Ten years ago you could chuck a plaid shirt down the stairs of the
Camden Underworld and start a scrum ten deep of Deathcab for Cuties: youngish, reedy-voiced indie men too bookish for grunge but too gnarly to duet with Kirsty MacColl, ah, Sub Pop used to grow them in illegal emo farms in the basement.
These days, though, DFC are a rarer breed and a fine vintage; songs about absentee fathers, Coney Island rollercoasters at midnight and this, a bizarrely endearing concoction of the drumming off Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Dancing In The Dark’, Red House Painter guitar twongles and a chorus that goes "I love you Guenivere" like Sir Galahad is suddenly singing with Superchunk. Sure beats felling pinewood for a living.
Mark Beaumont
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