SIX BY SEVEN - Rock City (live) Posted by claire on Friday, April 19, 2002 Taking to a stage dressed up as Bill Oddey’s dream holiday destination, amps scattered with conifer branches, camouflage and a stuffed heron (although being a keen twitcher, I’m sure the former Goonie would prefer his heron un-stuffed and alive), you bestow credit on BRITISH SEA POWER immediately for effort, and conclude that if they’re rubbish then at least they can cover for Lawrence Llewelyn-Bowen if he gets a cold during Changing Rooms. Taking to the stage however, the comparisons to the nations favourite dandy home wrecker end. The jagged guitar during latest single ‘The Spirit Of St Louis’ tips it’s hat towards Joy Division, an effect matched by the manic stare of singer Yan (surnames only – how military), a glaze covering his eyes creating an effect half of someone forgetting who he was, where he was or why he was there, and half someone who’s just caught you in bed with his wife, and now he’s going to kill you. For all their staring and bizarre bass playing baboon style leaping, British Sea Power are however like someone telling a really funny joke, but then forgetting the punch line. When they remember that punch line though, we’ll see the sparks fly. As the Basement billows with expectant punters clambering for a glimpse of their hometown heroes, the shadowy figure of Forest Fields’ favourites SIX BY SEVEN stride onto the stage, and without so much as a ‘Good evening Nottingham!’, cruise into the spellbinding ‘Another Love Song’, droning guitar chords, churning bass and gravitational keyboards swelling more than the bulge in a teenage boys trousers upon the glimpse of a ladies thigh. With Sam Hempton gone, Chris Olley has the freedom to menacingly prowl the stage, whilst the sound is raw and direct, ‘Candlelight’ gnawing the senses like coarse sandpaper, but with all the moisturising effect of any number of hand crèmes, if you will. For their lack of sloganeering and vacant black outfits, you’d think Six By Seven could easily drift from the memory, but how wrong could this be when they are so strangely like nothing else. Olley, ducking under lighting rigging scrapping with his workhorse Rickenbacker, is a unique front man both visually and sonically. Whilst his bedraggled hair and dishevelled appearance are unlikely to win him many features on the pages of a fashion magazine, his vehement intensity during ‘Speed Is In, Speed Is Out’ and the call to arms of “I never promised you shit!” to open ‘Flypaper For Freaks’, is ferocious. The subtle pop brilliance of ‘I.O.U.Love’ and ‘American Beer’ showcase passion in their work many bands would choke on, before an encore of ‘So Close’ brutally pulls the heartstrings and a gifted outing for ‘European Me’ elevates the band to icons for the night, Olley doubled over his guitar ripping at the strings dragging out screams of frequencies whilst bassist Paul Douglas is so far near the front of the stage rocking back and forth with his eloquent groove, if he took a couple more steps he’d be at the bar. If you see the band around, you owe it to them to approach them, and whilst maybe not sing the Abba classic, thank them for the music, the songs they’re singing. Andy Robbins