Out of the pawn shop and into the sun...
Deptford psych-pop darlings the Shortwave Set have done pretty well for themselves recently. In 2005 they released the grand, critically acclaimed but non-chart-troubling record The Debt Collection, which managed to attract the attention of zeitgeist producer/hit factory/man-with-his-finger-in-all-the-right-pies Danger Mouse. He invited them to Los Angeles to record their follow-up album, Replica Sun Machine, an offer the band took up last year. That's not all, though - as if landing the hottest producer on the planet weren't accolade enough for a scruffy "Victorian Funk" trio from south of the river, they also managed to snag Van Dyke Parks to arrange a 24-piece orchestra for the album, and talked John Cale into collaborating on a couple of songs. Replica Sun Machine hits stores next month, and till then (or till we get a review copy up in this bitch – anyone? Anyone?) we can only guess what effect this kind of heavyweight collaboration will have on the Shortwave Set's delicate patchwork psychedelia. But it's safe to say the trio had to pinch themselves a few times during the recording process, just to make sure they weren't going to wake up back in their shop in Deptford and find the whole trip had been just a sweet pop daydream.
We do have a few clues on what to expect from Replica Sun Machine to date. "No Social", the first single from the album, has been given loads of airtime on BCR's favourite radio station BBC 6Music, and it's a gem: a lush, scintillating, slightly haunting tune with a surreal hook and all the intricate shambolism that is the Shortwave Set's hallmark. There's also tonight's gig, which is my first chance to hear the new material live.
I have fond memories of the Shortwave Set's shows of yesteryear, which would feature stages cluttered with piles of dusty thrift-store bits and bobs, equipment and toys in various states of repair, most of which would be coaxed into producing sound at some stage of the evening. As an audience member you could also expect to partake in jumble sales, auctions, raffles, and other distractions, all of which were in keeping with the bands ramshackle junkshop image. However, I have to admit that going in to this gig I had absolutely no idea what to expect. The band could have changed completely in the year or so since I saw them last. After hearing news of their recording and A-list hobnobbing sessions in LA, I wouldn't have been surprised if they'd shown up in tuxedos with the Stockholm Strings as a backing band.
Gadgetry operator and gramaphonist David Farrell took the Revue Bar stage first, along with a new bass player and drummer, all dressed from head to toe in gleaming white. They still managed to look slightly scruffy, though – think the Australian cricket team – so the band clearly haven't gone new wave on us. Worryingly, the piles of arcane noise-making jiggery-pokery that used to all but obscure David from view have been replaced with a few sleek pieces of modern technology. But when the lead duo arrived on stage Ulrika's two-tone hippy getup and Andrew's John Cleese suit reassured us that the Hollywood experience can't have changed them too much.
The new songs definitely sound more polished than the Shortwave Set of old, but the band still retain the elements that make them great: the sweet pop sensibilities of the Free Design, combined with the experimental charm of Joe Meek's homemade electronic wizardry and good dollops of old-fashioned songwriting craft. "Now till 69" was one tune that stood out on the night, a rollicking feel-good bubblegum number that will go down a treat this summer. "Glitches and Bugs" was a bit more adventurous, but still catchy as all hell. The band threw in a couple of favourites from Debt Collection into the set along with the new stuff, to great acclaim from the audience, and the last song, the melancholy "Sun Machine", arrived all too quickly. I don't mean that in a "time flies" kind of way, either: this set was just far too short. About half an hour from start to finish, no encores, boom! Gone. What kind of slick Hollywood package have we been sold here? This is about the time the old Shortwave Set would've been cracking out the tombola, and here they've shot off out the back (where "six supermarket beers" await, apparently) and left us hanging. If they hadn't charmed the pants off the audience so completely by this point there would've been a riot. Instead there are just a lot of stunned looks. In short, the new stuff is great, yes, but a bit of the old showmanship wouldn't go astray.
