Motel Love don’t contrive to be at the cutting edge of originality. Why bother, when rolling around in the past is so much fun? Some obvious references that cropped up during the band’s opening set include UK pub rockers Nick Lowe and Ian Dury, the sires of Aussie punk rock, The Saints and Radio Birdman, power-pop linchpins Big Star and Teenage Fanclub and the erratic ‘60s revival of Guided By Voices.
But Motel Love aren’t just sheepish embezzlers of rock’s storied past. The contributions made by each of the band’s four members are impossible to ignore. The setlist showcased three separate songwriting-lead vocalists; the structurally sound power-pop tunes of de facto leader Andy Porter sat against Nicholas Lembo’s grunty belters and Matt Mero’s angular and frequently frantic post-punk numbers. The adage ‘the whole is greater than the sum of its parts’ doesn’t quite apply to Motel Love, as its unclear whether they’re actually a good influence on one another. Tonight’s performance was typically ramshackle, which made the borrowed ideas booming out of NSC’s faultless PA a thrill to witness.
Despite being a gang of familiar faces, as soon as Pale Heads started projecting aggression into every corner of the room, there was no time for reminiscing about the members’ various other projects (which include The Nation Blue, Batpiss and The Drones). That said, Pale Heads didn’t spray out irrational outbursts of fire. Rather, their aggression stemmed from a long span of contemplation, during which it had been finely prepared to make the optimal impact. Accordingly, Pale Heads were also prone to moments of lethargic comfort, which were akin to a brief giggle and sigh in the middle of a heated quarrel.
The four-piece are technically adept but, thankfully, not a pack of showboats. Guitarist Rui Pereira was on a separate psychic wavelength to the rest of the band; instead of muscular strikes, his rebellion came in the form sound mutations and subtly discordant motifs. Vocalist Tom Lyncoln didn’t abandon the coarse roar he uses so effectively in The Nation Blue, but here his range seemed to lift to even greater heights. It’s a voice that wants its steak cooked rare, but it’s also not afraid to tell you when the sunset looks mighty beautiful.
BY AUGUSTUS WELBY
Loved: Monday funday.
Hated: I don’t hate Mondays.
Drank: MB.
