The Rocks

Perhaps he should’ve stayed in with a weepy movie and a bottle of plonk instead of braving a chilly Tuesday night in Camden. For frontman James Taylor, whose bedside manner more befits a warm-hearted TV comedian than a rock ‘n’ roll animal, has evidently been dumped. And (isn’t it always the way?) the music just keeps on reminding him. “On to the next one,” he mutters disconsolately as the crowd stare at their feet and wonder what to say.

Certainly the band offer no answers. In fact, they only offer more questions. Like: why is there a blonde Scando-looking girl playing guitar in a scarf, jumper and no kecks? Why does the other guitarist look like Robert Downey Jr?

And the music confuses all the more, blending good time pub rock with elements of punk and ‘50s rock ‘n’ roll: think The Standells, The Boomtown Rats and New York Dolls, fronted by a Morrissey fan with curtains. As such, it doesn’t really work but manages to entertain enough for us to mostly forget. ‘Tearjerker’, a song about, yes - being dumped, sees the band joined by a saxophonist and comes on as beefy as The Faces.

And for the thrilling denouement poor old James leaps into the crowd, getting so close we can literally smell his misery. Then he returns, only to fall off the stage. Not his night is it?