The Soft Pack

Lexington,

London

20/02/09

 

The Soft Pack probably have AWESOME record collections. It’s easy to tut-tut at lazy journos who simply namecheck a band’s influences, but sometimes it really is impossible to ignore the all-too-obvious.

Let’s make this simple – they say a picture paints a thousand words. The Soft Pack sound like the cover of Marquee Moon. They sound like the cover of Blank Generation. And let’s face it, they sound like a photo of The Strokes.

We’re talking stripped-down garage, catchy new wave, scratchy post-punk, yawn… But here’s the thing – they’re good. Really good.

Charmingly listless when ambling onstage, the worry at first is whether the band’s energy levels will see them through a whole set without a little lie-down – but from the very first note they’re totally wired, a controlled explosion of clattering drums (courtesy of tubthumper Brian Hill) and striking lead guitar lines (thanks to Matty McLoughlin). Just as remarkable are Mat Lamkin’s nonchalant Jonathan Richman-style vocals, which by the end of closing motorik epic ‘Parasite’s have developed into a furious yodel.

Sonically the band are timeless NYC cool, but onstage their down-to-earth nature places them a comfortable distance from their oh-so-trendy forebears – baggy casualwear is favoured rather than skinny jeans, goofy chitchat tumbles forth where a standoffish silence is expected, and sensible haircuts and receding hairlines take the place of fashionable moptops.

Clearly, this is a band for whom the music is absolutely everything – and thankfully the music is often thrilling. Though at times obviously indebted to the past, The Soft Pack are well on the way to finding their own voice, and there’s genuine potential for hugeness, in terms of importance and influence as well as commercial success. The upcoming tour with Franz Ferdinand will no doubt expand their already-snowballing fanbase, so watch this space.

Ian Atherton