December 1, 1999
London Highbury Upstairs At The Garage
For one thing, they're missing the affecting mix of influences that make [a]I Am Kloot[/a] much more than just another band who know the power of silence...
Sssh. You may need to listen closely, but you'll find something special if you do. There's nothing much to see, certainly, just two blokes perched on chairs in semi-darkness, eerily spotlit from below, in front of a drummer whose face barely emerges above his cymbals. But the pleasure is all in the listening.
Starting with similar roots to Shack, the terribly named Mancunians, I Am Kloot, take things slowly and gently. They're not about to ram their presence down anyone's throat and won't even rise to the bait of the irritating chattering hordes gathered at the back, knowing it's their loss.
For one thing, they're missing the affecting mix of influences that make I Am Kloot much more than just another band who know the power of silence. Indeed, despite being together for less than a year (incredibly, this is their London debut), I Am Kloot already write songs verging on classics.
Frontman Johnny Bramwell crams into each song the sort of prosaic lyrics normally expected from Morrissey, but couples them unexpectedly with soft jazz rhythms ('Sunlight Hits The Snow') and dramatically plaintive Burt Bacharach-inspired melodies ('Storm Warning'). "This is kind of lovely really," Johnny murmurs wistfully at one point. And he's not wrong.
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