The Pastels/1990s
King Tuts Wah Wah Hut, Glasgow
27/11/09

Jackie McKeown, 1990s’ eternally youthful frontman can boast nearly twenty years’ involvement in Glasgow’s music scene, having spent much of his career playing alongside future members of Franz Ferdinand in The Yummy Fur. Since teaming up with drummer Michael McGaughrin on his current project, he has shared stages with Teenage Fanclub’s Norman Blake and stepped into the recording studio with Bernard Butler. In spite of his ties to some of Scottish indie-pop’s most successful and enduring exports, not to mention his dalliance with a hit-making producer, McKeown and his band are yet to make a real impression on the public consciousness. Placing 1990s below local legends The Pastels, on a bill optimistically marketed as part of Scotland’s recent ‘Homecoming’ celebrations, therefore, seems a move intended to cement the group’s profile within the region’s musical lineage.

Arriving onstage to a series of false starts, the trio exude a rare charm and star quality. McKeown is energy personified, while McGaughrin’s drumming conveys a loose limbed, grimacing eccentricity. Newest member Dino Bardot, meanwhile, plays the part of the pouting bass player to a tee. The group’s set is, initially, wonderfully joyous, their best material coming on like the perfect, unlikely fusion of Orange Juice and Weezer. While their unrelenting riffs and reliance on “na na nah” choruses and bridges begin to grate over time, there’s no denying the band’s mastery of a chosen formula. There still exists enormous potential in 1990s, however, the tracks on which McGaughrin takes lead vocals suggesting an increasingly collaborative and diverse approach to their songwriting.

No strangers to diversity, The Pastels introduce themselves with the wistful, atmospheric groove of ‘Charlie’s Theme’ before Katrina Mitchell takes lead vocals on the unreleased ‘Secret Music’. ‘Boats’ and ‘Vivid Youth’ from the group’s recent record with Tenniscoats are delicate gems, while ‘Basement Scam’ proves the group capable of evoking the sound of their early records, awkward feedback-tinted melodies housing Stephen Pastel’s laconic vocals. By no means a prolific songwriter, Stephen has built a reputation on the consistency of his output, as much as on the pedigree of his collaborators. Indeed, there is a subtle delicacy in even the group’s most unrestrained numbers, which are performed towards the end of the set, ‘Baby Honey’, in particular, receiving an enthusiastic welcome from a crowd comprising of many long-term devotees. An unassumingly brilliant institution, The Pastels exist as the past, present and future of Scottish indie, rarely the same, yet always fully realised, their spirit is an inspiration to all the bands who strive for true artistic independence.

Lewis Porteous