The Rumble Strips

The Rumble Strips shouldn’t have anything to prove, really: headliners on this year’s Topman NME New Music Tour; support slots for Amy Winehouse, The Young Knives and Dirty Pretty Things; top ten highlight band (alongside Klaxons, Mika and The Twang) in the BBC’s Sound of 2007 panel-presided compilation. So why would they need to ply their bouyant blend of ska-folk-indie at a gig ostensibly arranged for ‘the industry’? The imminent release of their debut album, Girls and Weather, possibly has something to do with it.

Recently, under the giant orbiting disco ball at Canvas, the West Country four-piece stood in tasselled sailor garb and Tex-Mex trucker facial hair in a manner befitting The Blue Oyster. However, all ‘YMCA’ presumptions dissipated once the brass-kicking, à la Dexy’s Midnight Runners, began.

Thrust onstage at near last-tube o’clock, The Rumble Strips were forced to follow an heightened sense of eclectic support from the experimental wanderings of Tunng to the metal-cum-prog antics of Datarock. Sadly, though, their high tempo exultant melodies were lost on the inebriated VIP gremlins quaffing on free Moët.

Their opener, ‘Hate Me You Do’, was jolly in its immediacy but lacked the command that later materialised during the ponderous track, ‘Motorcycle’. It was then that parts of the crowd were stirred into a cockney knees-up.

The band’s performance, although ebullient and highly proficient, was surpassed by the booming vocals of frontman Charlie Waller. The former Vincent Vincent And The Villains member roared his way through the feet-pounding sax appeal of ‘Alarm Clock’ and the stirring ascendancies of ‘Oh Creole’ (an ardent pining of Zutons’ ‘Valerie’ proportion). Straining boggle-eyed and taut, it appeared as though the previous owner of Waller’s down-the-market 2nd hand clothes was attempting to use his body in a paranormal voodoo séance.

The Strips’ overall onstage presentation was as chaotic as an evening with The View and as blustery as a Maccabees-powered wind tunnel. The only problem was the lack of vitality shown by the distracted audience. Deserving of better, The Rumble Strips could draw worthy comparisons with the kings of gypsy, Larrikin Love, especially during their pre-album/pre-production period.