, and it's plenty satisfying. The Hedrons brought more than enough fun to go round, and they strut around all over the stage throwing rock star poses and generally having a whale of a time. Patti Smith would love them to bits.
The band's sound is underpinned by some ferocious drumming, which is really what makes it go, but their performance is really about the vibe more than the music. The Hedrons may well have been outplayed by their support, but they certainly weren't outperformed. It'd be impossible to leave this show without feeling thoroughly entertained. Forty-five minutes is perhaps a bit of a stretch for a band who have yet to release an album, but then they've only been on the go for a year and they're already selling out Tut's. When they finally do get round to putting out a full-length release, you'd be an idiot not to check it out.
http://freewebs.com/statler/ http://www.highwatters.co.uk/ http://www.thehedrons.com/
