84. Drenge

Rough Trade East

8 April 2015

Back in the familiar glow of Rough Trade East, squeezed between the CD racks and a stack of Funko Pops, I found myself watching two earnest lads from Sheffield attempt to wring magic from a barely elevated stage riser and a barely-there audience.

This was the promo set for their second album, a record that, according to the indie music press, was apparently so transcendent it could only be described in the same reverent tones that they usually reserved for sustainable coffee blends and obscure Japanese sponge cakes.

They had one track “We Can Do What We Want” a punchy little post-grunge number that hinted at bigger things. Big hooks, swaggering riffs, the kind of chorus that came packed with promise. But alas, that promise withered under the strip lighting and the smell of shrink-wrapped vinyl of a record store. There’s only so much rock 'n' roll rebellion you can summon while standing next to a cardboard cut-out of Snoop Dog.

The rest of the set was, well... fine. “Running Wild” gave the briefest flicker of excitement, less like a defibrillator jolt and more like a static charge on a handrail, but it wasn’t enough. The rest felt like they had heard “Nevermind” a little too much. Garage rock in tone, spirit and, regrettably, ambition.

That said, they were polite, Northern, and seemingly thrilled to be there. They signed my record with the wide-eyed gratitude of lads who still can’t believe they’re not stacking shelves. That record now sits on my shelf: unplayed, pristine, a sort of musical souvenir from a night that nearly, but not quite, got interesting.