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*End Is Forever* Goes To London
Posted:
2/2/04 by *End Is Forever*
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 Travelling several hundred miles just to see a show before heading back again that very same night normally leaves you questioning your sanity to a certain extent. When circumstances conspire to delay your (already hideously overcrowded) train by hour, only on arrival to find King's Cross station less hospitable than your typical Siberian winter, and that your friend can't make the show with you after all, it's highly tempting to bypass the Underground ticket office entirely and head off up Euston Road to the nearest asylum (wherever that may be).
However, having fought off the voices, I bought my tube ticket to Camden Town, unfortunately in itself enough to bring back memories of that hideous Suggs song. At the Camden Underworld, yes, it seems we do get there on the Underground. Something to make those increasingly-infrequent Madness reunions all the more worthwhile.
The Underworld itself is an unexpected pleasure. It's a gorgeous venue, as much reminiscent of a cavernous, comfortable pub as a basement club, and (much to my relief having trekked so far) there's no sign of a Fibbers-style guestlist botch-up on the door. Sure, I might baulk at the price of a pint, but as a stubborn northerner stuck in London I'm fairly sure I'm entitled to object to paying £3.20 for a pint of Carlsberg Export.
First up, the Holiday Plan are something of a disappointment. Despite being on home turf - they're from nearby Islington - there's a distinctly lukewarm reception throughout, with even their proclaimations of delight at their return to the capital falling somewhat flat. The performance is competent enough, and there's clearly plenty of potential on show (although "the new Hundred Reasons" tag is probably a little premature), but the band lack the spark of contemporaries like Yorkshire counterparts thisGIRL. Perhaps The Holiday Plan are the British post-hardcore equivalent of Chelsea playing away at Scarborough - the components are all there, but something still isn't quite right. Yet. Watch this space.
Jackson, meanwhile, aren't so much cutting their teeth on this tour as treading old ground. Side-projects are in fashion, and Foo Fighters guitarist Chris Shiflett manages better than most without ever threatening to break the shackles of mediocrity. Dave Grohl's influence shines more prominently than Shiflett's experience with No Use For A Name and punk supergroup Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, but the net effect is that Jackson more often than not appear as a watered-down Foo Fighters - not necessarily a disastrous thing to become, but not an inspiring live spectacle either.
The signs aren't good as headliners Matchbook Romance take to the stage; the crowd is no noticeably larger nor seemingly more interested than for either Jackson or the Holiday Plan before them. However, it takes only a few bars of opener "My Eyes Burn" to realise that this New York quartet aren't in the same division as their support acts. The band's combination of emotionally-driven melodies together with equal helpings of punk and post-hardcore might be exactly the sort of music that the most pretentious of us love to hate, but it undoubtedly resonates with an audience who quickly shift from indifference to transfixion, alongside a sizeable minority happy to yell along with every word. Too many will dismiss bands like Matchbook Romance as pseudo-cheese or (worse) immature, but there's an empathy here few can match, reaching a height when vocalist Andrew Jordan slows things down for delightful ballad "Tiger Lily". It's a sublime performance, and it would take a cold heart not to leave satisfied, even after a set that was perhaps a couple of songs on the light side.
Now I just need to find a band that empathises with an hour-long wait on a freezing cold Leeds train station at 2am...
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