January have been unplugged before their time. Maybe they didn't pay the bill, but more likely they're taking themselves far too seriously to entertain notions of - urgh - electricity.
Having initially set fire to north London with three incendiary electric shows last year, they dodged labels' offers of deals, lost their drummer and then decided to go all chamber-lite on us. Shame, they were a pretty good rock band.
Fittingly for a band who started out a little like The Verve but rapidly became Whistler, it's all a bit thoughtful, clammy and 30-something in here tonight. A fondness for Nick Drake and Dead Jeff are all very well, but it's only 'All Time' that has enough peaks and troughs to belong alongside their heroes. During songs like 'Eyes All Mine', it simply feels like they're painting their fingernails while Rome burns.
You see, this is not a time to be timid. Recently General Gillespie of the Primals ranted about the difference between workmen and magicians. January might not be Stereophonic brickies, but they are a bit interior design for the soul: ordered, studied and little too neat.
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