Treetop Flyers (Photo: Live4ever)
Some bands can sum up everything they are and ever hope to be with the name they choose for themselves. So before you’ve even heard this band play, you’re silently judging them on that crucial name-choice. Bad news for Arctic Monkeys, good news for Treetop Flyers.
In a suitably mysterious little back room of The Castle pub in Manchester’s Northern Quarter, the band amble into their brisk, bluesy first number, living up to that glorious image you just got in your head when you said ‘Treetop Flyers’ aloud to yourself. If you didn’t, shame, you missed out. Try putting that Planet Dinosaur episode with the feathered raptors on mute while you stream some soundclouds of the band. It’s a poor substitute for catching this crazily talented band live in concert, but hey, it’s half an hour.
The band are briefly let down by an acoustic pick-up failure two songs in, but we hardly mind; rather than attempt to bemuse us with some touring yarn, the rest of the band slip into a little blues jam to pass the time. When they do get the setlist back on track, it’s with barnstormer ‘Things Will Change‘, played fast and tight and flawless. Elegantly harmonised heartbreaker ‘It’s About Time‘ soon follows, lending us a moment to reflect on the folkier things in life.
While we’ve got that moment, let’s take a good left-to-right look at this band up on stage. Sam Beer plays esoteric guitar licks every bit his own, growling and squealing his way around the fretboard with effortless ease. Tomer Danan has tricks and drumstricks up his sleeve, keeping the beat with plenty of swing to spare.
Reid Morrison is the unmistakeable lead voice in those sublime four part harmonies, charging headlong into the core of these songs with a battered, well-worn acoustic guitar. Almost surprisingly for an Americana-inspired band, Morrison sings in his native British accent, lending his words that extra bit more validity. Those fingers racing up and down the bass guitar belong to Matthew Staritt, ready for any time signature you care to throw at him. Laurie Sherman trades lead and rhythm guitar parts with Beer as quick as a tennis ball changes sides of the court.
Any number of bands are riding high on the current folk revival, so what’s new about Treetop Flyers? Nothing and everything, is the annoying answer. You can hear the country fuzz of Neil Young and the savage wilderness echoes of ‘Desperado‘-era Eagles buzzing around in their sound, but there’s something altogether different driving it. Their output is so upbeat, so filled with that hope and promise uncommon to their contemporaries that they find the direct route to their audience more or less unguarded.
That audience clearly sees something in Treetop Flyers; more and more cram into the limited space as the set goes on and the room gets hotter and hotter. Staritt finally casts his pilgrim hat aside; he’s about to do the same for Morrison, who protests he has terrible hat hair. Beat. Staritt whips off the hat anyway. Morrison grins, and with all the warmth and affection of an old schoolmaster recommending a former pupil for his first job, he points to his bandmate: “You know what…this guy is a real dick.”
The band wrap up the hour-long set with the supremely dance-worthy ‘Riverside‘, shaking the room with a brusque, shuffling beat. Too soon, it’s all over, and we’ve barely had time to learn all those words we want to hear again. Not to worry. This is a band on the up and up. Chances are we’ll be hearing more from Treetop Flyers sooner than we might hope.
(Simon Moore)
