The Paddingtons: Hop & Grape Review

21 Feb - Manchester Hop & Grape

In Manchester, the weather is decidedly wintry. So what better way of warming up ones cockles, than with some rock & roll music? The Paddingtons have (at great length) been likened to Babyshambles, and known for being mates with Pete Doherty. They’ve also become pals with other big boys of the playground, The Bravery. All exponents of shambolic angular indie pop. That’s all a bit dull however, and probably, not very true. It is probably better to ignore the paper talk, and have an open mind.

The Paddingtons have come a very long way from posting up MP3s on a Libertines forum, and are currently being tipped for bright things. Signed to Alan McGee’s Poptones label (home of King Biscuit Time aka Steve Mason of the brilliant Beta Band and Cherrystones). The official blurb on the Poptones website tells of “a thousand-mile-high thrash of fuzzed-out rock and like the imitation of Christ that is Joey Ramone and baptised by the proto-punks, The Saints.”

Bloody Hell. They sound a bit good! Can they live up to this hype? Repeat mantra “Open mind, open mind…”

On arriving at the Hop’, it was sad to find that The Paddingtons were not going to live up to their namesake bear by giving out free marmalade sandwiches, but no matter, the lights dimmed, and it was time to see what unfurled.

First band on – The Five O’clock Heroes - were tuneful enough, and possessed a singer who was reminiscent of many-a post punk outfit. Tight, angular guitar with pulsating bass drones and yelps and howls to get the indie kids down the front in the mood. That said, even though the band got a warm response, the overwhelming feeling was that ver kids wuz here to see The Paddingtons.

The Paddingtons walked on stage to some very heavy sounds, and schlinked and shimmied their way to their positions. As the lights went up, eyes focused in on a shambolic, drunken sprawling mess.

Rule one: Don't believe the Poptones website.

Rule two: The kids fucking love it.

Tom, the 'singer' wobbles to and fro in a lagery haze, virtually shouting his way through the set. The boys and girls down the front go mental and jump up and down, crowd surf... and hurl things at the band in a piss-weak-lager frenzy. There is the general indie guitarist moping from the two axe grinders flanking the vocalist, and generally, everybody laps it up.

21 kicks the kids into yet more frothing, apart from the ubiquitous sullen indie girls stood in the wings nonchalantly mouthing the lyrics, and hoping for an obscure B-Side.

The set wobbles along and everyone has a good rock'n'roll time of it, although it has to be said, The Paddingtons have a lot more in common with Oasis (drunk, shouty, arrogant) than their pal Pete Doherty.

The band, sporting general charity shop clobber, apart from the bizarre guitarist who looks like a police photofit of Captain Sensible, and seem destined for a bigger stage. Gawd knows why, but they genuinely seem like a band on the ascendancy.

Throw in a cover of Molly's Lips (made famous by Nirvana) and you've got a room full of happy teenagers, throwing shapes (and beer) at the stage.

At the aftershow shindig, the band danced away to their favourite tunes, before turning ugly, and causing a huge Bash Street Kids dust cloud punch up, triggered by biting a unfortunate drinker. The attack was unprovoked, and the Hull five piece got their just reward when the bouncers took them outside and smashed their faces up.

Less rock and roll, and more a case of too much ale in a set of feeble teen stomachs.
All in all, a romp through indie land to the soundtrack of drunken teens having a blast. It's certain that all concerned wouldn't have it any other way.

[review by Mof Gimmers]