CityLife

Editors @ Apollo

03/03/08

THERE was no use stifling it. Four songs into the gig and already a yawn had crept in.

So rude, I know, when those lovely young Editors really were trying their best. But, sad to say it wasn't the last.

The only trouble was, well, all the songs just started to sound the same. A little bit of U2 guitar here, a good dollop of Coldplay piano angst there. All topped off with the slow-paced melancholic vocals of lead singer Tom Smith, whose deep droning tone can be about as stimulating as a hypnotism CD.

Perhaps that's a little harsh. After all, the Birmingham quartet aren't exactly known for their happy-go-lucky melodies. Smith has even said recent number one album An End Has A Start has "a lot of death" on it. So their sold-out Apollo appearance was never going to be a happy clappy singalong. That would rather spoil the whole point of their existence, having made a living so far out of being the new morbid indie kids on the block.

And the fans, at least, were lapping those angst-ridden lyrics up with open arms. In fact, when done well - as in their best offerings Munich, The Racing Rats, and All Sparks - that downbeat style has an almost hauntingly beautiful quality to it. Mournful guitars and woeful words proving powerful live.

Ambitions

Perked up with a good helping of stadium-style lighting, of course - proving, perhaps, the recently Brit Award-nominated band's ambitions lie beyond the confines of the Apollo and on a bigger arena stage. With a growing legion of fans, from the kohl-eyed teen to the cardie-wearing housewife judging by this audience, there's every chance their wish will be granted. All I'm asking for is a bit of variety along the way. And a break from those monotonous vocals.

Each line slowly measured, his shirt carefully buttoned, hair neatly clipped and shoes ultra clean, singer Tom is more class geek than grungy rock star. Although, he does liven up proceedings with some crazy on-stage antics, throwing his arms around with a strange jerky finesse and climbing all over his piano.

Once or twice he even lets his voice really sing out. And it's those moments - when the whole band seem to forget themselves and that serious image for just a second - that are really worth staying awake for.

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