The Candle Thieves – London 93 Ft East

The Candle Thieves

I’m not going to open with the old “everyone tries too hard these days” adage, swiftly followed up by the “it’s so awesome to see a band just focus on the tunes” axiom. I could also precede a series of “aah, they’re really cute”-type words with “and I really love Merriweather Post Pavilion but y’know…”. I’m not going to patronise The Candle Thieves like that though, as there’s no reason to be so defensive. Neither am I going to say “this is a guilty pleasure” (the worst incarnation of praise), nor “if you like the sterner stuff, then this probably isn’t for you”.

I find self at 93 Ft East tonight watching the Alcopop! Records duo, and their set induces an omni-smile. The sound is one of warmth and fun, of adolescent simplicity and helluva fun songs. They’re a duo dressed in identical black suits, white shirts, black ties and heavy-rimmed glasses, and they throw in a couple of glockenspiels, a harmonica, a bubble-machine and a drum for jokes. And we hear word that someone’s here from Germany to see them. Holy…

Sitting close to The Boy Least Likely To in their tweeness, The Candle Thieves’ stage set involves a cuddly bear attached to a mic stand and a blow-up shark. And they come on to the theme from Jaws. Their songs are deftly constructed pop gems, with perfect peaks like an ostentatious piano slide and spot-on audience interaction. ‘The Sunshine Song’ is like The Voluntary Butler Scheme without the annoying affectations, and ‘Sharks And Bears’ is pretty stark in its simplicity: “sometimes I dream of sharks/sometimes I dream of bears,” ponders The Candle Thieves’ Scott McEwan. The other half of The Candle Thieves is called ‘The Glock‘ (or sometimes ‘Glockenshiels‘, from a bit of research), too – it’s a pretty fetching branding exercise.

Never dumbed down through their loveliness, The Candle Thieves’ pop is nonetheless a sugary beast. The songs with the textural changes work exceptionally well, but much of the set is rather lonely – the setlist appears to have too much let up.

I want to love this band; I want to love every band I merely like. The darkness within their seemingly lackadaisical songs is in the lyrics and the charm in the stage set-up, now all they need to do is exaggerate both aspects a tad more and have queues of happy folk surrounding them.

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