British Birds At Rough Trade West

Over the past few months, tracks by British Birds have consistently made my ears prick up when I've been drawing along to Riley and Coe's show on BBC6.

Despite the tourists taking selfies on the street down to Portobello Road, very little has changed over the years: there are still stalls selling bunches of silver cutlery tied up in bundles, boxing gloves with a stall to themselves,  vintage magazines, old-fashioned china tea-sets, hats, grumpy stall holders and a line of very cheap fruit and vegetable stalls. 

Gentrifying cafés struggle to fight against the waves of tat and the determinedly working class vibe, especially at the Golborne Road end. A splatter of rain began to fall; destination Rough Trade West!

In the shop (I think it's the same people in there too!) Rob and Amelia were there supporting the band as they set up. I bought an vinyl album, which means I'll have to set up the record player again after deconstructing the kitchen and having the floor replaced. It's good to have a reason to do so.

The band set up amongst the racks of records, the punters flowed in (a very large number from Lancashire, home of the band, apparently), and they started with their catchiest two songs. 

Listening to music like this is a perfect change from mediated PA-system gloss. You could have heard a pin drop. The electric guitar, bass and electronic keyboard were very slightly amplified but the vocals weren't at all, so you could hear the care that has gone into the vocal arrangements. It helps that the singers sing perfectly in tune and have exquisite timing. It was just lovely in its apparent informality, but you can only really do something like this if you are very, very good musicians. Hats off to the drummer, who never drowned the sound and who had the light touch of a marching band drummer that I last heard when I was teaching some Nepalese students at UEL (they made the most incredible wonky hip hop, but that's another story).

There was just the right amount of good natured banter too. They charmed the crowd without being twee, and their lyrics had a surprising amount of darkness, which was really appealing: lyrical honesty seems to shore up the positivity we all need so much at present. The opposite should be true, but actually telling it like it is seems to help.

I heard echoes of Orange Juice and even the Beatles, but ultimately I felt that they had created a musical (the time and pitch changes were sometimes quite theatrical) whose songs floated up into the clouds and drifted like a hot air balloon. There was a feathery lightness to the whole show that was utterly unique. 

This is their album: https://britishbirds.bandcamp.com/album/murmurate-oscillate