The Icarus Line @ Cockpit
By Ben PartridgeColour of Fire, acclaimed local(ish) alt-rockers, opened up tonight in front of a reasonable crowd. Having just finished a considerable UK tour, they didn't seem at all tired, or perturbed to back in their regular gigging territory. In fact they seemed to be verily enjoying themselves. Yours truly was pleased to find that COF have steered away from their older sound, and are now playing much heavier, atmospheric songs, combining Placebo styled melodies and a Muse-esque approach to sound and performance - without Matt Bellamy's guitar gadgetry and quite ridiculously unique operatic vocal chords. COF seem to have abandoned any Vines-like pseudo angst and chosen instead to concentrate on powerful, thick and explosive songs modelled with a slight pop-sensibility. It works, and it was well-received, but I have to say, unfortunately for COF most of the songs were forgettable immediately.
Front man Owen looks the part completely, with enough charisma, expression and bodily contortions to provide exciting enough entertainment. He is the only one of the four who seems do his bit effortlessly. I love the interplay between lead and backing vocals, in so far as harmonies are hit every time, and sonically, the overall delivery of the band is faultless. Talented and with many ideas, Colour of Fire deserve the attention and success they have gained so far, but without that one trailblazer of a song, sustained interest may prove much more difficult to come by.
Whether he was tour manager, friend, spiritual guide, urban guru or general nut job-along-for-the-ride, the full bearded compere who introduced Modey Lemon was undoubtedly the most fascinating man I have ever known to stand upon the Rocket Stage. Suited, crowned by a turban, adorned with Bling straight from Fiddy Cent's bedside cabinet and NHS prescription glasses from the 70's, he carried a Gong and an archaic Car horn, with antics and appearance conjuring smiles and merriment throughout the crowd. It's a shame he wasn't an intermediary comedy act for the night.
Modey Lemon are somewhere between The Datsuns and Black Sabbath with a slight Queens of the Stone Age influence. Rich Garnett was not at all impressed by their retrogressive gritty and grungy head banging Rock. Neither was I. Still it proves at least that you don't have to be a good band to have surreal, often played videos on MTV2. Latest single "Crows" has a great riff, I'll give em that, but they opened with it. Yes, that's right; they played their best song first. Disastrous. The crowd was visibly bored by the fourth song - yawning, shuffling their feet and scratching their noses. Not the best audience response they could have wished for.
The absence of bass and reliance on over-distorted guitars and warbling keys, whilst adding a slight novelty, did nothing to change the repetitive and bland nature of the ML set. I went to get another beer before they finished.
I have seen the Icarus Line twice before. Each time, they impressed me. Roughly two years have passed since then, and it is over three years since the phenomenal debut "Mono" was released. Brandishing new material, a new bass player and new attire, (save for the trademark red/black colour scheme and make-up) TIL have become something entirely different.
"Mono" is one of my favourite albums, buzzing with arrogance, defiance and spiteful vitriol. That attitude still prevails, but the originality and spontaneity of their songs seems to have been replaced by something more mature.
Whereas their background was in post-hardcore punk rock, their new direction is defiantly pre-hardcore, pre-punk in fact. Like a bastard son of Iggy and the Stooges, Joe Cardamone whines sleazily, his embittered and abrasive lyrics, whilst his cohorts kick out the Jams, staggering, sweating and brooding like a neurotic version of the New York Dolls and BRMC combined. Driven more by sexy, bluesy impulses, TIL still retain their unique use of feedback, guitar effects and scratchy tone but their songs are less detached.
Fuzz-saturated bass makes the overall sound a little treble heavy, but it does not spoil the appeal. More coherence and control seems to permeate what was once angular and trashy white noise. The Icarus Line have maybe gotten to know themselves a little better. The results have mutated their once tense and calculated, caustic songs into looser, riff-based, rhythmic foot stompers. Noisy white trash they are not.
