I am often kept awake at night concerned at that Rock N Roll is dead. Then the leather-jacketed, black-mop haired Ryan Jarman stomps onto a stage erected in an abandoned Liverpool dockside, lobs a can of Fosters into the crowd, grabs his mint green guitar and thrashes out the opening chords of ‘Mirror Kisses’.
Everything is ok again, calm down Titts.
‘The world’s premier Mid-Fi band’ as they affectionately call themselves on Twitter, are seasoned pros at the city-festival-headliner gig. In fact, my first job for Gigslutz was covering them at Haddow Fest in 2013 – aww nostalgia! As such, they have an expertly calculated set list to take you through all the throws of elation, deprivation and contemplation that one both expects and requires in a festival set.
What I often forget about The Cribs is the now extensive back catalogue of absolute blinders they have to choose from now. Classics such as ‘Come On And Be A No-one’, the twangy joy of ‘Another Number’, the snarling ‘Our Bovine Public’ and the indie disco classic ‘Men’s Needs’ were belted out alongside tracks from new top 10 album For All My Sisters. Current single ‘Different Angle’ and ‘An Ivory Hand’ are delicious slices of rawly polished indie, and are already crowd pleasing favourites. ‘Pink Snow’ is a new and welcome curtain call for the band, and became even more stirring in the post-Apocalyptic setting of the docks
The problem the band had, which was apparent over a lot of the festival, was the sound. Thrusted out on a jetty in the middle of the Mersey with little cover, the band and soundman valiantly wrestled with a cross wind blowing the sound toward either river bank. Standing further than 50 yards back left you in a kind of unfulfilling aural black hole; like watching the band on mute. Luckily, some kind of stability was harnessed mid-set by my absolute favourite, the scream along joy that is ‘Be Safe’ (coz let’s face it, we’re all saving ourselves for the chorus), but one can’t help but think this is something the guys at Sound City will need to nip in the bud for future years.
As part of the stream of early 00’s bands all prefixed with ‘The’, birthed on the back of The Strokes, The Libertines and a passion for skinnies and leather jackets, Wakefield’s finest are perhaps the only survivors. Now well into their second decade of making music it would be easy to start sliding them into ‘established elder statesmen’ category. But you shouldn’t. There’s something about watching The Cribs, something that makes you feel giddy and teenage. You grow up, they grow up, but the lyrics still have that snarling bite of youth, and the spiky guitar sends a shiver down your spine that courses out though the veins, causing you to snarl back and release the rebellious little bugger within.
This band are tighter than ever. A gorgeous, snotty, British sound very much their own. Although on this occasion was probably better heard by those at The Titanic Hotel.
Kate Tittley
@letitts
Kate Tittley
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