FrazerKing

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Last Updated: 24 Apr 2008
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Average Rating: 8.93


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Shamefully heres a review of a gig from manchestermusic.co.uk:
Just as some of Britain’s major cities have associated sounds, so, too, do parts of Manchester. From Failsworth’s dark atmospherics to Chorlton’s nu-folkers, Tameside punks to Levenshulme Irish. Wythenshawe? Um, pass. (Well, I know Billy Duffy from The Cult went to school there cos my dad taught him chemistry - true - but other than that?) Out of the south side’s least glamorous suburb come Frazer King - a band, not a bloke. Six strong, and they’ve brought quite a crowd with them. Joe’s is the latest incarnation of that bar at the Piccadilly end of Oldham Street - drifters’ favourite The Merchants back in the day, it’s been a succession of chromey things the past few years, none of which have lasted more than about ten minutes. And tonight it’s absolutely rammed. Like early Courteeners gigs, packed with a buzzing crowd that straddle the line between mates and fans, built up via their own underground club night, the wonderfully named Let’s Battle Bohemia. Only this is no commercially savvy indie rock. It’s... well, how often do you see a new band and just stand there wondering exactly what the hell they’ve been listening to?
"This is a new one, a slow one, so you can go to the toilet if you like" are the opening words from lead singer Nathan McIlroy, sporting a faintly impressive black eye (if you’re impressed by that sort of thing). One of four voices - his, rough gritty soul to Jack Mahoney’s deep dirty blues with backing from drummer Jack Hardiker and co-frontman Tony Boardman; close harmonies making up some unclassifiable mixture of soul, barbershop, blues and folk. And after that, they turn up the pace. There’s energetic skiffle rattle, strange indie folk reminiscent of lost oddities Alfie, shades of English post-Beatles psychedelia, one tune that accelerates Eastern European style into a stamp-along frenzy. There is so much going on here it defies belief that they’re in any way coherent - and yet they are, brilliantly so, existing in some parallel universe genre all of their own making. Mahoney’s deep growl leads into the last song with stark Leadbelly blues, and then they’re speeding up again, building through Northern soul into an upbeat Motown-flavoured climax. It’s fantastic - hasn’t actually got a title yet, apparently. The crowd - every bit as eclectic as the music - want more, but that’s our lot, it seems. The bloke next to me tells me he’s come 300 miles to be here. He might be on the wind-up. He might not. There’s something strangely addictive about them. Remember the name - this is one of the most exciting new bands I’ve seen in a while.





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