[a]Cube[/a] aren't interested in layers of irony, depth or subtlety; they prefer glossy, seamless rock anthems, FM guitar solos which elicit winces from veterans of the punk wars...
Who was cruel enough to send these poor young kids into the heart of Manchester on the night of the Man Utd Vs Juventus match? Lambs to the slaughter? Christians to the lions? Have they even got a fighting chance?
Clean-cut, sporting fashionable leisure gear and obviously rather expensive instruments, [a]Cube[/a] certainly look like easy pickings before a cynical audience here to catch their mates, the opening act. But they obviously haven’t reckoned on a band just so god-darned hungry for superstardom that they’ll strut, preen, lay down the power-chord excelsis and just plain ROCK the scattered punters like they were at a packed-to-the-rim Astoria.
Good attitude. This is just the sort of unapologetic behaviour fitting for [a]Cube[/a]’s unmistakably major-label rock. [a]Cube[/a] aren’t interested in layers of irony, depth or subtlety; they prefer glossy, seamless rock anthems, FM guitar solos which elicit winces from veterans of the punk wars, swagger and self-belief which has a pretty good chance of translating to, say, the Live And Kicking masses.
And for the most part, on single ‘Scrounger’ perhaps, it does the trick. It satisfies. When they slow the tempo and play ‘sensitive’, they get caught in the mire of Radiohead B-side-dom. But it is early days, and when the scars of the toilet circuit heal, [a]Cube[/a]’ll be all the stronger for it.