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Last time I saw Towers of London was their homecoming show after Donny Tourrette’s brief stint in the Big Brother house that made him a household name and almost dragged his band with him. This was the Towers’ high time.
That night I was witness to the most explosive and entertaining show I’ve ever witnessed: leather, spit, cigarettes, PA-acrobatics and more skinny jeans and hairspray than all the boys in Topman worldwide, that night was one to be remembered…
…Two years later things are somewhat different. Whilst tonight’s inexcusably under-aged front row enact some 80s grooming ritual, one audience member in the two thirds empty Fibbers asks “ … is his name Danny…?” Let me remind you that the Towers have been unusually quiet over the past twelve months, from which a reinvented outfit has emerged: guitarist Rev and drummer Snell unexpectedly left the band leading to a string of auditions advertised over Myspace before the group could release and tour their second album offering, Fizzy Pop.
The one-time gutter punks graced the stage in a menagerie of cardigans, bright graffiti-less tees and stonewash jeans, most leather was quickly shed and the hair was flatter than ever, a far departure from the sleazy mess of yesteryear.
Image aside, the enthusiasm of seeing the prodigal sons of punk in the flesh once more launched the crowd into action, but this is no pogo, these people are swaying to the Towers of London?! The band was enthusiastic to reveal its new material, a departure from the trashy anthems of Blood, Swear and Towers towards a mesh of poppy punk choruses, riffs that hint at rock n’ roll and the trademark gang-vocal hooks. A few staple interactions with the crowd and a set of groping hands towards Donny kept rock n’ roll whispering under the shotgun guitar sound, but unfortunately when the time came to play the songs that won them this meagre crowd the energy was nowhere in sight.
Despite a positive response to Donny’s grilling ‘Who has our new record?’ the unfulfilled cries for former single I’m a Rat still roared. With only two classic Towers tracks in the set it is clear that the Tourette brothers and their new boys are more interested in pushing their new sound; a mission the shoddy sound of the night in no way aided. Whether the soundperson was to blame or the new material doesn’t communicate well live, I was glad to have heard a few of the new tracks before the show. Despite even this, after half an hour things began to drag and my head nodded to a standstill.
The Towers are in no way shambolic riff-merchants, in fact, their new indie-inspired image and sing-along sound is a step in the right direction for the band who teetered so near the limelight, but I do wonder if the Towers have left it too late to ride back to the spotlight on their former credentials. After tonight’s set to an emptying bar one thing is clear; the boys are going to need to step-up their game if they don’t want the Towers to come tumbling down, and the saddest part of all? I don’t know if anyone would notice if they did.
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