Tribes at Dingwalls

From very early on, even before they’d released anything of heavyweight substance, labels were drawn to the allure of Tribes like bees to nectar. Something good was certainly brewing in the Camden camp, and with Island nipping at their heels like a teething pup, the band needed to release something almost omnipotent to justify all the hype that had been built up.

When ‘We Were Children’ hit the internet midway through last year, it was a record that was rooted in new-age nostalgic simplicity. Standing at only four tracks long, it squashed expectations beneath a raging rampage of early 90s influenced Americana rock. It was just a shame there was no scene to release it into.

Almost 12 months on, and the difference is staggering. Tonight, Dingwalls is absolutely throbbing. The show’s sold out and the bar is a damn cattle market. This is Tribes' largest headline show to date and Camden is hungry for the four young leather-draped, scruffy rock 'n' roll urchins.

Their second song ‘Girlfriend’ brings with it chunky riffs that slowly begin to elevate along with the exuberant crowd. While they continue to feast on distortion, Smashing Pumpkins influences infuse with the jagged drive of Pixies and the smoke begins to lift. ‘Sappho’ confirms my suspicions: bathing in lo-fi Pavement-like warmth as Johnny Lloyd questions, ‘How’d you tell a child that there’s no god up in the sky’. They’ve grabbed the 90s by the gullet and added them on Twitter. This is a musical renewal.

‘Coming of Age’ is stripped back to basics, ringing with clarity and hints of Blur at their anthemic best, iPhones out, hands up - you get the picture. It really is quite a flawless moment. Here we are, in a room rammed to the rafters with hoards of boozey people, consumed by this new band who evoke the imagery of our childhood.

That’s what makes it all so damn special. Tribes are our age, they grew up with Blue Peter and Oasis and Americanisation and broken hearts. Our parents quiver when listening to ‘Thunder Road’ and ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ because it reminds them of Knebworth and acid and Thatcher. We go weak at the knees of Tribes for this very same reason, they’ve revived a sense of ‘90s romanticism that we’ve not yet had the chance to hear because those years have only just passed.

By the time ‘We Were Children’ howls in, the echo of ‘we were children in the mid-nineties’ sends the crowd over the edge with joy. Maybe all these emotive lyrics are triggering an unsuspected attack of age but for half an hour or so, no one gives a hoot.



In all honesty, the feeling is not too dissimilar from when the Libertines began smashing up Bethnal Green council flats. Britain has been crying out for something like this, something at the darker end of rock revivalism, and I think it’s finally arrived.