The So So Glos
The Flowerpot, London
22/11/2009

“This town might have a lot of history, but you’ve forgotten how to fucking clap,” spits singer Alex Leveine – the problem with being on tour is that days roll into one; nights roll into days and Sundays don’t mean anything any more. Brooklyn’s The So So Glos might be at the end of a five day spell in the capital, but they’ve clearly not learned the lacklustre way of London crowds. It’s a Sunday night, and The Flowerpot crowd is resolutely standing its ground at the back of the venue. But where some bands would shrink into the shadows, Leveine is determined to kickstart the night into action, leaping headfirst into the brilliantly chaotic scuzzy drawl of ‘My Block’ while bouncing recklessly across the stage.

And while they may be at home screeching at riotous Brooklyn crowds, a spell in London could be seen as something of a homecoming for The So So Glos - they clearly owe as much to Joe Strummer and The Clash as they do to any New York upbringing. There’s certainly no lack of conviction, either. Leveine screws his face and attacks the mic during ‘Execution’, and ‘Throw Your Hands Up’ is dispatched with bucketloads of angst as his brother, guitarist Ryan Leveine becomes embroiled in a one-man-scrap with an on-stage lamp shade.

Perhaps, in their struggle to turn heads away from the bar, The So So Glos could be accused of eschewing their quiet moments in favour of a full-on punk onslaught. It’s an assault on the senses, for sure, but at times the gentler moments of ace debut album ‘Tourism/Terrorism’ are lost in the melee. The Flowerpot doesn’t mind, though, as freshly pricked ears slowly shuffle towards the stage. And guess what? By the time The So So Glos stumble offstage, it seems London learned how to clap. History AND clapping? Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Yankees.

Matt Glass