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Stanton were on when I arrived, playing for the fucking millionth time in the last two months, but they were awesome, and obviously I shouted oi oi at them.. It's always best to do that, as it annoys Bob the singer immensely as he did it unthinkingly when they were on Radio One and it's now the bane of his life. But then Reynolds - and now for the nepotism. Believe it or not I love Reynolds because they are a great band. This doesn't sound odd, but the fact that they are all very good friends of mine, (the guitarist has even played in my band, the bass player records all of my bands material, I was in another band with the drummer) BLAH BLAH! RIGHT... hands up, I fucking love these guys, but believe me when I say, they are the best fucking band at what they do in the UK. If you want to hear an instrumental band playing straight from the heart, saying something without recourse to tired words, and not trying to shove their fabulous musicianship down your throats in a million time changes etc then this is the band for you. Tonight, celebrating the release of their new record, one continuous piece of guitar music called Love Songs , they even bring back some older numbers and for one night only go back to the four piece Reynolds that Steve Lamacq likened to "Fugazi on a chain gang"... with former vocalist Matt Tagney stepping up for the shellac style stop start bludgeon of Humble Pie and the reflective Airplane from 2000's Field Recordings album on Gringo. However it's the new stuff that's got me by the balls, specifically the epic closing track off the album, The Heart Wins, a collection of twisting barbed wire guitar lines pure Led Zep' style bombast and a closing section that echoes all the best things David Pajo does with his six strings (aerial M, etc.). I've seen this band play the direst show of it's career at this club (Silver Rocket the finest proper indie rock club in the capital, silly lights, silly dancing and fucking awesome music guaranteed), so it's fitting that tonight they play one of their finest. This is rock with all the stops pulled out; when they're being reflective you can barely hear them when they're blasting out its like rockets going off in your head. No words necessary. Ian Unpeeled (the zine that covers the John Peel shows, info from shane@unpeeled.freeserve.co.uk) |