The Paddingtons

Even before I plunge into the depths of the Borderline, I am privy to shrieks of delight as a herd of girls fawn over one of tonight’s headliners, The Paddingtons. These young lads have already amassed a loyal following of adolescent music fans in their short time on the scene. Even the drummer, who looks like he could have starred as one of Frodo’s mates in Lord of the Rings, has a faithful tribe of females demanding to be scorched in pen with replica love heart tattoos.

Surreptitiously hiding both a book of knitting patterns and even worse, a Beyonce CD (both purchased as birthday gifts), I must be the uncoolest person alive at this gig. What strikes me most as I enter the sanctum of the Borderline is the generic sea of kool kid hair greeting me from the crowd.

Two style factions are out in force tonight, although in disproportionate numbers. Camp 1 consists of the majority of the male audience and they wear the feathered boycut that is currently the only style any self-respecting muso will sport, taking over the UK faster than Starbucks did Oxford St. Camp 2 consists of a solo act, the baldy guy, but in its exclusivity it is worn by arguably the most important man here tonight, Alan McGee. Owner of the Poptones label, his eyes and ears are firmly fixed on his young protégés, The Libertines Version 2.0, sorry, I mean The Paddingtons.

What happens when one of London’s most publicised bands decides to call it a day? Quick – replace the not-so-gaping hole in the market with a younger less drug-addled replica. Once the good ship Albion has sunk, ahoy Hull. And as if to pass the regal Libertine crown to this year’s pageant winner, Carl Barat even graces us with his presence.

Lead singer Tom Atkins is a blond version of Pete Doherty. Whippet thin and ragged looking at a young age, he swaggers his way through the set with the confident air of someone who has been handpicked by McGee for success. Rubbing his wildish hair into further disarray between each song, he has attitude, yet there is also something innocent and endearing about him.

There's nothing new here to this “punk” band, but they do play a set of pretty damn-fine guitar riffs splattered with some tunes. And the kids on the scene love it. Single ‘21_’ starts to pick up the pace after a fairly standard start. With snarling guitars, some effective dual voices a la Libs and as much stage invasion and crowd surfing as the inadequate stage will allow, the Paddies start to come into their element. As the last song jerks to a halt and the lights flare up, the Paddingtons camp looks happy – as if to say “Yep, The Libs II have arrived… and they done good.”