It seems like every passing year brings with it another set of rising indie upstarts.
Let’s not pretend that you don’t know the type – in fact, you’re probably thinking of one right now. Clad exclusively in black skinny jeans and tight leather jackets, their frontman exudes an air of vulnerability that seems at odds with his public-school-instilled sense of self-worth; their lead guitarist arrives armed with the kind of moody scowl that sent shivers down the spine of many a middle-class mother when ‘the likes of him’ arrived at their front door with their daughter’s hand in his.
You’d be forgiven for thinking that Sea Girls are one of those bands.
After all, the London-via-Leicester (and a few other places) four-piece have been effectively ubiquitous across both the dedicated music press and the tabloids’ culture sections since the release of their first major-label single, Damage Done, back in May. The likes of NME, Q Magazine, and the Metro have ‘championed’ them, and they’ve played a host of highly hyped headline and festival slots across the length and breadth of Europe over the last few months.
So, naturally, you’re probably assuming that they’re A Bit Shit.
Well, we hate to break it to you, dear reader, but you’re probably going to have to reconsider that. In fact, if you’re a #hater of precisely the kind of Indie Bullshit that we outlined above – and, let’s face it, why wouldn’t you be? – then there’s a very good chance that what we’re about to say is going to be nothing short of music to your preemptively offended ears.
Sea Girls aren’t shit.
In fact, they’re the opposite of shit: they’re bloody brilliant.
We went to see them at Bristol’s The Fleece and were pleasantly surprised by just how many certifiable indie disco bangers they’ve managed to accrue in a relatively short space of time. The likes of Call Me Out, Open Up Your Head, and All I Want To Hear You Say aren’t just solid indie-rock songs; they’re radio-ready anthems. Throw in a lead singer who seems intent on making every inch of the venue – including the bar – part of his stage, and we think you’ve got the makings of some future superstars.
In a performance sense, they were as tight as any live band we’ve seen for many a moon – the rhythm section, in particular, deserves applause. Yet, despite that, it’s the one-two of frontman Henry Camamile and primary axeslinger Rory Young that catch the eye. Camamile toed the line between every-man indie kid and slightly aloof Rock Star™ with the finesse of a master, while Young appeared to consider every moment that he wasn’t dashing, skipping, and/or scissor kicking across the stage as a moment sadly wasted.
So, let’s face it: we’re all guilty of judging a book by its cover every once in a while.
Sometimes, these judgements are warranted. The band of forty-something no-hopers that take up stubborn residence in your local boozer every Thursday evening, for instance, are unlikely to ever realise their loudly discussed end goal of ‘bRinGiNg baCK rEal mUSic’. The hopeless DJ from your local dive club, too, is fairly unlikely to ever justify his repeated assertions that he ‘could’ve been the next Calvin Harris, but wanted to keep it real‘.
With Sea Girls, however, you may want to rethink your initial judgements. They are not, in fact, a destined-to-be-forgotten band of indie write-offs; neither, in fact, are they likely to release a debut album that favours sleekness and style over substance.
Instead, when their inevitable debut long-player does arrive, we expect it to be jam packed full of precisely the kind of effortless indie-rock bangers that they exhibited so finely on this chilly night in Bristol; and we, for one, cannot wait.
