Talk To Angels are Craig Kaye (guitar & vocals), Chris Robbins (bass) and Jamie Lofthouse (drums). All three were born in Bradford Royal Infirmary during 1989, although not at the same time. Even though they’re only eighteen they’ve already been playing music together for three or four years, although it was never really that serious. Unless you’re the Jacksons or Hanson, it seldom is when you’re 15.
In February 2007 they found themselves at the remains of a party in Mickey from Embrace’s house, because their friend’s dad knew him or something, chatting shit about music at 7am until Mickey agreed to give them a week of free studio time if they cleared out his basement so they could actually get in the studio there to use it. From thereon in, things got serious.
The sound? They’re still developing, obviously. At the moment every new song is better than the last one. At their best, they’re somewhere between At The Drive-In and Echo & The Bunnymen, playing songs ostensibly about Cilla Black. Which is to say that they’re loud, impassioned, dramatic, and run through with ideas. These are kids who’ve grown up on Blink 182 and Weezer as much as The Beatles and Pink Floyd. They’re still discovering music. Remember what that was like? Fucking awesome, that’s what. You can hear that discovery, those ideas, in their own music. Already they can sell out good-sized venues in Leeds, without a record deal or an album. They’re not sure they need a record deal. It’s 2008, for pity’s sake.
God knows how much fibre moulding putty these guys get through. In my day we called it gel. Style is obviously important, not least to Chris, who matches his pants to his shirt. Pants in the British sense, that is. He outlasts the rest of the band on all-night wine & shit-talk adventures, ends up outside listening to birdsong at 6am. He likes sirloin steak and was into Power Rangers as a kid and prefers dogs to cats. Probably one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet.
It’s unusual to find a drummer who can talk about anything, let alone hold forth on microbiology, Tila Tequila, teenage girls who are smaller than a bike wheel, cheese, Channel 4 documentaries and anything else you care to mention, but Jamie can manage it. He towers over the other two. He’s meant to. He’s the drummer. His favourite colour is dark blue. He’s not averse to paradiddling on a broken radiator.
Then there’s Craig. His Facebook page tells me he’s tired of being a fuck up. He’s the child of teenage hippies. His favourite meat is beef, he prefers rugby to cricket and speakers to headphones, and at the time of writing was wearing pink socks. His favourite film is 12 Monkeys. He didn’t start off singing, didn’t think he wanted to sing, but it was inevitable that he would. He’s that type. You know the ones; a dangerous mixture of cocksureness and insecurity that vacillates between bravado, thoughtfulness and melancholia, and that demands attention and approval. The annoying, fascinating stuff of all great frontmen. His second favourite topic of conversation is himself. Lock up your daughters.
I’m not going to claim that Talk To Angels are the best band you’ve never heard, or the next big thing, or that they’ll change your life. Because who knows? But I am going to claim that you should pay attention. Because you should.
Nick Southall
Talk To Angels on Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/talktoangels
Talk To Angels on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Talk-To-Angels/10042293669
In February 2007 they found themselves at the remains of a party in Mickey from Embrace’s house, because their friend’s dad knew him or something, chatting shit about music at 7am until Mickey agreed to give them a week of free studio time if they cleared out his basement so they could actually get in the studio there to use it. From thereon in, things got serious.
The sound? They’re still developing, obviously. At the moment every new song is better than the last one. At their best, they’re somewhere between At The Drive-In and Echo & The Bunnymen, playing songs ostensibly about Cilla Black. Which is to say that they’re loud, impassioned, dramatic, and run through with ideas. These are kids who’ve grown up on Blink 182 and Weezer as much as The Beatles and Pink Floyd. They’re still discovering music. Remember what that was like? Fucking awesome, that’s what. You can hear that discovery, those ideas, in their own music. Already they can sell out good-sized venues in Leeds, without a record deal or an album. They’re not sure they need a record deal. It’s 2008, for pity’s sake.
God knows how much fibre moulding putty these guys get through. In my day we called it gel. Style is obviously important, not least to Chris, who matches his pants to his shirt. Pants in the British sense, that is. He outlasts the rest of the band on all-night wine & shit-talk adventures, ends up outside listening to birdsong at 6am. He likes sirloin steak and was into Power Rangers as a kid and prefers dogs to cats. Probably one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet.
It’s unusual to find a drummer who can talk about anything, let alone hold forth on microbiology, Tila Tequila, teenage girls who are smaller than a bike wheel, cheese, Channel 4 documentaries and anything else you care to mention, but Jamie can manage it. He towers over the other two. He’s meant to. He’s the drummer. His favourite colour is dark blue. He’s not averse to paradiddling on a broken radiator.
Then there’s Craig. His Facebook page tells me he’s tired of being a fuck up. He’s the child of teenage hippies. His favourite meat is beef, he prefers rugby to cricket and speakers to headphones, and at the time of writing was wearing pink socks. His favourite film is 12 Monkeys. He didn’t start off singing, didn’t think he wanted to sing, but it was inevitable that he would. He’s that type. You know the ones; a dangerous mixture of cocksureness and insecurity that vacillates between bravado, thoughtfulness and melancholia, and that demands attention and approval. The annoying, fascinating stuff of all great frontmen. His second favourite topic of conversation is himself. Lock up your daughters.
I’m not going to claim that Talk To Angels are the best band you’ve never heard, or the next big thing, or that they’ll change your life. Because who knows? But I am going to claim that you should pay attention. Because you should.
Nick Southall
Talk To Angels on Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/talktoangels
Talk To Angels on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Talk-To-Angels/10042293669
Rock Melodramatic Popular Song Indie