The boys from Lambeth came rollicking into town after having been warmly received at Australia’s flagship festival, Splendour in the Grass.
With them they brought the lion’s share of UK media-hype, generated of course by certain reliably excitable quarters. For all the accolades lauded upon them, it was time to peel back the layers and weigh up if ‘the saviours of Indie Rock’ holds at least a modicum of justification.
Whether or not you feel their debut album ‘180’ deserves such kudos, the foursome’s incendiary live shows, which led to their online success and eventual cult status, manages to generate a palpable buzz in tonight’s discordant audience. Two distinct parties: young funsters who camp at the front ready to rumble and older punters who lounge on the wings and to the rear, the ‘cool cats’.
The lights dim, the crowd respond with a tepid cheer and the curtains part to reveal a tiny stage. Enter band. Alex ‘Chilli’ Jesson, the more volatile half of Palma Violets’ front men duo showcases an immediate statement of intent by standing on one of the monitors raising his bass guitar to his chest and thrusting it towards the audience. This is my weapon, now just watch yourselves.
A sluggish start is marred by technical difficulties. Every member of the band save drummer Will Doyle vocalise frustrations at their sound levels, leaving Chilli almost reticent as the first track fades,
“It’s a cover, it’s only a fucking cover!” (California Sun by Joe Jones to be precise) and continues, “It’s Tuesday, let’s get moving!” The boys quickly find their feet with their Ramones-esque throwback track ‘Rattlesnake Highway’.
Vacillating between tightly-coiled punk and more melodic offerings, the one-hour gig delivered what was promised from their stylistically diverse debut 180.
A lot has been made of the apparent similarities to Doherty and Barat another band born in a bedroom, whose initial intentions were to entertain mates in the cosy confines of their own habitat. Is it a justifiable comparison? Yes, by and large it is. Fryer and Jesson are two guys who revel in the animated camaraderie onstage, often facing each other, bass and guitar locked in musical intercourse, either exchanging vocals or shouting in unison. Let’s hope they don’t start robbing each other’s apartments, dating supermodels and the like.
Chilli is extremely cool, goading the crowd, staring out random punters between songs, inciting a reaction, goading, probing and seemingly offering his chin up for someone to take a pot shot. If I was 15 years younger, a girl, single, reasonably attractive and a true gig slut, I think I’d probably want to sleep with him. There’s no shortage of femmes willing to brave the maelstrom at the front to get an eyeful.
Of course the highlight of the evening and the moment that the touch paper was truly ignited came in the form of ‘Best of Friends’. It also produced one of the evenings two more comical moments. After some of the increasingly excitable crowd had started to partake in some gentle crowd-surfing much to the chagrin of one overly zealous security-guard, the bar was raised higher with the first stage-dive of the night. Text-book it wasn’t. Having not launched myself from a stage for many years one rule of thumb I used to try employing was to pick out your mates and dive on them. They have a tendency to catch you. This unfortunate fellow, let’s call him Moses, found himself diving head-first into a parting Red Sea. He was helped away, dazed and confused.
The set absolutely flies by.
With sweat dripping from the ceiling, the boys launch themselves headlong into the closing songs ‘14’ and ‘Brand New Song’. Chaos ensues with the stage swamped by revellers invited up to party. Chilli asks for the lights to be turned off, to add to festivities. With the stage now a rock and roll scrum, the aforementioned security guard decides to try and regain order and the second funniest moment of the night plays out. Chilli who by now has decided to ditch his bass in favour of jumping around is grabbed by Security who in the melee cannot differentiate him from paying public. He becomes the centre of a tug-o-war competition featuring Security versus Roadies with the latter gaining the upper-hand.
It was a hugely entertaining show with all the punk sensibilities and promise fulfilled. It sparked life into what would have been a typically torpid Tuesday.
Adam Beer
http://youtu.be/sed7uQi3m6k
