The Futureheads - Going places? Ross Millard, Dave Hyde, Barry Hyde and Jaff

Maybe this is the future...maybe not

Review: The Futureheads
The Forum
Richard Osley

OH-EH-OH-OH-OH. Eh-oh-oh-oh-oh. Not Pingu the plasticine penguin out on the razz again but the sound of the Futureheads firing out their new wave cover of Kate Bush’s Hounds Of Love.
It only needs a couple of oh-eh-oh-oh-ohs to send beer flying across the floor at the Forum and their loyal fans, sweating out one of the hottest days of the year in one of the hottest-mosh pits in north London, into pogo fits.
It’s smartly executed, needless to say better than Bush’s template, but this is still the closest the FHs have got to pressing a signature tune and it shows. They emerged two summers ago just as punky playmates Razorlight, Franz Ferdinand and The Kaiser Chiefs were surfing to prominence.
But unlike those soundalike bands, they lack a couple of chartbusters and consequently while Razorlight get to play Live8 and ride in big cars, The FHs make do with chip butties and headlining the Camden Crawl.
Maybe they like it that way. Maybe the FHs don’t want us to be sick of their songs because they are played endlessly over cornflakes by Chris Moyles in the morning. Maybe. But I’m not so sure. Deep down they must be hoping new album, News And Tributes, will make up the ground.
New titles such as Yes/No, Burnt and first single Skip To The End have plenty of straight-up, gritty guitar power but aren’t particularly distinguished and they won’t live with you forever. They certainly lack the invention found in the raucous and unpredictable whirrings of their self-titled debut, released last spring.
So what starts out as a night of promise and anticipation quickly slips in to a round of echoey oh-eh-oh-ohs, fun for a while but never advancing from first base. The surroundings didn’t help.
The Forum is a special venue, its ornate inners always add a little old-time grandness to the occasion – but the sound quality is hit and miss. Towers of speakers beat out the music with such little sensitivity that songs that sound good on record descended into a hazy mash of grumbling bass and a lot of this band’s artistry was lost.
Sometimes it was even difficult to pick out the vocals. It probably sounded clearer on stage and The FHs, all black shirts and needless ties, looked happy with their work but they are still short of the big league and interest is starting to wane.
There is a rock ’n’ roll tale of the new album being bashed out in just two weeks on a farm. I hope it’s a record that turns out to be a grower because the latest crop of tunes, right now, don’t feel as good as the last.

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