The Others, London
12th November 2005
Saturday night and The Others is jam-packed- what was a freezing, damp, stone-walled building scant minutes earlier has become a furnace, as the great and the good of Stoke Newington come together to celebrate the launch of the debut single from local heroes Morning Bride. As well as the paying punters, also helping them celebrate are the magnificent Owls, whose blend of Birthday Party-style chaos and Waits-esque folkiness is never less than impressive, with tonight being no exception. Frontman Luc Owl is clearly in his element here, all absurdist song intros and hellfire preacher stomping providing a scarier counterpoint ot what is to come later.
Which is, of course, Morning Bride. You could, I guess, if you were the sort of person who did such things, describe them as “alt.Country” (but please don’t: I despise that “alt.” prefix with a passion that verges on the homicidal). What they clearly are, however, is heartbreak and longing, whisky and loss. Waiting for a phone that never rings, or a train to far away that never comes. Floating in the stars but looking down on the gutters. Lead singer Amity Dunn‘s haunted vocals, fragile one moment, strident the next, tell stories of doomed romance over twanging guitars and a good solid rhythm section. And they’re catchy as all hell. No sooner have you realised you’re not gonna be getting this tune out of your head for weeks, it’s washed away by another, equally as engaging. And it’s all rather lovely, in a melancholy sort of way. Note I said “melancholy”, not “depressing”- for all the pain in these songs, they’re suffused with beauty, lifted by dreams.
The last few months have seen Morning Bride go from strength to strength, with a series of increasingly dynamic gigs which have seen them building up a good set of “every one a winner” songs. There’s no filler here, no time to look at your watch (or to go the the toilet- another reason this band suit whiskey so well, rather than, say, lager…)- each individual track is a thing of beauty. I can only imagine it must have been a real bitch trying to isolate two for the single, the first track from which (“Isabelline)”, of course, gets a good airing (and is played again as the encore, because “we messed it up”- I don’t think anyone noticed. I certainly didn’t. But fuck it, any excuse to hear it again- and it was what everyone was there for, after all). And, of course, its companion piece, in which the Jehovahkill-era Cope-style male vocal slides sleazily into the wonderfully insistent girl-pop of the chorus. But it’s the glorious “Blue-Eyed Boy”, always a favourite of their live set, that gets the best reception- and we can only hope this one gets committed to CD at some point in the near future, if only for its wonderful three-part harmonic climax.
Notoriously hard-working, The Bride will no doubt be playing somewhere within days of you reading this review, and I honestly think you could do worse than check them out, if you have any kind of soul at all. Rarely will your heart have been broken quite so delicately.
-Deuteronemu 90210, from the bottom of a bottle of Jack.-
