Live Review: The Sherlocks @ The Waterfront Studio, Norwich

Words originally for Outline Magazine

L-R: Andy Davidson, Brandon Crook, Kiaran Crook, Josh Davidson

Ask anyone with ears what they think of Sheffield four-piece the Sherlocks and “who?” will probably be the biggest response. Apart from that, I guarantee you’d get an even split between “they’re fucking dreadful” and “they’re the next big thing”. Each is justifiable. They don’t look like much. Their lyrics are pretty simple. Their logo breaks every rule in the book of graphic design. And yet, they manage to pack out venues in cities hundreds of miles from their humble Yorkshire home. Bemused and intrigued, I went to see them at Norwich’s Waterfront Studio to try and crack the case.

First, from King’s Lynn, The Extons rock the stage with their brazen strain of indie rock. Since opening for VANT last autumn, they’ve improved drastically, and seem thoroughly in their element tonight in front of an already considerable audience.

Blaenavon, a trio of arty looking lads from Brighton, follow. Wasting no time, they plunge Norwich into an ocean of punchy, tropical guitar riffs and intense vocals. Elements of EP Delicious-era Peace are easily detectable, as well as essences of Wild Beasts and label-mates Foals. Each member serves a clear purpose; frontman Ben Gregory’s fidgety, rampant energy blurs into bassist Frank Wright’s effortless groove, Harris McMillan’s thunderous drumming adding stability to what becomes a crashing wave of musical splendour. With a debut album out soon, Blaenavon are a bandwagon you need to get on.

Speaking of bandwagons, soon it’s time for The Sherlocks to take to the stage. Unfashionably late, Sheffield’s most wanted launch their set in an odd way, choosing to set up their instruments only as they arrive to perform. Nonetheless, they persevere, and the crowd jostle forwards eagerly as they kick things of with newest single Last Night. It’s good – almost likeable – until frontman Kiaran Crook opens his mouth. It’s not that he can’t sing, but amidst the painfully generic instrumental sound they’ve got going on, the plainness of his vocals feels like a final let down before the first song is even over.

They rattle through material old and new and I find myself nodding along contently at the huge sound being presented to me. What is it so dislikeable about this band? They can play their instruments, they can perform with a reasonable degree of grace, they can get a clap-along going and kick off a mosh pit (just about). But it’s immediately apparent that every song sounds the same. Or even, every song sounds like a weaker version of some Arctic Monkeys track from ten years ago. There’s no spark, there’s nothing unique about the Sherlocks, and that’s what’s missing from tonight.

Take Escapade for example – one of their few singles to date and the first peak in the evening’s crowd participation. There’s a solid drumbeat at the bottom, an all right bass groove above and an acceptable if slightly off-putting singing voice at the top. But it’s nothing short of boring and daftly unoriginal. It’s as if the Sherlocks have taken the masterpiece that is Favourite Worst Nightmare, beaten it to a pulp and thrown away all the good bits.

Sure, there are one or two numbers tonight that bear a hint of future promise; Blue is an energetic stomper, detailing the misery of being a teenager in a band in Sheffield (cough TEDDY PICKER) and Get Up rides the tail end of the twangy, whiney guitar sound brought about by Catfish and the Bottlemen and Circa Waves. But otherwise, the thirteen-song set is jam packed with so-called bangers, indistinguishable from one another and painfully stale next to anyone else.

But what do I know? The show’s an almost sell-out, there’s mosh pits and crowd surfers all night, and everyone seems to be having a good enough time.

As things are wrapped up by Chasing Shadows (it’s as mind-blowing as it sounds) cheers are yelled from every corner of the room. And I’m hit with an epiphany; no, there’s nothing even remotely special about the Sherlocks. They can’t really sing, they can’t really write, their merch is abhorrent (Google it if you need a good laugh) and they’ve done to Arctic Monkeys what Margaret Thatcher did to the north of England. But if you’re a boozed-up, middle-aged man looking for something new to help you relive your teenage days of glory, the Sherlocks are the one for you.

If not, take it from me, really don’t bother.

The Sherlocks' new single Last Night is out on March 4th.

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