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luxembourg / The Bridge Gang / Neat People
London, The Windmill
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Article
written by Graham S
Nov 14, 2005.
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With Neat People hailing from Colchester, comparisons to their townsmen Blur are almost prerequisite. Yes, they do sound like Blur. Fronted by singer/guitarist Gary Cansell (sporting a t-shirt emblazoned with ‘drummer’ (?)), what their unashamedly harmonious la-la-la ditties lack in the originality stakes is compensated for by a refreshing unpretentiousness. Fastidious - who knows, fun – for sure, bouts of mid-song pattycake breaking up a very English brand of feelgood indie pop. Possibly a touch too ‘neat’ for some, I like them.
In June, The Bridge Gang had a scant 10 gigs in as many months under their skinny waistbands, a tally that’s more than doubled since. Already shit hot, it was: talent – check, songs – check, stage presence – rain check. But prolific gigging has seen their stage personae take giant kangaroo bounds; they look relaxed, confident, and as cool as fuck.
From Strokesy opening salvo London Sky Tonight, they kick butt with size 12 DMs on a seriously pissed-off mule. If they were hot before, my God they’re positively volcanic now, incendiary Pixies-duffing-up-Nirvana rock spewing all over the shop. Added smatterings of 70’s Noo Yoik new wave poppiness and a dash of Clash ensure they’re carving out a nice little niche all to themselves, thank you very much. A new found self-assurance even encourages budding guitar god José to indulge in a spot of play-behind-the-head and roll around the stage (not at the same time, obviously). Nascent single Pangs Of Guilt and Sarah’s Brother particularly sparkle, but final blast wave Neutrino is absolutely bloody ferocious. In particle physics a neutrino has no electrical charge; here it’s the antithesis, José screaming his lungs out while super heavyweight riffs battle maniacal drumming from cat in the hat Bret. Jaw-droppingly good! You need to see this band.
luxembourg. Superb. Review done. What more can I say that hasn’t been said a hundredfold? It’s a year plus since I last saw ‘Britain’s best unsigned band’, and there’s a welcome harder edge to proceedings I don’t recall. From crooner David Shah’s twitchy, melodramatic, mad-eyed delivery to ex-blond Alex’s studied insouciance as glittery trills emanate from his Yamaha, if they were any more polished, the gleam would be visible from Mars.
Kicking off with acclaimed first single what the housewives don’t tell you luxembourg effortlessly trot out a delectable sequence of intelligent, literate, and highly accomplished kitchen sink vignettes of unrequited love, Smithsian odes of mundanity, tempered with a wry smile and a twinkle in the eye. Through let us have it (is it about asylum seekers or anal sex?) to indie disco anthem success is never enough, Rob works up a sweat carving out Butler-esque guitar shapes, Steve beats the crap out of his drums, and Jon’s insistent basslines firmly underpin the lot. Aside from their every-one-is-a-single-in-waiting hook-ladenness, one of the great beauties of luxembourg songs is their sheer musicality; not there purely to the make the numbers up, each instrument has its own very purposeful contribution to make to an organic whole. Ending triumphantly with ace new single luxembourg vs great britain, the partisan crowd singing obediently along to every word, they are achingly good. It doesn’t get much better than this. Now, will someone please, please, give them a deal.
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