IMRO Showcase Tour

Kicking off an evening of music while the punters are still filing in is daunting enough, but when your only company onstage is your guitar, it must be particularly nerve-wracking. Respect is due then for ex-Skindive vocalist Danielle Harrison who keeps very cool and creates a church-like atmosphere with the help of her ethereal vocals, effects-laden guitar lines and, crucially, an audience who dare not speak a word during her performance. To wit, the clinking of glasses is met with death stares and this reviewer even feels a slight twinge of guilt when hastily scrawling notes. Captivating stuff.
“It’s our first ever gig!” chuckles Dana Donnelly of boy/girl duo I’m Your Vinyl midway through their set. If she’s nervous, she’s not showing it. At times, the twosome tap into the gothic playfulness of Anais Nin with tracks like ‘Under The Ashes’. Elsewhere, the arpeggiated climb of ‘There Will Be Blood’ is fun but seems slightly at odds with a set that makes up for in enthusiasm what it lacks in direction. Still, it’s a hell of a first impression and once I’m Your Vinyl figure out precisely what they want to be, things could get very interesting.
Up next are Ghost Estates. Their tremelo guitar-friendly brand of indie gloom sounds, on occasion, like a slightly more upbeat Joy Division. The expected tales of unrequited love and lust wash over amiably until the five-piece decide to kick things up a notch with ‘October’ and ‘Forever Or Never’, two songs that greatly benefit from patient pacing, packing meaningful choruses and breakdowns that occasionally drift into Horrors territory, all shrill synths and apathetic confidence. Ones to watch.
Closing out proceedings are The Hot Sprockets, who appear to have escaped from a very different era. Thanks to their old-school apparel, perfectly-maintained mutton chops (how does he do that?) and a sound that brings to mind early Kings Of Leon before it all went horribly wrong, the Sprockets wouldn’t seem out of place soundtracking a chain gang in the deep south. In the confines of the Grand Social, they’re a ball of kinetic energy and loud, sometimes mournful blues rock, adding the requisite authenticity to their image.