Merry Swankster: Swarm Coverage! the Long Blondes, Live @ the Knitting Factory, New York, NY 07.27.06

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August 01, 2006

Swarm Coverage! the Long Blondes, Live @ the Knitting Factory, New York, NY 07.27.06

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photos by Devon Banks

"People say I'm being perverse on purpose..." were the first words cooed by Kate Jackson, the enchanting lead singer for our very favorite British imports, the Long Blondes. That the line's home should be a weeks old b-side, "Fulwood Babylon," with no Stateside or digital release in site, and that said obscurity should be the opening offering of the band's long awaited New York City return, makes the accusation understandable. A strong song of course, immediately charming and unconventional. Its stick heavy percussion and breathy "girls gone wrong" break down monologue performed live with energy and precision. But the fact that such a standout hit should be buried as the flip side at all gives a hint to the willful, calculated obscurity our fashion forward friends are intent on cultivating. Vinyl singles. Limited press runs. No merchandise. Painfully hip lables on both sides of the Atlantic. Band crafted disc sleeves. Anti-classic rock website manifestos. A group for the gleefully marginal, the obsessed with discovery, the slightly awkward, the nerds. Quite a admirably counterintuitive goal, and path after my own heart to be sure, but one they have almost no chance of fulfilling.

Simply put, Kate is a star. She's stunning in person, an eyeball magnet if ever there was one. She knows enough about rock iconography to never be photographed in anything less than immaculate vintage gear, and can read a room quickly enough to know that the Knitting Factory is not a beret sort of an establishment. Her looks would be enough to elevate her celebrity status, but even though it's trite to say that there's so much more to her, for once it's not a libido fueled rationalization. Her enunciation and delivery is elegant, with a wide range of emotions at her disposal. Even limited for space, she moves quite well and was quick to vamp, jump, or pout in her high heels as neccessary. Lyrically, she's gifted as well, populating her songs with frazzled losers unlucky in love, stuck in bad relationships. Somehow, with the transformative power of rock n' roll glamour, this all sounds quite romantic.

So, as the opener built to a climax, the spoken "If you want to Know me, watch how I dance" holding in the air for a bar as she shimmied instructively, the spell was cast. The following "Lust in the Movies" with it's sad sack chest cold and light stalking storyline taking anthem shape, cemented it. The "I just want to be a sweetheart!" chorus wasn't longing wish fulfillment as much as an undeniable commandment. Although not a sold out room, the camera to people ratio was quite high, and the electronics were frenzied, threatening to block out the view with viewscreens. Since the accompanying pics didn't fall magically from the sky, I'll shut up about any diminishing effect on the experience. Pot. Kettle. Black.

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As much as their stage presence consists of a "spread the lane for K's dancing" approach, the musical engine of the Blondes can't run on moxie and batted lashes alone. The rhythm section is tight and forceful (with a drummer named Screech no less), and sideways guitar hooks are everywhere. Able to stop on a dime to highlight a particularly literary lyric, or amp up the tempo as a song's narrator becomes unglued, they were the secret weapon in the set's high point, "Appropriation (By Any Other Name)." Stripped bare of that songs string cushioned production, it took on more of a raw nerve immediacy befitting its Hitchcock psychodrama.

While the closest comparison to their musical charms is probably Elastica, it's never a game of spot the borrowed post punk guitar. It's more of an ideal of sophisticated British pop, than a close copy of any one thing. Elastica's intimidating cool sexuality. Disco Roxy Music pace and decadence. Pulp's slightly emotionally unbalanced underdog superiority complex. It's what I want from my British guitar rock. A boredom with and desire to rise above gloomy industrial chip shop hell, rather than revel in it with grimy street tales.

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Scattered through the set was a sampling of material not yet heard on American shores. From post weekend memory retrieval, "Swallow Tattoo" was a bounder. "You Could Have Both" featured the group going back to the Jarvis Cocker monologue well, with Kate and guitarist Dorian trading lines, overlapping on occasion. If anything can be gleaned from the newbies, other than the fact that the kids aren't likely to fuck it up this early in the game, is that sixties girl group influences (a staple of early b-sides) is largely being ditched in favor of further pursuit of danceable pace and dark, witty lyrical territory. Considering the glut of Shangri- La's worship on the current indie marketplace, you'd have to consider it another shrewd move.

Amidst all my hyperbole, I'd be a jerk not to acknowledge that this is still a new band, finding their feet. There are occasions, like "Weekend Without Makeup" and maybe "Once and Never Again" that are a bit awkwardly wordy at times, a little too conservative in their arrangement (although still insidiously catchy). They could use a little negative space maybe, a little room to breathe. The in-band chemistry has room for growth too, as songs like "Giddy Stratospheres," while still terrific, can't yet match the on record atmospherics. The surprise mid-song call and response could have been a touch sharper as well. Kate's response had more umph than the preceding call from the sides, and both need to be on equal footing for the song to be a super-knockout. Of course, this is nitpicking in the extreme born out of guilt over my slide into uncritical fanboy. In the moment, I was as excited as the trying desperately to mosh, Indian whoop-callling, eighteen and overs littering the crowd.

In the end, the main flaw was brevity, always the hallmark of time well spent. Speakers left buzzing promised an encore that would not be delivered. Sadly, the kick ass early single "Autonomy Boy" left a victim
of the cultivated cool that's becoming the band's calling card. My i Pod can tell you that a year end top five debut LP could be carved out of the pre-existing tracks that are spread throughout the net and a a half dozen hard to find EP's. They seem the sort to relish the challenge of chucking it all for brand new material, although it's hard to pass on a sure thing, so it could go either way. No matter which turn they take, their success'll probably break all of our bitter indie hearts in the end. So when that day comes remember us, lost and lonely. The place where you might not have heard of them first, but possibly heard of them the most often.

If you haven't already, please read Keith's more concise and to the point take directly below.

More pin-ups, as well as heavy linkage to all of our previous coverage/ uncomfortably close surveilance, follow the jump...

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