Photo by Jason Williamson
Twelve hour clock enthusiasts 2:54 played a packed show at The Lexington last night.
The North London venue was brimming with minor indie luminaries, all apparently keen to see the latest incarnation of the ‘90s revival.
Sprightly London quintet The History of Apple Pie opened proceedings with a set quite significantly noisier than their twee-pop name would suggest. The pigeon-toed awkwardness of the vocalists was overshadowed by the guitarists, whose chunky distortion filled the room nicely – but the pedal-work wasn’t quite enough to make up for the slacker-lite anachronisms coming from the speakers.
Echo Lake, meanwhile, took those guitar tones and constructed something simultaneously beautiful and grin-inducing, threatening to drown the audience in magnificent, blanket-like layers of noise. The rhythm section was utterly compulsive, particularly as the final song built to its rattling, prestissimo conclusion.
By the time 2:54 appeared, the room was as busy as this writer has seen it. Plaid-clad bodies spilled out the door – but the noise coming from the stage was too contrived, too sub-Auf der Maur to hold attention for long. The band seemed genuinely appreciative, but it was impossible to shake the feeling that, with novelty still on their side, this was as appreciative a crowd as they would find.
Despite the hype, then, this was not 2:54’s night. Instead, that accolade was taken by the consistently entertaining Echo Lake – a band who are intelligent enough to realise that a bit of fun, mixed with a bit of noise, really does go a long way.