The Boxer Rebellion / Dogs / The Raveonettes: Islington Academy, London 15 Mar 2005

It’s an unusual gig. Firstly they’re giving away free booze, as this is a whiskey-sponsored event. Then at the front, lining the barrier to the photography pit that’s usually the preserve of the floppy-haired, t-shirt-wearing indie boy, were loads of girls. The explanation comes when The Boxer Rebellion take the stage. Lead singer, Nathan Nicholson is dark, good-looking, a potential rock myth in the making. The band’s latest video was made by film director Giorgio Testi and is a glamourous depiction of an anti-capitalist riot with Nicholson walking around looking sultry and singing into a megaphone. It seems to sum up The Boxer Rebellion.

They play anthemic, epic rock with a hint of a darker side. There’s distorted bass lines that rumble like a Joy Division track creeping up behind you on a dark, lonely night, the occasional broken beats and tempo changes and much soaring vocal lines and mournful melodies. At their best, like the rippling and urgent ‘Watermelon’, they sound like Interpol, other times they are as charmless as Kasabian. They purport that same nameless, aggressive ideology that’s really just based around images and slogans, rebelling against the man by giving him the quasi-theoretical finger. The Boxer Rebellion sound like a political group, and they can make interesting music, but for the most part, they’re just an artfully constructed representation of the real thing.

Meanwhile Dogs appear to have no other agenda than the resurrection of various, abandoned styles of the 70s. The lead singer Johnny Cooke looks like he was a football hooligan in a past life, while guitarist Rikki Mehta looks and plays like Nigel from Spinal Tap. And why the hell not? While posturing with a guitar was taken to idiotic new heights by Justin from The Darkness, thankfully Mehta eschews the grand pantomime in favour of simply enjoying himself. In fact the whole band seem to do so, playing ragged punk with pop undertones with such vigour and sufficient volume it’s impossible not to pogo along. Cooke is the only seemingly uninterested person in the place. He sings with his hand in his pockets, sneers like Johnny Rotten and paces listlessly about the stage. But he’s a magnetizing presence and his chatty, shouty vocals are fun and clever, like the excellent line “I liked you better when liked me as well” from ‘She’s Got a Reason’. This is what you’d get if The Libertines hadn’t taken themselves so seriously.

The main act, The Raveonettes, are a lot different to their support acts. Where Dogs have punk and The Boxer Rebellion look to New Wave, The Raveonettes go back to early soul and surf rock. The duo, Sharin Foo and Sune Rose Wagner toy with strong clear rhythms, the haunting harmonies of and sweet melodies and then let them get washed away in waves of noisy feedback. Tonight they emphasise this with a cover of The Angels’ classic ‘My Boyfriend’s Back’ and ‘Ode to LA’, which features Ronnie Spector on vocals (though tonight the closest we get to the legendary singer is via the backing track). Both tracks are taken from their forthcoming third album, ‘A Touch of Black’, which sees the Danish duo turn down the distortion of their previous records and up the hook quota.

‘Love in a Trashcan’ is typical with its taut riff and blues rhythms and is well received by the crowd. But still you can sense the audience wants some of that wall of sound action and it is duly delivered. Foo has left the bass to new member Anders Christian, with the Raveonettes now a five-piece onstage, and while mostly concentrating on serving those delicious harmonies, she also takes a guitar in hand when extra noise is called for. Wagner twists and turns his guitar in many cacophonous directions, particularly on the brilliant ‘That Great Love Sound’. A blistering finish is then followed by an encore featuring a slower song with Foo accompanied only by Wagner on guitar.

It’s a reminder that The Raveonettes remain essentially a duo, like Phil and Ronnie Spector, though perhaps with less guns. Their new sound is ambitious, quality pop music, but they can still rock.

words: Colm Larkin

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