March 16, 2000

London Camden Monarch

If their album suffers from too much dopey waffle, at least tonight they know when to stop, leaving us more intrigued than satiated...

It's a 24-minute Technicolor dream, an eternal 'Revolver'-sized fade-out, a daisy-ringed acid-flash groove machine, maaan... Or so Orange Can wish.

Signed to Regal, home of The Beta Band, and thus seen as the first in a hoped-for new wave of freestyling sonic adventurers, Orange Can no doubt think they make a beautifully eclectic racket. In fact, they set the controls for the heart of the not-unpleasant-though-slightly-dubious prog rock asteroid, and doodle in the style of the Floyd just after they'd kicked out Syd.

Their short set is one continuous, pulsating voyage through train noises and ambient guitar flickers, stumbling La's-esque drums and Jason Aslett's vaguely seen-it-all, off-kilter Mick Head inflections. It's difficult to tell, in this miasma of sodden psychedelia, whether any of these half-grooves are lifted off Orange Can's debut album 'Entrance High Rise'. It's possible to make out snatches of the meandering title track and the pretty excellent 'Young Man' and 'Wheels Rolling', a bit of 'Monkeys' even, and for the most part the Aslett brothers and their conspirators crash down some risky but often exhilarating space-pop avenues.

If their album suffers from too much dopey waffle, at least tonight they know when to stop, leaving us more intrigued than satiated. But with Primal Scream currently urging us to 'Kill All Hippies', Orange Can's timing does seem strangely off.