Rat Boy is the most unexpected
breakthrough act of this year. The garage meets hip-hop project is the
brainchild of Essex born-and-bred Jordan Cardy who after a spot on the NME
Awards Tour this year, and a top 10 place in the BBC’s annual Sound Of… poll,
has developed a superstar worthy fanbase from just one mixtape and a couple of
singles. Pre-doors at The Waterfront, a mighty queue of teenage obsessives
reaches half way down King Street, decked head to toe in a cornucopia of skater
gear, dirty sneakers and more paisley than a 70s furniture showroom. But it’s
hard to tell just yet whether tonight's one for the history books, or just the
result of a buzz band being blown out of proportion.
Two acts support, Cosmo Pyke being the first. Besides his
fantastic name, he’s an excellent guitarist, playing a bluesy, reggae tinged
half hour alongside a backing drummer. His vocals are rich and deep and every
song has a dusky rhythm, comparable to Michael Kiwanuka or Wretch 32 in places.
Skaters are
the jam in tonight’s scuzzy rock sandwich. From New York, the post-punk
five-piece have been on my ‘to see’ list for several years, and they out do every
expectation. Deadbolt opens and hits
the roof and latest single The Loner follows,
with a boozy, Fratellis meets FIDLAR feel. The audience lap up the high
velocity bangers like wasps to an ice cream, older material like Miss Teen Massachusetts and I Wanna Dance (But I Don’t Know How) getting
the best reactions. But cuts from their upcoming Rock and Roll Bye Bye EP show
a more developed side to the group, bringing out an 80s inspired sound with the
addition of drum machines and wailing guitar riffs. Head On To Nowhere ends a riotous nine-song firestorm of gritty
bangers from across the pond.
I often ponder as to which tune I’d
like to walk on stage to if I could play gigs. Rat Boy nail it with their choice tonight; Drake’s ‘Hotline Bling’
followed by an arrogantly long sample of police sirens. Which does somehow sum them
up perfectly. Cardy and his three band mates are greeted like popstars, the
screams and waves only subsiding when a barrage of garage noise hits us deep
and hard. “We’re gonna do Move”,
Cardy commands, “let’s see some circles”, and the baying horde of jumped-up
teenagers obeys more than readily. It’s chaos from then on, the waves of
moshers and crowd-surfers holding out strong for the whole show.
A lot of new material is performed,
and song titles are difficult to pick up. Not least because the set is delivered
as one long mixtape-style block of sound, with the odd interlude thrown in to
give the band time to switch instruments (one of which consists of a fire alarm
recording that not even the band seem to know whether is real or not). But
through the soup of sticky samples and anti-establishment lyrics, a sort of
artistry can be observed. Where Rat Boy’s music released so far is mostly lyric
led, cuts from an upcoming debut album point towards a more sonic focus.
There’s essences of reggae, ska, hip-hop and grunge all tied together by some
retro keyboard sounds and woozy effect pedals. Not that the audience would care
– they’re too busy being shepherded off stage by venue security. Save for the
odd kid who’s lucky enough to be rescued by Cardy, and offered a seat next to
him for a song or two.
The set does seem to trail off in
places, Cardy’s lack of showmanship a cause in part, although he’s far more
confident than when the group last played here with Circa Waves. But fan
favourites like Sportswear and Left 4 Dead are positioned almost
strategically to re-grab our attentions. From the back of the room, the sight
is that of how a teen rock gig should look. Silhouettes of arms frantically
waving (plus the odd pair of legs flailing upwards) puncture through the sweaty
cloud that sits comfortably in the middle distance and it’s clear that tonight
is as much about the fans as it is the band. The atmosphere fizzes
consistently, as if every single person here tonight wouldn’t have missed it
for the world.
S-C-U-M leads
into an encore of Sign On and Fake ID back-to-back, culminating in an
absolute riot as the band hurl themselves into the crowd. Bits of cardboard
cutouts and a precarious looking skateboard are handed to fans, before the
sweaty four-piece scamper away triumphantly.
To call Rat Boy the future of British
music would be more than an oversight at this point. But Jordan Cardy’s
remarkable ability to transform what could easily become a novelty act into a
serious musical project is pretty spectacular. Whether he can keep this up in
the future remains to be seen, but with a summer schedule jam packed with
festival appearances around the corner, don’t expect the hype to die down any
time soon.
Move by Rat Boy is out now.
