The Pains of Being Pure At Heart, London Cargo

The Pains of Being Pure At Heart

June 10th 2009

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart judge live success on the number of people that mosh during their set. One can only imagine that this surely leads to continual disappointment for the twee poppers, and proves to be (when it does sporadically occur) down right aggravating to those who are quite happy to simply nod their heads enthusiastically or gaze listlessly at the ground.

Currently riding on the wave of positive feedback that’s been encircling their eponymous debut, The Pains of Being Pure at Heart have amassed a mixed bag of indie-types, fully packing out the sweaty cavernous brickwork of Cargo. The audience are primed, a mix of old and young, facial hair trimmed, flannel shirts ironed and geek glasses all over (this muso’s are prescription at least!).

There are two support bands. The first, Tender Trap, I miss, due to my own fruitless attempts to secure an interview for you lovely people. Alas, the band was too tired: however they seem to have given interviews to practically everyone else! I’m really not bitter. The second support act were Shrag. A punky, poppy type band fronted by a shouty girl. They’re good, but no one goes to gigs for support bands, so let’s get onto the main act.

The band kicks off without much hesitation. It’s a lacklustre beginning, for my part, owing to the fact that I don’t know what the song is, and the crowd remains in London-crowd mode (unresponsive). The second number, ‘This Love is Fucking Right’ creates more of a commotion, and the band soon get into full swing. Tonight they’re a 5 piece, and the utilisation of a second guitarist works in recreating the lush tones of the album to full effect. Their songs sit well in a live environment, short enough to remain compelling, and rarely losing little by way of audio quality.

There’s barely time for a breath between songs, and the band plough through their punkier numbers. ‘Come Saturday’ finds drums pounding, harmonies angelic and distortion soaked. The Smithsesque, ‘Everything With You’ stirs the audience to near frenzy, the shimmering and delightfully joyous guitar rising to a sustain before Kip breaks back into a verse. Guitars remain treble-jangly where necessary, yet the fuzzy distortion retaining a vague drone that makes you realise where the C86 comparisons are based. Kip’s vocals are clean, crisp. ‘The Tenure Itch’ demonstrates that the band can keep the audience captivated and play proficiently when the songs don’t allow for a mosh. The slower ‘Gentle Sons’ has the audience gazing in delight.

Throughout, keyboardist Peggy shucks and bobs, her hair falling over her face, she’s the most animated of the bunch. This, by no means, demonstrating a miserable band, the rest of TPOBPAH smile briefly in the short duration between songs with the odd snippet of small talk and “thank you”.

There’s an encore in which we’re treated to a new number. Silence, massive applause and then the crowd slowly departs, all sweat and smiles. The long journey I face on the bus is superfluous; I’m smiling like a loon.

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