Wednesday 01/06/05 Livingstone, Ko Chase, The Race @ Metro Club, London

Metro Club is sweaty as a farmer’s armpit tonight, and the fluids are dripping off the walls and ceiling as the bands get under way. (Nice…)

 

The Race have been recently touted as a “chest-beating, U2-wrestling-My-Bloody-Valentine-stormer”. We’re not quite sure what that means, but it seems a little overwrought for what is essentially a decent if unremarkable indie five-piece. The first half of the set features a good dose of those "angular" guitar sounds that seem so popular nowadays; a punchy style which they then trade in for slowly building anthems, finishing with their new single ‘Go Figure’. This has a strong chorus, and while it isn’t of epic proportions, it marks a suitably high point to go out on. Stocky frontman Dan Buchanon does a good job of tossing himself about the stage throughout, occasionally throwing himself at his keyboard with a manic glee. Not bad.

 

Ko Chase follow, and is there something about haste and band names tonight? At any rate, this bunch of chancers certainly live up to their name, as they aggress us with an opening salvo of nasty punk riffs. They’re such a mean-sounding bunch of tunes that we are almost pleasantly surprised when they take it down to give us some more laid-back indie stuff. They are clearly having a duel of sorts with the sound engineer, who seems unable or unwilling to stop the feedback that plagues their set. None the less, the boys make the best of it and bash out a decent knockabout set that raises the hackles, gets the adrenaline flowing and then calms you down, convincing you that they aren’t so mean after all – just misunderstood.

Livingstone, I presume, were seriously short of good ideas for band names, but we won’t hold that against them. Musically, they are the most accomplished band tonight, and their singer has by far the best voice. From the minute they launch into their set, they leave no doubt as to where they are coming from… er, the States. No, they are actually English (at least, the singer is) but their sound is pure trans-Atlantic: darkly soulful epic-rock cadences echo the likes of Pearl Jam and Nickelback. It’s all very, very serious stuff, and looking around the crowded room we can see quite a few rapturous fans, (and quite a few bored-looking ones too).

 

Half way through, the singer calls time out  so he can treat us to his a capella rendition of what he describes as an "old Zulu song". It’s beautiful, and the rest of the band sit down and assume deeply spiritual poses, no doubt earnestly contemplating how music will save the universe from itself. Touching. But, what Livingstone do, they do excellently: their songwriting is elegantly crafted, even if it does lack the humour and raw aggression of true rock ‘n’ roll. What you are left with is an alluring package of grungified soul-rock that is likely to draw a record deal on the other side of the pond. But, given the current musical landscape here, you can’t be as sure how many Brits are going to take these guys half as seriously as they apparently take themselves.