Heels. Fringes. Worshippers at the altar of GHD straighteners. That'll be the women. Worshippers at the altar of Weller and Gallagher. That'll be the men.
The Hardy Souls are on stage. Those haircuts look familiar. A matching set, you might say. Likewise the music. Taking the influences of Oasis and The Jam onboard, The Hardy Souls throw energy at the problem. The problem being that they are not the only band on the planet (or in this postcode) that sounds like they do.
She's wearing a pink dress. She pours me a Guinness. She pours a heart in the head. Not a shamrock like you normally get, but a heart. Maybe it's a 13th Note thing but I can tell that that this one is used to breaking hearts. Never declare your love for a barmaid. Sorry, bartender (female). She knows you'll make a fool of yourself. So don't do it. Ever.
I'm trying to think what to say about The Echo Session. The blurb says they are veterans of a call centre. It's not exactly Iraq but no one who has ever worked in one will deny the potential to destroy the soul that such places possess. Whilst certainly proficient, there was a distinct lack of soul on show. Like a supermarket ready meal, the end result was a touch unsatisfying.
Maybe it's time for a bout of depression. Or maybe not.
I know it is a cliché but the best was saved for last. The Rudiments. Never heard of them before but I'm sure it won't be the last time that I hear of them. For one thing, this is a band that understands melody. This is a band that understands how to put a song together. Don't just throw it at maximum force into the crowd. Entice them. Make them hum your damn songs on the way home. That's what The Rudiments did. I hate when that happens. No I don't. The Rudiments are ahead by a country mile. Yes they are.