The Cribs live at the Forum, 17th October 2007

The Cribs + Bobby Conn + Jakobinarina @ The Forum
17^th October 2007

Entering to the glorious lycra-pop of Whitney’s ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’, the Jarmans run off their usual spiel about being “The Cribs frum Wehkfield” and launch into eighty minutes of blistering punk ditties for a crowd who look like they’ve never heard music before, let alone music this good. Though there really are a lot of songs that have that trademark “oh oh oh-oh” bit in it, and though their shows do always culminate in nakedness, stage-diving and human blood, they’re still more rock’n’roll than your band, so shove it. Ryan’s rant at Glastonbury about the “mainstream attitude of most indie bands” would indicate that they’re happy to have a loyal fanbase of mentalists while remaining unknown to the world of London Lite readers. That is, until he wooed Kate Nash. Is the mainstream ready for Wakefield?

The Cribs @ Water Rats, 03/03/2007

The Cribs + Comanechi @ Water Rats, King's Cross
3^rd March 2007

The Water Rats Theatre is a hidden gem in the wastelands of King’s Cross, its tiny back room ‘stage’ providing the perfect location for the Jarman family collective to make their London comeback. The Cribs are supported by a bleeding-ears racket in the shape of fierce girl/boy duo Comanechi, who are one of the finest bands on the roster at White Heat Records. Their set-up most resembles The White Stripes, with Akiko on drums and Simon on a guitar that even Steve Vai might find a little outré, except these kids grew up on Dead Kennedys instead of Lonnie Donegan.

Debuting songs from their upcoming third album, The Cribs rip through a typically blistering set with more joyous sing-along moments than Mary Poppins. The new material is a return to the simpler style of their debut, the neat riffs and chopped guitars revealing the influence of producer Alex Kapranos, who makes an appearance near the bar to nod approvingly. There’s nothing as immediate as ‘Hey Scenesters!’ here, but it’s obvious that the brothers have found their stride as purveyors of finely-crafted sprightly punk ditties. The night finally collapses in a messy stage invasion and drunken bruises, as every Cribs must.