Turin Brakes

It's very, very, very rare that my taste in music agrees with Jo Whiley or Mojo, but Turin Brakes are an endangered species. Amid the new comatose movement of '99, they're the diamond in the dirt, profound-like-santa-on-a-cross, surrealists who've touched a lot of people. The debut opus 'The Optimist' will go down in the history books in years to come, mark my words. You know all this, nuff intro!

The second sold-out night at Shepherds Bush Empire, full of seats, the homecoming gig, the last of the "acoustic road tour" as the tee-shirts doth say. Some guy is onstage, think he said his name was Fione Reagan but I can't be very sure. A proper shoe-gazey, wimpy, dreary type. Couldn't make out a single word he mumbled, maybe he wanted to lure us in, and failed, miserably…

The venue is now filled and it's not the crowd I was expecting. It all looks a bit like a fashion show for Top Shop/Man, with the V-festery wine bar crooners and four-bee-fourers and desperately seeking days gone byers! Don't pretend you don't know the sort: they either think they're being different by seeing an indie band or now love something they missed at the time like Simon & Garfunkel or Nick Drake and were too caught up in hyped up rubbish to go and see 'em and this is how they make up for it. Where are the inspired rows of people, dress to impress, making clever convo over schnapps? Maybe this is the naïve arrogance of yoof, or maybe I shouldn't be so judgmental; Music's for everyone, right?

Ollie and Gale wander onto a dark stage, the lights come up, the affected cheer and clap. And like a best friend you've not seen for months 'Future Boy' begins what is to be a hour and a half long set filled with all the ones you'd expect. There're two strips of digital projections being mixed live, it's hardly Velvet Underground but we get star-stuffed space scenes, rushing water, tv static, planes rushing over maps, 72's in alphabetty spaghetti shapes and some other stuff, fading in and out with the mood made by those unique vocals and the acoustics, moogs, piano's... Infact, considering this is meant to be a stripped down, acoustic tour, it's only really the noticeable absence of drums. Ho hum.

The whole point of tonight is to prelude the new album which "we hope is out in January" we hear mid-song. They play the new single 'Long Distance'. It's got all the glow-bug, hot water bottle, pocket warmer, bright sunshine on a windless winters day, disco-ballness; that we already love. They play a couple of other newies. One is absolutely amazing, missed the name cus they cracked a sweet lil' joke which us Nickleback-refugees, hanging on their every word, unlocked the fingers of a loved one, then clapped'n'roared. The other ain't all that, but first listens to anything are always odd - like, I thought Turin Brakes were just another MOR/NAM/MOJO type band the first time I heard them. Just let me assure you it's not too far removed from what you'd expect them to come back with. If it ain't broke…

The biggee 'Underdog (save me)' floats around, then they go off to a standing ovation like it's a perfectly normal thing to happen. On return they play something really quiet but some friggin' idiot is talking foghorn-loudly behind me, about trying to get into the aftershow. Shockingly, I'm the only one who seems to mind. They ruin the whole song. And the climaxer to the set which through anger I forget what it is. Why do these people do this? Why don't they respect a band, the people who adore them trying to slip in a new renaissance abyss, and they just mutter rubbish about being seen in the right place? Or is that why most people are here?

One of the best gigs I've seen in ages and although the band stayed seated, they move in other ways, if ya know what I mean..