Institute of Contemporary Arts

DAY FOUR: BRMC and Nine Black Alps

Date: 5 July 2007

BRMC's Peter Hayes takes the stage solo

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club come on stage about 45 minutes late, and there's only one of them. It's Peter Hayes, and he sings two old BRMC songs, Devil's Waitin' and Faultline, with acoustic guitar and sounding like a slightly maudlin Bruce Springsteen, before fellow Black Rebel Motorcyclist Robert Levon Been joins him. Then Hayes leaves the stage and Levon Been sings in the style of Bob Dylan for a while - covering the folk pixie's great old song The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll. This is disconcerting: are they doing some kind of experimental Pop Idol Goes Rock Idol night for their ICA exclusive? My fellow gig-goer Snakey tells me not: she's heard that drummer Nick Jago has gone awol in between the hotel and the ICA. As this troubling but at least rock-and-roll news sinks in, suddenly Jago appears and ba-doom-ba-doom-ba-doom-doom-doommm, the healing power of filthy chuggy rock is upon us.

For the next hour plus, the little ICA theatre is filled with noise and black-and-white light. Whatever Happened to My Rock and Roll has the crowd yelling and whooping. The band look tired and determined, sound tired and determined, like they've driven here straight from Californian deserts, stopping only for more mescal and leather jackets on the way. For the final song, American X, they enter some kind of parallel rock universe, it all goes a bit proggy, the bass and drums head off into noodle for a few minutes then blunder back, and it's all massive and NOISY and good. Then they're off, with barely a word. Then they're back! For an encore! The crowd, a strange mixture of dirty indie types and grown-up ex-indie-types who look like they'd normally be tucked up in bed by now, are rushing back to the stage looking like Christmas came twice. Later, we meet Nick Jago in the bar. He signs the ICA autograph board, and he has lovely manners.

Now, BRMC were good, but support act Nine Black Alps were WAHOO upcloseVERYLOUD filthyrockin'ace. From Manchester, they've been widely touted as the new princes of grunge, and the Nirvana comparisons are fair enough. But... they have got their own noise going on too. Since I last saw them (at the ICA a couple of years ago) they've been recording their second album and, as far as I can tell, learning a few Beach Boys harmonies (they recorded in LA, which might explain some of that). They also look more like The Muppets than they used to - hairy and sweet and boinging about a lot (another LA side-effect?). Tonight they open in the theatre when it's not yet full and not yet warm (the ICA has installed some very efficient air con). They could be boys practising in their dad's garage, if their dad had a very good set of lights and some dry ice. This illusion is reinforced when the singer, Sam Forrest, spits on the floor and then looks a bit naughty and pleased about it. The illusion's destroyed, though, when they start belting out thoroughly exciting, incendiary punk rock and chucking themselves about the stage, and when the kids down the front are yelling along and looking ragey and ecstatic. (Let's take this moment to remember the importance in rock music of young women with peroxide blonde hair who know how to dance and yell and love music, and who are much more fun to stand next to at a gig than anyone else I can think of.)

Sam Forrest has a big, sweet voice and this band sound rock hard and super tight. Ace new single Burn Faster has bouncy, crooning hints of their time in America, and cathartic grunge gems Not Everyone and Unsatisfied get the highest sing-along score of the gig. Lead strummer David Jones plays his guitar using a drumstick for a while, and my love for them increases accordingly. Sam manages to destroy a guitar, he's playing it with such angst and rage. A tech comes on like a babysitter and offers up another, which is swiftly smashed - this time held by its neck and brought down to the ground, Monterey Pop style. Then Sam attacks the bassist Martin Cohen, who has started playing David's guitar, and takes his guitar. At which point Cohen leaves the stage. Can't blame him really. The whole time, though, the music is going strong, reminding me of why I love The Rock. It all starts to fade down a bit and then! They finish with Shot Down, a belter, a beauty, a track to reboot your office-addled soul.

Anna Wood