Tilly and the Wall

Tap-dancing, hand claps and happy. They’re a novelty alright, but hey, that’s no bad thing. In a music market saturated with contemplative singer-songwriters and angsty indie types, there’s always room for something a little bit other, and Tilly and the Wall are nothing if not ‘out there’ odd. As soon as they come on-stage you can tell there’s something different, and then you realise -_ wow_ - these gals and guys are genuinely upbeat, enthusiastic even. The usual salutation about being “excited to be in Belfast” seems almost believable, but then I can be convinced of pretty much anything uttered in that delightful, Omaha drawl.

Strung single-file across the stage, these unusual suspects urge the Radar audience to come closer. But people seem unsure, perhaps wary of getting too near the flailing feet of Jamie Williams. More Lionel Blair than Fred Astaire, perhaps, but her singular style of percussion is certainly effective. Perched atop a hollow box, her tap-dancing meshes with the meandering, woozy keys of Nick White to add a brazen oomph to ‘Bessa’ and succeeds in enticing the punters forward.

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‘Fell Down the Stairs’ _is a tender pledge, an upholding of the bonds of love and friendship. The delicacy of the playing bestows an aching genuineness to what could so easily have been schmaltzy, an _‘I’ll Be There For You’ _pukefest. The sublime vocal trident of Kianna Alarid, Neely Jenkins and Williams here is particularly impressive, capable of piercing even the most hardened heart.

Where the albums can sound a little listless and anaemic, live the Tilly and the Wall sound is full, bold and teeming with imagination. Even a pale and iron-deficient song like ‘Rainbows in the Dark’ sports a ruddy-cheeked glow, Derek Pressnall’s cutesy guitar lines vibrant and invigorating. However, not everyone’s convinced: the more cynically minded hold back, finding it hard to reconcile themselves with the unguarded optimism on display. It’s understandable, both the ‘have a nice day’ speak and brittle, schmindie leanings of certain songs are guaranteed to get the hackles up.

But, as we listen to the musically adventurous, emotionally freighted kiss-off of ‘You and I Misbehaving’, one thing’s clear: love them or loathe them, for those present Tilly and the Wall are no longer merely the band with the tap-dancer. Beyond the novelty and naivety they’ve proven themselves an act of substance.