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The Loves / The Fischers / The School
London, George Tavern
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Article
written by Ged M
Nov 16, 2007.
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"There are only seven bones in a giraffe’s neck, you know" says the Fischers fan, looking to fill a pause meaningfully while the band tune. Well, who says indie can’t be educational, as well as fun? Not that you’d see a giraffe in Stepney, mind; the most exotic thing here is the strawberry cider which the local youth are chugging down, with shots to follow. The George Tavern is pretty scuzzy (I've seen better decorated cave walls but the bar has incredible tiling) but it has decent sound and a brick-shithouse-sized doorman providing security.
Tonight is a great indie bill: cheap, unpretentious but bloody good music. The School play first. Good enough to have won a two-album deal from Elefant, the contract seems to have made them more secure, since every time I see them they seem to have lost a little more of their indie shyness. Liz leads the line, wearing another explosion of primary colours, while her six bandmates saw, strum, drum and tinkle away through Sgt Pepper orchestrated pop moments to oobie-doobie 60s-influenced indiepop with girl group trappings. They’re going to be huge, especially when the Belle & Sebastian-esque ‘Valentine’ comes out (next Valentine’s Day), so look out for them on their constant travels about our land.
Jamie from The Fischers doesn’t like comparisons with previous bands but if you liked Tompaulin (and it would take a sick dog to deny it) you should love the Fischers; the bittersweet pop with romantic-then-venomous lyrics has carried over to the new band. There’s a soft darkness and gentle melancholy at the heart of their songs that remind you of Galaxie 500 but tonight they have more of a muscular and anthemic-sounding jingle-jangle than I’ve seen them previously, reminiscent of Teenage Fanclub. With Jamie beating away on acoustic guitar, it’s rebel-rousing and rocky but it's a bit too relentlessly full-on; I've always preferred the degrees of light and shade in his songs.
With every successive incarnation (and there have been many), the Loves have beefed up, fuzzed up and fucked up their sound, until it’s a big, growly mutha of a garage rock beast. Except for their reworking of ‘(I’m Gonna Get) Fucked Up’ of course; on hearing the opening bars, you expect Pete Burns to burst out of a drum and camp up the lyrics; it’s left to Jenna to do the Divine impersonation. If you separated it all out you’d hear guitar slashed frantically by Simon, keyboard stabbed and jabbed feverishly by Liz, and drums battered manically by the latest drummer (this lot have had more than Spinal Tap), the Cardiff face-around-town Spencer McGarry. ‘Ode to Coca-Cola’ is now a treacly grunge fest, ‘Depeche Mode’ is played at race-you-to-the-end pace, and ‘Chelsea Girl (2007)’ has matured beautifully since 2004. There’s a new song, 'Ex-Girlfriend', which on first hearing is like a big 50s production, while ‘One-Two-Three’ has the air-punching, foot-stomping power of the Lords of Glam and ‘Bat Macumba’ is their freak-our closer. If they were once bubblegum pop, that bubblegum has been reinforced with titanium and razorblades, which makes chewing difficult but listening very satisfying indeed.
Photos courtesy of Bob Underexposed
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