Ciccone

In the neon lit cellar bar that is Metro's a chunky twenty-something American is bouncing around and rapping to the beats coming out of his laptop. This is MC Larrs, an exchange student at Oxford who believes in the power of rhyme and wearing baseball caps. He's actually quite good, less intense than Eminem yet retaining the same dark humour. The backing is predominantly sequenced rather than sampled, giving it the classic feel of early beatboxing - albeit with a touch of Protools magic. Though occasionally viering into Atom And His Package style novelty, for the most part this was credible exciting stuff.

Headliners for the night were Ciccone, who appear to have now been on more labels than a GAP logo. Having signed a new deal with another small independent the Camden five piece showcased new material whilst mixing in a few of the old "hits" for their loyal fanbase. The new material is still charging down the same careless rubble strewn alley, plundering pop punk past for the majority of their ideas. Rebekah is in fine voice, sounding all the more like Louise Wener on crack, whilst unnaturally high falsetto vocals make their way into the audio maelstrom courtesy of the drummer. The between song banter is delerious and amusing, the man on keyboards still dances like a loon for 75% of the set (pressing the occasional button), and the drummer ends up playing with one stick after the other dissappears into the darkness never to return.

Ciccone are a band enjoying themselves, and positive vibes are contagious.