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Gig Review
Shrag / The Loves / Smokers Die Younger / To Arms Etc London, Buffalo Bar
Article written by
Ged M - Dec 7, 2008
I’d no clue about the first band on when I arrived but assumed they might be a bit angular when I saw that Alex from the Projects was on bass. Totally wrong; To Arms etc are slicker than the Alaska Coast after the Exxon Valdez visitation(although it was only their fifth gig) and remind me of the over-polished pop of the Guillemots or the Heartstrings. One of my colleagues remarked that she wished she smoked as it would give her an excuse to step outside and miss the band; I was looking for the fag machine too, particularly during the Steely Dan-style guitar solo…
Sheffield’s Smokers Die Younger win us all over by making light of their city’s recent notoriety as incest central with their war-cry: “knock up your daughters”! Sick humour and twisted pop characterise the band, who add autoharp and violin to the regular set up and take strange detours from the regular path. They acknowledge post-rock in their slow/fast loud/soft constructions but at heart ‘Sketchpads’ and the gorgeous ‘Telemark’ are fabulous pop songs. Not sure about the last song though; that “triptych” of distinct movements sounded a little too Rick Wakeman from where I was standing.
Dave Simpson called his book on past Fall members The Fallen; the title of the equivalent publication for Loves members would be The Loved. Both bands have had a Harold Shipman-esque body count over the years; even tonight, the Loves field three new members. But the sound is the same bewitching bubblegum beat with a slightly scuffed garage groove, from the creamy pop tones of ‘Honey’ and the thrash-pop snarl of ‘Depeche Mode’ to ‘Coca-Cola’’s vinegary blues and the gritty garage riffs of 'Sweet Sister Delia'. The Loves might be Pete Frame’s worst family tree nightmare but tonight they’re a musical dream.
Shrag, Leigh Anne
The need to migrate South for the night forced me to leave halfway through Shrag’s splendid set, which was a wrench and had me seriously weighing up the risk of hypothermia from a 5 hour wait for the milk train against seeing the full set and hearing the new material. Self-preservation won but what I saw I loved; even though there was a substitute drummer owing to Leigh Anne’s poorly foot (she was up front instead on foghorn duties) they still sounded incredibly tight and direct, all jangling guitars and jarring keyboards, songs tooled up with razorblade wit and angular pop menace. They’re definitely one of my live bands of the year.