The Wombats and The Holloways
Concorde 2, Brighton
Wednesday 21st February 2007
One of these bands has a critically acclaimed album and two top thirty singles under their belt. They sound like every other band from London since Pete met Carl. The other band doesn’t even have a record deal. They sound like your radio will all year. 2007 could be Year of the Wombat.
Having released material solely in Japan, The Wombats have kept under the mainstream radar until now. A stunning six song set, plus the upcoming release of the ridiculously captivating Backfire At The Disco suggests an invasion on Middle England’s consciousness is underway.
Being from Liverpool, a lazy Beatles comparison could be forgiven. In reality they owe more to the Fab Four’s contemporaries The Beach Boys, blending sun-kissed harmonies with choruses just destined for festival sing-alongs. You can almost taste ice-cream in your mouth; such is the luscious nature of every ‘Waa-ah’ and ‘Oooh-oh.’
The witty juvenility of lyrics like ‘Short skirts, long hair, hormones flying everywhere,’ points to the humour and common touch of that other animal-related northern band, Arctic Monkeys.
There is depth to the song writing though, as Moving To New York confirms. A Shins-esque lullaby to sleepless nights, it sounds equally anthemic and nonchalant. The dumbstruck crowd doesn’t know the words but bellow along incoherently anyway, carried by the effortlessly infectious rhythm. Oh, and they have a cuddly wombat named Cherub on stage with them. What more can you ask for?
As The Holloways surface the crowd quickly divides into two camps. Those happy to sweat and shout descend to the front; those a little despondent amble to the back, heads still in a Wombat-induced wonderland. The ice-cream fantasy is quickly replaced by the sticky dancefloor imagery of The Holloways, cans of Concorde’s finest Red Stripe held like beacons of lad culture membership.
New single Dancefloor is a riot of jerky vocals and rabble-rousing choruses, while Two Left Feet takes The Stones’ Start Me Up, adds a harmonica and results in a three minutes of funk and fun. At their best, such as during signature tune Generator they recall the ska-infused rock of The Ordinary Boys first album, (a good thing, honestly!)
Songs waft along too often though, scuppered by throwaway lyrics like ‘She said why do you care? I said because I did.’ Obviously, profundity isn’t The Holloways strong point. They don’t try to alter the pace of their set, seemingly aware of their limitations.
Yet they remain jovial, creating an inclusive feeling to the gig, pulling a fan onstage and joking with the audience. Their enthusiasm is contagious and effort admirable; sadly the depth needed to make the leap to real success is lacking.
Concorde 2, Brighton
Wednesday 21st February 2007
One of these bands has a critically acclaimed album and two top thirty singles under their belt. They sound like every other band from London since Pete met Carl. The other band doesn’t even have a record deal. They sound like your radio will all year. 2007 could be Year of the Wombat.
Having released material solely in Japan, The Wombats have kept under the mainstream radar until now. A stunning six song set, plus the upcoming release of the ridiculously captivating Backfire At The Disco suggests an invasion on Middle England’s consciousness is underway.
Being from Liverpool, a lazy Beatles comparison could be forgiven. In reality they owe more to the Fab Four’s contemporaries The Beach Boys, blending sun-kissed harmonies with choruses just destined for festival sing-alongs. You can almost taste ice-cream in your mouth; such is the luscious nature of every ‘Waa-ah’ and ‘Oooh-oh.’
The witty juvenility of lyrics like ‘Short skirts, long hair, hormones flying everywhere,’ points to the humour and common touch of that other animal-related northern band, Arctic Monkeys.
There is depth to the song writing though, as Moving To New York confirms. A Shins-esque lullaby to sleepless nights, it sounds equally anthemic and nonchalant. The dumbstruck crowd doesn’t know the words but bellow along incoherently anyway, carried by the effortlessly infectious rhythm. Oh, and they have a cuddly wombat named Cherub on stage with them. What more can you ask for?
As The Holloways surface the crowd quickly divides into two camps. Those happy to sweat and shout descend to the front; those a little despondent amble to the back, heads still in a Wombat-induced wonderland. The ice-cream fantasy is quickly replaced by the sticky dancefloor imagery of The Holloways, cans of Concorde’s finest Red Stripe held like beacons of lad culture membership.
New single Dancefloor is a riot of jerky vocals and rabble-rousing choruses, while Two Left Feet takes The Stones’ Start Me Up, adds a harmonica and results in a three minutes of funk and fun. At their best, such as during signature tune Generator they recall the ska-infused rock of The Ordinary Boys first album, (a good thing, honestly!)
Songs waft along too often though, scuppered by throwaway lyrics like ‘She said why do you care? I said because I did.’ Obviously, profundity isn’t The Holloways strong point. They don’t try to alter the pace of their set, seemingly aware of their limitations.
Yet they remain jovial, creating an inclusive feeling to the gig, pulling a fan onstage and joking with the audience. Their enthusiasm is contagious and effort admirable; sadly the depth needed to make the leap to real success is lacking.
Greg Rose
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