NME: It appears that there may well be talent that could develop into brilliant proof that smart and literate new wave inflected guitar pop music could be back and be better than ever. Or at least, that's what our man in Wales, Daf Wooley, recons anyhow as he introduces us to the delights of The Quirks
For the last sixth months or so, I've trawled the length and breadth of the nation going to gigs to try and find The Next Big Thing, and frankly, I'm a bit tired of it. It might sound like a great life, working for the music press as a gig reviewer being plied by beer and semi-attractive women while goign deaf for a living, but seriously kids, it does really exhaust you. Doing hundreds and hundreds of miles in a shitty Vauxhall estate car, under the influence of nothing but strong coffee and the thought of a nice paycheck, going to the middle of nowhere listening to bands with names like Sacrificial Virgin Abortion, Ned's Telly and (I kids you not) Jez & The Jizzmakers can really get you down.
They might well be kinda alright, or even actually quite good for a band of their respective genre, but they all tend to have the same problems that always kinda ruins investigating new up and comings bands for me: even before they're signed or anything, they already want to be The Next Big Thing and have dangerously high levels of careerism in their blood and in the minds. You seldom ever go to see a band these days who has not been thinking of stuff like that-with an official logo and website and C-list celebrity girlfriends to boot as baggage-and it kinda gets you down. You never really see bands who're just together playing music for the sake of it without all of that ambition...
Well, bit of a funny story, this one. I was driving through Wales after going to a new bands showcase at a shitty indie dive, fed up and miserable, when, on the outskirts of Swansea, the car decided to break down. I don't know the area well, so I had to get my car towed into town and taken toa local garage to get fixed up. The guy at the garage said that he couldn't get it fixed before the end of the day (it was late afternoon by the time I'd got there) so I had a night or two in Swansea to kill. I booked into a hotel and asked a young kid where was a good place to go for an evening's musical fun and madness. The kid pointed me in the direction of a venue called The Office and said that there was a local bands night there and that a group from the nearby universitys was on the bill playing there tonight, but he seemed a bit sniffy and dismissive: "Ay, I wouldn't bother if I were you, pal-they're, like, fookin' stoodents, isn't it?"
It was a proposition I couldn't refuse, so I decided to head over there and see this band of "fookin' stoodents". A quick but subtle flash of my press card at the door and I was literally yanked in, given a a couple of free beers and peanuts while the venue filled up and a couple of so-so local bands (one soul, one American hardcore punk influenced, one Industrial Metal) played brief sets. By 9pm, when the "fookin stoodents" were due on, I was feeling jaded and bilious on beer and apathy, but the second that a group of early twenty-something incredibly studenty looking guys came on and their lead singer shyly said in a very broad and unashamedly middle class accent "Hello Office, we're not from around here...but then again, because of migration and the Norman, Saxon, Viking and Roman conquests and all that, it's pretty much impossible for anyone to say they're exclusively from one place...Anyhow, we're The Quirks, and we sound like this..."
With the brief combined geography and history lesson over, the music starts...
Cue the finest hour and a quarter of fined tuned yet charmingly ramshackle and hyperactive new wave pop that I've heard in many a moon. And the beauty of it is, there are no mentions of famous friends, desires to sign up to labels, recordings available on MySpace, gangs of hangers on and yes men everywhere aduring and after the gig telling them it was all brilliant (although a significant proportion of it definitely was on the very cusp of the cusp of brilliance): this is a group of mates who are just doing their own thing and ploughing their own distinct and different path, and who are unashamed to be writing incredibly intelligent and intricate pop gems without resorting to basic boy/girl love and lust stories.
The opening song Maps & Legends kicks things off with aplomb, a twin guitar attack underpinned by stomping marching drums and slightly kitsch keyboard/organ imbellishments propelling a song that seemed to be about getting lost on your way home to a storming clap along conclusion. The Blue Eyed Girls Love The Black Eyed Boys is a sublime piece of social commentary on the national Friday night going out ritual in the vein of The Kinks, while Love You Tonight (Hate You Tomorrow) and the hilarious faux-blues of Home Counties Blues revive memories of the grouchier aspects of Madness and The Specials with overtones of middle class angst.
Sweet Fizzy Pop would be an obvious single of the band were signed, a kooky Beatles by way of early XTC throwback but with more observant lyrics ("Sugar so sweet/It rots your teeth/Dance to the beat/E-numbers in your feet") and a few traces of slightly sinister and menacing aggression in the bass and guitar parts. The band go for a more cut-price, charity shop take on disco music for the equally radio friendly Kevin, Be a Good Boy, but they unexpectedly (and rather brilliantly) spin the song out to eight minutes from what begins as a straightforward glitterball pop song about a rebellious teenager throwing a house party into a mini kitchen sink drama, all sexual frustration, soiled bedsheets, sordid confessions and underlying threat from the neighbours. It definitely seems to be one of the songs that a lot of the audience identifies with while dancing. Or maybe they just are dancing and the lyrics are going over their heads. Who knows?
Mostly though, the acoustic oddity Opinions and the almost straight up punk of Sci-Fi Dream aside, it appears that compact, danceable, sing along new wave pop songs are the order of the day for The Quirks. There are a few rough edges to be tidied up here and there-they desperately need to get their keyboards fixed or get a new one and they should definitely smile a bit more-but it does all look very promising. Although they pull a respectable crowd tonight, The Quirks are amazingly only second from the top of the bill (the headliners, who I listen to approximately fifteen seconds of and don't even ask the name of, are utter dog wank). Although they're not quite the finished product, and I suspect they are shrinking violets and might not grasp opportunities to enter this crazy rock and roll business professionally just yet (I suspect they'd finish their degrees), they definitely have the raw talents and the potential to become very interesting indeed.
Daf Wooley
Set List
Maps & Legends
The Blue Eyed Girls Love The Black Eyed Boys
Love You Tonight (Hate You Tomorrow)
Sweet Fizzy Pop
Harold, We're a Respectable Family
Blackpool Tower
Grass and Mud
Social Lives
Opinions
Home Counties Blues
Sci-Fi Dream
Kevin, Be a Good Boy
Girl From The Supermarket
Overstimulated
Dollhouse
The Neighbours Are Coming Around
