I am not an East London regular, the crowds are a tad too trendy and “If-I-don’t-know-you-you-don’t-exist” for me. An perhaps unfair assumption I once made was that EC2 and N1 residents would turn up to a string of gigs to be seen, rather than to hear the music that was played. I’m sure that’s unfair, but the lack of enthusiasm of tonight’s pouty, moody crowd, as myself and my plus one ease our way through a small yet not-entirely-packed-out back room of Hoxton Bar, suggests a good deal of this crowd are here for fear of doing nothing of an evening. My friend gets barged into and spills a glass of wine on one of them accidentally, and he spends 5 minutes glancing daggers our way. My spirits are lifted.
The line-up is a mix of styles, guaranteed to please every attendee at least once surely, and it’s encouraging to see a line-up that isn’t afraid to be varied. First on, Saint Lou Lou surprise me by turning out to be a four piece band, with two synchronized twin supermodels as singers, as opposed to the misty eyed solo beauty I was imagining. It’s just as well there are two singers, as an overpowering rhythm section slightly drowns out their fashionably twee murmurs. Nevertheless, the twins, dressed entirely in black and with large swimming pool eyes, command the stage with ease, and their gothic indiepop loses none of its haunting charm in this setting. Single “Maybe You” is especially ethereal.
After a cigarette break (not mine), I am filled with a slight resentment at the sight of another young, pretty boy producer, Draper, bouncing around his laptop. It’s standard melodic dubstep; you know the drill, sugar sweet leads and a pummeling bass line, chopped vocals; perfectly acceptable Skrillex-lite. His set ticks all the boxes in his category, and his Ellie Goulding remix is actually fairly glorious, but as Draper air guitars and ping pongs his way through an overlong, samey set, a sparse crowd distances itself from the stage. “Next!” my fidgety plus one shouts.
Venice, who thus far I had unfairly placed on the boy band pedestal alongside Lawson and, dare-I-say One Direction, are the biggest surprise of the night. After two very typically ‘trendy-in-2012’ acts, the clean cut Venice are refreshingly and endearingly uncool. The first act to warmly address the crowd, the band come across as a budding young Killers. Their sparkly lead single “Heart That Could Heal” warms up a frosty room and the mood and crowd is noticeably looser, even if this snooty East London crowd won’t approach the stage for love nor money. Their flirtations with piano house on numbers like “Killer in Me” could not go down better, and the boys could well be The Rapture at some points. By the end of their set, how current and trendy the band are or are not is irrelevant; as my plus one noted, all that mattered was that we were enjoying ourselves and dancing like fools.
The subsequent high spirits of the crowd dwindle, after a lengthy period of Josh Kumra wandering on and off the stage. By the time the pint-sized crooner picks up his guitar and lazily greets us, the crowd is severely diminished. His set of above average singer songwriter material is nevertheless relaxed and professional; he sounds convincing as a headliner. Yet despite his charm, ease and talent, the wistful material sounds somewhat interchangeable with most of his peers. His voice is hella-lovely however, especially on early set highlight “The Answer”, where his higher range strains with a touching authenticity.
Extortionate London parking fees dictate we must leave halfway through his set, but the sleek delivery of Josh’s set suggests this was probably charming and fuzzy until the end. Which is actually just as well, because there’s only so much charm and fuzz I can take. As we move our way out through a sea of black clothing and unnecessary hats, I leave feeling that the one act who stood out was the one that didn’t try to please this crowd of trend-experts and fashionistas, and as a result, Venice definately pleased them the most.
