¡FORWARD, RUSSIA! + I WAS A CUB SCOUT
Barfly, Brighton
Saturday 27th October, 8:30pm

I really should have reported about this gig earlier. Like, it happened over two weeks ago. (I’ve also forgotten about mentioning that I went to Release The Bats last week as well; now that was a lineup that would give Fred Phelps an erection. An erection of SATANIC RAGE) My first excursion outside the capital since settling in was to see this show; it was no matter that the train cost fucking loads and I went on my sodding self, therefore looking like a bit daft on my own, wandering around the Barfly trying to ignore them playing the Libertines’ greatest hits four times in succession drinking overpriced Carling.

There was an opening band but they were rubbish. Next! I Was A Cub Scout came across as another of those bands that you want to hug better, with their songs about girls mixed with adorable electronics that alude to 16-bit days of yore. In person they only galvanise these feelings to a certain extent, albeit with added hiss from cheap electronics. (as Todd said, “Here’s a tip: never buy from Behringer!”) They possess the ability to put a spring in your step while reminding you that you really do fancy her, don’t you, although the songs never really progress from this, running the risk of weighing the songs down with a vague one-dimensionalism. But still, beyond the two singles (one of which, ‘Pink Squares’, is being re-released in the new year) they do show promise, so keep your ears peeled for that first LP.

¡Forward, Russia! don’t just write about girls. They write songs with words like obsidian and truncation. Oh, and pirates. Well, ‘Seven’ sings about ‘bringing that Jolly Roger on home’, which is kind of… OK, fine. Be like that. ‘Give Me A Wall’ came with a sheet that presented the lyrics as a letter, and it read like a correspondence from a mad scientist. The fact that these words and matched with music that makes you want to dance and twist and flail in such ways that you’d make yourself go pop only made them one of my favourite bands, and indeed the best band to come out of Leeds in 2006.

They’ve been locked away in Seattle spending the money they made from twelve year olds buying Pigeon Detective LPs (them being the other big band on Whiskas’ label dance_to_the_radio) and the first fruits of their time there was ‘Don’t Be A Doctor’, ten inches and seven minutes of twistey turney delight. Good thing the live rendition armed it with twenty cases of CAPSLOCK AND PUNCTUATED ZEAL. And from there was the foundation for the rest of the performance: there wasn’t a moment when Tom wasn’t throwing himself or his microphone at every square inch of stage, or a moment where Katie or Whiskas or Rob weren’t fuelling the fire with tunes that are best visuallised with angry scribbles.

They couldn’t really be much else with the songs that they have in their faux Cyrillic arsenal: ‘Fifteen (Part 2)’, a fiery motherfucker of a track; ‘Nine’, a masterclass in using repetition to your advantage; ‘Twelve’, the original hit single that was played at qradruple speed. New tracks including ‘We Are Grey Matter’ continue this, pairing structure and mathematical arrangements with fits of jubilance and fury. Very possibly one of my favourite bands playing very possibly one of my favourite gigs in a while, then? Let’s just say they’re very much still intact - the audio equivalent of a massive exclamation mark.

Oh, and Katie was wearing a Meneguar shirt, so I guess ten extra points for her.

roman david