Koko pops. Live review of Lower Than Atlantis at Koko

Lower Than Atlantis ****1/2*
Lonely The Brave ***1/2**
Decade *****

Koko, Mornington Crescent, Monday 8th December 2014

It's a party. A Christmas party. Time for some pop music. 

There, I said it. Pop. You 'eard. 

Before I dive into tonight's poptastic performances, just a small rant. What's wrong with saying pop?

The Beatles were pop. The Rolling stones too. As were Abba. And so are Coldplay. U2. And so on.

The biggest selling music on the planet? Pop. Why are we so derogatory about one three letter word? Yup, we all know it's  diminutive of popular and it's a little facile to drag up that old semantic argument; but actually therein lies the crux: popular. So why has it become a dirty, cheapened word? Why do bands shy away from it? If they're after success, then surely becoming a pop band is the ultimate goal.

'Hi. I'm in an unpopular band. Playing unpopular music.' Might get you laid by some counter-culture bedroom-dwelling, black leather clad miserable goth emo groupie but it's not going to pay for the mince pies. Let alone the Champagne.

In a world obsessed with badging, naming, branding, conventions, taxonomies and labels, we often forget to move up to the broader end of the classification system. Pop covers a multitude of music. Some good. Some shit. But it's popular.

So, tonight, three popular bands are performing some popular music. Pop. 

Decade *****

First up are pop punkyesque Decade. A bit of a rum mixture. One minute pleasing pop rock with terrific harmonies and solid riffs, the next, clichéd double-time infused predictable quasi pop punk.

A seriously schizophrenic bowl of cereal. Hearty and tasty as hell in parts. Watery and whiny in others. But it's true to say that tonight's huge Christmas cake of a venue with its legendarily brilliant hi-fidelity front of house sound quality seems to suit the band's sound.

Having seen them many times in smaller sweat bunkers and bogs, they appear to be far happier in plusher, fuller surroundings. Well, who wouldn't be? Anyway, I'm led to believe that their next step on the pop journey is well underway and they are moving further away from the predictable pop punk noodlings and maturing their sound. On tonight's meaty performance, between the annoying and needless double-time reveries, there's enough evidence to suggest that they'll only move onwards and upwards if this is the case.

Pop rating: Pop corn. Generally tasty but too much unnecessary noise in and among the good stuff.

Lonely The Brave ***1/2**
Another interesting party selection on offer. Definitely well on their way up and fresh from their great joint headline tour with fellow tipped-for-the-top tyros Marmozets, this fenland five piece serve up stadium-friendly pop rock with a melancholic edge. But bizarrely seemingly without too many discernible choruses, hooks or refrains yet still capable of sending shivers and tingles down spines and up necks.

There's more than a hint of Elbow in their work, with limelight dodging David Jakes' mellifluous vocals covering the dense and rich guitar infused cake with smooth icing, but much of their oeuvre sounds too similar. 

Like a box of delicious choccy bickies that have slightly different shapes but ultimately all taste pretty much the same. Tasty alright, but a little repetitive maybe and crying out for a change of accent or flavour now and again. Nice though.

Pop rating: Pop socks. Warming, practical, functional, will be hugely popular, tantalising, but not as exciting as stockings and largely hidden from view.

Lower Than Atlantis ****1/2*

A collection of the most famous Chrimbo pop tunes get the huge sell-out crowd going in the run up to the headliner's Christmas address putting everyone in a pop party mood.

Kicking off with the insanely catchy English Kids in America from their brilliant self-titled fourth album (definitely one of the greatest albums of the year) Mr Duce and his boys tear into a set so wonderfully constructed and cleverly thought through.

Marrying huge singable refrains with butch riffs and perfect playing, this is a s good as I've ever seen LTA. And they look like they're lapping it up.

A box of goodies to truly deliver delicious taste sensation after taste sensation. Half a dozen or so taken from the newest long player are melded seamlessly into a joyous selection of feel good pop rock at its very, very finest.

Spiced up with tasty treats from earlier on their voyage with the punky vibes of FarQ, the almost post hardcore-infused Marylin's Mansion and firm face-splitting favourites like Deadliest Catch, Motor( Way of life) and Beech Like a Tree, there's not a fucking horrible coconut surprise or shitty coffee cream in sight: every one is a delicious favourite.

There's even a first ever live  outing for the novelty Christmas tune Merry Christmas (Wherever You Are)  to add to the party vibe.

The only slightly awkward moment of the evening is, because of the callow, youthful nature of a lot of the assembled throng, they have no idea what to do at the faux conclusion of the set. After the initial cheers at the end of the Christmassy 'set closer' there's an embarrassing silence. When did crowds stop shouting 'more!'. It's simple. Do the yoof of today consider it too rude, lame or uncool? Just fucking shout MORE! It says what it does on the tin. The One More Song thing that seems to have replaced it at more yooffull shows just feels too contrived. Nope, let's get folk shouting MORE again.

Anyway, the hideously embarrassing moment where Mike Duce comes out from backstage to cajole the crowd like some sort of shifty pantomime character is the only tiny downer on what is nigh on an evening of pop perfection.

The spine tingling sing-a-long of Another Sad Song kicks off the encore section with the whole glityzy chocolate box of a venue singing its very gonads off before bog rolls are thrown during Beech and finally the anthemic and driving dropped C rifftacular Here We Go 
brings the house down for one last time.

As LTA have developed, they've garnered a lot of deeply unfair criticism. Selling out? Getting softer? Even Kerrang! magazine churlishly, stupidly and unforgivably omitted the album from their top 50 of the year (guys, really?). But, you know what, if they keep producing such brilliantly crafted, considered and catchy pop as they are, then it won't just be any old Champagne with the mince pies, but a case or three of '69 Dom Perignon.

Tonight's performance has cemented LTA as true pop craftsmen. Without doubt national treasures in waiting. Without stigma. Without shame. Pop and proud,The songcraft has always been there, it's just been tightened up. The melodies and hooks better than ever. The smiles have largely replaced the scowls. Long live glorious pop and roll.

MORE!!!.

Pop rating: Pop tarts. Hot, tasty, addictive, unpretentious, fun, clever. Yum.

There they go. Live review of Lower Than Atlantis at Dingwalls 31/07/14

Lower Than Atlantis *****
Decade*****
Yearbook****1/2*

Dingwalls, Camden, 31st July 2014

There are some shows you look forward to for ages. You wait patiently as the tour swings along and suffer mildly jealous pangs as mates, journos, the bands themselves post pics, vids, tweets and head farts about the awesome show in Stoke or the high jinx in downtown Cardiff.

Well, tonight is one of those nights. The expectation has been building since what feels like when the last king was alive. Yup. Last night of the tour. In the capital. In the venerable old sweat bunker nestled in the tummy fat of Camden market that is Dingwalls.

And, it must be said, a disparate and interesting bill of fare is laid out in front of us. Librarycore, Pop Punk and, well, who knows what LTA are at the moment (or, more pressingly what they're about to become).

Yearbook****1/2*
So, first up are the librarycore lads of the always splendid Yearbook.

A decent sized gathering has already hauled its bits and bobs into the gloomy guts of NW1 as the quirky quartet chuck a blistering and sassy set into their gawping faces culled from their brilliant EP Old Bones and sprinkled with two or three old favourites from a bit further back.

And, as always, they sound on the bloody money. Choppy time signatures, big hooks, tight harmonies, counterpoint, syncopation, colon cleansing bass drops, stunning stickwork, searing vocals underlined by waspish and slit-eyed roars, screams and pain-fuelled yells. A crackling and cracking mix of outré and off-beam mischief with the rock spine of a brontosaurus.

All brilliant, BUT and it is a concerning BUT. This band aren't at all right for the mainly pre-pubescent, dip-dyed, nose ring-touting, emo teeny school assembly who've monopolised the barrier and the first dozen or so rows of tonight's prom.

Not right. Not right at all. They play intelligent, challenging, thought-provoking and angular music that feels like it should be being lapped up by a far more discerning and, dare I say older, audience. File alongside Brand New, La Dispute, Manchester Orchestra, Reuben - you get the picture.

Young as these tyros are, their music is sophisticated way beyond their callow years and seems somehow their youth is, well, wasted on the youth.

Fabulous stuff though. Even though, stoically, Brooker played most of the tour with a busted finger. Ooh ya kipper.

Decade*****

I have to admit, I have a love hate relationship with what is lamentably labelled pop punk. While bands like Gnarwolves, Shockmaster and the sadly defunct Real Adventures lead (and led) the way in unashamedly challenging and mutating the DNA of the genre but leaving traces of obvious traits and common chromosomes, bands like Decade, along with de jour acts like Neck Deep and Brawlers seem to be happy trying to simply propagate the genre through selective, reductive breeding. The old defy/define argument I suppose.

Don't get me wrong, there's a lot right about all of the aforementioned, but it's all getting a bit, well, meh.

Decade do, however possess something fairly original in their oeuvre; amazingly tight harmonies and some bloody fabulous melodies - it's just the palm muted Offspringesque chugs followed by amphetamine laced spider fingered ascending and descending arpeggio-soused riffs doesn't go anywhere new. 

Ok, that may not be a problem to both the band, led cheerily and energetically by frontman Alex Sears (whose looking uncannily more and more like the bastard son of Dan Lancaster and Eddy Vedder), and the jumping grinning school assembly here tonight, but it just leaves you feeling a bit like you've opened a nice bottle of wine and found it's full of lager. It'll get you there, but lacks any true originality or challenge to the palate.

Drinkable and giddying stuff, but all a bit Fosters. Apart from the harmonies, which were definitely off north facing slopes from a damn fine year. 

Lower Than Atlantis *****

So, to the main course. Tantalised and lubed by the contrasting starters of the nascent sophistication of Yearbook and the grungy Tennant's Super Brew imbued Decade, the absolutely rammed Dingwalls goes off its collective mammaries as the drop C kick-in-the cock thudding riffage of the latest radio friendly and, simply brilliant Here We Go opens Proceed-ings (ahem).

And this sets up a vexed question straight from the off. Where are they going? Ok, as the sweat inducing partyfied set seduces and caresses the nether regions of everyone attending, it's apparent that this is a crucial time for this band.

From their first rough 'n' ready, energetic and punk/hardcore/indie offerings (FarQ, Bretton etc), it's obvious that they're a super talented band. 

Mike Duce's lyrics on the whole ( lest not mention the, er, less than Tom Waits ish 'come and have a go' bridge in Here We Go - oops, too late) are among the very best of his generation. Always open-heartedly and self-punishingly honest. The band's playing is deceptively technically superb and Duce's voice possesses a quality and an originality most warblers would die for. BUT, where next?

As I say, the set is mesmerising and energised by the choice of sticking to smaller cap venues. The oldies, the really oldies and the more recent offerings from Changing Tune all have a satisfyingly familiar and comfortable vibe and every word is yelled back by the infatuated and enthralled throng. But then another new one, English Kids in America is dropped like the second h-bomb on this evening's Nagasaki.

So hooky, so poppy, so smart, sexy, instantly memorable and hummable. Is this the portent of where they're really going?

It's clear that a certain Mr Daniel Lancaster has had more than a finger or two of influence in the recent output (co producer/mixer on the eagerly awaited self-titled new long player). But, is it a gamble to take an edgy, grumpy, grungy, but ultimately hugely well-loved  bunch of miscreants and move them so far towards sassy pop rock sophistication in one lurch?

Pop rock (if that's actually a thing) is clearly far more appealing to a wider audience therefore potentially much more rewarding fiscally, but it's becoming a crowded market place. Ironically thanks in no small way to the genius of Lancaster himself: Mallory Knox, Don Broco, those annoying bastard Aussie kids off the cover of Rocksound and soon, Mr Luke Friend

Great melody has always been near the surface of LTA's word, but so has sarcasm, malevolence, self-doubt, nihilism and attitude. Let's hope the future manages to mix those potentially explosive and reactive elements and make something truly mind blowing.

On the face of it and hearing the evidence so far (Here We Go, English Kids in America and the recently slipped out but catchier than the clap, faux-live Ain't No Friend), it looks like they could well pull it off.

Tonight's show cements LTA as one of the best live bands around and they've seldom sounded better, and after a spine tingling version of Another Sad Song, where everyone from the venue's cranium to its rectum sings back every single word (check out the vid below!) and the apt paean to touring Motorway Of Life, tonight's show ends with a bog roll festooned love in at the hands of the guys from the tour supports.

And as the final chords of Beech Like The Tree crackle and decay into the soggy and loved up room, it's clear no one really cares too much about where they're going. They've come such a bloody long way already.

Be interesting to find out though.

Great show. Great band. Let's hope for an even greater future.