Thursday 29/04/04 The Icarus Line, Modey Lemon, Colour of Fire @ The Cockpit, Leeds

The last time Gigwise saw L.A. lunatics The Icarus Line, it was on Valentine's Day, sandwiched in between The Distillers and Eagles of Death Metal. The fuzzy drone accompanied by multi-pitched white noise which they farted in our general direction did not even merit the slightest comment. What then, could they possibly have to offer headlining at the more intimate middle room at The Cockpit? The answer to this question will have to be temporarily shelved, as support acts Colour of Fire and Modey Lemon stoke the fire of the assembled.

Local lads Colour of Fire rudely start without us but they are immediately forgiven on account of their hugely infectious music and thoroughly entertaining stage presence. Their singer's skinny frame is effortlessly compensated for as he lurches and thrashes about the stage making full use of his floppy emo-boy haircut. Effectively sharing vocal duties with their no less shaggy-haired bassist, he combines fleeting melodies with angst ridden screams (imagine your heart melting one minute, then being ripped to pieces with razor blades the next). Everything about this band fits together like the parts of a well-oiled machine, the soaring voice of their frontman being their 'piece de resistance'. A mic stand is kicked over, a guitar is bashed relentlessly against a speaker, and they still manage to produce a good noise. Top marks.

A bearded man sporting Stevie Wonder shades and a huge and somewhat top-heavy turban takes to the stage with a small gong which he hits a few times to get everyone's attention. It turns out that the next support act have brought with them their own personal M.C. , "Apparently, I'm not allowed to mention Manchester United, whatever that means", he begins before introducing Modey Lemon of Pittsburgh, PA. The trio enter the fray minus a bassist. This 'disadvantage', however, certainly doesn't show in their songs which are laden with simple but catchy-as-**** classic rock riffs, which pepper each song. This, it would seem, is the genius of Modey Lemon. Each song is basically one riff which lingers throughout but is somehow doctored just when you think they're getting a bit repetitive. The drums get heavier, the lead guitar cuts out, the vocals come in again, but the only constant is the riff which, by the end of each song, has infested your eardrums and attached itself like a limpet to the inside of your skull. Their sound runs somewhere between Aerosmith and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (if you can picture that), and sweet Jesus do they rock!

Seemingly defeated before they've begun, The Icarus Line slouch onstage like disinterested zombies (as opposed to life-and-soul-of-the-party zombies?!? - ed). Indeed, it takes about five or six songs for them to even make a decent go of topping the performance of their predecessors. Frontman Joe Cardamone, who is essentially a gothic Bobby Gillespie with a repertoire of occasional Robert Plant poses, is ****ing pretentious and quite probably on a shitload of drugs. His interaction with the crowd is limited - on the one occasion he does open his mouth to say something, he realises he can't quite manage it and promptly shuts it again.  They turn it round, though with 'Up Against the Wall', first track off their much lauded new album 'Penance Soiree'. As the set goes on, their grungy stoner rock and general cacophony of effects becomes inexplicably captivating, and you begin to realise that this music is for a certain breed of people. One which is disillusioned, confused and ****ed off with everything and everyone.

The Icarus Line are messy, noisy and obnoxious, but manage to hold all this together with immense riffery which invades your senses, leaving an indelible impression on your psyche. Go see.