Lunch time gigs are something I’ve very rarely experienced, but if there is one thing I know about them it’s that unless the band are more than captivating you’ll find your mind will drift off into thoughts about sandwiches. I will therefore remember Cut Off Your Hands as being more entertaining than lunch; quite an accolade I think.
Kate and myself arrived at puregroove to find a nice little turn out for a daytime gig. Cut Off Your Hands are not the most known of bands, and I couldn’t help but think how almost criminal this is. What they may lack in originality, they make up for by simply offering perfectionist pop punk that rivals The Cribs.
Their hyperactive stage presents could strike some as sickly, they certainly appear to have eaten one too many smarties, bouncing around like children full of E numbers. Being twee always seems to split the crowd, and I’m often left feeling that presenting yourself in such an inoffensive manner isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it just makes creating music that interesting a lot more difficult.
With want of a better expression, they could definitely make a record label a lot of money quite easily. There’s a market for them, and although it’s ever so slightly saturated, they are a lot better than most bands they would sit alongside. Put it this way, if people who love The Pigeon Detectives loved these instead, and there were an awful lot more canvas bags with their faces on, and the number of cd-r’s made by local indie disco djs had their tracks on increased – then I’d find the NME ever so slightly more readable.
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