Tuesday 23/11/04 Sons and Daughters, Eastern Lane @ ULU, London

Tonight, the ULU is dank. And there's a vague smell of warmed up piss, like a tramp in an airing cupboard. This is the dirtier side of the nouvelle pop world.

 

As Eastern Lane emerge it becomes clear that they have been dressed by the bloke who did Charlie Chalk's wardrobe… which is also the same bloke who bought Topman sweaters for the McNamara brothers at Christmas. It's a relief then, when frontman Derek opens the back of his throat during 'I said Pig on Friday' and it's good enough to distract from his purple corduroy jacket.

 

Sons and Daughters' Adele Bethel also proves that it ain't just about turning the stage into a thrift store catwalk. Her own Marla Stewart crack whore look comes off quite well, but it's the scraping-the-bottom-of-every-angry-cervix-in-hell shrieks that remind how far, far scarier they are than their stay-pressed labelmates Franz Ferdinand. And after being shunned in favour of Kapranos and Co, it certainly seems they're out to prove a big fat point. 'Johnny Cash' blows away the stench of stale-beer and hobo-wee, while Scot bludgeons his guitar and fists the soundsystem for every last available decibel. Offset against the piano and voice of  'Broken Bones', it's a throat-grabbing reminder of Sons and Daughters' versatility. So look out Franz, the forgotten tramp is in revolt.

 

Front page photo by Joe Dilworth