Review: The School @ Buffalo

The Hipsterville of Buffalo played host to a subdued evening of twee last Thursday.

Twee, the proper indie music to those in anoraks has never fully disappeared since its birth in the early 80s as the unlikeliest of off-shoots from post-punk. But its standing in the media and public consciousness is higher now than it has been for some time, as Twee’s innocence and childlike mannerisms appears to chime with a collective desire for nostalgia as a balm for problems and crises beyond our control.

With this in mind, Plus One Lou and I entered the blood red, close venue to be met with the electric twiddle of Colorama. One man and his amplified guitar, Colorama peddles a pastoral, introspective sound with Clinton Cards lyrics. Plus One Lou opined that the material he sang in Welsh was far stronger and I was inclined to agree as the indecipherable is often preferable to the indescribable.

If Colorama was cheese then Them Squirrels was chalk. Comprising a screeching guitar, a rather battered double bass, drums and numerous electronics spilled across the stage floor, Them Squirrels' set up screamed-whispered-screamed unorthodoxy. To pin down their sound would be futile, with tracks more like suites, with several passages and tempo shifts, quite bits and loud bits, parts with tunes and others of simple noise. It was wilfully difficult. Plus One Lou expected them to rip open their chests and write “THIS IS ART-PROG” with their blood spraying on the projector screen. I found them interesting yet dull at the same time, like staring at a field of black grass for an hour.

Moofish Catfish came on stage with the look of a band on their final date of a summer tour around the UK’s toilet circuit before handing back to Sweden and by Jove that is exactly what they were. I scribbled down grungy Black Kids which occasionally hit indie-disco pay dirt. I wanted to like them more.

And finally it was time for The School. Ticking every twee box, from coy girl-next-door lead to a xylophone, cardigans to a violin, it was possible to envisage the set before they played a note. And the sense of hearing it all before was there alive and well. That’s not necessarily to say it was a poor show it just seems that The School were too in awe of their influences to deviate or as Plus One Lou put it “…a serious Belle & Sebastian rip-off”. It was all very pleasant, jaunty and shuffling, tumbling and cute but lacked the punch of say the news of Michael Jackson’s death, which spread around the room towards the end of the set and overshadowed the evening.