The gruelling clamber up the steps of Revolver was rewarded instantly with a most pleasant sight – Rain Party.
Fronted by the glimmering Koppes sisters Neige and O on vocals/bass and guitar duties respectively, Rain Party have built a Stirling silver set. Originally formed two years ago under the guise of The Kicks, together with swaggering guitarist Aaron Ronaldson and drummer Gaz Scott, a refreshingly honest sound merging topical Mercury Prize nominee (now 2nd time winner) PJ Harvey’s collaborative instincts with the sensible side of Anton Newcombe.
Shining through their opening tracks, the two sisters strode about the stage with an aura of deserved stardom while the Ronaldson/Scott combination drove the grinding psychedelia through to match Neige’s impressive array of vocal emotives. Mid-way through the set, the gathering masses were presented with something of a treasure. Stay. It’s rare to see a band change gear so unguardedly, but Rain Party don’t appear phased when baring their crosses. Touted among the whisperers as a debut single, the sweet, simplistic pop sensibilities of the band combined here with a wobbling echo of The Verve’s All In The Mind. Closing out this beautiful noise is a demanding lyric – could anyone deny a heartfelt, questioning call to arms? You’ll hear Stay sooner rather than later.
Next up, the undeniable crowd pullers in San Fran Disco. If you’d a checklist of trendy indie band requisitions to fill in then these lads would be your one stop shop.
They look fine with at least one member either, sitting down, wearing a candy striped jumper or black rimmed glasses. So far, so good! The lads never put in anything short of a solid set of crafted, meandering pleasantries. However, when vocal duties are thrown around during a set it can be to the detriment of a band’s attention seeking rhythm. Gomez, for example, manage it by having each single taking on a totally different duty. Sadly, for all their melodies, San Fran Disco seem to be burdened by a contrived diplomatic sharing of glory.
Let’s not get down on something as trivial as sharing – after all that, sharing is caring.
Speaking of sharing, the aforementioned acts would both be more than happy to be invited along to play with I, a man. It’s always nice when the name of a band is short enough to be both punctuated and leave you wanting to know what might be missing. Conjuring imagery in a mode not dissimilar to that which James Mercer of The Shins/Broken Bells so effortlessly calls upon, I, a man shimmer early and don’t disappoint.
Currently promoting their debut EP Fifteen Thirty Three, there is little required in the way of shameless spruiking when simply presenting a truly charming track like I Ran My Ghoul. Cryptically titled on a course this gathering of troubadours David Moss, Erik Rene, Ash Hunter and Summer Fish are most comfortable to tread. like its surrounding set, the song swarmed intelligently through gentle overtones. Polite applause from a now relaxed room of onlookers, masked the genuine appreciation being ushered about.
Closing with a bomb of claps, woos and obscure barnyard noises from the back of the room the band dismounted the stage to join their admirers and embark on a well earned session of reward. You should be there at Yah Yahs for their next show with extra big pockets to nab an EP.
This writer stayed a while longer and plans to do the same again.
– Ciaran Wilcox
