Slow Club
The Cooler, Bristol
27/09/2011

Seen that accidental-duet match.com advert on telly? A guy and a girl amid the opacity of a vintage instrument store. Back to back, unawares, they simultaneously strike up a tune of twee simplicity, he on guitar, she on keys. He likes old films. As does she. Like Godfather Three. Erm, ditto. And she doesn’t wear make up at weekends. And – titter titter – he doesn’t wake up at weekends. You got it. Yeah, well, anyway, on their first album, 2009′s ‘Yeah So’,’ the Sheffield beau and belle that is Slow Club embodied that ad’s sentiment, both in tone and style.

On their latest release, ‘Paradise’, however, the duo have pared back, mellowed and matured their nuptial, snugly folk. Nowadays, they’re more solemn, figuring in broken hearts as well as gladdened ones. And tonight, amplified through Bristol’s best, clearest sound system – probably – their grown-up country-lilt experimentalism is totally compelling. Yes, they still flirt with that kiss-me-quick coquettishness from their ‘Yeah So’ period. But now they open up more expansive, brooding spaces. Moreover, they’ve honed their voices, especially Rebecca Taylor, into more expressive, nuanced tools. With hers, Taylor, ever the demure indie siren, strikes lust into hearts. It glides and soars and whirls, and when it dovetails with guitarist Charles Watson’s aching tenor, there’s a disarming, sensual union.

We’re swept away on a set split between tracks from both records. It’s the newer tracks that arouse deeper stirrings. ‘If We’re Still Alive’ marries bobbing, buoyant beats, zipping guitars and Taylor’s creamy vocals. In quieter, reflective moments, as on ‘Never Look Back’, Watson finds grit in his frowning blues chords. And ‘Hackney Marsh’ is pure sullen, a love-struck weepy that wells up with blurting sax. Slow Club‘s losses are our gain.

Jamie Skey