Sing When You're Grinning

Here's the first ever review I wrote. It's not even a whole review, just a handful of words about the headline act. Essentially I was at a gig when aquaintance and BBC Oxford reviewer Jeremy Stern said he had to run off (an urgent date with sitting around on his arse was clashing with his duties, I suspect) and would I mind finishing the review for him. Well, I had a crack, and they liked it so much they phoned me up to ask me to write more (even though I thought - and still think - it was a crappy piece of writing). I used to write tons for them - one review a week, pretty much - but after about a year I drifted off towards OHM and Nightshift. Don't remember why, precisely.

Anyway, the BBC site is still going, you can click the link on the right if you like. I've got to say the website is pretty duff nowadays - no real opinion offered nor any spark in the writing, and in terms of news it's not even particularly up to date nor detailed. Having said that, nowadays it's effectively an advert for Oxford Introducing (FKA The Download), a local music radio show that's a decent listen. So, tune in, but don't bother checking the site, I'd counsel.

By the way, Dog were the band supporting HTG. They're still going, believe it or not, although they're called The Gog now. Played last night, I believe. Ooh, syncronicity. HTG are long gone. Also, I'd completely forgotten Jamie Theakston existed - God he used to be everywhere!

HENCE THE GRIN, Gappy Tooth Industries, The Wheatsheaf , 11/02



Hence The Grin are a neat little power pop trio, with the emphasis placed squarely on the pop. They initially have a hard time making their mark after Dog's dada theatrics: Stu, the singer, looks like Jamie Theakston, and is quietly affable (a bit like Jamie Theakston); the bassist resembles a disgruntled skinhead, but soon turns out to be quietly affable as well; the drummer appears polite. So much for image.

However, anyone who gives some attention to their tightly wound melodic offerings is won over, and the dance floor soon fills up again. The music is deceptively simple, great vocal melodies (delivered in a powerful, mid-80s yelp) riding a chugging three piece buzz, but there's always a little something to surprise. "Bag Of Worries" is the key: the lyrics consist solely of the word "Pap!"; bass rumbles fuzzily; drums kick; guitar twangs.

It's like surf guitar...without the surf! Estuary insrumentals, anyone? Inlet rock? Hence The Grin don't do anything as you'd expect them to: when the crowd shouts "Encore" Stu drifts into a discussion with the audience about the French language. Eventually of course they play a final tune. Of course it rocks like the others. Grins all round, then.