You know how they were going on about Manchester like “rising again” and such with The Courteeners and The Ting Tings and that? Well, the whole time, I just wanted to hit people who wrote about Manchester in the context of bands like that and shove Cats In Paris in their ears. Cats In Paris are, firstly, the sound of the actual Manchester I inhabit- a Manchester by no means dominated by either major record labels or indeed Mancunians. Cats In Paris themselves can often be seen huddled together grinning at various gigs and clubnights. Even before I knew they were in a band, I thought they must be in a band, because, well… how could they not? The physicality of the band is amazing, from moustachioed drummer to dollar jacketed bassist to really tall girl keyboardist to bearded, ginger, glasses-wearing, yet undeniably Pan-like frontman Michael Watson (the very same Michael Watson behind the also-fantastic Michael’s Exciting Life webcomics, often featuring other members of the band). Continue Reading

Cats In Paris are named after a scene from a dream in which a giant cat with paws the size of dump trucks scales the Eiffel Tower like a feline King Kong, swiping away helicopters like flies as it’s huge claws lock over the girders… imagine it, this monstrous beast, with a purr that feels like an earthquake, tectonic blinking lids sliding over it’s vast green eyes, and that sinister cat smile that says “I’m going to eat you, sure - but I’m gonna play with you first”.

The only thing nearly as frightening in the music of Cats In Paris is the similarly vivid level of imagination at play. They meld together a seemingly endless series of sonic textures - sweeping strings with chimes and glockenspiel, synth and recorder, chugging bass and acrobatic percussion, sweet instrumental breakdowns and ragged shoutalongs - into beautifully complex and wonky indie-pop anthems.

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