Camel One

25/7/07
Camel One headlined at Buffalo's last night to a small but enthusiastic crowd. A more excitable or generous onlooker might describe the bands restless frontman as "charismatic," "energetic" or even "irrespressable". As for myself, the three words running through my head as I watched him dance, preen and clap his way around the room were "pleased," "with" and "himself".

Still, don't let that put you off catching this soon-to-be-signed Watford four piece if you get the chance. Their sixties inspired sound would be leaden and dreary in the wrong hands but Moogs and a Hammond Organ add colour to the songs that are played with the vim and vigour of early Supergrass. They already have more good songs than Ocean Colour Scene have written in their entire retro-centric careers.

Support came from The Jan Watkins Band who matched a dull name with a dull set. They'll doubtless be booked again because they brought a lot of people in through the door. Sadly when they left the stage most of their fans left with them.

At the bottom of the bill Anthony Lee played another great solo slot, showcasing his voice, guitar pedal and beat-boxing talents. It's a shame he seems to putting all his efforts into promoting his band lately, because it's when he's on his own he really shines, mixing classy originals with covers including a euphoric version of Stevie Wonder's Superstition.

Half Man Half Biscuit, Not Half Bad!

01/03/07
I left home last Tuesday evening at 7.30 and after asking directions twice, checking two maps(one in a bus shelter, one outside some kind of tourist place), and going into Tesco Express to sneak a look at an A-Z map book I finally arrived at The Point to see Half Man Half Biscuit at 9.10. I knew I was at the right place because the band were already onstage and I was drawn to the venue by the chant, "You're going home in a Crispy Ambulance".

The venue was packed. Half Man Half Biscuit inspire a devoted following, albeit mostly early middle aged men. Every song title received a cheer of recognition. With their mixture of shonky indie rock with dour northern surrealism the band sound like The Fall would do if Marc E. Smith was an end-of-the-pier variety performer. They perform great versions of Joy Division Oven Gloves, Sealclubbing and more.

Still, for a novice like me the formula seems spread a little thin over an hour and a half. At their sharpest they sound like Stiff little Fingers but blunter tracks sound more like The Levellers on an off day. It's hard to feel any connection with the music when the lyrics are so solidly set to cynisism. Even the faithful rarely seem compelled to move by the music, preferring to stand stock still and stare at their heroes.

It's hard not to like any band that performs blistering renditions of the songs from kid's TV show Trumpton or gets a whole crowd chanting "Two scotch eggs and a jar of marmalade", but the gig didn't really catch fire until the encore with barnstorming versions of Help Me Rhonda and their own best song The Trumpton Riots.