Tin Pan Alley Festival - Denmark Street, London - 16/7/06
3/5
By: Chris O'Toole
In the looming shadow of the local Jobcentre Plus, London's finest hip set gather, wearing their tightest jeans and eagerly awaiting the approaching spectacle. Spurred by free admission and drawn by a few fleeting seconds of blazing sunshine hopes rise as high as most of the crowd as this years Tin Pan Alley festival begins. Nestled snugly in the usually sleepy Demark Street, the event has a vibe of summer celebration and excess as it begins; promising a rewarding day both for the crowd and for the events beneficiary, the homeless charity Shelter.
Up and coming Kalev are amongst the first to take the stage, attacking the scorching crowed with bursts of moody, atmospheric drone and waking those tempted to dose in the shimmering heat. An effortlessly entertaining set rewards the early arrivals with a dark treat and there is a strong case for them to be moved further up the bill in coming years. This promising start was followed by the imaginatively titled Keith. As the band were keen to point out the name is a misnomer; they are in fact a fully fledged band, hair cuts and all, and although nobody complained when they began their set this was because nobody was really listening. Relying on the sound of cheap feedback thrown leisurely over a dubious Primal Scream covers band, Keith attempted to hide the musical void which was painfully obvious at the centre of their sound with swagger and bravado; an attempt which largely failed.
Next up were Louie, swaggering effortlessly onto the stage in a ball of artificial rage, as if waiting to explode, the band in fact produced only a damp whimper. Whilst the keyboard driven noise the band unleashed into the swirling haze of the streets narrow confines wasn't unpleasant, they were somewhat undermined by their front man. Whilst the band provided the noise of a box of spanners falling down a flight of stairs, their Johnny Rotten impersonating lead singer pranced about with an attitude problem you would more likely see on the face of a kindergarten bully.
Not far behind were The Violets, who put their best foot forward, presenting the audience with an honest and respectable girl band. Standing a touch above the rest of the field they claimed to know what I was doing later in the evening, which I found a touch unsettling; as if they were hired stalkers closing in on a kill, but eventually one couldn't help but surrender to their wholesome charm.
F**k off Machete were next, lead by a lacklustre Karen O mimic and comprised of a third tier rock and roll parody. The Fo'M are a face with no smile, a band who make noise with no purpose, with their set only occasionally improved when a sporadic car alarm burst into a violent frenzy of noise, upstaging these would be superstars. They should expect a letter from Kathleen Hannah's lawyer shortly.
After the tease of The Violets, Vincent Vincent and the Villains were perhaps the low point of the day; a grab bag of stolen riffs and styles combined into a cheap karaoke act. Wearing immaculate bowler hats stolen from their parent's wardrobes, the band covered all your favourite tracks, mutilated them and attempted to sell them back to you at twice the price of the original. A band so lacking in colour, in innovation and originality as to virtually not exist, at points verging on embarrassing. Perhaps more worrying, they were welcomed with open arms by younger elements of the crowd, those in the supposed 'know', and I have no doubt they will go far. Sigh.
Finally the headline act British Sea Power, who were a welcome surprise. All eyes were trained on these eclectic, eccentric musical heroes, and largely, they delivered. It wasn't just the flowers that were handed into the crowd; this is a band that continues to provide a slanted version of summery off-kilter pop rock. As the sun set, it became apparent why this act has advanced to a bigger stage, forcing their supports into the shadows in a rapturous finale.
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