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New York CBGBs

In a city of big smells, it seems Seafood are one of the most pungent.

It's 8.15pm and NME is on the street, in a long queue. The band everyone is here to see is onstage. The ever-entertaining CMJ guide decides the group in question are like "a cross between Nick Drake and Neutral Milk Hotel". The man behind NME raises an eyebrow at the thermonuclear racket emanating from CBs' hallowed quarters. "Man, I ain't never heard Nick Drake or Neutral Milk Hotel rock like that before..." In a city of big smells, it seems Seafood are one of the most pungent.





That's Seafood, the band from over here who sound a fair bit like a fair few bands from over there, discovering that over there thinks they're pretty dandy, thanks. And it seems extensive recent international campaigns in Japan and now this debut US tour has filled the 'Food's erstwhile scrawny veins with something molten and scary. By the time we actually wangle our way past security, there's only room for two songs: 'Cloaking', an ugly big new emo groove so rife it causes subway trains to divert via Queens, and then David Line and Kevin Hendricks make an auto-destructive feast of 'Folksong Crisis'. Two songs, too much. Amazing how fast kids grow these days.





Keith Cameron

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