an evening with THE rakes

“An evening with The Rakes” is a misleading title: this is essentially a gig across two rooms with The Rakes headlining. And judging by the testosterone pumping, mod-clientele reflects that pretty much everyone is here for the Rakes and not much else. In fact anyone that isn’t here for the band has little chance of catching much else anyway, as the shoddy organisation neglects to display any running times - or even schedule the bands so they don’t clash. The second gripe, besides paying a pound for a wristband to join a queue to smoke outside, is that the Rakes didn’t pull a few bigger strings than they did. The line-up seemed to be there to fill up drinking time for all the fans while they waited for the finale. Meanwhile, the only bands that weren’t intrinsically laddish were all female line-ups for the lads to ogle. There should have been a sign on the door to this venue that said ‘GIRLS BEWARE! ENTER AT YOUR OWN PERIL!’ with a by-line of ‘as you are in danger of being leered at and have beer thrown over you for an entire evening.’There were however, some gems among the mediocrity. IPSO FACTO were the first of these. They’re essentially the Goth girls from the Boosh, set to hellishly catchy music. All pouts and ghoulish faces, they show a lot of promise that went unnoticed by this lacklustre crowd - who are only intent on getting boozed up and jumping on their mates backs. Their matching bobs are much more than a Horrors-esque revivalism of dark garage-pop: I bet they’d cast a spell on any vagrant who tried to throw beer on them. If this sombre crowd needed slapping round the faces with a dose of decent music THE GHOST FREQUENCY were the ideal band to do it. With their Brylcreamed quiffs and a sound of synth-saturated electro-pop, they are the only band tonight that don’t conform to the beer-swilling, laddish backdrop. The group insist that you stop in your tracks and listen - something this crowd seem reluctant to do. They continue along a discourse started by Test Icicles, fusing metal and dance like their best friends - and are the highlight of the evening. Time for third gripe: due to the lack of announcement of the ‘special guests’ teamed with aforementioned oversight of producing running times I missed GOOD SHOES- bar the last two songs of their set. Argh! Can event organisers stop insisting on dangling carrots labelled ‘special guest’ on their promotional fodder, which just makes us think their isn’t one booked yet, and just bloody announce the saving grace to their line-up? Then all these depressed young bands might not be playing to a half empty room. Despite seeing only two songs I’m safe in the knowledge that Good Shoes kicked proverbial ass. My gripes are over, and its time for the hosts themselves to work their magic. Suddenly the room swells to capacity, and it’s angled elbows in the air for the next 25 minutes for THE RAKES. You’ve got to hand it to these fellas - they have produced a legion of fans that know every song within a milli-second of intro and delight in flailing their bodies to the metronome of ‘Strasbourg.’ Their playlist is full of the golden oldies that earned them such dedication in the first place, with a few newbies thrown in for good measure. Let’s just hope they’ve put more effort into their next album than they did into organising this night.