Brighton's best...
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John Peel Night...
review It’s hard to believe that it’s been a year since the untimely death of John Peel. October 13th has been decreed “John Peel Day", and all over the country gigs are played in tribute to the man. Whether or not he would have welcomed such an event is anyone’s guess, but it's as good as any excuse as any to get people out and listening to stuff they might not have normally have heard.Peel was ever the champion While the official gig in London lives it up with New Order, The Fall (of course) and The Super Furry Animals, Brighton offers a more low-key affair touting lesser-known bands that you might be hearing more of one day. Which is fitting, as Peel was ever the champion of the underplayed, small-time, unsigned local artist. At the time of press no names had been announced. Rather guiltily and wholly unprofessionally I fail to identify any of them during the evening. First up are a five-piece guitar outfit. These black-clad lads ring out with U2-influenced soaring guitars that don’t overpower despite being loud, loud, loud. You can easily make out the melodies and the singer produces some deceptively great vocals somersaults. They sound a bit like forgotten mid-90s band Marion. Which is fine since no-one remembers them. The second lot are an altogether looser outfit. They’re all Wah-wah guitar underplaying the acoustic with complementary male and female vocals. Their lilting melodies incorporate a bit of lite reggae and a slight Latin feel, all feel good cheer and happy sunny melodies. They go down well. Nice. It’s attitude a go-go when the third group appears. Striding on, all hair and lipstick, they could have gone two ways. But these are no fey new romantic revivalists. Cranking up the guitar ‘Exile on Main Street’-style the singer stomps around the stage in New York Dolls style growling out heavy hard rock belters one after another. And all in Scottish accent too. Which is my excuse for not catching their name. The final band sound remarkably The final act may have been called Her Own Escape, although as the band admit they are changing their name it’s academic really. The best of the evening, they sound remarkably like Placebo, but without the perv factor. However, the floppy-haired singer’s quavery vocals periodically give way to crystal-clear choir boy soarings which lifts the bands’ material into the ether and way beyond mere cribbing. I have to admit that I probably would not have made the effort to go and see any of these bands were it not for the Peel banner. Which rather proves the point of the whole evening, no?
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