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Friday, 03 September 2010
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Dead Flags Single Launch
dead_flags_front.jpg...Four could-be-hit-singles later, and I find myself wondering: ‘Why aren’t these guys huge?’ They are essentially doing what the like of The Blizzards or The Coronas are doing, but with far more energy, humour, and musical substance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Lucid. The music may be summery guitar-pop, but the singer’s voice sounds like it would be more suited to sea shanties. The bassist, in his sensible suit and tie, leads one to wonder if he has come straight from work, or court, or work in court, and while the guitarist seems intent on evoking the spirit of classic rock, the dodgy, Libertine-ness of the early naughties keeps creeping in. I am here to see three bands I’ve never heard before, and the opening act have got me worried.

Thankfully, act number two, BellaJane, does a lot to put my fears at bay. An insistent, minimalist bass line draws the audience in immediately, while the guitar seems to wait for its turn before announcing itself. This band is definitely different, and that is no bad thing. Having seen frontwoman Sarah Jane Langan perform before (at some of the Clockwork Apple shows which she promotes) I’m well aware that she can sing; but tonight, with her own band, she certainly seems to feel more comfortable. The sound is full, with songs shifting seamlessly from quiet ballads to up-tempo numbers. Comparisons with Fiona Apple spring to mind- not as much vocally as with the interesting, challenging arrangements. It’s as if BellaJane have discovered some sort of hyper-evolved sort of lounge music, which lulls the listener, sucks them in… and then switches the dynamic just when you start to get comfortable. Though instantly likeable, it seems that with all the layers and combined elements there’s enough going on here for this band to really grow on you.

No such patience is to be found with headliners, The Dead Flags. The lights go down, and the theme tune from Top Gun thunders over the PA, before three Sligo lads walk (grinning) onstage, take up their instruments, and kick into the ferociously catchy power-pop tale of sordid goings-on that is ‘Gentleman’s Club’. If there was ever any doubt, we are all fans now. Ireland’s answer to Electric Six, or Primus, or They Might Be Giants, or all three at the same time, The Dead Flags have power-pop down to a t. It’s heavy, it’s funky, the riffs are hooky as can be and the falsettos are spot on.

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Four could-be-hit-singles later, and I find myself wondering: ‘Why aren’t these guys huge?’ They are essentially doing what the like of The Blizzards or The Coronas are doing, but with far more energy, humour, and musical substance. It’s almost like a lesson in pop: lets do different things with each song, but with the same basic ingredients- so each song has it’s own distinct character, but is always immediately identifiable as The Dead Flags. The distinctions are accomplished through smart musicianship (an experimental vocal here; a quirky drum loop there) and one primary ingredient which makes this performance the most enjoyable I’ve seen in a long time: showmanship. From their first class crowd banter (always separates the men from the boys) to the fact that they were clearly enjoying the hell out of themselves, they made damned sure that it was very difficult to stand in the crowd without having a cheesy grin on your face.

At one point in the set, a break in the formula slowed things down. Suddenly we were listening to a rather emotive number, entitled ‘How Long’, which lacked the tongue-in-cheek humour that had dominated the preceding tracks. The song itself was perfectly fine, but nonetheless the grins were fading. Maybe this set wasn’t going to be the odyssey of giddy excitement that it had once seemed. “One suggestion for the title of our album is ‘Fifteen Power-Pop Anthems, and ‘How Long’”, offers vocalist Billy Fitzgerald, and whips into another of the aforementioned anthems. It is awesome. As is the rest of the set. As are, apparently, The Dead Flags.

www.thedeadflags.com
review: Robert Maguire




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