by Chris Hilson
photos by Hannah Mesquitta
First of all, apologies to the band Page 44 who I missed due to the joys of working late before the gig. A quick check on the website that time forgot, AKA Myspace, suggests that they would have put on a solid show of slick yet generic pop-rock. And they’ve also previously appeared on Popworld on T4 if that can be considered a positive.
Thankfully I made it to the venue just as Canterbury was taking to the stage. Hailing from Surrey and Hampshire, they were keen to declare this their hometown show, peppering their on-stage banter with mentions of how good it was to be ‘home’ and cries of ‘Portsmouth, make some noise’. Whilst it’s hard to find a band who don’t name check the city they’re playing in it all came across as a bit cringeworthy, particularly when they gave out sticks of Canterbury branded rock to the best dancers in the crowd.
However, when they let the music do the talking they were incredibly impressive with an assured vocal delivery layered over crisp punchy riffs. Whilst some of their songs were enjoyable straight up pop-punk numbers they also demonstrated a more imaginative and heavy side that showed echoes of Hell Is For Heroes and Biffy Clyro, particularly on ‘Friends? We’re More Like A Gang’. Here’s hoping they play more ‘hometown’ gigs in the future.
On the previous occasion that I’ve seen We Are The Ocean, the lead singer was accidentally pulling out his microphone lead after trying to crowd surf over several rows of chairs at the Guildhall. There were no such obstacles for him this time so he was able to throw himself into the crowd on several occasions throughout the set. Since then they have also re-released their second album with an added acoustic disc, but there was no time for any unplugged moments during their set, instead it was thirty minutes of average emo/post-hardcore. Alternating between a vocalist who shouts, badly, and a melodic singer is a trick that has been done to death by countless other bands in the genre but ‘We Are The Ocean’ have stuck with it. This meant that every song blended into the one before and after it, with the exception of one stand out song at the end of their set, even if it did completely rip off Alexisonfire.
The last time I saw The Blackout was back in 2007 just as they were bursting onto the scene on the back of the popularity of Lostprophets and Funeral For A Friend, when they were a mess of comically large fringes and skinny jeans. Whilst the haircuts have changed, the music hasn’t, with the overly American emo sound still to the fore and the influence of Lostprophets in particular still glaringly obvious.
With three albums to their name they were able to fill their set with songs taken from their whole career so far, including the contender for worst song title ever ‘Spread Legs, Not Lies’. To their credit they didn’t put a foot wrong technically, producing a slick and energetic stage show full of crowd interaction, handclaps, and shape throwing that their fans positively lapped up. Although I’m not if anyone enjoyed the lead singer spitting into the air and catching it before chucking it into the crowd. However, even with three full length releases the seventy five minute long set felt like an endurance test at times and not one that I want to go through again.
