Little Death

The debut gig can be a painful affair. A sparsely attended shindig at the local community hall... an ill-rehearsed set in front of a surly crowd from the other side of town... it's rare that a band really makes the impression they'd like to on their first jaunt before a paying audience. Tonight though, playing to a respectable number of bright young'n'lost things in Tattys' booze-soaked bunker, Little Death demonstrate exactly what a productive and determined gestation period can produce.

Kacey Underwood, head honcho of this ambitious outfit, seems a zealous sort of fella. He's spent the past nine months assembling Little Death and piecing together songs that splice Broken Social Scene's measured, extraordinary calm with Pavement's skewed pop and a sensibility that's entirely punk-rock. It's half cracked lullabies, half splintered defiance, the two halves slotted together within the framework of spacious, clever songs that are none too eager to vacate the memory.

Kacey's vocals reach absentmindedly upwards, dancing around minimal, gleaming hooks, while Julia Ruzicka, lately of Million Dead, nudges out spacious, rounded bass murmurs that flirt with Pixieish snaps of grinning, twisted noise. The work that's gone into these songs is clear; they're sophisticated and resonate with the kind of cohesion and confidence usually reserved for bands that have had a good year or two to find their feet. Even the drum fills smack of class. Naturally, there's room for improvement; one hopes Little Death will further flesh out their own identity, and expand on the moments when their music sparkles at its brightest. That this is only the start suggests that they'll do all that and much more.