The Maccabees and Good Shoes Live

The Maccabees and Good Shoes
Concorde 2, Brighton
Saturday 3rd May

A summery, seaside stroll down to the secluded setting of this secretive gig is strikingly fitting for this showcase of two sun-kissed bands that really should be a lot bigger.

While Scouting For Hoosiers Only continue to brainwash a nation with saccharine tripe, The Maccabees and Good Shoes have released two of the most accessible yet credible pop records of recent years, yet can still amble into their hometown Harry Ramsden’s unnoticed.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. The bands have been left alone to write the follow-up albums, tonight giving a glimpse of their efforts to an adoring audience. Good Shoes begin with a well-received newbie, mainly due to explaining it’s about Brighton. The unheard material is greeted with toe-tapping and hand-clapping, often adopting a cleaner, less stop-start style than in the past.

In playful mood, the band whet appetites with the opening riff to The Maccabees track ‘Tissue Shoulders’ before racing through the spiky blitz of ‘Ice Age.’ The last new song repeats the pointed refrain of “The more I want/The less I need,” all splintering immediacy, continuing the jerky realism that typifies their sound. Then they’re gone in a whirr of ‘All In My Head’ paranoia and the faux-epic urban despair of ‘Morden.’














If Good Shoes are likeable, The Maccabees are loveable; a heady mix of nervousness and assurance, watching them is comforting but never comfortable. Long-time closer ‘Lego’ is unleashed early, raising the already sweltering temperature in a clash of competing guitars and storybook lyrics.

There is a harder edge to the new material, singer Orlando playing guitar regularly to create a thicker sound. However, the melodious purity of ‘Toothpaste Kisses’ and giddy gaiety of ‘Happy Faces’ is still present. Whenever they dip into their back catalogue the venue is a riot of smiles, but the new songs stand up well, a freshness and intensity attached.

The exception to this is the peculiar choice to stick guitarist Felix on lead vocals and give Orlando an accordion. The sound of the instrument, if not the novelty, is lost amongst the clanging of guitars and unnatural singing.


It’s only a blip, but a revealing one. Orlando’s wonderful resistance to theatrics, an anti-frontman who holds attention through original delivery and understated presence, contrasts strikingly with Felix’s grinning desire for centre-stage. The chemistry between the two is captivating, but most effective with Felix playing second fiddle (not literally) however reluctantly.

It’s back to business with a hectic ‘Latchmere’, then a strident encore of a Strokes-referencing new song and the rapturous sing-along of ‘Precious Time.’ It’s furiously played, the gig showing an impatience to release the tension and music of a busy break. Still sounding slick, but adorably flawed, expect them to return with songs the radio will play to death, as well as you.