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Half Cousin’s imagination and experience shows. Boasting Black Grape dalliances (the flautist-cum-percussionist and occasional clarinet-blower did his time in the band), this charming gaggle can hold their heads high above their lacklustre contemporaries who currently blot the column inches. Comparisons to the White Stripes are disappointing (and rather misguided), as Half Cousin display more creativity, star potential and inviting spirit that beneath all their frowns and affectations, Meg and Mog could never reach. That’s not to say Half Cousin are free from relevant quirkiness or the odd pout. Singer Kevin Cormack stands out, not just because of his strong Orkney accent, but for his ever-present Pork Pie hat, the Ian Curtis regulation school-grey clothing (with shirt collar fixed right up tight), and his generally unfed, boyish demeanour.
Musically, Half Cousin are an intoxicating blend of Nashville sensitivity, rhythmic industrial leanings, kooky wordplay and rootsy indie. Their very own blue milk crate gives the band their unique, hollow ‘THWACK!’ sound when they eventually go full throttle, but to begin with, this particular live outing is pretty subdued. Thankfully, they get to prove their mettle as Cormack’s slightly effeminate, Luke Haines-y vocal gradually becomes more animated. Amid the sexy concoction of noises, the crunching and twanging and the pivotal milk crate thonking in ‘The Diary Fire’, Cormack finally drags himself out of his chair to gnaw out the hook "Get it on" over and over. Meanwhile, the energetic and hardworking ‘percussionist’ flits between clarinet, flute, mouth organ, bongos and seemingly anything bashable that catches his eye. This track is a definite high-point of the set, not just because audience enthusiasm is upped a notch, but because something more like a tune is eked out of their scraggly collection of instruments.
There’s an endearing Super Furry Animals essence to the near-chaos of their live sound, and hats off to them for managing to get their smattering of DIY experimentation to actually work. It could have resulted in something resembling a school band accompanying a bit of "contemporary performance dance", but thankfully, if that sound ever emerged from Half Cousin there’s no sign of it reappearing. Despite all this, one can’t help wondering if they actually enjoy incorporating the numerous tempo changes that break out during their set, or if they keep them in just to keep things fresh. Perhaps it’s their intention to heighten the unusual beat-heavy nature of their sound, steering away from their more traditional tunes to avoid being pigeonholed as folksters. They certainly have an accomplished grasp of melodic little songs – like ‘Hindsight’, which competes with even the best Francoise Hardy-inspired lullabies. Half Cousin are brimming with ideas and their haphazard, but intricate and interesting method of doing things deserves your attention.
