Band To Watch: The Hot Melts

Having been making the rounds on the tedious circuit of self promotion for the past couple of years, The Hot Melts are finally starting to gain the recognition they deserve. Having supported Eagles of Death Metal on tour and headlining the Liverpool Carling Academy two years ago when they were still unsigned, it seems slightly incomprehensible that they remain relatively unheard of.

Comprised of four Liverpudlian lads, the band attacks the pop-rock genre with an unabashed vigour and energy that makes them instantly appealable. 'Edith' begins with a frenzied and imperious guitar riff and drum sequence that will have you tapping along within the first three seconds, whilst '(I Wish I'd Never) Been In Love' rushes by in such an angst-filled flurry you might as well be in lead singer and songwriter Will Baylis's stream of emotional consciousness. With the majority of their songs clocking in at under the three minute mark, it's evident that The Hot Melts mean serious business and aren't going to try and flaunt their musical skills by throwing pretentiously drawn-out solos at listeners. The pace they manage to keep up as they storm through the songs with an impassioned power almost feels as if their album is moving at a speed faster than you can listen and the whole thing is over before you know it. This is far from a hinderance however, as you automatically want to press play and listen again in case you missed something the last time.

The frantic wave of guitar you find yourself swept away in is somewhat hindered however, by their rather dubious lyrics. 'Edith' starts off blazing and continues to progress until it hits the second verse, during which Baylis starts singing about having left the chicken in the oven too long and going hungry as a result. I'm sorry, what? For a set of lads who are evidently trying to create a credible name for themselves in amongst the music crowd, starting off singing about the wonders of pot in the first verse was probably a good way to go. Yet by switching to the pains of domesticity straight after they might as well have not bothered with the drugs at all.

However, they undeniably have great potential. Ignoring some of the crap lyrics, they are musically one of the most thrilling British bands to emerge this year, and important industry types can't get enough. It's only a matter of time until you find yourself being scorched by them too.

www.thehotmelts.co.uk
www.myspace.com/thehotmelts

Band To Watch: The Takeover UK

Hailing from Pittsburgh in Pennsylvania and adopting the UK when they discovered 'The Takeover' part of their name was already snagged, this pack of four young, eager musicians pride themselves on producing infectious pop hooks and punk undertones, and quite rightly so.

With echoes of both old school punk and the more recent British alternative scene in their music, The Takeover UK are relevant without the impression that they've had to necessitate towards current trends in order to attract listeners. The band rattle furiously through guitar riffs and lead singer Nic Snyder snarls his way through the vocals; both are so tightly wound together that you wouldn't even know where to begin in prising them apart. Whereas a lot of bands find a tempo they're good at and stick with it, The Takeover UK aren't afraid to switch between edgier and softer melodies. The distinctly punk 'Never Been So Sick Before' sits on a rather different end of the scale in comparison to the more pop-based and melodic 'Golden Age'. 'Ah La La' has a ridiculously catchy chorus and as Snyder sings 'ah la la la la la la la/over and over til you get my point' and this then ticks over in your head for the following few days, you know they have certainly succeeded in putting it across.

The fact they have only been together for five years and sound as in-sync and established as they currently do makes the fact that they are still unsigned even more surprising. Unfortunately, unsigned bands are the ones that often have the most charm and The Takeover UK is certainly doing a great job in proving this. Money and backing from a record company may equal copious amounts of promotion and fancy studio production, but this can sometimes cause even some of the rawest bands to sound too manufactured and polished. The Takeover UK successfully sustain their tangible edge in the studio whilst producing tracks that don't sound at all unaccomplished; a problem many of their peers often face.
I for one cannot wait until these guys head over to the shores in which their name is embodied. If their live shows are anywhere near as impressive as their debut album, then we are definitely in for a treat and it won't be long until they veritably become the prevalant force that their name insinuates them to be.
 
www.myspace.com/thetakeoveruk
 

Band To Watch: Little Red

Continuing the trend of great bands emerging from Australia come five-piece indie rock and roll outfit Little Red. Endearingly describing their music as 'Doo-wop Punk', these guys sound like they've had a run-in with the Beach Boys' producer up in Camden, as 1950s style harmonies and springy instrumentals encapsulate their overall more up-to-date inherent sound. There is an undeniably chilled, summery feel to their tracks, providing a stark contrast to the many brooding and sagacious lyrics that are flowing into microphones otherwise. Yet this provides a surprisingly welcome change, and after growing up on the coast of Melbourne it isn't very difficult to understand by what and how they have been influenced. It is easy to see why they have toured with Vampire Weekend; both sing about topics that their peers might consider nonsensical, but it's refreshing to be transported to a lyrically retro era where the biggest concerns were about holding someone's hand.

Having already made waves in their homeland, Little Red are in the process of launching an attack on the UK, with their debut album due on our colder shores on 16th November and several London shows planned in support of this release. With the cold winter months drawing in, you'd be foolish to overlook a band whose music makes you feel like you're being coated in a warm blanket of honey.

www.myspace.com/littleredmusic

Cole The Shots

Forget world poverty and mass fighting, the big news today is that Cheryl Cole's debut solo single 'Fight For This Love' is set to be number one this weekend and hold the record for the best selling single of the year after shifting 200,000 units on it's first day of release alone. Anyone who watches X Factor would have to agree that Cole seems like a really lovely and genuine girl, and has definitely soared in public opinion over the last couple of years. Putting on an incredibly brave face when her husband's infidelities came to light earned her particular kudos with the notoriously difficult-to-win-over female audience and her feisty attitude towards Simon Cowell earned her respect from everyone else.

However, this does not make one worthy of the best selling song of the year, particularly when the song in question is, I'm sorry, undeniably bland and will no doubt have been forgotten about in twelve months time. Mrs. Cole doesn't have the best live singing voice by a long way, but this rather crucial factor is made slightly better by the fact she herself doesn't believe or try to convince you otherwise. However much critics or I may lambaste this song, the fact is that the charts are a reflection of the record buying public. Not that this is always a good thing by any means, but there is nothing anyone can do about it so we will just have to roll with the sometimes painful pop punches.

The UK papers were buzzing on Monday morning about her first solo live performance on the X Factor the previous night, whether it be criticising the fact that she mimed the second half of the song, or that she (incredibly) pulled off a better overall performance than Whitney Houston did subsequently. The fact is, everybody seems to be missing one major element in all of this and it's the one that concerns me most: where the hell did she get that jacket and how can I get one? Yes, the rest of the outfit was pretty shocking, with trousers slit to the hip being more than just a tad dubious, but we can overlook this because her jacket was so damn incredible. Four seasonal trends in one piece is pretty impressive, you have to admit. Shoulder pads? Check. Military design? Got it. Crazy embellishment? Definitely there. Stand out red colour? Absolutely. 
 
Yes, Cheryl may not have the best singing voice or songwriting team, but the song is bearable on the ears and almost respectable compared to some of the other atrocities that litter up the charts these days. Plus, she has a much-coveted stylist and I'd quite like to be her friend. That's good enough for me. 

A Cosmic Egg On Their Face?

It's been four years since Wolfmother released their self-titled debut album and lead singer Andrew Stockdale has returned this year with the follow up album. I mention Stockdale only because the two other original members left in early 2008 due to 'irreconcilable personal and musical differences.' That might offer some form of explanation for the lengthy wait between albums then. Not one to be defeated, notoriously big-haired Stockdale recruited not two but three replacement members and it is this line up that features on second album, 'Cosmic Egg'.

Supplying many a background track to ipod adverts, Fifa games and Guitar Hero wannabes, songs on their debut release drew comparisons to Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin, with heavy drum beats, high pitched singing and effervescent guitar riffs oozing out in abundance. However, not simply content in losing two members, Wolfmother seems to have lost it's edge in the process. The new album is unquestionably focused around psychadelia rather than heavy rock and the Hendrix (listed as a favourite on their Myspace) influence is astonishingly obvious. Many might argue that for a band to be influenced so heavily by Hendrix is not necessarily a negative prospect, but when the Ozzy factor still lingers in the background it makes for a somewhat confused, rather than successful, outcome.

The first single off the album, Back Around, was originally given away to fans as a free download on their website, and received a somewhat mixed response. Some fans called for the old Wolfmother sound to return, whilst others welcomed the change in direction. To be fair to the band, Back Around is reasonably resonant of the old Wolfmother days, featuring smashing drums and heady electric riffs. Stockdale's half singing, half talking ditty towards the end of the track is rather cringingly more Rocky Horror than Rock Heavy however, and the song could easily survive without. Fortunately, 'New Moon Rising' (video below) picks up where Back Around leaves off, and without the formidable Frank N Furter factor.

Yet delve deep into the expanse of the album itself and the grunge rock slowly fades away. 'Sundial' features an opening guitar riff that is so Hendrix-esque that you almost find yourself for a moment wondering whether you actually put the right CD on. The suspense filled instrumentals accentuated in their earlier material are all but gone, and the listener can't help but notice that the overall sound is far more commercial. The majority of tracks on the album are a great deal more accessible when it comes down to being played on mainstream radio, and as we unfortunately seem to be experiencing too often these days, it's not the content but how many people that listen to it which seems to count most. With the flood of indie bands swamping the industry at the moment, it is perhaps a good thing if Wolfmother's new toned down approach exposes more listeners to heavier genres of rock. But whilst a certain number of rock bands continue to flourish in the mainstream, there are none that seem to encapsulate the 70s punk-rock psychadelic sound quite like Wolfmother did when they debuted. It's a pity that their new work has been softened for whatever reason, whether it be Stockdale's personal decision or a change instructed by the record company. Don't get me wrong, the 70s rock movement still provides a solid basis for Wolfmother's newer sound, but it has been diluted somewhat and the aftertaste is not quite as satisfying as the concentrated form.

'Cosmic Egg' is released on 26th October 2009.
http://www.wolfmother.com/

The Hairy Truth

Stop the presses everyone! Splashed over the news last night and this morning is the incredible revelation that David Beckham has grown a beard. Yes, you heard me right – Beckham has joined the fuzzy face brigade. Good for him, I say. It matures his look somewhat and if Victoria has no qualms with stubble rash then all the better for it.

But why on earth is it making the front page of some papers? One billion people worldwide live in poverty, the ice caps are melting, people are being blown up all over the shop and nuclear missiles are most likely being squirreled away by someone as I type. Yet on my way home last night, I opened my free (thanks, advertisers) paper to be greeted with a double page spread on Beckham’s newly grown facial hair and various comments on the matter that a junior writer had undoubtedly had to plead with people on the street to provide that afternoon.

Now this morning the leading story on the UK Yahoo! Homepage is whether he did it as a fashion/attention seeking statement, or if in fact, as Beckham himself insisted, ‘(he) just couldn’t be bothered to shave.’ I’m not saying that some people won’t be interested in the developments of the hair follicles of one of the world’s most famous sportsmen. I just don’t understand how something so trivial can be mentioned in the same realm as the stories that it shares a page with. In my opinion, a suicide bomber killing ten people in Pakistan, the possible collapse of worldwide peace talks and two teenagers held over a homophobic murder is far more worthy of our attention and concern than someone’s facial hair.

I'm sure some of you will be thinking that I am nothing but hypocritical in taking the time to write about a subject I am being so critical of being written about in the first place. But this is a blog, not the front page of an internationally read newspaper or website. There’s a time and place for coverage such as this in national press and it’s most commonly known as the celebrity pages. Yes, the world is tough and it’s nice to have a light-hearted break sometimes from all the heavy stories that swamp the newswires. But to give this Beckham ‘story’ such significance undermines the importance of other stories in the news today that undeniably hold much greater implications. It’s rather alarming that society has become so superficial in recent years that stories such as this are given such gravitas. Attitudes are not going to be changing anytime soon however, so I can do little but steel myself for the hullabaloo that will surely ensue when Beckham decides to pick up his razor again.

Enter the Eleventh Dimension

Strokes fans have been (not so) patiently waiting for new material from the band for over four years now. Yet as lead singer Julian Casablancas prepares to launch his solo career, it looks like they're going to have to wait still a little longer (if internet reports are correct then they will have to wait until March 2010).

Casablancas is not the first Stroke to venture into the music wilderness by himself though. Guitarist Albert Hammond Jr., has already made a name for himself with two successful solo albums, drummer Fabrizio Moretti is a member of the band, 'Little Joy' and bassist Nikolai Fraiture sits at the helm of musical trio "Nickel Eye'. All three existing side projects produce very different material to each other in sound and production style, so it is no surprise that Casablancas has chosen to forge a distinctly separate path as well.

Jumping on the 80's bandwagon that has proven itself to be a strong influence in many artists' work this year, Julian is striding out with an unmistakably electro sound. Imagine the Strokes' early guitar riffs mixed in with a synthesizer and we have his debut solo single, 'Eleventh Dimension'. In fact, synth saturates the song so much that it puts the Killers' recent overload to shame; but it works. Whereas Moretti and Fraiture prevailed with a smoother edge to their music, encapsulating at moments sounds ranging from pop, folk and reggae, Casablancas' foray is far more commercially appealing and despite the lack of heavy guitars, the scent of Stroke continues to linger in the background. Strokes fans internet wide are divided. Many are complaining it is too much of a departure from the usual Casablancas punk-rock style, yet others are declaring it a bold experiment with surprisingly impressive results.

Either way, I am going to be so bold as to declare that Eleventh Dimension is one of the catchiest tracks released this year. Your first instinct upon hearing the opening eight notes (which are repeated throughout) is to dance, and long after retiring from the dance floor the track remains stuck in your head and will most likely continue to run around for a day or so after. Taken from the album 'Phrazes For The Young' released November 2nd, Casablancas has admirably proven himself to be far more than a one trick pony - and as a result should be the man to watch even after The Strokes' eventual demise.

A Tale Of Alaskan Proportions

Once every few years or so, I’ll have the fortune to stumble across a book or a film that has such an effect on me that I cannot stop thinking about it for days afterwards. Friday night, I started reading ‘Into the Wild’ by Jon Krakauer, and by Saturday morning I had finished it.

Some of you may be more familiar with the title as it was adapted into a Sean Penn directed film a couple of years back, but the book itself was published over fifteen years ago. Written by Krakauer, it actually documents two years in the life of a young American man named Chris McCandless.

Astoundingly intelligent but growing up feeling stifled and disillusioned by society, McCandless sought refuge in the words of great writers such as Henry David Thoreau and Jack London. Both authors shunned what they believed were continually grotesque developments in society, instead developing the belief that in order to be truly happy and obtain the most out of life, we have to be at one with nature. His upper middle class family life did little to support this somewhat bohemian way of thinking and a poor relationship with his parents drove him further into himself. After graduating Emory University in 1990, McCandless donated the remainder of his college trust fund ($24,000) to OXFAM, dumped his car and without a word to anyone, left his life behind. Hitchhiking his way across North America and Mexico for two years, Chris changed his name to Alexander Supertramp and maintained basic jobs, most notably working on a corn farm, and developed good friendships with people he met along the way. Yet not once did he contact his family. In April of 1992, McCandless once again upped sticks and made his way to Alaska – the wilderness he had been aiming to get to all along. Trekking up the Stampede Trail into the forest, Chris took the mere basics. Rice, a fishing rod, an axe and a sleeping bag were amongst his possessions, yet a map was not. Chris previously argued with those who thought him a fool for not packing a map that he could not feel a proper connection with the wild if he knew where he was going. Besides, the people who had plotted the maps in the first place hadn’t had anything to go by so there was no reason why he should have to either.

McCandless in front of the 'Magic Bus'

A few days into his journey, Chris happened upon a bus, which had been left there by workers on the trail some twenty five years beforehand. McCandless was overjoyed by this discovery and referred to it as, ‘The Magic Bus’. It provided a good base for him and a decent means of shelter. For three months Chris survived in the wilderness, living off a diet of berries and whatever animals he managed to poach (usually squirrels and porcupines but a crowning moment came in the form of a moose – though he regretted killing this animal immediately after). Towards the start of August, Chris planned to leave the forests and attempted to cross the river he had passed without trouble a couple of months earlier; but the change in seasons meant the water had risen too high and he was forced to retreat back to the bus. Around this point, it is believed that McCandless injured himself, though due to the scant details in his journal, nobody is exactly sure what happened to him. Either way, he was unable to fend for himself.

McCandless' SOS note

At the end of August, two Alaskans hiking in the forest, and coincidentally, two Moose hunters happened across the bus at about the same time. Attached was a note from McCandless, pleading for help. Unsettled by the note, one of the hunters looked into the bus, and it was at this time they discovered McCandless dead in his sleeping bag. Weighing just four and a half stone, he had succumbed to starvation. One cannot help but think how much of a different story this would be if they had decided to go hunting just a few weeks earlier.

If you search on the internet, there is a very obvious divide in opinions on McCandless. Many treat him as a hero figure; he had the tenacity to follow his dream and turn his back on the rigidity of society. An equal amount, including many Alaskans, feel he was too arrogant and deserved his fate, particularly as he entered the wilderness so unprepared. Here is my opinion. I think that what McCandless did to his family was undoubtedly very selfish. The idea that his family had to live in such deep uncertainty for two years and then in great pain after his death was discovered is incomprehensible. The thought of an intelligent young guy trapped in the wild and facing such a slow death makes me incredibly uncomfortable, so for those who knew and loved him, the agony must be tremendous.

However, I do completely admire McCandless for what he did. The book makes you realise just how much every single person relies on materialistic goods to pull them through each day, when in reality a large proportion of these treasured objects are totally unnecessary. Humans previously survived and led a perfectly happy existence without them, yet we succumb to their charms and the attached rules of society. Chris, through personal accounts of people he met, and brief accounts in his diary, was seemingly the happiest he had ever been when on the road and fending for himself. Yes, we may think what he did was rather crazy and may not venture into such actions ourselves, but if he was truly happy, then who are we to deny him? Even in his final photo towards the very end of his life, he has a wide grin spread across his face.

Chris' final self portrait, holding a goodbye note

The debate could and will undoubtedly rage on for years, but in the meantime, the bus still remains in it’s Alaskan barrens. A surprising number of people make the hike there each year, whether it be out of curiosity, to pay their respects or feel that they too, even if only for a day, can experience the freedom that McCandless felt. His parents visited the site almost a year after his death and left a commemorative plaque in the bus, along with a suitcase holding Chris’ childhood Bible and some provisions that hikers might need in future should they happen across the bus. However, since the release of the film in 2007, visitor numbers have soared and in accompaniment so have incidents of vandalism. One youtube video shows some of the windows smashed in, the chests of drawers and shelving inside ripped apart and tipped over and the suitcase pulled apart and it’s contents strewn outside. I think it’s incredibly sad that people are prepared to make such a tedious journey out to the site only to ravage what has essentially become a memorial site. Perhaps even worse, visitors are now ripping out pieces of the bus and it’s contents, including pieces of the mattress he slept and died on, and selling them on ebay. Ironically in doing so, they are simply providing McCandless’ views of a debase and unconsecrated society with even more gravitas than many are prepared to accredit them with.

Who's For Some Horchata?

Following the success of their self-titled debut album, Vampire Weekend are back with as much of an African bongo feel as before, and it's bloody marvellous. New single Horchata was released this week as a free download on their website (here), continuing the trend of artists giving away their music. Well, if people are going to download illegally, you might as well give them the opportunity to get their greedy mitts on it in a legit fashion, right?

Whilst other bands sing about the misery of love and the general atrocities of life, this Columbian University educated foursome tend to go down a rather more random lyric route. Their first album saw them singing about topics ranging from the English dictionary, to a style of roofing and a road, whilst Horchata is the refreshing rice based drink that we all know and love. Obviously.

But don't let the fact you might never have drunk the stuff before put you off. Setting off round the world next week on a sell-out mini tour to promote their sophomore album (due out January 11th), it's evidently not bothering the however many thousands of people that are flocking to see them. The epitome of preppy, Vampire Weekend are the band that a lot of hardcore indie devotees will feel they should probably hate, but can't. Ridiculously catchy and with a very summer-y feel, their latest offering is just what we all need to brighten up our ipods as the dreary winter months draw in. Horchata is something you should definitely be feasting on.

www.vampireweekend.com

www.myspace.com/vampireweekend

Making An Impression From Down Under

Whilst American and the UK artists have continued to dominate the rock and indie scene over the past couple of decades, Australian talent has been waiting in the wings ready to pounce. The few that have done so already have made a lasting impression; AC/DC, INXS and Silverchair are all highly regarded but in the grand scheme of things have had little effect in promoting their motherland as an excessive generator of talent within the industry.

Luckily, current artists are no longer displaying the patience their predecessors once demonstrated, and are fighting tooth and nail to battle their way to centre stage in order to stand proud with their Western peers. Empire of the Sun were the first to make an impression this year with their futuristic electro melodies and were quickly compared to last years’ much hyped American duo MGMT. Whether this is a fair comparison or not remains under debate, but the publicity created by said association provided the band with a faster-developing fan base than they would have perhaps experienced otherwise. Either way, they definitely don’t look like your run-of-the-mill band but it’s always the extraordinary ones that create the biggest impact, so their wacky outfits are more than likely going to work in their favour.

With a more commercially pleasing sound, The Temper Trap have made quite the impression in the past few months with their atmospheric a’cappellas as showcased on breakthrough song, ‘Sweet Disposition’. Industry types have been paying attention to these four Australian guys since this time last year however, when British music producer Jim Abbiss, best known for his work with English indie heavyweights Arctic Monkeys, Editors and Kasabian, flew to Australia especially to produce their debut record. During the recording period, they didn’t lose focus on self-promotion and drew in sell-out crowds to performances in London and the legendary South By Southwest festival. With their record ‘Conditions’ receiving rave reviews from critics and extensive touring planned into early 2010, The Temper Trap are definitely ones to keep an eye (and an ear) on.

Venerable Vintage

Despite society’s continual obsession with producing the most cutting edge technology they can possibly churn out of a factory in the depths of China, nobody can, or should, criticise a good love of vintage.
       

Fashion-wise, vintage clothing has recently seen a huge surge in popularity, with vintage markets, shops and internet sites sprouting up all over the place. However many people may argue that this is due to many a Hollywood starlet parading onto the red carpet in a dress from thirty years ago, the fact simply can not be denied that it just looks pretty damn cool. Throw in the fact that so many high-end designers are currently re-hashing old trends as new that it works out cheaper for style hunters to mull around in a musty basement, and we have ourselves an explanation.

     

As the saying goes, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, and it is this that circles round my head when I look at earlier styles of modern technology. Take, for example, the trusty old camera. Nowadays it’s all about the digital, which reflects our current state of impatient mind perfectly. If we want a good photo, we don’t take the time to set up the angle or lighting correctly because if we know that if we don’t that’s one of our 36 images on a roll of film wasted. We snap twenty and try and muddle something together from that. But where’s the fun in that? It simply makes the whole process far less meaningful, when in reality a photo is often anything but. Yes, digital gives us more freedom in the sense that it creates more opportunities for us to screw up and have it not matter. And, yes, high numbers of megapixels and zooms can create clearer pictures, but are they less personal as a result?

I recently purchased a Diana F+ camera (above); a reproduction of the famous model from the 1960s. The cracks in the joins of it’s two plastic halves can let a bit too much light in if you’re not careful, and it has absolutely no zoom capabilities whatsoever. But the self-control shutter means that you can let as much or as little light in as possible, as well as play with the levels of exposure, and the plastic lens creates a beautifully soft effect that feels like you’ve taken a snapshot of a dream. As a result, the pictures are imperfect, but they still encapsulate everything that surrounded you at the time. Below and to the side are a couple of examples of snapshots on the Diana website; I defy anyone who does not agree they are perfect examples of imperfection.
   

The same applies for cars. Nowadays, there are so many ugly hunks of metal prowling our streets that it really is an abomination. Before all the petrol heads start complaining, I’m not saying that ALL cars are vile looking. Yet it is undeniable that cars fifty years ago were just so much damn cooler that standing next to one now is like receiving a whoosh of fresh air from an opening freezer door. Have a look at the pictures below and answer me this: if you had the choice, which would you rather be able to drive? 

   
Many will now feel it is the time to argue that engines and safety measures in vehicles have improved beyond comprehension in the last however many years. I’m not saying they shouldn’t have, but just fit them into the old style frame. There is no reason why cars (and other technology in general) should look so uninspired; we live in an age where design and extravagance is being taken to the extreme, yet everything is being simplified and created to look more clinical.

    
The campaign for a resurgence in retro goods starts here. Record players still play music, plastic cameras still take photos, and cars that have back ends resembling the Batmobile still drive. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t use them and if it bucks the current trend of striving to obtain utter perfection then all the more for it. We’re humans, not robots, and it’s about time our everyday paraphernalia reflected our vulnerability.

I Had A Whale Of A Time

Tatty rugs strewn haphazardly across the stage, a minature guitar and a lead singer mumbling a slightly American - accented greeting is hardly what you'd expect to greet a noisy crowd on a Friday night in Camden. The waiting masses, however, fully anticipated the presence of twee rugs and array of string instruments, although with their awaited folk conquerers hailing from Twickenham, the welcoming accent comes as slightly more of a surprise.

Noah and the Whale are perhaps best known for their song, 'Five Years Time', which is a great pity as although it is undeniably catchy, it comes nowhere even near close to showcasing what the band are fully capable of. With lead singer Charlie Finks' heart wrenching lyrics and an eerie violin accompaniment, their latest album, 'The First Days of Spring' is nothing short of haunting, and hearing this live has yet a much greater effect on your emotional state than the record itself does.

Predominantly showcasing their latest work though still intertwining some of their debut tracks into the set, the atmosphere in Koko was a bizarre mixture of anticipation and anguish. The lyrics feel so personal and Fink is so involved in his words that it feels like he is about to burst into tears at any monent and you're not sure whether you should rush the stage to give him a hug or creep off to the bar and give him a moment alone. Seeing as their latest endeavour charts Fink's break up with fellow folk singer Laura Marling (who also features in vocals on their first album), it's hardly surprising that the general persona of the band radiates vulnerability. It can't be easy to sing about losing a love every night for a month as you trek around the county on tour and the band are also therefore understandly less than impressed when they have to stop because some members of the audience are talking so loudly that they almost start to drown the music out. As Fink quips, 'I know that often during the quieter songs the temptation is to discuss the concert... But maybe in this instance you should listen and discuss it after.' Despite ironically loud shushings from the rest of crowd to the noisemakers, the band continue and work their way through an angst driven set.

Anyone who readily palms Noah and the Whale off as a lightweight folk band are sorely misguided, and the band's eagerness to include electric guitar riffs and loop machines into their set are enthusiastically included to demonstrate otherwise. The leap between their first and second albums is so noticeably impressive that any doubts that may have previously existed about whether the band can develop comprehensively enough in order to retain their credibility have been shattered. Pair this with their emotionally absorbing live shows and Noah and the Whale have nothing but Blue Skies waiting ahead of them.

www.myspace.com/noahandthewhale