Imagine if Mark E Smith and Morrissey fronted Big Black, produced by Phil Spector.  

It’s more like The Great Escape in reverse. Against all odds, I am trying to get to the building they used to film Crackerjack in, on a sub-zero night in November. Tubes grind to a halt in the centre, buses get snarled in traffic jams, trains get cancelled, delayed,or put out of service at a moments notice – and thus, it takes two hours to get to The Land That God (and The Underground) Forgot – Shepards Bush.

Imagine if Nirvana had taken out all the pop and just kept the grating edges. And sung with a Yorkshire accent.

Yep, it’s The Wedding Present again. Under a wall of spiky, atonal noise that hides songwriting of varying quality, these four musical workers pound out a uniform slew of almost bland, lyrically limited songs that alternately thrills, nostalge, remind and infuriate. To a hall of indie-Mum’s and 80’s-NME- reading-Dad’s, The Wedding Present are just another gig on the reformation trail. After all, these days, it’s more common for bands to reform than stay split up. Of the former Indie stars of the 80’s, only The Smiths refuse the lure of the filthy lucre.

Once hailed as The Smiths Fans Second Favourite Band, a reformed The Wedding Present are really no such thing : comprising of the same members as Gedge’s other band (the now defunct Cinerama), The Weddoes haven’t ‘reformed’ as much as Cinerama have been rebranded. In some respects, it’s akin to watching the world’s definitive Wedding Present tribute band – in others, it’s more akin to buying tickets for Bowie and getting Tin Machine. A cynical exploitation of an established name to give a new band a chance to trade on old glories.

Spiritually and sonically it’s The Wedding Present, and that’s probably what rises this above the cycnicism. From the opening “Corduroy” to the final Radio-Wall-Of-Sludge “Heather” (taken from the superlative “Seamonsters”, one of the best breakup albums ever), and a ream of generally obscure songs, The Weddoes ditch the fan pleasing Greatest Hits cliché in favour of a selection of songs from all eras, including a couple of Cinerama numbers. Which is like going to see The Velvet Underground and getting a Lou Reed b-side. Even “Interstate 5”, the epic leadoff single from the recent “Take Fountain” is ditched in favour of twenty year old b-sides.

In the meantime, enthusiastic Daniel Cleave and his musical leader Gedge, buzzsaw away on all manner of effects pedals like a broken record with RSI. A whirlwind of sound – like Fisher Price Lego Indie Metal – is unleashed, between almost comically twee interludes. “Loveslave”, for example, is not an exceptional song, but veers between bland and bitter with equal aplomb. Lyrically Gedge’s limited subject matter - A typical song would probably be called “You, Me And Him” – sometimes grates, as does the occasionally limited sonic palette of Quiet/Loud/Grunt/Drums/Guitars/ Guitars/Guitars/Guitars, but overall it doesn’t sound like the work of a somewhat effete 40something. Especially on the twee, older songs.

Overall, it left some of the crowd feeling cold – standing on balconies shaking their expanding waistlines to “Brassneck”, “Nobody’s Twisting Your Arm”, and the new instant-classic “I’m From Further North Than You”, alongside a ream of other almost forgotten time capsules, before patiently waiting for the new songs and old album tracks to come to a close – and was an uneven experience where moshpits would burst into sporadic life before suddenly disappearing.

By most standards, an uneven night of sporadic highs and indifferently received obscurities. You don’t have to see them. Nobody’s twisting your arm.

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