 
 Here
They Come (la la la la la la: la la la la la la) the Part-Time Punks.
. .
The Kaiser Chiefs @ Slim’s 2/22
by d.a. johnston
photos by Olga K.
“It’s like the difference between sleeping with someone
you just met and someone you’ve known your whole life. . .”
The night was terribly dreary. Sheets of rain swept sideways on the
long walk to Slim’s, cars passing at such great speed and disregard
ultimately dousing pedestrians with the rain collected in the streets.
The storm did not appear ready to break any time soon. Arriving at the
very end of the Lovemakers set, I was sorry that I missed them. They
have such great energy live. And they do a mind-blowing cover of the
Cure’s “A Forest.”
When you’ve just released your album (I Predict a
Riot) it seems quite pretentious to leave the crowd waiting
almost forty-five minutes for you to magically appear. And, when you
finally saunter out, you shouldn’t be playing the Beatles, let
alone the White Album’s “Everybody’s got Something
to Hide Except Me and My Monkey.” At the beginning of securing
your fan base, try not to piss them off: at least not the über
geeked-out record kids.
A few songs in I couldn’t decipher what they were saying and
I didn’t care. It’s only the feel good right now music while
offering mutable social critique that fills our days and sometimes that’s
just good enough. It is something that is neither here nor there. This
will not last the test of time. Nothing spectacular or sparkly. Are
they all the Mod rockers faux electronique they appear to be? With the
bass/drum/guitar alternating leads of “Born to be a Dancer”
seemingly dictating lyricism, I don’t think so.
Yes, they were charming, indeed. But Americans are easily enamored with
accents, kind of like small children presented with shiny objects. Ricky
Wilson even came out with a cane and a gimp leg, donning an Oasis kind
of striped fitted blazer, very English proper. Here I find I must give
them props on the lyrical lines: “A friend of mine he got beaten/For
looking the wrong way at a policeman/Would never have happened to Smeaton/An
old leodensian.” They talked to the audience, and how many bands
do that now anyways? There was even killing time while fixing technical
problems with a joke. Ready? 
What is a fish without the “i?”
FSH. . .
It was also determined, or misinterpreted, that the true purpose of
the rounded bars that reserve the bar wait station is to “protect
Enrique. . .”
The propaganda had been strewn on the tables upstairs. Rolling Stone’s
Hot List says: This hot newbie band from Leeds, England, channels early
Clash with its incredibly catchy, fist-pumping debut single “I
Predict a Riot.” We predict success. I’ll hand it to them
that they have one song that is kinda like the English Beat. But even
so, you can’t predict a riot, let alone actually have one, two
times in the same night. And they did play that song not once, but twice,
mind you. No, no, no Nostradamus. I predict complacency. Quoth ze Kaiser
Chiefs “that is the end of that.”
Drifting apart like a plate tectonic
It don’t matter to me
‘Cos all I want to be
Was a million miles from here
Somewhere more familiar (“Oh My God”)
|
