Carl Barat fell to the floor, his sweaty fringe clinging to his scalp. I followed the herd, stampeding towards him. People crashed either side, a spider web of bodies. I lurched forward then tripped to suddenly land atop of the man himself. For a few long seconds I was incapable of action. I gawped then my right hand shot out and awkwardly ruffled his hair. The security quickly dragged him away, but it was enough. I rose in giddy ecstasy. The gig was Dirty Pretty Things. I was 17. They most probably were not that good but it was indie and I was obsessed.
Technically Indie music began in America with The Strokes in 2001, but in reality, bar a few exceptions, it was British. The bands were numerous, some may of been defined slightly differently in genre, but generally they all stood under the indie bracket. What they could all agree on was a sweaty mass of youths exerting every energy in their body to its’ embrace. All gigs would end the same; a sea of adolescents soaking up every word, in drenched euphoria. For around ten years it swarmed in popularity, a new wave of popular British music that in some cases spanned the globe.
These days I hardly hear them, and I doubt many others do too. Occasionally I’ll pop on Up the Bracket or Just Enough Education to Perform but those days are getting fewer and farer between. Putting on ‘Take Me Out’ or ‘I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor’ on at a house party is not done anymore, grabbing an acoustic guitar and jamming some early Maccabees or Athlete a thing of the past. Their time has gone. However, in an age of growing digital music, where DJ’s hold more support from teens than instruments and voices, it is the kind of music that needs remembering, for better or for worse.
Therefore this is that, a look back at the British bands that made the genre, the bands that, despite many flaws, managed to hold the love of a select group of the 90’s generation. It’s a look at everything from the respective bands LPs, to their personalities and to their, often ramshackle, live performances. It’s a loving tribute in ways, it’s an appreciation and it’s probably also mockery. It’s indie.
Razorlight
In ways they were my favourite of all the Indie contingent, certainly the band I caught the most. Razorlight broke on to the scene in 2004 in wake of the growing success of British indie, largely heralded by The Libertines. Indeed lead singer Johnny Borrell played bass for The Libertines occasionally and was thus already part of the swelling tide. Razorlight were different though, more pop’y, clean and in many ways more fun. The half English, half Swedish contingent had the swagger and makings of a real band, yet on the flip side were at times completely laughable. This was largely due to Borrell himself, who at times rose to genuine celebrity status, but was always one interview away from a screw up.
Two friends and I once travelled from Cambridge all the way to Manchester to watch Razorlight play. When the lights came up and Borrell stood centre stage, clad in a white vest with white skinny jeans we were awestruck. “Only Borrell could pull that off” we all concurred in admiration. In hindsight it was hilarious. For all intents and purposes we should of stayed away. Our parents should have warned us off such ridiculous personas and would have had every right to do so. Just one look at them should have been enough.
But we didn’t, we stayed and we fawned over them and after just listening to the first few chords of ‘Golden Touch’ we felt justified to do so. Those opening chords were a draw, they genuinely could grab you in. It was simple, direct and just plain, good guitar music. Razorlight, maybe more than any of their contemporaries, knew how to make a catchy, indie song. They pulled you in and they were good at it.
Their first album was pure energy, a collection of songs that complimented each other perfectly. ‘Vice’ was made for stadiums, ‘Don’t Go Back to Dalston’ (Borrell’s plea to Pete Doherty to put the drugs aside after Doherty ironically previously helped Borrell out of a similar situation) a bundle of euphoric energy. ‘Rip it Up’ did exactly what it said, ‘Fall, Fall, Fall’ was a respectable indie ballad amidst a wealth of failures, whilst ‘Golden Touch’ was the crowning glory. Up All Night was catchy, it never took itself too seriously (despite Borrell’s protestations otherwise) and most importantly, it was fun. Even Borrell’s voice was an enjoyable, tuneful front.
This is not to say it was faultless. Some of the lyrics for example, were genuinely poor, a problem heightened by Borrell’s infamous, laughable self promotion as “better than Dylan”. After making such a claim, his lyrics would inevitably be scrutinised, and if they were in any way weak, it had the ability to define the band. And, in large parts, they were weak, and thus their legacy was altered. “I met a girl, I asked her name, she told me what it was” from ‘Somewhere Else’ pays grand testament to that.
In many ways ‘Somewhere Else’ is probably the perfect song to symbolise Razorlight: simple lyrics verging on awful combined with catchy hooks, good musicianship and a pulsing energy. They were not breaking boundaries but they weren’t really trying to. Razorlight were never going to produce their own ‘Sergeant Peppers’ but they stuck to what they knew and they did it well.
What’s more, they could do it live. Anyone who tuned in to the Live 8 concert could not help to be impressed. They soaked in the reviews and rightly so. At its crowning moment Borrell just lay flat on the stage, motionless before building ‘Vice’ back up to a hurtling, crowd pleasing conclusion. It was pure theatrics and it worked.
In truth, that day in Hyde Park was probably the peak for Razorlight. Their second album was far more commercially successful than the first, but lacked any of the charm. ‘America’ their attempt at hitting regular stadium slots, may have broke the States but it was reflective of the majority of the album. Simple pop songs with limited depth but mainstream appeal. Their popularity may have soared but the album itself, and the one after, Slipway Fires held none of the playful exuberance of the first. There were hidden gems within the albums, ‘Back to the Start’, ‘In the Morning’ and ‘Monster Boots’ were fine examples of that (In ‘Monster Boots,’ Andy Burrows drumming captured the energy of the first album, a brilliant piece of musicianship that is worth revisiting) but nothing substantial. These nuggets were just too few and far between. It’s not that they sold out, more they just lost their “golden touch”.
These days the band has gone in separate ways with mixed results. Borrell’s latest venture into solo album territory gained generally negative press and across the media was often comically received. Andy Burrow’s has taken a more critically acclaimed route, his short album Colour of my Dreams a little treat, and his Christmas album with lead singer of Editors, Tom Smith a solid, enjoyable effort. Still, whatever paths they now take, they will always be Razorlight, and should be remembered fondly for it. They were ridiculous, their front man was an arrogant, blinded fool, and the real music really only lasted one album, but when it was there, it was really good fun.
Next week: The Libertines
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