I wouldn't have cared if Maximo Park weren't attractive...

... but I won't pretend that it wasn't great that they were. It was strange going to see a band play that I couldn't have picked from a line-up. The media snippets and the CD liner notes gave absolutely nothing away; they had a bunch of models playing air guitar, and even the faces of the models were obscured! So when they came on to the stage and Svet and I feasted our eyes on the band we were not disappointed.

OK, that intro was a little obtuse. I should probably say first of all that I went with Svet to see Maximo Park at the Corner Hotel the other week, and as I only recently started liking them I knew absolutely nothing about them, (incl. what they looked like). All we knew was that we really liked their music, (check out A Certain Trigger to find out why). Here's a summary of our night out.

The support... Riff Random.
We didn't stick around to catch the start of their performance. We wisely decided that once we got pass-outs we should high-tail it down the road to stuff our faces with roti. (We are so punk rock.) Once we returned, our fingers covered in grease, (from the roti! Get your mind out of the gutter!), our senses were quickly assailed. And not in a good way. They were so many kinds of awful. The main let down was the lead singer, who was a talentless phoney. He couldn't sing, indeed he was consistantly flat throughout, and the lyrics were just disposable clichéd rubbish. He jumped around in a manner that suggested Craig Nicholls, except without any of the charm. (Say what you will about Craig, but the boy has a certain je ne sais quoi. This guy did not.) He just looked like a try hard loser. He did this pathetic "rock" scream in every song which was really hackneyed and yet another thing he couldn't pull off. And shouldn't have tried to. In fact the only thing about the whole set that remotely reflected any kind of real rock and roll attitude (and that didn't look like an affectation) was when the lead singer said:
"Coming up is the Futureheads!"
Which was a rather sarky little reference to how much Maximo Park sound like the aforementioned band. (OK, they do. But I LIKE the Futureheads!) I thought that it was pretty ballsy for a dodgy Aussie support band who were being heckled by the crowd at every opportunity to pay out the international band that they were supporting. It was funny, but sour and ungrateful... Very rock and roll.

The main event...
But soon enough they left the stage, and the fabulous Maximo Park were able to assume their rightful place. And the crowd really went nuts. I wasn't expecting there to be such a high level of enthusiasm. Indeed, the only people who went more nuts were Maximo themselves. Between Lukas Wooller's (keyboardist) robotic arm thing (remember, Svet?) and the lead singer's epileptic-fit dancing and scissor kicks there was always something going on onstage. (Paul, unlike that lame arse Riff Random singer, could actually pull off the rock star thing. Which was surprising considering I couldn't help thinking of Coronation Street when he spoke.) They really put on a performance, particularly Paul, who I couldn't keep my eyes off all evening (not to mention that you could see his package in his too-tight slacks. 'Twas hypnotic, man!). He looked really intense when performing but wasn't pretentious. You've got to give them their props; they were putting on a show, and they weren't being limp-wristed about it. What was also refreshing was that they haven't got to the point of being up themselves pricks (really affected, or jerky); they seemed genuinely pleased (indeed, genuinely surprised) to be playing to such an enthusiastic crowd so far from home, and were very polite and gracious to the crowd. When they shook people's hands at the end Duncan Lloyd (guitarist) has this look of sheer wonder on his face. You got the feeling that they were shocked (and rapped) that a bunch of Aussies were going crazy for them and knew most of the words to their songs. Sonically, they were really solid and Paul Smith's vocals were really strong and controlled; very much like on the album but because it was live, there was an added power. With regard to the set list, it must be tough when you go on the road to promote your debut, but they mixed things up a bit by including a B-side and handful of new tracks, including one they laid down for the War Child benefit CD. And they did a classy two song encore, finishing on one of my favourites (Going Missing), which is going to be the next single, I think.

I have to send a little message to the psychos in the pit. In the words of Travis from Clueless: WHERE'S YOUR SENSE OF PIT HOSPITALITY?! I was not at all surprised when some of them yelled out that they were from Scotland because watching them I got the feeling that they had to be British. What a bunch of fucking chav, soccer-hooligan psychos. And to the people crowd surfing: couldn't you have gotten it out of your system when you were 13 like everyone else?! What gives? I was anticipating a rather more sophisticated crowd, who weren't violent and selfish (I wasn't expecting young women in the crowd to get punched in the head, for example). Indeed, that was the only down point of the evening, (apart from the sucky Riff Random, and the fact that Svet and I were stood-up at Ding Dong's by a sexy Strokes look-alike named Remy. Oh, well, not that much of a loss: he was a Xavier old-boy and into Motley Crue.)

So, that's my review of my night with Maximo. If you haven't heard the album, give it a listen. I mean, you've gotta love a band who aren't afraid to use the word "riposte" in a chorus. Oh, and I touched Paul's hand. I know that's very juvenile, but I got caught up in the moment.