The Bees: Brixton Academy, London 02 Mar 2005

The Bees may be the most famous musical export from the Isle of Wight since Level 42, but they’re not letting it go to their heads. They seem as awestruck as anyone packed into Brixton’s grand old theatre to catch the band’s first headline gig at the venue for those who have made it. They gaze out at the crowd with uncomprehending grins etched on their faces, they wave awkwardly out to the sea of faces, they call it the “best gig they’ve ever done”.

Brixton Academy is London’s finishing school for all aspiring rock’n’roll superstars. It’s here you come when your growing success means you’ll fill the Astoria easily, though you’re not nearly in Wembley Arena territory. All bands graduate to the Academy once they’ve a top 20 album under their belts and how you progress from here determines whether you are to slip away into the ‘where are they now?’ category, or pricing trophy cabinets to house your lifetime achievement awards. So it’s such a shame that the venue does it’s best to suck the life out of most bands who play there.

The poor sound system and cavernous acoustics makes the Brixton Academy too big for your average band. Not that The Bees are by any means average, it’s just that this is the kind of show that should involve spit and sawdust on the floor, heat and smoke in the air, and not your lovingly crafted songs being borne away by a chill draft to the upper limits of the roof.

If you wanted further proof that this was a barn dance that certainly wasn’t in Kansas anymore, there’s the pre-show selection of music that includes songs by The Band and Canned Heat. Their two albums ‘Sunshine Hits Me’ and ‘Free the Bees’ show that The Bees are heavily influenced by that era of folk and country tinged rock’n’roll, and also by that 60’s feeling of unlimited expression. Almost everyone of the eight members on stage tonight swaps instruments at some point; main man Paul Butler gets through a bewildering range of guitars, a session on the drums, keyboards and the recorder. If I had known when I was ten that ability on the latter would lead to a career in rock’n’roll I wouldn’t have done so much to get thrown out of the music class.

They start slowly with the sweet ‘Punchbag’ and quickly establish a rhythm of bouncy sing-a-long numbers alternating with abstract instrumentals and funky breakdowns. The lead guitarist seems like Eddie Van Halen trapped in John Denver’s band and spends much of his time throwing classic hard rock shapes and flailing his arms like a windmill in a hurricane. It’s this diversity of styles that makes The Bees such an enticing outfit. They take the best of different musical genres and recreate them as their own, such as the Cajun funk of ‘A Minha Menina’, the Pink Floyd inspired progressive grandeur of ‘Sunshine’, or the dark indie sound of ‘These Are the Ghosts’.

It looks like they have fun doing it as well. Their onstage demeanour is a charming mix of humility and unadulterated enjoyment, and the audience are with them all the way. ‘Horsemen’ becomes a sing-a-along anthem and ‘Wash the Rain’ is greeted like the indelible pop classic that it is. Despite sounding like some bizarre outtake from a cheap children’s television show, even the latest single ‘Chicken Payback’ is rapturously received.

The latter is the kind of novelty hit that could propel them to further stardom. While you wouldn’t generally begrudge them success, any more and next time you’ll be watching The Bees live in a football stadium. Meanwhile there’s probably a lock-in at a dingy pub on the Isle of Wight missing its musicians.

words & photos: Colm Larkin

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