So anyway cast your mind back to late 2005; I’ve been playing We Are Scientists‘ second album ‘Love & Squalor‘ incessantly since its release, buying into its mix of genius garage chords and whip-smart lyrical Battonage, a cross Atlantic hurricane that had threatened to blow tepid British indie rock away.
Intrigued and not a little in awe, I bought tickets for both me and my brand new wife to take this proton-phenomenon on board in some dingy venue or another. Then my new wife told me that we were expecting a new baby, and stuff’s kinda got out of hand ever since.
So 8 years, 4 months and 2 days since that moment…probably…I’m now at Leeds University’s (stylish) Stylus venue, finally seeing the band for the first time live after half a dozen broken promises over the elapsed time. Lots of water has passed under many bridges since then, and perhaps Messrs. Cain and Murray are a little less at the cutting edge than they were back before the iPhone and people actually living in Hackney by choice, but the feeling of anticipation was only slightly dulled.
With a reputation to live down on that score, Keith and Chris were as “slightly dulled” by alcohol as ever, the twosome effusive and storied between every song, expert raconteurs taking gentle good natured swipes at each other and the ridiculous rock world in general.
“It’s surprising how many great singles they’ve had” said my companion for the night – not my other half but please don’t worry – a comment proved to be more than true by the opening twenty plus minutes, during which time the trio reeled off half a dozen of them like non hit factory on double time. Perhaps to be expected, this baker’s dozen of fecundity took in a brace (‘Dumb Luck‘, ‘Return The Favour‘) from new album ‘TV En Francais‘, a not-broken-so-let’s-not-fix-it release that reconfirms their reputation as songwriters who play to their strengths with alacrity.
By the time we get round to album tracks the sweaty crowd need a breather, cue ‘Sprinkles‘, ‘This Scene Is Dead‘ and ‘Text Book‘, each interspersed with one liners, acerbic views on the likes of U2 and copious amounts of organic wine downed – as the throng noisily demanded – in one. Happy, relaxed and riffing off each other, Murray and Cain are more like your favourite singing cool uncles, post-modern banetersourasses who make no demands other than you enjoy the show and take what you want from it. At one level their songs are woven out of desperation and imploding personal circumstances, but on another they still have enough time to take a selfie featuring them and half the audience. In this world things are not always to be taken literally.
Encore time comes with many still animated enough to make waves; fire with fire, the band give them the appropriately titled ‘Slow Down‘, sandwiched in between two of ‘Love And Squalor’s most enduring moments, the rubbery post punk throb of ‘Don’t Stop‘, paired with a climactic blast of ‘The Great Escape‘, itself a lusty forearm jab of a song.
The end result here is punters happy, band refreshed, the spirit of 2005 reconstituted all round in just 90 carefree minutes. Afterwards I reflect that I wouldn’t take back a moment of either the gig or the last god knows how many years, a sure sign that I knew what I was doing back then, just as We Are Scientists do now.
