Headrow House is located right in the centre of Leeds. It’s a smart and modern venue spread across three floors. There are places to drink, eat, sit and meet friends. It’s nice. They also have a space for events, a small space, the sort of space where you see local bands who haven’t yet built up a following or grabbed the attention of the blogosphere.
During the debut live performance from Lines of Flight a few days ago I noticed a too cool for school kid standing far in front of the rest of the crowd, he was right on top of the stage. He was dancing like nobody was watching. He was feeling the music. It was obvious that he was lost in it.
I was immediately jealous of him.
He was young and free, wild, carefree, passionate, hopeful and alive.
Jealous…but also filled to overflowing with love and admiration for him.
I had been like that once…a little bit of me still is.
I thought about what was lying in front of him…everything…and I wished him nothing but love and good fortune.
Once Lines Of Flight left the stage I left to grab a drink with some of the people I had met. Then I headed back into the room to catch the second band on the bill, Little Hand Feet.
As I made my way back to the room I could hear that they had already started. I pushed the door open and there, front and centre, was the kid.
The lead singer of Little Hand Feet.
He was dancing like nobody was watching.
He was feeling his own music.
He was lost in it.
He was grinning in between every word and every note.
The rest of the band were just as giddy.
They were making the sort of glorious, shambolic, gloriously shambolic, noise that marked out The Happy Mondays at their very best moments. Funk and punk, rock but with more roll, a twisted pop sensibility. In short, they were fucking fantastic. Now it was me who was dancing like nobody was watching, feeling the music, lost in it.
Each song sounded exactly like…Little Hand Feet, which is to say that they all sounded like the rambling, gambolling, gambling, Russian roulette, meanderings of a gaggle of musicians desperate to give form to every thought, sound, idea and dream they had ever had.
Oh, please God don’t let anyone try to change them…or ask them to listen to “Rubber Soul” or “Definitely Maybe”. This is what all new bands should sound like…especially new bands with youth on their side.