We've Got Good Shoes

“Don’t act like you’re above me / Just look at your shoes” – Elvis Costello, ‘Lip Service’

A friend of this Gigwise hack regards the above as the Greatest Lyric Ever, a glorious put-down that would cut to the bone of any self-respecting skinny-trousered hipster. By Mr.Costello’s reckoning then, Good Shoes are already halfway to societal domination. Having quietly slipped under many a cultural radar (Gigwise excepted, obviously) in the pre-Monkeys euphoria, the South London four-piece’s lovelorn and frayed stutter-punk is all set to ruffle hearts this year, forever putting an obscure part of the Northern Line on London’s rich musical map (volume three, est. 2002).

We meet Good Shoes (minus bassist Joel Cox), at the back of a quasi-Mexican high-street chicken franchise, just a few doors away from the Bush Hall where the band will play their penultimate gig with Texan hell-raisers (and currently the best rock and roll group in the world) Be Your Own Pet. Clad in a blue hoodie with angel wings on the back, lead singer and guitarist Rhys Jones speaks with warmth and sincerity; when we play back our dictaphone the day after it turns out he’s also the only member of Good Shoes we can actually properly hear, the others (namely Rhys’ drummer brother Tom and, playing with a napkin throughout, guitarist Steve Leach) drowned out via a combination of crying babies and salsa music.

“Steve and I went to Middle School together, Tom and I are brothers, and Joel we just saw around at High School” explains Rhys on how Good Shoes came together. Contrary to our research (damn mis-informed magazine articles), the band didn’t all attend art school, as Rhys confirms: “No, I was the only one that went to art school. I did a foundation in art, then I did a year of Illustration but it was shit…then the band was taking off. I just thought life drawing was a waste of time!”

However, this drawing experience has since proved handy. All Good Shoes artwork is stylishly drawn by either Rhys or one of his flatmates, while his Dad’s shed has proved a fruitful place for the band to record (albeit not as excessively as other reports have made out). The D.I.Y approach still rules, though such a hands-on approach means things can occasionally go wrong. “We made our badges and they’re crap!” exclaims Rhys with amusement. “We got them printed out by the company that does our T-shirts. We said we wanted 'a bigger badge', and we thought that goes hand-in-hand with making the image bigger on the badge…” Turns out Good Shoes ended up with badges the size of a tea coaster. Maybe big is the new cool?