Psst ...wanna hear about some new(ish) bands? Well, gather round for a tale of one bad, one good and one verrry good.
Let's get the bad out of the way first: 22nd Floor, formerly known as 'Geezers of Nazareth' (ha - get it?). This new incarnation has five musicians up there who don't have a clue what the hell's going on. It's like the vocals are walking up the stairs, the guitars are riding up the escalator and the drums are chug, bang, booming along the platform. When the occasional note of unity strikes, it sounds like a kooky hybrid of Zeppelin percussion and late '70s AOR schlock. They even ape the masters of said schlock - America - by trotting out the "la la la's" of 'Horse with no Name'. Yikes! These guys are either complete piss-takers or real smug bastards. In any case - it's not big and it's not clever.
If you dream of bands that have thick, creamy vocals as their high point - Keane are here to make those dreams come true. Having put out two records on their own Zoomorphic label, they are about to release a new single on the consistently fab Fierce Panda label. This band is all about the vocals - and what vocals they are. Clear, crisp and flowing - it's like the biggest, bluest sky opened up and decided to sing. The music is keyboard-driven spun sugar sparkles and the lyrics are the stuff of slow dances at the disco. There's no reason Keane should not go the way of Travis. One thing to be wary of: whilst the vocals remain just the right side of emotive -they could very easily slip onto the road to croonertown - which is just a rest stop away from Starsailorsville.
And now we come to the evening's highlight - Obi. These guys are the keys to the kingdom of lovely. A little bit country, a little bit rock-n-roll and whole lot of great. Kind of Hank Williams-esque, but with more tremolo than twang. The music evokes feelings of pretty sadness - like a good-looking woman who's had a little too much heartache. It is melancholy without being maudlin, lean without being simple. They play a set of new tunes that are supposedly still having the kinks worked out of them. But they sound damned good the way they are now - especially the lullaby of 'Sweet Head'. They also treat us to the plaintive quiet of 'Piano Song' - the only tune from their wonderful offering 'The Magic Land of Radio'.
So that's our tale come to end. The moral... be wary of bands formerly bearing 'wacky' names and never fail to embrace the life-affirming combination that is beauty and melancholia.
