Metro Riots

+ L-Shaped Room, Crusty Treats

Hammersmith Palais (Rock Off Night), London - 28 Oct 2006

by Giulia Clark

Nice-guy attitude and 50s styling marks out the headliners for tonight's triple-headed showcase of new talent

"Perhaps the best thing about Metro Riots is they seem like genuinely nice guys. Bluesy and angry but totally down with the kids, their venom is spent on their music and refreshingly lacking from their on stage persona. "

In keeping with the ever musical affiliations of the Teenage Cancer Trust, Rock Off is a new event for under 18s who like to play, listen, and generally jump around for a few hours at the weekend. Fostering young talent, and giving kids somewhere cool to go on a Saturday, seems like a plan with no drawbacks, the only shame being that these little dudes with their skinny ties and stripy tights were never a 'problem' demographic anyway.

First up are the Crusty Treats. Lead singer and self confessed Pete Doherty fan (he’s young, he’ll learn) Josh Morrin wears a t-shirt emblazoned with the instruction ‘Eat Your Fudge’. Sound advice at still only 15p per finger. With disproportionately gravelly vocals, this is part Libertines, part Rammstein. Although the set is covers heavy, this young outfit’s original offerings (including a delightful track entitled ‘Drugs’) show there’s still much to be said for rhyming couplets (acid/placid, grass/arse etc.) A decent set with a highlight in the form of some girlie underwear slingers, and the excellent expression on Morrin’s face which seems to say: “Bras? What the fuck do I do with these?!” Ah, bless.

Hardworking local lads L-Shaped Room are flying the flag for all those reasonably posh, clean-haired, rock n’ rollers out there. They haven’t yet resorted to singing poignantly about shagging birds and smoking weed, and although they’d have you believe they’re straight out of some Arctic Monkeys training camp, there is a sense that there may be slightly more to these guys than meets the eye. Reminiscent of the early work of Placebo, less that Molko vocal, their stripped down, old fashioned guitar sound is smooth and sturdy.

Headliners Metro Riots look like a gang of American hooligans from the 1950s who have shown up at a prom dance to frighten off the squares and chaperones. A snarling Elvis lip curl is teamed with all the speed and stomping of the Hives, but thankfully tonight we’re not bullied into pretending they’re our new favourite band. A good dose of jail-house rock meets an extended ode to The Stranglers as song after song is thrashed out energetically yet effortlessly.

But perhaps the best thing about Metro Riots is they seem like genuinely nice guys. Bluesy and angry but totally down with the kids, their venom is spent in their music and refreshingly lacking from their on-stage personas. Cool, fresh, raw, and devoid of bullshit, the Riots have forgone the weariness and limp wrists so popular elsewhere. They stand up straight, they sing loud and they dance like they just don’t care.

[picture: Oliver, Linda Chasteau, Roger Sargent]

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