NME Awards Tour 2008: Live Review

2008-02-13 09:59:09

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the annual NME Awards tour now acts as an indicative social barometer in the who’s-who of tomorrow’s world of Indie superstardom, and tonight is no exception. Not that the NME have always been right, particularly in the more bizarre choices of headliners that have since crashed and burned over the past six years. But I digress.
    
I shamefully missed the openers (due to yet another late night at the office!) The Ting Tings, but by the time I wandered in, my head was well and truly exploded by the sheer awesomeness of Does It Offend You, Yeah? Its clear that 2007’s rampant schedule of non-stop touring has paid off for this lot, as the crowd were completely mental throughout the set. DIOYY are a rather odd amalgamation of the techno fluffiness of The Sunshine Underground and the thundering basslines of the pesky Klaxons. It does, however, work.
    
Frontman Morgan Quaintance is a superstar in the making. Looking like the nerdier but cooler first-cousin-twice-removed of Bloc Party’s Kele Okereke (and no, I’m not just trying to say that he’s black, it’s a legitimate comparison), he promptly swans off the stage at the end of the set, only to emerge in the crowd half-an-hour later with a gaggle of adoring groupies on his arm. Watch out for this lot – they’ll be all over you like a rash before you can utter the rather hackneyed phrase New Ra…
    
Next up were the extremely well connected Joe Lean and the Jing Jang Jong. Lean is The Pipettes ex-drummer, but boy, was he wasted behind that drum set! Not only do his lyrics possess a poignant but unpretentious charm, he has all the camp posturing of a young Jarvis Cocker. This lot are purveyors of the sixties-style jangly guitar pop of The Byrds, only with punkier leanings and their group harmonies are shatteringly well-executed.
    
Yes, it’s been seen before, but I don’t remember Joe Lean ever claiming that his act were highly original or different. Lucio Starts Fires is my favourite tune of the set and showcases their ability to craft three-minute perfecto Indie-pop into superb ready-made summer hits. Complete with handclaps, choreographed twitching and tweed jackets, Joe Lean and the Jing Jang Jong are rapidly cementing their position as the buzzword band on everyone’s lips at this year’s major festivals.
    
And so we move to endgame. The Cribs are renowned for playing mental sets in front of even more mental fans and tonight’s set recalls the anarchy and sheer chaos of their headlining slot at last year’s Dot to Dot Festival in Nottingham. The now obligatory chants of ‘Wakefield’ are hurled around at the start of the set and you can see the bouncers in the pit bristling into a state of readiness. And so they should, because nothing could really have prepared the poor fools for the incessant onslaught of crowdsurfers they were going to face tonight. Still, at least they’re earning their money.
    
Something tells me that The Cribs don’t really like having to perform their best-known single to date Men’s Needs. I can’t quite pinpoint why that is, but it might have something to do with the fact that they spit venom before they play it, disparagingly refer to it as their ‘pop’ tune and promptly heave a sign of relief when it’s all over. Someone should tell them that the crowd love it, even if they don’t.
    
In fact, The Cribs can’t seem to put a foot wrong tonight. They churn out their own brand of northern punk like there’s no tomorrow and the crowd clearly adores them. It all goes really well. Until just before their final number. Ryan Jarman then decides to whip off his t-shirt, douse himself with water, scream like a girl and hurl himself into the crowd. There’s a big tussle between bouncers and fans over his wretched body, but the bouncers win and Jarman is promptly hurled back onto the stage, where he stands up but then falls down again. Quite simply, he’s a mess.
    
He screams indecipherably into his mic and suddenly the screens at either side of the stage flash up images of an aged American guy who’s spouting a stream of spoken lyrics while smashing rocks together, playing with headless mannequins and staring at CDs. By this stage, the Jarmans are singing something about “wanting to be dead”. Hmmmm.
    
Before their set descended into the realm of the totally bizarre, it was good. By the end though, the crowd were so confused that they didn’t even ask for an encore. I can’t quite remember the last time that happened…
    
Review: Michelle Dhillon
    
Images: Phil Swift
    
***To see more of Phil's awesome images, go to our Blog & Facebook group!***

    

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