Volcanoes - Vexihomp

There is no way of getting around this: in the mid-9's I was a prize geek. I had crooked teeth only highlighted by a chunky brace. My hair fell in lank curtains and my skin was shiny with pubescent oil. I was good in class but bad with people. I had a slight stammer and blushed uncontrollably. Inexplicably, my stomach rumbled constantly, especially in exams, much to everyone's amusement. I was not cool, witty or beautiful. I was a scholar, resigned to hanging out with other misfits.

My one redeeming feature as far as the swish cool kids were concerned was my deadly awesome music taste. The first album I ever bought was Led Zeppelin III. I was into Blur while they were still listening to pre-tween pop. I brought Pulp, Greenday and Cast to the school. I was a Soundgarden fan. I showed people Nirvana and Alanis Morisette (I'm slightly sorry about the latter). I staged the campaign against Oasis and their fans during the 1995 GREAT DIVIDE (apparently referred to in 'the press' as The Britpop Battle but I like my version better). This gained me some slim cred for at least a week. Sadly for me in many ways I have never been cooler, and my music taste has never again been the zenith of cool… More of a funny niche, possibly a lightly mouldering niche in the great cheese making valley of Cheddar Gorge.

Why am I waffling on about the 1990s anyway, huh? Who in jam hell wants to hear about my spotty, pus-chrysalis years? I have now fully pupated and am almost adult. I mean technically I should be adult but I'm still spending my evenings writing free music reviews, befriending chavs, drinking cheap wine and picking my nose so I'll freely admit I might not be there just yet. The point I'm trying to make is that I am a Britpop and alt-rock fan. I lived and breathed that stuff for years and even now, when metal has become my wife, indie is my sultry mistress, tempting me ever back with a sexy glance. A waft of The Cure on the breeze and I'm dancing. I'll still get up for Jane's Addiction. I can still recite every word of Radiohead.

This is why, when I heard that the Volcanoes EP was 90s style alt-rock with a witty, fun edge, I was there. I was desperate to review it - I wanted that music so hard my tits exploded. I tacked them back together with duct tape (fixes everything) and got onto Soundblab to get it. No hospital for me, no sir, this was too exciting to miss. Now pay attention because this is the nicest thing I'm going to say about this band. Roll up, roll up. Hear ye, hear ye. Gather round and listen closely. If you want, you can quote me.

"This is perfectly adequate, professionally made new indie."

Unfortunately for Volcanoes, what you have devastatingly spewed forth like a red hot chunder of a musical natural disaster is incredibly tedious music. It is a poor man's Kaiser Chiefs. It is exactly the same as all of the other derivative, unoriginal 'indie' bands around at the moment. It's not that it's bad, or that it is unpleasant, or unprofessional or even poorly written. The musical qualities are quite fine. It's just that I've heard it all before. It's as boring and as clichéd as late teens in 60s dresses huddled round Camden thinking that they're cutting edge and terribly different. Actually they are 10 years too late for it to be rebellious.

On the plus side, there were a few catchy melodies and some excellent lyrics, it's just that I couldn't appreciate it properly because I was so very tired of it all. It caked my mind and swamped my vigour like an oil slick made of sparkly vintage custard. I am sure there are screaming, cord-pinafore wearing, ukulele girls who would love it, it's just not for me. It might be fun but I'm afraid it is most certainly not witty. That disappointment is so grand that Volcanoes should pay me for each one of my bitter winces and pithy squirms. I will let them off because they're from Yorkshire and I have a soft spot for northern lads but they should buck up and do something new if they don't want to be swallowed into the anonymity of the mediocre masses.