Edinburgh Liquid Rooms
[B]Nicholas[/B] still bears a smile the size of Seattle, and just as big, bland and wet. At times, it's like watching [B]Philip Schofield[/B] front [B]Saxon[/B]...
The professionalism of it all. The forelock-tugging exactitude accorded to each note. The mathematical reverence shown to every chord. The dogged adherence to grunge's fading blueprint - from the grinding guitars to the relentlessly maudlin lyrics.
Feeder deal with rock like nobody else. They talk in terms of product, career strategies and of paying their dues. They look like garage attendants, but think and plan like business tycoons. Unfortunately, in the rush to create the perfect, marketable rock package, they've left something out. And, initially, it's the grinning that gives them away.
"What a great audience, cheers!" chirrups effervescent Feeder front bloke Grant Nicholas - his face a picture of beaming, if somewhat surprised, beatitude. Indeed, he appears almost comically astonished by the thunderous reception awarded to his songs tonight - a reaction that may well be borne out of a rare humility, but is, as far as rock'n'roll is concerned, hardly the most inspiring of gestures.
You see, Feeder - with their interminably refined enthusiasm and their ever-so-polite trousers - are a tad too nice for this rock lark. Even at their most brutal - the Cro-Magnon machinations of early single, 'Crash' or the Beelzebub-on-a-moped charge of 'Insomnia' - Nicholas still bears a smile the size of Seattle, and just as big, bland and wet. At times, it's like watching Philip Schofield front Saxon.
What's more, their lyrics - such as "No more tears to cry/The river's running dry" from 'Dry'- are self-pitying, fifth-form bilge in excelsis. The sort of thing Gavin Rossdale would snub for being too banal. Only the effortlessly lovely 'Yesterday Went Too Soon' suggests that behind all the storm and bluster, there pulses a genuine pop sensibility. Unfortunately, it's something that we see only rare glimpses of.
They may be genuinely glad to be part of rock's great machinery, but Feeder are a heavy-rock band without gravitas - timid, giggling lambs in grunge disguise. While trying to convince us that they've got grunge down to a well-oiled, highly-polished T, they forgot about spirit, passion and all that makes music exciting. Failing to connect on any level, Feeder prove that professionalism can be disastrous.
Feeder deal with rock like nobody else. They talk in terms of product, career strategies and of paying their dues. They look like garage attendants, but think and plan like business tycoons. Unfortunately, in the rush to create the perfect, marketable rock package, they've left something out. And, initially, it's the grinning that gives them away.
"What a great audience, cheers!" chirrups effervescent Feeder front bloke Grant Nicholas - his face a picture of beaming, if somewhat surprised, beatitude. Indeed, he appears almost comically astonished by the thunderous reception awarded to his songs tonight - a reaction that may well be borne out of a rare humility, but is, as far as rock'n'roll is concerned, hardly the most inspiring of gestures.
You see, Feeder - with their interminably refined enthusiasm and their ever-so-polite trousers - are a tad too nice for this rock lark. Even at their most brutal - the Cro-Magnon machinations of early single, 'Crash' or the Beelzebub-on-a-moped charge of 'Insomnia' - Nicholas still bears a smile the size of Seattle, and just as big, bland and wet. At times, it's like watching Philip Schofield front Saxon.
What's more, their lyrics - such as "No more tears to cry/The river's running dry" from 'Dry'- are self-pitying, fifth-form bilge in excelsis. The sort of thing Gavin Rossdale would snub for being too banal. Only the effortlessly lovely 'Yesterday Went Too Soon' suggests that behind all the storm and bluster, there pulses a genuine pop sensibility. Unfortunately, it's something that we see only rare glimpses of.
They may be genuinely glad to be part of rock's great machinery, but Feeder are a heavy-rock band without gravitas - timid, giggling lambs in grunge disguise. While trying to convince us that they've got grunge down to a well-oiled, highly-polished T, they forgot about spirit, passion and all that makes music exciting. Failing to connect on any level, Feeder prove that professionalism can be disastrous.
Feeder cover Nirvana at Reading Festival
Feeder : Forget About TomorrowNME Alerts
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