The Xenith Sound @ Cockpit
By Danny Martin
Sweat drips from every pore; they bleed your life and finances here folks. Here been the cockpit. Atmosphere is sold in bags, buckets even. Young trendies yabber and titter over shiny new converse and white studded belts. But what of the bands, and moreover what of their music?
Travel back and year or so and this interweb site tells a tale of a fair bunch of men who went by the name of "Meme", they gigged and I penned. Skip forward again and this youthful quartet have ripened and matured, they have adopted a new name The Echo, at least allowing me to establish that their band name picking ability is feckin' shocking. The music though, well the music is something to behold.
If Buddy Guy was white, and born in England, he would be lead boy Andrew Barton. For Sig. Barton has a bluesy rock-rasp which spears through every song The Echo play, saturating and driving the melodies. The bass is deep and bruising, the skins tight and manic and the delightful keys pads , which come from Sam Woodings talent filled fingers enhance what is a already a superb backbone. Standout "Trouble on the horizon" parts 1,2 and 3 is a rock-opera (rockpra) which manages to twiddle your heart strings, tap your feet, and crucify your ear drums all in 5 minutes of mayhem - superb.
I would hope The Echo would be clasped tight to the bosom of the Leeds hierarchy and held aloft sometime soon, headlining this wonderfully dingy pit cant be far round the corner.
But perhaps they just ain't punk enough, for pin-up boys The Humour seem to have captured a larger crowd, the oldies who swayed to The Echo have vanished to the bar and the young hipsters have descended. And by young I mean "how the flamin' hell did they get in" young. Ok, maybe it's me ageing (gracefully).
So what's to write home about, well frankly bugger all. For The Humour are about as exciting as a day on the bowling green, with my Gran, sipping earl grey, with Daniel O'Donnel crooning in the background. They are a boy band, with a few guitars and a vocalist who can scream. I'm all for attractive bands, in fact more 18 year old glamour models must start to rock-out in my humble opinion. However, pretty boys that have abundant charisma and stage presence, but severely limited talent take the damn biscuit.
It just bloody bores me, really. Emo kids cavorting around on stage with no real musical direction and more talent for using hair straighteners than being rock stars. I can't be arsed going on, after The Humour's performance I overheard one of the aforementioned 14 year old girls saying "Oh god that were ace, they are gonna be bigger than Fightstar. I cant wait to tell Shelly". She will tell Shelly, probably in maths tomorrow morning. And the Fightstar reference, she is probably not wrong.
Completing the line up of crapped named bands are firm local heroes The Xenith Sound, and god Hell hath no fury like The Xenith Sound's aged crowd. I am nearly killed by a couple of tits behind me within the first 5 minutes. They are swiftly ejected and so we remain breathing to watch the set. And Jesus these guys are good.
Surely having a lead singer who looks like a Texan deadbeat can only be a damn fine place to start. Bassist Jake halls adds to the pickle of insanity by cavorting around the stage like Karen O on acid. And then the guitars scream into the mix, canning the Cockpit's acoustics and stripping my ears clean. Again bluesy rock is the taste, the strong vocals of Toff banks triggers my mind to past Leeds faves The Blueskins. It's all about tight, manic guitars and basslines and permeating crisp vocals. It's a difficult and clever mix; saddling ultra sturdy musical clout alongside an edgy stage act. These guys nail it.
The Cockpit is rammed; ok it ain't no Wembley but I guess it's bloody hard to pack this place out with people, especially when a good hundred or so have only come to fawn over another lead singer and get out of doing their homework. So hats of to The Xenith Sound, they engage and destroy just about every eardrum in the place. Their music is often muddied and rampant, but always worthy of attention. So stand up troops.
