Once again, due to my habit of intentionally ignoring everything NME has to say with fingers in my ears and a loud, ‘Blah blah blah, The Skids, blah blah blah…’ I have been rather slow on the uptake with this band, but bear with me.
I first stumbled across them supporting Florence & The Machine at Hammersmith Apollo. They were preceded by an almost 50s-style scene with an outbreak of banshee screaming and one girl behind me, fanning herself in preparation for lead singer Jonathan Pierce to come onstage, exclaiming with no hint of irony, ‘Oh he’s so dreamy!’ By the time they came on my eyebrows had almost disappeared into my fringe in disbelief, especially when the legendary Johnny finally entered the stage, dressed like someone doing ‘dandy schoolboy’ in a satirical play with a haircut so retro I questioned whether it could be real.
Once they started playing however, in a charming and raw style that bought to mind an optimistic and camp version of Joy Division, I not only started to like them, but I started to find Johnny inexplicably attractive within about three songs. By the end of their set I may have even flailed while saying, ‘Oh, I love him!’ On the one hand there’s his dancing, which alternates between an Ian Curtis-esque shuffle and a flourish of Adam Ant-style posturing. While part of you wants to dismiss him as a tragic indie car crash, a more overwhelming part of you knows that he’s cool enough to get away with it. On the other hand though there is his singing, which is undeniably strong, able to express both irony and charm.
Then there is the issue of their stage door persona, a tripping point for any band, where an arrogant attitude or a snappy comment can put me off a band’s music for life. I saw his fringe before I saw him, and hoped that someone else would stop him considering I didn’t know his name at the time and I wanted a smoother opener than, ‘Guy from the drums!’ Luckily someone obliged and Johnny took a round of obligatory photos before I chipped in with a devastatingly cool, ‘Excuse me…’ I am glad to say that, despite the onstage strut, he was one of the most polite musicians I have ever met. Upon my camera breaking he insisted on waiting until we had got a photo I was happy with, even offering to fix it while his arm was still around me. Allow me a moment to sigh…
After the gig I bought their recent EP, Summertime! It comes across as the polar opposite of their live sound, but that is no bad thing. Songs like Let’s Go Surfing, Make You Mine and Best Friend (from their Best Friend EP) sound like they were produced on a jaunty, aged 60s record. Live they sounded like a hyperactive 80s throwback, torn between punk and cheesy pop. Johnny’s energy is contained in a way that it can’t be onstage, but the effect is a blissful, upbeat and surprisingly original record.
The real star of the show is the last track of the EP, I Felt Stupid. It’s a song that could have leapt straight from a musical, like Hairspray or Grease, only…decent. It’s almost unbearably charming, but so touching and sincere it’s hard not to succumb to visions of Johnny, in his rolled-up trousers and white socks, singing ‘I don’t know if it’s right or wrong but come stay with me, I wanna hear every beat of your heart’ to you across a US diner…or maybe that’s just me, but you get my point.
The Drums are playing two nights at Heaven, London, in early June. Go. They’re lovely, captivating live, have two very strong EPs, and the tickets on Ebay are reasonably priced. Please, do go.
PS - Sorry for the extended break. It will never happen again, cross my heart…
