Wednesday 20/04/05 The Yards, Son Of Dave, The Seen, Nemo, The Yards @ Rendition, London

Top London gig night ‘Rendition’ hosts a big hoorah for The Yards’ launch of their eponymous album. I might have been blown away by them if only the rest of the stonking line up wasn’t so...well... darn stonking!

The faded opulence of Parker Place provides the setting to Rendition – and it makes a change from sticky floored pubs. But I’m not here to talk about the décor, dear me no! (the chandeliers were lovely though…) Anyway... The hunched figure of spooky acid blues don Son of Dave sets the evening alight, all one of him, and ultimately proves the hardest act to follow. This ex Crash Test Dummy, aka Benjamin Darvill, has to be seen to be believed. Hypnotising the crowd with distorted Muddy Waters songs, new tracks and laments from beyond the grave, he’s the type who will linger in the darker recesses of your subconscious and appear in your weirdest dreams...

Now, if you’re a vocalist, don’t you just hate the pesky “bridge” (ahem) bit when you have to stand awkwardly with your arms dangling while your guitar slinging pals rock out? Well, The Seen’s frontman has got it sussed. Whilst the rest of the band do their jangly, fabulously Stone Roses-inspired thang, our man with the mic can be seen doing any one of the following: 1) nodding sagely, 2) munching on a cigarette, 3) doing ‘big fish, little fish, cardboard box’ dancing, 4) holding a mic stand aloft whilst staring coldly into the middle distance. Never a dull moment. I'm quite keen to see him doing all four at the same time, but that would take serious coordination.

But seriously, The Seen are a powerful bunch in a Brit-poppy way, mixing something new and exciting with a lot of sounds we just don’t hear anymore and wish we did, and now, thanks to these groovy, pipe-cleaner limbed fellas, we can again. And they shouldn’t be disheartened by the restraint of the crowd – we were all still in shock after Son of Dave.

More pipe cleaner limbs abound as the incredible Nemo appear – and this sexy bunch of electro-rockers do everything right (and I’m not just saying that because, funnily enough, two of them helped me move house a while ago… although I do have a carpet that needs shifting…). For the first time the audience gets spoken to (we need acknowledgement, dammit!), we get humour, we get impressive amounts of eyeliner, and we get a band theatrical enough to match the decaying glamour of the venue. They play an explosive set with enough of a punk slant to be exciting, but sufficient erring on the pop side to actually capture mainstream attention. They deserve greatness.

By this time, I fear I can’t be ****ed with The Yards. It’s all been just a bit too good up to now and I’m doubting Ex-Seahorse Chris Helme and his Yorkshire supergroup can live up to any of it. And, for me, they didn’t. At another time and another place then maybe I would have loved their raucous, folky rock, but after being sent hurtling through sonic nirvana by the three acts beforehand, for all their warmth and rough-edged beauty they just seemed too safe and conventional to blot out the still sparkly memories of Nemo et al. But they are melodic, tight and accomplished, and with a hint of Jeff Buckley about Helme, and an uplifting vibe about their whole presence, they clearly are and will be worshipped and adored. Just not by me.