Blimey, Noel Gallagher and Alt-J are amongst the throng here tonight, ready to worship at the altar of Kettering’s finest rock export, Temples. Of course, the presence of the mono-browed gobshite sets a few alarm bells ringing as he normally only champions dreary ladrockers. Things don’t start well. Openers The Wytches are pouty young noiseniks who have a fuzzbox (and wah wah pedal) and, boy, they are gonna use it… Unfortunately what they don’t have are tunes, so the constant caterwauling guitars quickly become tiresome. They finish with the front man carefully tossing his guitar to the ground (ie as a wannabe rawk star, he wants to walk the walk, but is not so daft as to fail to realise that if you walk like that too often you end up with a blistered wallet).
Temples are on stage for 9.30, which is a remarkably sensible time for a headliner with no more than 50 minutes worth of material to call upon. I’d like to now proclaim that the Curse of Gallagher is dead and that they were carried aloft above the rapturous crowd, down the stairs and off into the night. But of course, that didn’t happen. And though they’re not dreary ladrockers either, they’re still not yet the finished deal. They look terrific, all skinny and boyish – and if you squint, the front man could pass as Bolan, complete with spangly blouse, floss hair and face glitter. They do even dip into a little bit of glam, but in the main it’s the psychedelic pop of the late 60s they focus on, and the sitar plucking Beatles, in particular. Unfortunately debut single Shelter Song and its magnificent b-side Prisms stand out by a country mile and even the best of the rest of the set, such as The Guesser and forthcoming single Colours to Life, struggle to match them. I’ll give them another six months and hope Gallagher’s found some other Kasabian-esq drone rockers to patronise.