The Cribs, ULU, 28 February 2012

This is The Cribs’ first headline show in London since 2010, and since ex-Smiths guitarist Johnny Marr left the band.

The three Wakefield brothers are back on their own, and by the sound of new track Chi Town, they’re back to making the shouty, distortion-filled indie their fans first fell for. Performing tonight at the University of London’s SU, they’re bringing intimacy back to their gigs.

The effective cafeteria-with-a-stage is packed with groups of lads drinking all the beer they can and chanting their favourite Cribs riffs at the top of their voices. They’ve been waiting for this night for a long time.

Finally, the lights fade and the band emerges sporting a fresh trio of bad haircuts and scruffy T-shirts – their trademark look.

No time is wasted before they launch into Chi Town, and all hell breaks loose in the crowd. They push, shove and scream the words as lead singer Ryan Jarman pushes his voice to the limit. The room is alight with pure energy.

The buzz remains for two more tracks, Cheat On Me and I’m A Realist. Scarcely 10 minutes into the gig and sweat is already hanging in the air.

But then Ryan announces they’re about to play a new one, promising: “It’s better than all that old stuff” in a broad Yorkshire accent. The audience is still, respectful, paying attention. The new sound is loud and ferocious, and gets as good a reaction as can be expected when no one’s heard it before.

Five more minutes of sweaty madness and two beloved old favourites later, the room goes quiet again. A look of concentration sweeps the crowd as people try to figure out what they’re playing. It’s another new one – slower this time, but still noisy. There is a sense of hope in the atmosphere that this will be the last unheard song the fans will have to endure. They want hits. They want nostalgia.

And they get it, up to a point. Classic Cribs tracks Hey Scenesters! and Another Number go down a treat, even if the energy is beginning to wane down the front. They’re brilliant songs – so well-known that the band can let the crowd sing for them.

But there is more new material to come and, good as it probably is with a few more listens, there is a feeling of restlessness amongst the punters.

“We’ve got two more. We still don’t do encores,” announces Ryan, cuing a brilliant rendition of Our Bovine Public which will be responsible for many an aching limb in the morning. By this point ULU has become the world’s most action-packed sauna.

Ryan keeps to his word: there is no encore. Hard to believe as it is, they end it on the relatively slow album track that is The City Of Bugs. There was no Mirror Kissers and no Martell.

Some of the crowd favourites may be falling by the wayside, but The Cribs have proven they can still put on a thundering good show. And by the time they’re back in London in May, a dedicated fanbase like this will no doubt have learned every word to those new tracks.

By Sophie Armour

Hoodlums, The Wilmington Arms, 9 February 2012

Hoodlums are getting big. The snow may be pelting down tonight, but a dedicated crowd has traipsed to this somewhat off the beaten track venue regardless. Outside temperatures are dropping below freezing, but inside things are heating up. The place is rammed.

Kicking off with The Great Outsiders, Hoodlums begin to prove their propensity for grasping the attentions of even the most cramped, restless and rowdy audience. Lead singer Lou Vainglorious is in his element on stage and wastes no time before leaning far beyond the monitors to force his heavily-drinking fans to get involved.

Hoodlums’ songs are of the type that simply doesn’t allow the sad and serious faces so often seen in London’s music venues, as the joyous melody of romcom-worthy Not A Love Song lights up the room, inciting excited bouts of dancing.

The tone is brought down slightly with the lesser-known new single Dark Horses (for which tonight’s show is the launch), but its pounding drums have plenty of feet tapping, from those squashed against the stage, to those doing shots of black sambuca at the bar.

It’s safe to say this band has got a whole lot of hits up its sleeve.

Demand sees Hoodlums prevented from even leaving the stage before performing an encore including stand-out track Forget A Friend. With its warm, upbeat and catchy choruses, anyone would think we were in the middle of summer.

By Sophie Armour

Challenging the New World Order with Magical but Inadequate Weapons, The Old Police Station, 27 January 2012

Challenging the New World Order with Magical but Inadequate Weapons: a tall order for an art exhibition. But in the setting of Deptford’s Old Police Station, a symbol of perhaps faded authority, something magical is indeed happening.

It is the evening of the show’s private view and as early as 8pm engaging and entertaining work is already being unveiled in the form of Squeed. Tonight is the world premiere of the film by Chelsea College of Art and Design students Jake Caleb and Mario D’Agostino, built around the satirical concept of a future where squid, as the only living organism to have survived the selling off of all farmland to supermarkets and the destruction of all other sea creatures with a ‘miracle super bait’, is traded as currency. Featuring unpleasant shots of talking squid, hilarious numbers of squid-based puns and a car bomb, it has everyone who can squeeze into this small and crowded space captivated and in stitches.

Next up the filmmakers perform as Dr Peabody, a three-piece band who sing hysterically witty songs about an alien race of Gold People who exchange gold for cash, banker pubs, and film director Michael Bay. The band grow in confidence as their danceable bass lines, catchy lyrics and quirky observational humour have the crowd grinning with enjoyment.

Performances tonight are non-stop, with a butt naked Josefine Arnell soon taking over one of the art-filled prison cells to cover herself in purple paint and use her body as a human stamp to create somewhat engrossing prints.

In the rest of the cells is the bulk of the exhibition, which runs until 11 February. Much of the work plays on the imprisoned environment as images of holiday destinations adorn benches, colourful streamers rain down through doorways and beautifully intricate drawings of woodland creatures decorate a dirty old sink and hand dryer. Scattered around on windowsills are graphic business cards detailing the username and password for the show’s blog, presenting visitors with a tempting opportunity to either create or destroy after they leave.

The show is packed, and squeezing past fascinated members of the public to navigate the narrow corridors and doorways is all part of the fun.

Later a man in a skeleton costume graces the area demarcated as ‘stage’, singing as part of Little Tiger. The band catch the audience’s attention with an intro of sex noises panted into the microphone, before launching into a technically proficient and well-performed set of melodic pop songs which, in the wake of the hilarity of Dr Peabody, are disappointingly serious.

Little Tiger might be the more professional act, but they feel slightly at odds with such an eclectic and forward-thinking night of largely politically aware art. But that a man in a skeleton costume singing about Tina Turner is the most ordinary element of this show speaks volumes.

Chelsea art collective SALT and friends may have set themselves an ambitious task, but in this little corner of south-east London at least, the New World Order has definitely been Challenged.

By Sophie Armour