I spent my last night in London watching Scottish “post-punk” outfit, We Were Promised Jetpacks live at a small club/pub called The Lexington.
Jon accompanied me and I am very glad we went. We arrived just in time to see The Citadels - second of three opening acts. I was immediately impressed with their indie rock sound as they opened with an anthemic little gang-vocal number, their voices in perfect harmony. It is important to note that they have followed the indie band recipe book to the last ingredient: five members (including a whispy blonde femme fatale and the mandatory bearded frontman) playing a delicious variety of musical instruments including a flute, synthesizer, tambourine, cow bell and extra floor tom. The girl even sings the lead at times making for some interesting variation. I don’t think it would be absurd to keep an eye open for these guys on MTV in the near future.
I don’t remember the third (second for us) band… Who were they? Anyway..
Before striking out upon the late night tube ride back home, we got what we came for.
We Were Promised Jetpacks come across as an unassuming bunch of lads. Their almost-awkward frontman and his unmistakeable accent makes you feel right at home.
The guitar riffs are driving and coupled with generous use of the bass drum, form a mesmerising rhythmic foundation. There is something old school and undeniably nostalgic about their songs. I found myself kidnapped and involuntarily dropped of at a comfortable place in my childhood from where I was reluctant to leave. The name of the band suddenly makes a lot of sense: it refers to those naive, glassy eyed expectations of your youth, the ones that could only end in disappointment, yet leave you falling asleep with a smile as you realise that this probably is the best of all possible worlds. At the same time there is nothing fatalistic about this theme, i mean, we might still get those jetpacks… Right?
