The School of Hard Knox. Mallory Knox and Spycatcher Live review. The Garage.

Mallory Knox *****
Spycatcher *****
Coastline ***1/2**

Upstairs at The Garage Tuesday 15th Jan 2013

Been a while since I've been wedged into the 2nd Highbury Scout hut that is Upstairs at the <insert Sponsor's name> Garage. And every time I come back, I've always forgotten how small it is. I'm not sure even the 2nd Highbury scouts would find enough room to tie a decent reef knot let alone for an uplifiting game of British Bulldog. 

No matter, tonight, it's sold out and is one of London's hottest tickets thanks to the tipped-for-the top band de jour; fenland's finest young tyros Mallory Knox. Which has had the most remarkable effect on the make up of the crowd. 

There's almost a line across the middle of the scout hut with all the kids crammed in at the front but from halfway back, blokes with beards, man bags and feature spectacles. An unholy mix of industry types, press and musos. It really feels like the school play with all the mums and dads at the back watching adoringly and watchfully over the wee ones under the stage lights. Weird.

Coastline ***1/2**

Anyway, opening tonights scout hut jamboree are Kent's tidy tunesters Coastline. They produce a smooth, rich and silky set full of hooks, jangles, spangles, harmonies, refrains and melodies that get the already decent sized crowd tapping toes and nodding bonces rather than dervishly pitting and getting involved. 

Having seen these boys on two or three occasions, I've always worried about them finding a truly defining edge. Undeniably talented, thoroughly enjoyable and impressive, the vexed question still raises its head. 

There are just so many very good bands in this space (Canterbury, Natives, Hey Vanity, the remodelled WATO, Jumping Ships etc etc) Which, by the way, is brilliant and a true indication that rock music is as strong as it ever was and reaching a wider, more 'mainstream' audience. Not that Coastline are me toos or any less good than most of the others; far from it, on tonight's slick and uplifting performance, they're clearly right up there. It's just that final 10% of difference that's needed. Not a gimmick or a forced signature sound, but a sustainable and definable difference that sets them apart.

Saying that, they're still so young and soaking up influences, ideas, inspiration and experiences as they tread the boards up and down the country. And, in short, they do a bloody good job tonight.

 Check out some of their excellent tuneage here>

Spycatcher *****

After the smooth, cultured and slick Kentish Korma of Coastline, it's time to plunge for the hotter, more mental parts of the menu. As a complete contrast punky, poppy, grizzly and spiky noisy bastards Spycatcher are next on the scout hut stage.

The first thing to notice however, is that they appear to be a five piece no longer. Shorn of on guitarist/key tickler, the home counties quartet launch into the ridiculously infectious Remember Where You Were When Michael Jackson Died. And the sound seems to show no ill effect from the loss of a limb. In fact, arguably, it's more raw, tighter and cleaner. But still fiery and full of burning hot piss.

Steve Sears' bluff punk vocals are so far removed from the Coastline boys almost choirboy-like tight harmonising that the feeling of shock is almost tangible down in the kiddy pit. But, the taste buds are re-tuned and dropped jaws hoisted back up as the assault continues.

Spycatcher are one of those bands who genuinely have found a niche. Very difficult to put a finger on where they fit or what, (if it's needed by OCD suffering tiresome musos) genre they should be filed under. There is definitely a true punky edge but one with roots both sides of the pond. 

One moment you could be in a punky hardcore NY basement back in the 80s, the next at an early Slipknot jam session. Without the masks. There are influences and references swirling round the head like a trippy psychedelic dream sequence. Dark shadows of Glassjaw, Minor Threat, Million Dead,The Clash and Black Flag, lighter motes of The Damned and Eddy And The Hotrods, King Blues and even UK hardcore nods to TRC and Gallows (unsurprising I suppose, given Sears' involvement). 

The overall effect is stunning. Pop heart, punk testicles and a rock anus. The set  is a brilliant mix of light and shade, heavier bombs and melodic interludes. Drew Elliot takes on the responsibility of two guitars into one with aplomb. Mixing up jangles, chugs, slides and graces perfectly. Vitriolic, wry, witty and personal pathos-drenched lyrics sit side by side. Real life by a real band. Making a really good noise. Amen.

Fill your ear buckets with some of their splendid noise here>

Mallory Knox *****

By now, the scout jamboree is in full swing. And the 2nd Highbury Scout hut rammed to it's bulging walls. Cambridge's newest radio-friendly rock and roll darlings are set to do unspeakable things to our rear ends.

With so much expectation, hype, air-play, press coverage and intertweetsocial noise around these guys with the new album Signals dropping imminently, they've got a lot to live up to tonight.

But as soon as the first tune belts out, anxieties are eased, pants soiled, hearts lifted and wee, well, weed. The youthful acolytes sing back every word to huge new tunes Lighthouse, Death Rattle, Wake up and even Beggars which was only given its first official airing last week. These kids learn fast!

The sound is massive, Mikey Chapman's vocals pristine and spot on throughout. And they're loving it up on stage. Milking the crowd's fervour. Cajoling and interacting without arrogance, self-import or rock star wankiness. It feels genuine. Thankfully.

It's not hard see the fizzy atmosphere here transported to bigger spaces, halls and arenas in the not so distant future. The hype looks as though it's well worth the ink, airtime, pixels and hot air. The new album (recorded at the beginning of last year with the brilliant Dan Lancaster) is set to catapult these boys even further into the rockosphere with it's radio-friendly hooks, anthems and oo oohs. And tonight's consummate performance underlines this.

But there's thankfully also room for their sharper teeth to be bared with older material and favourites like Resuscitate and Oceans diving into their heavier side; complete with chugs, drops and breakdowns and getting the young 'uns pitting and moshing sweatily  

They shouldn't forget this edge if they're going to maintain the originality and interesting fusion. While it's welcomed news that rock is apparently going to be the next mainstream flavour, there are bands tilting at the genre from the other side, think Lawson, The Script et al. It's not going to be long before One Direction get Telecatsered and Blackstarred up. Perish the thought.  And, I'm sure the last thing the brilliant crop of acts like acts like Mallory Knox, LTA, Deaf Havana and Don Broco need is to be subsumed my the mire of mainstream blandness.

As long as Thug Workout still gets live airings by the Brocans, Nicotene And Alcohol Saved my Life by JV-G and his boys, Far Q by LTA  and the bigger, heavier heritage is not eschewed exclusively in favour of accessibility and 'niceness' then we are saved. And Mallory Knox will be leading the flag waving for vibrant British rock music for a good while yet, I'm sure.

Tonight is an encouraging portent of big things to come. Bring it on.

Don't believe me? Then feast your ears on these beauties. here>

Spycatcher duo Drew and Will's alt-folk alter egos Dirty Leaves and then This Town Needs Guns Next.

More tunes soon. Bwoooar!

Alt command - Freeze The Atlantic and Hold Your Horse Is - live review Bull and Gate

Freeze The Atlantic ****1/2*

Hold Your Horse Is *****

Radio Alcatraz ***1/2**

The Bull And Gate, Kentish Town 8th January 2013

Finally escaped the sofa, the man versus fudge sized bucket of Quality Street and the inevitable shit TV and headed out for the first gig of what promises to be a great year for the heavier side of music. Well, if all the so-called pundits, hacks and futurologists are to be believed.

Radio Alcatraz ***1/2**

So, to Kentish town for a jumbo selection box of Hampshire/Surrey home grown goodies.


But first, let's get the slight negative out of the way, all tonight's acts suffer from a not particularly vox-friendly Front of House rig. The music sounds great, but all the singers sound vaguely muffled and lack total cut through. A shame, but, to be honest a minor whinge.

Anyway, ignoring the flavour guide card thing, let's get stuck in to tonight's glutton box.  First on the tongue tonight are a nuggety, chewy interesting ball of flavour Radio Alcatraz. A satisfying blend of mescaline-fuelled ATDi/Mars Volta proggy complexity covered in rich, heavy, spiky riffs. 

Diminutive front man Simon Griffiths belts out a high tempo collection of polemic, politicising and at times ranty lyrics aided and abetted by swirling post-hardcore atmosphere and extra chewy riff bombs and a stiffly whisked rhythm section. It's tasty stuff. With the occasional shard of glass or hint of astringent acid cutting through the huge body.

There are vague but definite similarities to Zack de la Rocha in Griffiths's delivery as he jumps, spins and darts around like a hamster whacked out on goofballs stopping in his tracks occasionally to earnestly deliver his heart-felt sermons. Not that it's in anyway overdone or self-important. There's a fun and fizz in the mouth throughout. As I say, tasty stuff indeed.

Will definitely choose one of these again. 

The Radio Alcatraz Delight: A fiery centre with molten lava, Jack Daniels, kerosene and rusty, blood-covered razor blades deliciously covered in dark and complex riffery. Yum.

Hold Your Horse Is *****

Next to be unwrapped and popped in the gob are Mssrs Pearson, Penny and Rouse. 

With their totally brilliant album Frimley to plunder, the home counties trio serve up a wonderful mix of tantalising tastes. Ranging from indie-imbued choppiness to full-on throbbing erect priapic rock and roll. 

There's a wonderful paradox in HYHI's oeuvre: simple complexity. The songs often sound straightforward, but the constructs and cleverness lend an originality and satisfying substance. Cute time signature diversions and beat drops, chugs that counterpoint, polyrhythms and compound timings that add a dissonant edge that eschews the predictable.

A good few of the tracks from Frimley are given the glorious raw live treatment. That's raw in a good way. There's a controlled shambolic feel to some of their work, but that's all for the cameras. It's complex, challenging, grown up but not self indulgent or shoe-gazing. 

Poppy refrains peek in between the oft frenzied and splendid guitar work of Robin Pearson and his dual output flux capacitor guitar and throughout, the vibrant, explosive melange is controlled by the beautiful and sensitive bass playing of James Penny. Who looks like he's just got off the school bus tonight. Resplendent in 6 former's jumper and accompanied by his rucksack just plonked down in front of his cab.

Not satisfied with bombing us with their previous work, the lads even serve up a new sweetie. Douche Beige continues where Frimley left off. Knowing, witty, huge, but catchy and fun. Pretty much sums up tonight's stonking performance. 

The Hold Your Horse Is Barrel: Lively and zingy centre crafted from the finest razor wire, battery acid and blinding bath tub gin surrounded by a jaunty, amusing explosive crackling that melts faces. Definitely contains nuts.

Freeze The Atlantic ****1/2*

Given the fact that I love Reuben and, of course, Hundred Reasons, it beggars belief that this lot have missed my radar. As a kind of latter day Alt supergroup (I'm sure they'll thank me for that - sorry chaps), formed by waifs and strays from both the aforementioned legendary bands, they can only really be bloody good.

And on tonight's performance that's proven. In spades. No, fuck it, in Royal flush Hearts.

Vocal sound notwithstanding, the set is electrifying. Huge tunes. Massive riffs and hooks, melody, harmony, light, shade, energy and beauty. All delivered perfectly but not clinically. These boys are seriously on it. Every aspect welded seamlessly together. But not without a real jagged serrated edge when needed.

There are tons of guitar-based post-hardcore, Alt pop rock bands schlepping up and down the country at the moment, and finding an edge to differentiate is becoming harder and harder. Genres transmute, mash ups of all manner of styles and influences are being experimented upon and launched daily. But the thing that really puts bands like this ahead of the pack is, quite simply, talent. 

Not just the ability to blisterningly and perfectly shred the pentatonic, diatonic, dorian and any other sodding scale or to master every chord, progression, lick and cadenza. (The last thing we need is sterile, indulgent technically brilliant musicians wanking in front of us.) No, genuine talent for song-crafting, balance, originality and making genuine connections.

Freeze The Atlantic may not have mastered or launched a totally original blend of music upon the world, but they truly are bloody good at what they do. And what they do is bloody good. 

A 'knowing' crowd has definitely been treated to something pretty special tonight.

The Freeze The Atlantic Frappé: Deliciously and delightfully created from whispy clouds, angels tears and puppy dogs. Then thrown into a fucking rusty sceptic tank, with gallons of home made moonshine, nitroglycerine, napalm, speed, crack, machine gun cartridges and Stravinsky's jizz. Covered in concrete encrusted with rare gems. Hmmmm, delicious.

More tunes soon, Bwooooar!

Mallory Knox and Spycatcher next...