The venue is far from packed early this evening, and the pre-gig music may have a lot to do with that (think Toploader, The Offspring). A girl walks around trying to sign up people for the Crashland mailing list, but at this stage, most people don't know that it may well be a good idea.
Tenner take the stage in a moment of slapstick that makes the whole performance worthwhile. Perhaps not used to playing on such a small stage, the lead singer swirls in menacingly and then falls off the front, right into the moshpit. If it wasn't so loud you'd have heard the stifled laughter. Such blunders aside, the four-piece stomp through 'Where Do You Come From' competently in a Longpigs/Elastica style, whilst looking like a cross between Mansun and Cypress Hill. They advise that if we're faint-hearted, then we should leave now, because they rock. This is indeed true - they do rock, just not in a very original way. You can't help thinking this is how Radiohead would've sounded when they were still at school. And that might not be a bad thing.
By the time Bristol's Crashland get onstage the venue is near capacity, and the young crowd is clearly fed up with the excellent hip hop playing on tape. They rip into new single 'Modern Animal' with the kind of force that befits a five-piece. This west country trio -often compared to The Jam and Supergrass- however have energy in spades, sneering at the front row, daring them to get involved. They thank the crowd for not going to see Britney or Frank Black (who is oddly enough supported by Fiver just over the road), and perform with an air of self-confidence that even allows them to experiment with possible future singles. But the highlight of the night has to be 'Waiting For Someone', with its Bowie-esque high-pitched squeal and singalong coda.
Nothing they do seems forced or over-studied, yet there is confidence to burn. Convincing trios are hard to find, but tonight, singer Alex Troup fronts a band who know only too well that good things are coming their way.
