White Lies, Leadmill

Tonight we take a trip up to the Leadmill in Sheffield to see the promising new band 'White Lies'. They sound excellent, early Killers with a touch of Editors in there. So I couldn't really pass that one up.

We arrive early to find that the gig is in the Leadmill's cosy backroom, nice and intimate. We catch some of the set by the Post War Years. Hailing from Leamington Spa, they produce a nice mish-mash of pop, rock and electro. Lots of keyboards and the like but with some rocking guitar riffs added in, and a touch of wailing vocals.
They remind me a little of our own Late of the Pier, perhaps with a dose of Cold War Kids mixed in. Their stuff perhaps needs some work but it sounds promising.



Following them on to the stage are the Joy Formidable. Bleach blonde vocalist and guitarist Ritzy (female) and bass player Rhydian (male) are both from Wales. A drummer called Justin from Devon completes their line up. I thought Ritzy was making eyes at her Devonian percussionist but actually it's Rhydian who's her partner. Oops, hope I've not stoked up any sexual tension in the band.

I do like their sound, early 90's though it may be. They remind me a lot of the girl fronted rock bands of that era. There are certainly comparisons to be made to bands such as Echobelly, Breeders, Belly and one of my lesser known faves springs to mind, the Heart Throbs. In fact, there's a lot of Tanya Donnelly about lead singer Ritzy, even though she's Welsh. She's definite the focal point, doing lead vocals and sashaying around giving her guitar a hard time. She's also a girl who seems to like to spend a lot of time on her knees... nothing wrong with that... and she spends a fair proportion of the gig down there, fiddling with her guitar strings and her effect pedals.

Overall, they look quite a prospect. Their debut single ‘Austere’ is just out and they close their set with it. I hope to hear a lot more from them. Excellent. White Lies certainly have something to live up to.



As well as support band threatening to upstage them, White Lies also have a lot of hype to live up to, previously known as 'Fear Of Flying', a band who received lots of acclaim but little success. The band has now seemingly reinvented themselves and are creating a bit of buzz.

The opener 'Farewell To The Fairground' gives grounds to their tag of Killers wannabes. It's rather too heavy on the keyboards and on the drums for that matter. Lead singer and guitarist Harry McVeigh obviously realises this too and appeals to the sound engineer to turn the guitars up, which he duly does and they metamorphose from the Killers into something more beefy, resembling, perhaps, I have to offer these comparisons, the Psychedelic Furs.

Charles Cave is on bass, Jack Brown on drums and they have an unofficial fourth member on keyboards who is rumoured to have been in the now obsolete Mumm-ra. Oh dear, never mind, he's obviously got over it.



Draped in black and trying to look as miserable as possible, the band showcase tracks from their forthcoming debut album, barely pausing to take breath between tracks.

April's debut single 'Unfinished Business' is third up and sounds much better than the download blagged off the internet. The crowd are really getting into the gig but after 'From The Stars', which means three of the first four tracks they play have been available on the net, the audience go a bit subdued, as the band play stuff they don't know. White Lies do a nice line in bleakness and at this point, they descend heavily into it for about four tracks. This is wonderful but the crowd do kind of watch in awe rather than join in.



They then finish with the current single 'Death' which reignites the crowd but I can't help but feel that putting this somewhere in the middle would have made it a better set.

The album is apparently finished but isn't due out until January. I don't understand that, if it's ready, release it for Gods sake.

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Glasvegas, Rescue Rooms

We've been here before, done that, bought the t-shirt. Well L did, when we saw Glasvegas a few months ago in Derby.

It wasn't that long ago but it still seems ages since we've been to a gig. Well tonight, starts off the traditional autumn gigging season. Glasvegas themselves are back in Nottingham in December, we might be there too. Suppose it depends how tonight's sold out gig goes. Tickets were £8 only but have been going for £30 on eBay.

First up are Infa Red from Kent, or right down south as they helpfully explain. They are a five piece indie band although the keyboard player needn't have bothered as you can barely hear his tinklings over the guitars. Their Myspace describes their music as 'dynamic, driven anthems'. I'm not sure about that. There's definitely a large dose of early Editors about them. That at least appears to be what the lead guitarist listens to on his Ipod. You can also hear it in the singer's voice.



The lead guitarist cuts a strange figure tonight. We reckon he's left his best jeans scrunched up on his bedroom floor and forgot to give them his mum to put in the wash because the pair he's wearing are well knackered. You can see he's tried to repair the broken fly with a safety pin but he seems to have even botched that up. He's conscious of it because he keeps pulling his shirt down to cover the debacle. It kinds of takes our attention away from his guitar playing which isn't actually too bad. L reckons he's just trying to get a mention in my blog. Well it worked but honestly, the lengths people will go to get a mention.

There seems to have been a lot of water under the bridge since we last saw Glasvegas. They now have an album out, which is number two in the charts, kept off the top by the new Metallica album, as evetone keeps saying, even Infa Red mention it. There's also been a lot of off-putting tabloid hysteria written about them. Which is a shame really because it means that the boozed up lager boys are in tonight, punching the air, putting on fake Scottish accents and throwing their beer around. Particularly annoying for us because we've blagged a spot right in the line of fire, down the front.

They kick off as they did when we saw them in June with 'Flowers And Football Tops' and then proceed to play pretty much the same set as before, in almost the same order. They add just one track, managing now to fit in a whole nine tracks.

The one track they add, 'S.A.D. Light' is excellent tonight and a definite highlight. It is such an insignificant song on the album but like much of their material, it takes on a different life live. From this point on they seem to find their stride. 'Polmont On My Mind' which follows it, also sounds fantastic live. Then comes the always excellent 'Geraldine', again sounding superb. This is proper 'Geraldine', not the polished near-disco version that's included on the album, where I'm sure they've used a drum machine.


(photo - James Arnold)

Personally, I find the album, rather dull and disappointing. For a start half of it, including the four singles, has been around for three years now but mainly because the record simply doesn't catch the band's sound at all. They've taken away all the rawness of those much loved demo tapes and smoothed down all the rough edges. You can even hear and understand James Allen's words without looking them up on the internet, which is unforgiveable.

Thankfully, live they still sound pretty raw. 'Go Square Go', slowed down to practically a ballad on the album, is back to full throttle tonight and the lager boys love it, drunkenly chanting 'Here we f***ing go'.

James Allen is really getting the hang of this rock star lark, with his shades in place for most of the night. Although he lowers them briefly when the crowd ask him to 'show us your eyes', he still says little, letting the songs do all the talking.


(photo - James Arnold)

'Ice Cream Van' leads us into the predicable finale of 'Daddy’s Gone', which is as good as ever. Although he does the unforgivable and hands the mob vocal duty half way through.

When it's over the crowd pick up where he's left off, continuing with 'he's gone, he's gone' but yep they've gone. Still only 45 minutes and still no encore. We know they have other older songs, we know they do a cover of 'Be My Baby', we know they have an new EP being readied for Christmas. They could even have played 'Stabbed', maybe the upbeat 'I'm Gonna Get' version.

Tonight Glasvegas are still excellent, still powerful, still distinctive ... but it feels as if they're simply on autopilot, being told what to play, in what order and no more. There's no spontaneity, no surprises. I suppose it's too much to ask to be blown away twice by the same band but if they want people to keep coming back, they're going to have to offer a bit more.

The photos are thanks to James Arnold, who I don't personally know, but I reckon he was stood next to me. There are more great photos of the gig on his fickr site here

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Goo Goo Dolls, Rock City

The first thing to note was that I was expecting a quiet intimate gig. I mean how popular can the ageing American's The Goo Goo Dolls be? Very, it seems. All the best vantage points are gone, the crowd preferring to go for these spots rather than try to get up close, as tends to happen with the younger crowd. They're all avoiding the moshpit I guess, like L. We stand at the back of the floor, where I fear L can't see very much.

We catch the end of London's Slaves to Gravity, who formed in 2006 from the ashes of The GaGas. They offer a reasonably decent grunge rock sound from what I can gather from the brief view of them we got.

I can't confess to being much of a Goo Goo Dolls fan, this is very much L's choice of gig. In fact, it's the most unprepared for a gig that I've been in a long time. They have produced eight albums since their inception in 1986 and I've only listened to one of them, 1998's 'Dizzy Up The Girl'. Which is a pretty good album in a pleasant, totally inoffensive sort of way. Thankfully they play at least six tracks from it tonight.

Actually it all starts rather well because I know three of the first four tracks. 'Slide' and 'Black Balloon', which is accompanied by a couple of... yes black balloons being released into the crowd, are both from 'Dizzy Up The Girl' while a track called 'Feel The Silence', from their most recent album 2006's 'Let Love In', I listened to on their website this morning.

Lead singer John Rzeznik reminds me a little of Brian Adams with his floppy haircut and worn in face whereas his slightly disconcerting sidekick, bass player Robby Takac reminds me of... and I don't wish to be unkind but... he looks a little like a cross between Meatloaf and Twisted Sister's little brother.

Takac takes vocals on four tracks, in two batches of two, including the excellent 'January Friend', yep that's also from 'Dizzy Up The Girl', and a nice little ditty called 'Slave Girl'. His deep gruff almost lost my voice style would have been good had it been a little louder and clearer or perhaps he was actually losing his voice.



We have no problem hearing Rzeznik as he belts out song after song that everyone seems to know, except me of course, unless it's off 'Dizzy Up The Girl'.

The third member of the Goo's is Mike Malinin on drums but they haven't raised his drum kit off the ground and we can barely see him at the back of the stage. Perhaps that's how he likes it. I'm sure L can't see him at all.

The line up is completed by a second guitarist and a fifth musician who alternates between keyboards, guitar and later the saxophone.

Rzeznik banters well with the crowd and quips about Los Angeles being a dangerous gun-toting city. You get the feeling that he doesn't know how notorious Nottingham is. He seems to be genuinely pleased to be over here playing to appreciative UK audiences, as most US bands tend to be. I get the impression American audiences just pull up an armchair and read the paper while they watch their bands.



They wind things up with 'Let Love In', to which the chap in front of me in the 'Let Love In Tour 2006' t-shirt goes mental to, 'Better Days' and finally a big cheer goes up for 'Iris', which ends up being mostly sung by the audience.

They get shouted back for an encore and Rzeznik returns to the start to ask 'did you guys say fish and chips?'. These Americans struggle with our accents you know.

They treat us to their new single, 'Real', which has just been released ahead of a new album. A lot of the audience knew this one too. They finish with 'Broadway', that's Broadway, Buffalo, not Broadway, Los Angeles by the way.

I wouldn't say I'm a convert but it was still an excellent gig.

Photo sources :- Rebecca Clark, Chris Schwegler www.heavenlyintoxication.com

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Glasvegas, The Royal

We're at Derby's new venue tonight, The Royal formerly the Royal Hotel although it closed as a hotel in 1950. Both tonight's bands comment on the posh-ness of the surroundings when they come on stage, which is quite late. The support act play at 9.15, the main band at 10.15.

First up are a band called Madskull. The name doesn't sound promising and neither does the lack of a drumkit. Then when a badly dressed group of scallies, looking like Oasis after they've eaten all the pies, walk on stage to the sound of 'My Boy Lollipop' possibly my worst fears are realised or possibly not. Turns out they're actually quite a nice bunch of lads albeit with impenetrable Scots accents who make quite a nice sound. I think they're funny, as in entertaining and comic sort of way. Apart from that second track which is called 'Bouncy' or something like that and is all my musical nightmares rolled into one. They only play four tracks, saying that's all they've got, as they've only been together a matter of weeks but they're not too bad at all.

For a band who only assembled recently, they have a lot of equipment and they take almost as long shifting it as they did playing. Then eventually dry ice and red lighting floods the stage as four be-quiffed figures dressed in black take the stage. Glasvegas certainly look the part, like a 1960's version of the Jesus And Mary Chain with Joe Strummer on lead guitar and singing in Glaswegian. L's analogy was a cross between the Skids and the Cold War Kids with a dash of Rab C Nesbitt thrown in. Which is priceless. As you may have guessed the band are, as the name suggests, from Glasgow or more correctly Dalmarnock. Mind you, it's still a shocker of a name, even if it is how many Scots jokingly refer to Glasgow.

After their impressive entrance, singer James Allan kicks off the evening with 'Flowers And Football Tops', a song big on emotion and seemingly about roadside memorials. Along with his cousin Rab on guitar and Paul Donoghue on bass, the three of them lay down a gorgeous wall of guitar noise. This is partly where the comparisons to fellow Scots Jesus And Mary Chain come from, I also wonder if they've listened to My Bloody Valentine. The guitar sound is backed by the simple drumming of Caroline McKay on a cut-down drum kit, who is slightly hidden in the shadows at the back of the stage.



The place isn't full despite the hype and their recent appearance on 'Jools' so we can get up close and impersonal with them. Together since early 2006 with the much downloaded 'Home Tapes' demos and three limited edition singles behind them, it's taken a while for them to get noticed but finally they have been.

So have they been hyped for a good reason. Well yes. Tonight, their songs resonate off the walls of the impressive Royal without being as loud as I'd expected. Previous singles like 'Its My Own Cheating Heart That Makes Me Cry' are accompanied by fists in the air and football ground style singing from the crowd down the front but don't hold that against them. Each familiar song is sung back with increasing vigour as the night goes on, even the 'woo woo' Ronettes' bits.

There is no written set list; it's seemingly not needed for what appears to be a well-honed set. The well known downloads all take on another dimension live and are interspersed with a few new songs, such as 'Lonesome Swan' and 'Polmont On My Mind' which promise great things from their debut album when it is released in August.

'Geraldine' sounds wonderfully powerful and totally ace live. It is already L's single of the year and it's not even out until 23rd June. In fact she says the band are the best thing I've played her for a while. She's even bought the t-shirt.



There is hardly any letup, as the band rumble through their brief but breathless 45 minute set, more than justifying the frenzy about them.

'Go Square Go' storms the stage and the crowd but then finally we get a break and a slowie; a new song called 'Ice Cream Van' featuring just James Allan's distinctive Glaswegian brogue and Rab on keyboard, although it sounds a bit like the funeral march. L tells me how moving it was the way he wrung his hands as he sung it. She says she was sure he was rummaging for a hankie in his pocket afterwards so he could have a little sob. I'm not convinced, I thought the lyrics were about sectarianism and he was wringing his hands as if he had them around someone’s throat. Funny how we see things differently.

They finish with 'Daddy's Gone', which is greeted with a big cheer. A track that was voted the number 2 single of 2007 by NME readers. Most of the crowd know it and carry on singing when James Allan opts not to.



No sooner has he finished singing a final chorus of 'forget your dad, he's gone' and they're gone themselves. Almost as soon as the band are off the stage, the house lights and the music come on. Game over. Which is a shame. Not even chance to shout for an encore.

Despite the shortness of the set, these guys are clearly a class act with some great songs. Probably too short, it would have been good to hear them play 'The Prettiest Girl On Saltcoats Beach', but I suppose it was only £7. Hopefully longer sets will appear when they tour to promote the album.

So a great gig, despite them not having the cheeriest of songs; their repertoire consists of death, racism, absent fathers, social workers, infidelity... he's clearly had a rough upbringing. What a good advert for Glasgow. I've not really been there; don't think I'll bother.

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Guillemots, Rock City

Rock City isn't full and the balcony is closed for added intimacy. We head up the staircase and get a good spot, perched at the top, like, well like a guillemot or should I say guiLLeMoT, as they prefer to write it.

First though, London's Royworld and their mainstream pop rock, promoting their debut album 'Man In The Machine'. It's a terrible name and none of the band are even called Roy, in fact what's worse is the lead singer is called Rod, so why not Rodworld? Can't be any worse, or can it? Or Robworld after the guitarist? Tim and Jerry-world, the other two members, conjures up cat and mouse games...

They play some pretty standard stuff that seemed ok but nothing stood out or grabbed my attention. After a few tracks, my mind and eyes soon started to wander elsewhere.

As the roadies set up for the Guillemots, I conclude that the sound check could take a while, as a huge array of equipment is wheeled out on to the stage including more effects pedals than I've ever seen before. They also bring out a stuffed lion, which looks like the King John character from Disney's Robin Hood.



The lights go down and the baggy suited Fyfe Antony Dangerfield Hutchins takes to the stage clutching a hand held keyboard that I'm not sure he's actually playing. He sings the first verse of 'Made-up Lovesong #43' solo, sounding a little like Stevie Wonder. Fyfe it appears is a man of many voices and has a truly great vocal range. He sings about something he got 'off the paper round', hopefully not from round our way. Then he takes a seat at his keyboards and coloured lights go on everywhere, including a tube of red lights running all around the stage and the other band members join in for the rest of the song.

There are several birds on stage, there's one perched on Fyfe's keyboards, a guillemot I assume, and then there's Aristazabal Hawkes looking good in a near backless black dress with a double bass between her legs.

They drift into 'Clarion' without a pause with Arista now banging on a set of drums. Guitarist MC Lord Magrão is rocking out, as he does all night, even when the tempo of the song doesn't warrant it. Fyfe stays at his keyboards, side on to the audience, which isn't very rock n roll and annoys the hell out of me. Face your audience! He doesn't talk a lot but oddly asks what people's favourite paint was. Some bright spark replies with a yell of 'Green'.



The title track to their Mercury Music Prize nominated debut album 'Through The Windowpane' follows as we get a sequence of slowish songs to open including their rather twee new single 'Falling out of Reach'.

'Falling out of Reach' would sit well on their first album but some of the other stuff on the new album 'Red' would not. Some of the tracks are very different for sure and all hell breaks lose when the band employ a major chance of pace and play 'Last Kiss'.

Arista timidly shuffles forward to take main vocal duties, a more reluctant vocalist I don't think I've ever seen. She mumbles something, I think she says the songs about marriage. Oh dear. Major assertiveness lessons required and as for her dancing, well...

Putting all that and her rather quiet vocals aside, its still an outstanding moment. Also for Arista's dress, for which L has now placed an order.

Then they go from being completely manic back to soft and gentle although Fyfe briefly ditches his keyboards in favour of a guitar, for 'Standing On The Last Star' for which he sounds far too like Mika for my liking. He encourages everyone to clap and sing along to the ending.

The band are continually swapping instruments, often even mid-song. Fyfe's on harmonica for the intro to 'Words' which rather unfairly reminds me of that French-Tunisian crooner FR David and his awful schmaltz of the same name which sold by the skip-full in 1982. Thankfully it's not the same track but shockingly similar in sentiment.

Arista shows what a diverse girl she is by picking up bass guitar for the brooding 'Don't Look Down', which is my favourite track from 'Red'. It's a captivating song that picks up speed as it goes along until it gets insanely fast towards the end. My highlight of the night.

'Annie, Let's Not Wait', another of my favourites, has possibly too much drumbeat on it but its still good. Then Fyfe dons some very silly sunglasses as their punchy recent single 'Get Over It' picks up the pace again, dramatically so. When I first heard this being played on the radio, I couldn't believe it was the Guillemots gone all pop.

He tells us it's about being a bitter old man. Bitter it seems at ending up with the wrong girl and still longing for his unrequited love but hey, at least he's getting over it.



Fyfe is left alone to play a solo 'We're Here'. It's a quiet moment but initially the crowd are too busy chattering, still abuzz from a cracking 'Get Over It' which just needed to be commented on. Probably not a good time to play a slowie.

The rest of the band return with Arista now at the keyboards for the raucous Scissor Sisters sound of 'Kriss Kross' which closes the set.

The band leave the stage but the audience had barely finished applauding when they return. Oddly drummer Greig Stewart is now stripped to the waist with a face drawn on his torso, dancing madly, and waving a bell above his head while Fyfe plays the drums. What was that all about then? Quite surreal. Someone shouts out their perverse appreciation for Greig, Fyfe tells them to 'get over it'.

Normality is restored for 'Trains to Brazil'. Their debut record, that made a name for the band. A sad but clever song commenting on the threat of terrorism in the world these days. They re-named the song in tribute to Jean Charles de Menezes, who was shot by the police on the London Underground.

Fyfe introduces all the band members, including the lion. We even got a few words from the lion but he mumbled too much into his microphone for us to be able to make them out.

They end with a hyperactive 'Sao Paulo' with lots of percussion, with all the roadies joining in and Fyfe banging a dustbin lid.

A good gig but too many slow moments for me but then they're that sort of band. L compares them a little to Elbow, although not as witty or crowd friendly. Equally, if not more, nod-off-able at times. The new, dare I say 'disco', stuff doesn't really quite fit in their repertoire but gives an interesting contrast and possibly widens their appeal. I think perhaps, Fyfe is going through a mid-life crisis. You're supposed to start doing more slow songs when you get older but he's going the other way.

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(Photos pinched off the Guillemots forum. Sorry)

The Delays, Sheffield Leadmill

We drive up to Sheffield, which takes only around 45 minutes in all. The Delays are playing at the Leadmill, which is one of my favourite venues. You can usually park more or less outside and so it proves tonight. It's a good job because L's in heels and a skirt.

We just catch the dieing seconds of the first band but catch all of main support, Rotherham band The Tivoli, who have brought their own fervent following with them. The band have been together for quite a few years, despite a few line-up changes, and finally have a debut album due to be released. They are competent musicians and good though they are in parts, I feel they're trying too hard to be U2 or something like. They prove that they are well capable of a Dylan-esque rock out but everything seems to go on a bit too long. There are no three-minute gems here, only six-minute epics. If they can teach their songs to know when to finish, then they might be onto something.



Even after the Tivoli faithful have moved on, there's still a pretty large crowd for the main event, although the Leadmill is still far from full. There's a real mix of ages, some people who don't even look 14, some who look much older than me. Size wise the Leadmill is a step up from the Social, where we saw them in March. It's good to see bands in small intimate venues but the Social is possibly too small, they'll at least have room to move around on stage here. We're fairly near the front and L is worried about crowd surfers but I think she'll be safe tonight. In any case we've left Daughter at home.

Again The Delays road crew takes ages setting up, fiddling with equipment and it's a different chap this time, so it must be in their job description. The PA is again playing 'Raspberry Beret', so that again appears to be the signal for the band to get ready.

Southampton's finest take the stage and play 'Girls On Fire' which is also the opener to their new album 'Everything's The Rush'. Second up is their often forgotten single 'Lost In A Melody' from 2004. A track they released between their first two albums and which didn't appear on either.

The band are soon into their stride in front of an appreciative crowd and treat us to what they describe as 'festival practice' by playing 'Hideaway' and getting everyone singing, clapping and arm waving. It's good to see such an enthusiastic crowd. Recent single 'Hooray' follows and despite the fact that it's a hot sweaty night, the crowd bounce along in time. Gravity defying in the case of some of the girls present.



Naturally there's a lot from the new album tonight which seems to boast 'bigger' and happier tunes than the previous 'You See Colours'. Of the stuff we heard in March, 'Touchdown', a song they say they originally wrote as a jingle for foreign radio or something, sounds more joyful this time and 'Pieces' too improves on second listen. Other new tracks such as 'Your Friends Are False' also come over well, although it's hard to spot any 'big' singles among them.

Among the old stuff, it was good to hear 'Wanderlust' played and when they followed it with 'Nearer Than Heaven' the Leadmill was really rocking. L even accuses me of joining in, catching me at a weak moment.



Again they close with 'Valentine', and the place is well ... bouncing.

After the roadie chap reappears for a bit more fiddling, they return to play the same encore as before 'Panic Attacks' followed by 'You And Me'.



Another good gig. Greg, Aaron and the rest of the band seemed really up for it, on good form and revelling in the extra space of the Leadmill. It was a performance with plenty of passion and energy. Possibly the best way to describe a night with the Delays is 'a happy night'.

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The Wombats, Rock City

We arrive nice and early at Rock City to catch the support band but find the stage already having lots of Wombats signs draped around it and furry creatures arranged on top of the amps. Not all of which look like Wombats, in fact one looks like the Loch Ness Monster. Anyhow, disappointingly it appears we've missed seeing Nottingham's own synth-pop duo 'I was a cub scout' (or is that 'Iwasacubscout', I'm never sure).

The earliest I can recall a main band hitting the stage at Rock City is 9pm; tonight at round 8.50pm the background music is suddenly turned up. One minute we're grooving gently to MGMT the next its 'Karma Chameleon' for which the assembled masses go mental. This appears to be the final warm-up act.

The barbershop style acapella of 'Tales Of Girls, Boys And Marsupials' heralds the arrival of the band and leads us into (the needlessly re-released) 'Kill the Director'. It sounds good, fast, and vibrant as the band hurl themselves into it and the crowd respond with equal amounts of hurling. It’s the first of many songs about 'a gender I'll never understand', so says singer and lyricist Matthew Murphy. Their album 'A Guide to Love, Loss and Desperation' is basically Murphy's singing blog, the 'rough guide' to being dumped by women. Sweet Louise is up next, on the school bus ('School Uniforms'), whatever happened to her.



The Wombats are a three-piece from Liverpool. As well as Matthew Murphy, there's drummer Dan Haggis and bass player Tord Øverland-Knudsen, a Norwegian who, a bit like fellow Scandinavian and honorary Scouser Jan Molby, made his home in the city. Both are very adept with the 'Wooo-oooh-oooh' backing vocals but they all appear to be in a hurry to get somewhere and the Wombats blow through Rock City like a hurricane.

At first Murphy's voice doesn't sound that strong, perhaps he's losing it after so much touring or perhaps he's just being drowned out by the fervent crowd, who bellow every word back at him. Thankfully they seem to turn his voice up louder as the gig goes on, hence we get a storming rendition of debut single 'Lost In The Post' where his girl has 'gone where all the letters we write to Santa go'. The poor chap has had even less luck in love than me.



His women and his humiliations come and go, thick and fast. Laura (lost in the forest), Suzanne the GP (she gives you pills and all sorts) and Patricia the stripper, 'this ones about falling in love with a whore.' 'Tricia' goes down exceptionally well tonight, it I can say that, as does a totally rampant 'Moving To New York', with Tord hammering out it's bass line.

I had feared that tonight's crowd would be another bunch of screaming teenage girls, like the Hoosiers, like Scouting For Girls, but thankfully it's not. It's actually a good mix of people who have come to pay homage and go mad in the mosh pit. Murphy asks the crowd if they've got enough water, well they did, but they all keep throwing it up in the air. Please don't give them any more.

I see several people trying to crowd surf right from the back of the floor to the stage. I've not seen that attempted for many a year. Ouch! I've also never seen anyone manage it, they usually end like that poor chap did, falling on his head.

As they launch into 'Little Miss Pipedream', 'she gets hammered and goes home with other guys' and finish off with Murphy's tale of dancing drunkenly on a table with his girlfriend to 'Love Will Tear Us Apart' aka 'Lets Dance To Joy Division'. It's good but it's all a bit predictable, there are no surprises. So far we've had 11 of the 13 tracks off the album and just one other track, a new song, 'How To Pack Your Bags And Leave', and nothing else.

They return for the encore and as expected play the two missing numbers. Disappointingly there's no Norwegian rendition of ‘Postman Pat’, none of their cranky cover versions (Leona Lewis, Take That, Bryan Adams etc) and nothing from the multitude of clever b-sides that they've produced. Not even the excellent 'Derail and Crash', a particular favourite of mine and there's no giant inflatable wombat either. Douglas where are you? One small mercy I suppose.



An absolutely stonking 'My First Wedding', Murphy's tale of knocking off the bride, not that he's bitter about it, 'She'll steal your mind first and then your car'. Well I suppose it is Liverpool.

Then finally there's 'Backfire At The Disco', or how not to behave on a first date. Ah I remember it all so well. The song prompts a near-riot, the dance floor becoming one seething mass.

So maybe it's all a bit childish and as you'd expect the band don't take themselves too seriously but Murphy's autobiographical observations on life are genius, all held together by a sharp, catchy sound. The Wombats bring a refreshing touch of humour into a music scene that can sometimes take itself a little too seriously. For sure it's another case of it's going to be a difficult second album and to make matters worse Murphy has apparently now got a steady girlfriend. You're going to have to get her to dump you mate or else what are you going to write about next.

It's just a shame it's was all over in around an hour. Another half-an-hour on stage and half-a-dozen more songs and it would have been right up there as one of the gigs of the year.

Did it backfire at Rock City, certainly not.

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