6 Fingered Man @ The Vine
By Gavin Miller
The Vine seems to have a cross section of every genre of rock 'n roll tonight, as we move through pseudo funk, light indie, Maiden-esque metal and then finally some anthemic indie stompers. It's interesting to say the least...
The evening starts with the britpop stylings of The Pipers, who plod along at a reasonable pace, knocking out some bluesy/ funky riffs. I don't think it was my cup of tea to be honest, but they seemed to be enjoyable for the rest of the audience. At some points they sound like a bastard son of Kula Shaker, in others they come on like The Music on Valium, and at one point they play a riff straight from 'Rock 'n Roll Creation' by Spinal Tap. No, seriously. The highlight of their set was the rolling, psychedelic wig out instrumental that closed their show. Very cool, if a bit overlong.
The Hazey Janes have a lot to live up to, as if you're gonna take your name from a Nick Drake song, you'd better be worth it. Thankfully, their cheery, upbeat indie pop is a welcome slice of loveliness. It's all glittering Telecaster twangs & two part harmonies, very Belle and Sebastian. In fact these guys hail from Scotland, so automatically they win some extra cool points. There must be something very melancholic in the water up there, as they sound not unlike the whole twee, lovely pop song set, obviously fronted by the loveable B&S, with chunks of Felt, Snow Patrol (well, they're kinda Scottish) and Isobel Campbell. It's well played and nicely executed.
And then... was it a dream? Was I asleep at the bar? No, unfortunately not. The Retrose are here, and sweet mother of Christ it's unexpected.
Imagine if somehow, beyond all scientific control, that Bruce Dickinson and Alan Partridge had managed to conceive a child, and given him a band to play with. This then, is The Retrose. It's strikingly different. Maybe even enjoyable, in an 'I still can't believe this is actually happening' kind of way.
It's basically The Darkness' wet dream, rolled up in as many rock clichés as humanely possible. There's the long hair, the huge scream, the on stage jumping and hand movements. There's even the slow, acoustic driven ballad, which features the singer's insistence on pronouncing it "tammarrooooowwwwww". Is it ironic? Is it a joke? God knows, and I don't really want to find out.
Then, for some reason, we get a scene from Trisha: Live! As I'm accosted by some young lady who wants to buy a cigarette off me, and then proceeds to have a domestic with some hoopy gold ear-ring clad chavette on our table. Coming to a theatre near you...
Anyway, it's time for 6 Fingered Man now, and as they step on stage, whatever's left of the crowd in the Vine gather to the front. I think the band have played better gigs than this one, but even with a malfunctioning bass amp and a few bum notes here and there, they still stand head and shoulders above everything else. It's anthemic, high-as-the sky chorus stuff, with a fierce lead guitar that's cranked, and a voice that's soaring, powerful and pitch perfect.
Maybe some slack can be cut due to the fact that these guys triumphantly conquered Bradford's own Rio's at the weekend, and that takes it's toll. Even so, the boys whip through a set of confident, blazing tunes, guaranteed to have at least some part of your body moving. It's nice to know that even when the sound was a bit off (bass amps blowing, etc.) that 6 Fingered Man can come through it all the better.
