Formed by erstwhile ex-[a]Vaselines[/a] guitarist [B]Frances McKee[/B], this Glasgow-based seven-piece aim to straddle the same pastoral folk/rock'n'roll divide as [a]Belle & Sebastian[/a]...
Enid Blyton would be proud. Before us, a snuggle of cardigan-clad girls and bashful boys toy with their instruments. They look like a folked-up Secret Seven – all sensible footwear and eager-beaver beatitude. This, y’see, is [a]Suckle[/a]; a band untainted by the vagaries of fashion and time. And tonight, all they want to do is baroque.
Formed by erstwhile ex-Vaselines guitarist Frances McKee, this Glasgow-based seven-piece aim to straddle the same pastoral folk/rock’n’roll divide as Belle & Sebastian. A noble mission, indeed. But worryingly, Suckle are also suckers for Radio 4-style, Celtic-flavoured whimsy. They seem to like Clannad just a little too much.
Hence, we get ‘How Do You Know’ – a song that sounds like Enya in a tartan snood. And ‘Father’s Milk’ – a didgeridoo-enhanced whisper so insubstantial you could serve it on a stick and call it candyfloss.
In fact, it’s only on the yearning ‘Saturn’, where singer Marie (Frances‘ kid sister) yelps like a homesick orphan, that these recent Chemikal Underground signees trade their earnest self-absorption for a more involving sound. Sure, they have a childlike honesty that sees them just about skirt the ‘twee’ tag. But for now, we’ll just have to file under ‘uneasy listening’.