The Wombats + Morning Parade @ HMV Institute, 10th March 2011
Morning Parade, with their indie, funky Ibiza rich, synth-beat romanticism and trouser trembling bass-bin pounding had the punters go bananas approximately 0.01 seconds into their short but deliciously crafted set. It’s dance-fantastic, nouveau Romantic with synthscape cascades and soaring arias driven by electro-anthemic, psycho-wasp stinging beats. Singer/guitar Steve Sparrow embraced the punters and had them tummy-tickle purring in his hands. Great band. Look out, they’re hungry.
Set list as printed: Under the stars, Marble Attic, Headlights, Us and Ourselves, A and E, Your Majesty, Born Alone.
I have to say I was a bit disappointed with all the discarded flyers littering the Institute floor, what with who the headline band were, it should all be nice and tidy. ‘Err, John? It’s The Wombats mate! A common mistake to make.’ quips Ian. Just stick to taking pictures please.
If there was ever an implausible palette of incongruous music genres that synthesise with sizzling energy and seamless cohesion it has to be the dazzling sonic dance-scape canvas of Merseyside motor-mojoed, Wombats. I didn’t know what to expect and that’s exactly what I got as a sell-out, hormone soaked Institute welcomed them with sweaty hi-fived armpits.
They’re an unashamed crucible of disparate influences drawing on Depeche Mode, Soft Cell, Buzzcocks and pick n’ mix Dance sub genres. Intrinsically astute, bathing in the adoration he feverishly and generously works hard to share back, is singer/guitar/keyboards, Matthew Murphy. He’s lean and angular with electric toaster-in-bath rock casual hair scruff and, I have to say, Arctic Monkeys’ Alex Turner’s cheeky, impish charm. Further, in terms of songwriting, he has the latter’s craft for capturing autobiographical and anecdotal vignettes with wry, sometimes acerbic and incisive, imagery skewering his subject with brittle wit. John Cooper Clarke put your hand up!
They chainsawed through a set of monumental mosh-pit ballistic treasures. Above all, for me, the alco-pop charged mayhem of ‘Backfire At The Disco’ will for ever put Sophie Ellis Bextor in a totally different light.
There’s darkness though, with brooding synths and intimidating bass-phrasing from the magnificently named Tora Overlord-Knudsen and sometimes unsettling off-beat percussion from Dan Haggis ( bit of Scouse leg pulling here?). These emerge in ‘1996’ and it’ll need the kids to unravel its lyrics another time. We’re invited to scream like we’ve got some weird infection, or even fetish as ‘Leaving New York’ bristles with a ‘No More Heroes’ guitar cranking intro and Buzzcocks ‘Ever Fallen In Love’ wild abandon. ‘My First Wedding’ surely shows deference towards hometown popster, John Lennon’s caustic observations and cynical quippery.
The back-projections had charm and occasionally were spliced with unsettling German Neo-Expressionism, at least that’s what I heard two guys in the bog say or were they fretting that in bright light their Ebay id cards had a photo of Donald Duck? Main set closer is ‘Tokyo’ with Murph’s cheeky aside that, ‘We all know it’s not the last song anyway!’ Cue mental mosh meltdown and everyone’s happy. Superb night but I sadly had to miss the encore. Check out the lyrics. I think the sobriquet ‘LiverBard’ may be apt.
Setlist: Our Perfect Disease, Kill The Director, Party In A Forest, Jump In The Fog, Patricia The Stripper, Sally Bray, Here Comes The Anxiety, Techno Fan, Schumacher, Backfire At The Disco, 1996, Moving To New York, My First Wedding, Tokyo. (encore) Anti-D, Let’s Dance To The Joy Division.
Review – John Kennedy
Photos – Ian Dunn