We Are Scientists / ¡Forward, Russia!

Last time eGigs caught up with ¡Forward Russia!, effervescent guitarist Whiskas was anxious at their band name’s communist reference points, “...we should change it back to ¡Welcome, Megatron!” he mused. But to do so now would shatter the four Leeds noisemakers’ unified musical bond, painstakingly moulded into the sonic apocalypse that manifests itself tonight on stage at London’s Astoria.

They perform, as always, robed in ¡Forward Russia! logo t-shirts. Their songs are made faceless by being named only by the numbers in the order they were written. You know perhaps, Whiskas, that communist ideal is lingering amongst you after all. It ain’t such a bad thing, lad, in fact it’s working our pretty nicely for you.

Their chaotic fission rock has been working out and whilst before they were the eccentric gang at the back of the class, the ones that everyone kept an eye on but might have felt unsure of, now they’re beefed up and in charge – and every other kid wants to be them.

As the electric arpeggios of ‘13’ ripple through the smoky air before exploding into a riot of ferocious punk-funk wizardry, the venue’s 1500 or so people drop drinks, jaws and jean sizes (probably).

The band are tight, the sound is crisp and engulfing and it seems that with each disco-racket they get through, they’ve won over another pocket of the crowd. Even up on the balcony, there heads of nodding appreciation all round as ‘7’ does it’s magic. Whether the spectacle of their live show translates well in the studio shall remain a topic of deliberation until their debut is released in May, but if they keep on hooking people at they rate they do tonight, there’s no reason why it shouldn’t be their turn to headline this venue next time around.

After ¡Forward Russia!’s triumph, We Are Scientists arrival on stage is somewhat anti-climatic. Performing on the NME tour earlier this year, their thirty-minute set let them give the crowd a taster of what they’re about. Under those time constraints they (just about) managed to convince people they were worth the attention. Two sold-out London dates on this tour is their official crowning of this conviction, but now that they’ve been given the full headline set, they don’t know what to do with it.

The simple fact is that most of their songs aren’t very good. Laborious and forgettable, even in the heart of the mosh-pit people are finding it hard to generate momentum. At times they become the musical equivalent of watching someone build a brick wall - systematic but utterly soporific. Even when they churn out a well-known single, spirits fail to lift off the ground. A bloated rendition of ‘It’s A Hit’ is graced with the pleasing distraction of ¡Forward Russia! joining them on stage for a faux-boxing match, but ‘Nobody Move, Nobody Get Hurt’ fails to capture the euphoric immediacy of their performance on record.

A cover of The Ronettes’ ‘Be My Baby’ is just as painstaking as everything else, like listening to Black Sabbath’s ‘Iron Man’ played backwards at a lower, muddier pitch.

Sadly even their between-song banter, which picketed their performance on the NME tour, is drowned out by dodgy sound. Ending with ‘The Great Escape’, lead singer Keith Murray dives into the crowd whilst Whiskas takes over on guitar duties. The rock’n’roll tomfoolery just about diverts the show’s finale from total impotence, but the thrill is superficial.

We Are Scientists are clearly lovely guys and a lot of fun, it’s their good-natured boisterousness that’s contributed to them gaining wider appeal. They’re every other band’s best mates, but even hanging out with Arctic Monkeys is hardly a guarantee for lasting success (Not even being in Arctic Monkeys is a lasting guarantee, even though at the moment you might be tempted to think otherwise). They need to write better songs and learn to put on a more memorable show. Otherwise? Just try to enjoy it whilst it lasts.

FUTURE GIGS

sorry, we currently have no gigs listed for this act.