I’ll keep this brief for fear that this blog becomes a Rumble Strips pimping ground, but suffice to say The Rumbles were on form again.
Having previously raved about their support slot with The Young Knives (here), I’ve been pushing their wares onto unsuspecting friends and work colleagues ever since. When asked what this band I’m urging the immediate purchase of sound like… I’ve usually said something along the lines of “well its sort of Dexys Midnight Runners ish”.
Now while I mean this as the highest of compliments, the reaction of 90% of people I say this to is similar to someone who’s just been enjoying a fine serving of bangers and mash, but is then informed that the family dog licked their plate while they were out of the room, and whats more we think we saw it licking its balls just before that! Bluntly the Dexy’s comparison is not doing them any favours…so I think they need a new “they sound like” band so I can continue my lazy pigeon holing without putting people off.

Rumble Strips main-man Charlie Waller seems to get most of the press, and the adoration (and its deserved he has an amazing voice), but they wouldn’t be half as good as they undoubtedly are without the backing of the two men with horns behind him (stop sniggering at the back). Henry Clark (Trumpet) and Thomas Gorbutt (sax) provide the perfect Northern Soul backing for Charlies voice to soar over.

Go see the Rumble Strips live, buy the single, and count the days till the album.

Download: MP3 of Motorcycle the other side of the No Soul AA single visit here
Video stream: Motorcycle

Support act The Bishops were certainly entertaining, although to be honest the songs didn’t stick with me after the gig, but to be fair taking pics at a gig can detract from actually hearing the music. That aside I’ll have whatever the lead singer is on as he bounds around stage like Angus Young going to a Beatles fancy dress party.
At one point he leapt down from the stage in full axe man mode, startling a man who’d come straight from the set of the new BBC series “Life On Mars” so much he spilt his Brut 77 all over himself. As Drowned in Sound put it theyre well worth catching live:

“either they’ve spiked the Guinness with a particularly clever batch of psychedelics, or I actually am watching two George Harrison’s, dressed in nascent Beatle-suits, shaking their melons and playing fired-up Everly Brothers tunes.”

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