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Club Fandango is slam-kerrang in the middle of its
second annual 5-day Fistful Of Fandango knees-up tonight,
in celebration of all things that are (a) very indie
or (b) really indie but not so much that a T4 presenter
would know who they were or (c) just generally a bit
of indie below the radar. It’s kind of like the NME
Awards but without the grazing herds of Fratellis fans
or sinister brainwashing undertones. The sense of occasion
might suffer – it’s a Friday night but at times feels
like a Student’s Union mid-weeker, with the drinks promotions
off – but staggering the acts over 2 rooms so that you
don’t have to miss a minute of any band on the bill
is very much in the spirit of discovery and a hierarchy
is fairly non-existent, so in that sense it excels.
London 5-piece Prego represent what these nights
are all about, though possibly in the wrong way. Chiming
indie in the Death Cab For Cutie vein played valiantly
by unremarkable men who’ve been at it for years chasing
a spark they think they may once have seen. The Ruling
Class aren’t even chasing their own spark, choosing
instead The Charlatans’; it’s amusingly uncanny for
a song or two, right down to the bowl haircut and pout.
Red Light Company are hyper professional and
surely bound to succeed in a world where Editors and
The Killers sell oodles and they do feel less focus-group
than on record, though the singer still has a little
too much metal-fan-at-science-camp about him. Air
Traffic then close the evening as the Scouting For
Girls that, er, never got the girls.
But it’s second room headliners Broken Records
we’re here to catch tonight before the hype catches
up and smothers them. “The Scottish Arcade Fire!” is
the approved hyperbolic soundbyte that’s been gaining
weight size since their self-titled EP hit the ground
whirling at the beginning of this year. This probably
says more about people’s desire to see the great Arcade
Fire of Edinburgh though, as it hardly holds much water.
Sure, there are seven of the blighters up there, often
going hell for leather and creased trousers, romping
with the assistance of a fine festoon of instrumentation
(trumpet, fiddle, accordion, cello, ukulele), unbridled
and somewhat carefree if you don’t count a verbal hankering
to get people dancing. It really is a bracing, fluid
performance - even if it lacks the discernable point
of breakthrough that it will at some point need. It’s
also very much more rooted in folk traditionalism, rather
than the emotionally draining, apocalyptic new wave
reworkings of Canada’s most notable. But the north of
the border Bright Eyes (much nearer the truth, say we)
seem to be setting down roots capable of holding firm
for years.
Relevant sites:
www.myspace.com/brokenrecordsedinburgh
James Berry for Crud Magazine 2008©
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