Sunday, March 11, 2007
Review- The Horrors, The Films
Tonight saw me heading back across the city to RNR Hotel for none other than The Horrors. The Films, a band from South Carolina, opened, they were alright. They were sort of the american version of Dirty Pretty Things, and I don't mean that as a compliment. While some of their tunes sounded like Libertines/DPT tunes, they were always with the undercurrent sound of that band you remember playing every college event on campus. You know, the band that sort of sounds like Pearl Jam mixed with Dave.
The Horrors acted exactly the way you'd think. I saw Joshua Von Grimm getting shot glasses for backstage beforehand, so I sort of picked up what would go down (as if they needed alcohol). Spyder Webb was actually my favourite Horror member, as he acted completly above the crowd as well as his band members. Tomethy was hidden in the back behind Spyder, and I was dissapointed to see he has traded the Longhorn bass for a Fender. They were all on stage for a solid five minutes before Faris appeared, apparently very paranoid about the lights. Mayem ensued as they ripped through their popular tracks. My personal favorite moment came when Faris, balancing between the monitors at the edge of the stage, pushed an underage girl, who had been standing in her spot at the front since I got there around nine, by the face into the crowd, sending her flying. So much for saying The Horrors have given in to being victims to the pop scene. Faris then tried to climb onto any of the club's fixtures, settling for the bar, where he knocked over glasses. Faris' act was completly ridiculous, and by some miracle he was still able to stay on point with singing the lyrics. The intersong banter was present, but the mutterings of Faris were not able to be translated by anyone in the american audience. Absolutely crazy show, they're playing a huge UK tour, but the only way you'll see them in the US soon is to catch them in Cambridge, MA tommorow (tuesday) night at the Great Scott or in LA next weekend.