I've always queried why Brighton's music scene has never quite produced an act to the potential of its possibilities. On paper it's a breeding ground of brilliance with it's numerous back alley buskers and run-down pubs filled with musical hopefuls, but in reality, it's become a bit of sodomised stag-weekender cauterized by the trail end of The Kooks success and the countless acts honing in on this popular swill pit of substanceless droll so that they can shamelessly attempt to ride the fading ripples of the tidal wave left by these pop sensations.
I mean, the bohemian seaside town dicks all over London's supposed cultural hubs of creativity that plinths image over content in almost any circumstance. Obsessed by the latest passing trend of musical massacre and the glorified shit-storm genre-swapping, synth-chopping tornado left every other week by some soon-to-be irrelevant fuck-wit, I would say it's a churned up, over-rated, minefield of pretentiousness that needs to be extinguished.
Brighton needs something to shoot it back up to the top of the tree. Something that once again flashes glimpses of subversive euphoria and overthrowing enchantment. We've had the Maccabees (who arn't even from Brighton) and other than a handful of heardcore-punk outfits there's been little to give me hope that this spiritual location can actually deliver the fucking goods that it's due to do so.
Enter The Lanes. I saw this group first perform at the gaining-infamous Prince Albert pub while watching New Street Adventure support. I'm usually disappointed with the tirade of fruitless and vain scum-rags who parade the Albert stage at these types of shows, but this was different, this was exciting.
Smashing into a set of trippy psychedelia, the local Brighton gang began to fuse the rock and roll purity of BRMC and the spaced-out, technicolour dance-groove of The Happy Monday's while maintaining the fervour and quality of the Doves. And better than all of that, they provided an authentic performance that demonstrated that they didn't give two flaming shits about image or scenes or all of that monotonous monkey crap that stigmatises new music.
'Raw Ether' is a audio acid trip that paints mind-boggling images of Joy Division's eerie howl humping the elongated growl of Oasis while remaining distinctly Southern, which proves to be vital in this case, primarily because they confirm they are a Southern band and proud of it, they don't need to adhere to any sort of Northern Brit-rock legacy by changing their accent or singing about the lulls of being working class and still wallowing in the oppression of Thatcher's fuck-ups past.
I found their humble presence comforting, which is a dodgey area of assesment at times because this music is partly characterised by attitude and swagger, but only if you've got the gonads to pull off such a stunt. But in this case, a hitatus of ego's was rather lovely, and after hearing them screw the soundwaves of the earth's atmosphere during their set the ever-tiresome, probably disgustingly dullard cliche of music being their outlet of rage actually applied and actually made a shit-load of usually dried up but-not-so-much-now sense.
I'm unable to attain any of their tunes as of now because they're a tiddly band without any major label interest but thrust yourself upon their myspace for some kaleidoscopic whirlwind of splashed out rock'n'smash-your-nuts-off wonderfulness. The Lanes, Brighton's best new band.
http://www.myspace.com/thelanesuk
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