Their gymslip heroes stumble aboard, just visible behind front man Luke Prichard’s hedge of curls: a doppelganger from Hot Hot Heat’s Steve Bays. Opening with Seaside, there is somewhat of an anti-climax. Throwing a line to their Brighton roots, this gently swaying melody sounds like an afterthought; inoffensive, bordering on bland. However, any drooping eyelids are crowbarred open at this point as the band blast headfirst into a stomping rendition of See The World. We are awake at the back. Settling into the set, their stage presence emerges as an odd mix of relaxed hairbrush-in-the-mirror bedroom jamming and itchy, nervous first date energy. There is the distinct air of the need to impress: the quartet are ridiculously young, which has led many to ponder “shouldn’t they be stood outside Spar supping cheap cider?†No they should not. Despite the awkward bravado, the Kooks proceed to hammer home a fistful of gleaming indie pop gems. Naïve, in particular, is stunning. Delicate, disjointed guitars slip in and out of Prichard’s gut-wrenching, clipped tones to bruise any heart within listening distance. Along with songs such as Time Awaits, it displays the somewhat unexpected reggae rock shade to their sound. Their appeal lies in their accessibility. They’re a similar age to many of their fans and sing about rejection, sofa fumblings, and above all, having a great time.ÌýHowever the many hopefuls, shiny faces upturned to the stage and desperate to find a way onto Luke’s arm, may find that way barred: conquests are of a more A-list variety, reportedly including presenter Fearne Cotton and the delectable Katie Melua.
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