Party: Young Rebel Set
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$8 in advance, $10 day of show | 21 and over
What is going on in Matty Chipchase's head? Is he having a mild panic attack? The sturdy looking frontman of Young Rebel Set, with those startled eyes that somehow stare straight into you - and straight past you at the same time - could be writing a new album for all we know. He does a lot of writing in his own head.
In fact, he's probably mulling over all the things he never says to the people around him. All the imaginary conversations he keeps private, until he confesses them in a song.
"I've not really thought about that before," he says, sounding genuinely surprised. "But maybe the songs are the things I can't say out loud. I'm not a great conversationalist. I used to get scared just walking into a room full of people. Anxiety, I think the doctors call it. But I've always been a closed book. Ask anyone.
"I wrote my first song when I was about 13 when my sister was ill. I suppose I was trying to do something for the family. Something positive. But then I put all my eggs in one basket very early on. It was all about music. And that's why we're still here.
"And on this album, I think we've found our purpose. We're not looking for mega-bucks. We just want to make better and better albums."
Forget what you think you know about Young Rebel Set. For a start they don't smell of whiskey. This is quite surprise in itself. For a band who up till now have unwittingly looked like the sort of group who should (and quite often have) been shrouded in the aroma of Scotch; who've subtly poked fun at their Teeside roots with videos set in dimly-lit pubs and working men's clubs, this is a change in look. One that comes alongside a new album, ‘Crocodile' which has taken their soul-searching sound to another place. It is a record full of dilemmas; haunted by mistakes and apologies. It has a injured bravado but walks with its head held high.
On top of this it has a more expansive and diverse sound, enthralled by new ideas and revelling in a resolve to up their game in the studio. It is also, weirdly enough, quite sober.
"We started out as a group of lads from Stockton having a piss-up and a rave," says Matty. "But when people started taking us seriously, we thought, we better take ourselves seriously. And when we started recording this record, we started thinking ‘We're making something here. Don't know what it is, but we're really making something."
"So," continues guitarist Mark Evans, "we didn't drink in the studio. We went back to the core of the songs. I think originally the band and the songs were two separate things. We were originally this party band, but we were still going on stage singing quite delicate, heartfelt songs. But I think now the songs and the band have come together. Everyone's involved. We're in a more content space."
It has taken a good few years to get here, to this point of musical rehab. Formed in 2008, and informed when they were youngsters by Oasis and The Verve (Matty: "Oasis taught me to pick up a guitar and The Verve taught me how to stand on stage"), they were quickly courted by labels despite only having seven songs.
"We were advised to keep everyone at arm's length," adds Mark. "We got brought back to reality pretty quickly after that."
Despite this, they gigged as often as they could, exploring Europe and finding a stronghold in Germany where they sold out their first ever tour - and released a mini-album compilation of the erratically released singles they'd been punting out in the UK.
Back home, and now under the watchful eye of Ignition Management, they made their first proper LP ‘Curse Our Love', which was released in 2011 and shone some light on their earthy folk-guitar sound. Though recorded in a bedroom, its sparse production gave Chipchase's lyrics centre stage and painted a picture of man, sometimes brow-beaten, but more often than not humbly determined to do the best he can. It's a mindset which has struck a chord with their fans to date.
"You'd be amazed by how many people have come up and talked to us about the songs and said "You've got it in a nutshell," says Matty. "Because you don't realise when you're writing that some people will see these songs as benchmarks in their life."
Ready to progress again, the band wrote a handful of songs for the new record, then discarded them. Then they wrote "about 70 more." In the meantime Chipchase became a father for the first time. "I've had two kids now, so my priorities have changed. It's totally opened my eyes to what I'm doing this for. I want to make this work for everyone involved. No-one wants to be playing in a 200-capacity venue, pretending to be a rock star when you're 50."
Having regrouped, they headed to Glasgow to make the new album with producer Paul Savage. Savage, whose credits include Franz Ferdinand and Arab Strap, had heard the demos and was ready for the band's arrival; picking apart songs, questioning the group's musical logic. Between them they started honing the album down to 11 tracks, taking the songs and helping them to fulfil their potential.
"He broadened our horizons, took the songs back to their roots and gave everyone in the band their own identity," says Matty.
Recorded as a group in one room (as opposed to the individual sessions on the previous LP), they made the album four tracks at a time over the course of several stays in Scotland.
What is clear is that ‘Crocodile', while identifiably a Young Rebel Set record - sign-posted by Chipchase's richly-voiced tell all honesty - is more inquisitive than their past releases. Listen carefully and you can hear everyone from Simon & Garfunkel (on ‘Tuned Transmission'); The Pogues (buried in the wonderful lament that is ‘The Girl From The 51') and even moments of Springsteen, The Animals and Johnny Cash (on the confessional ‘Unforgiven', a song about Chipchase, eschewing his new found parental responsibilities and disappearing "on a three day bender." Mark describes it as their equivalent to the Oasis song ‘Married With Children').
Then there's the ‘60s spy thriller style romp ‘The Lash Of The Whip' and the cocooned moment in time that is ‘Berlin Nights', a brittle snapshot of infidelity.
"I think people will be surprised by some of the songs on this record," says Mark. "Like ‘Girl From The 51" which was a Bob Dylan type of a song to start with, but it was the first one we readdressed with Paul and it turned into a song which is as far away as you can get from the first album. It's much more atmospheric. Everyone's doing different things. It was a proper moment."
Deeper still, this is a type of folk-inspired record which owes more to Richard Ashcroft than it does Mumford & Sons. It is folk with a kind of fallible swagger.
The songs are pitched on a terrifically personal level, to the point where you can see yourself in Chipchase's moments of weakness one minute, and his celebrations the next.
"You ask me why I write...because I haven't got a psychiatrist!" he says. "I think I'm just trying to get all the angst out. But not all the songs are about me. Some are observations of the real world. I just like to write a bloody good tune. And you need eight or nine of them these days!
"Going in with Paul Savage was the biggest learning curve. For me lyrically especially. It was like ‘Stop trying to be what you think you are...just be you. Look at the clichés and look more at what you're talking about.'"
There are songs of salvation and songs of doubt. But overall ‘Crocodile' is a record which has a sense of hope. It's the album where the band have come out fighting with something to prove.
"It's like in the songs, someone always turns up to save us in the end," says Mark. "But we're getting stronger. There's a fire in everyone in the band. But the most important thing is we have belief in each other and we want to be around for a lot longer."
So forget all you know about Young Rebel Set: this time their glass is half full, not half empty. It's a sober record, but you can bet your life that after the gig they'll drink to its success.
Steve Lamacq, September 2013
Invited: Alex Wideman, Shinji Kagawa