2005 Reviews

The Marquee/January

Nemo were your poet's band, your musician's musicians, your good old fashioned singing from the heart, and sometimes a bit of crying if the mood took you, I think if the Killers were bigger Siouxsie fans, then you're almost there. More the legacy of emo than Elton John, they absorbed the pretty lights where before Far Cries had reflected them; warming my heart and chilling me very slightly at the same time, the kind of voice that inexplicably merges with the scream of the guitar and furthermore, they were all very snappy dressers, so yum there too...

Pure Rock Music

 

Glam-o-rama/The Buffalo Bar

I love this club; the ostentatious pretension, the fervent clamor and indelible freedom it inspires. The grainy atmosphere in the catacombs of the Buffalo Bar always reminds me of black-and-white films of the cheap tawdriness of swinging go-go delights; the ravenous pulchritude of Vivienne Westwood; the deft shattering of innocence by unabashed hedonism and voluptuous debauchery. It is entirely appropriate that we begin on a glitter-clad stage with a slight young faery, garlands in her hair, giving a reading from Oscar Wilde's Orlando. With a breath she ends the poem in a puff of shimmering cloud of pixie dust. The hot-panted MC leaps back up onto the stage in the whirl of applause and announces this evening's events to come: laughter, dancing, a song by Tim dedicated to the impending departure of one of their core, and Nemo.

Born in 1999, Nemo came together through the shared love of electronic pop and new-wave. Inspired by the likes of Joy Division, Television, Human League and Talking Heads, James Cook, Milan Adamik and the man known as Section Q took what they did best as a platform for seeing what comes next. Pushing off from this oft imitated history they?ve created a genre unto themselves. Despite a whack-load of buzzy attention last year, 'internal conflicts' meant that things were starting to look a little grim. And then along came Kev Kennedy, a fabtastic multi-talented guitarist. They met at Kinki, a retro futurist club in Soho in May. It was love at first sight.

Tonight's show is their first gig since Kev's induction into the fold. You'd think that combined with the bias to the left (right-hand PA blown during the soundcheck; James' collarbone injury two days before) would make them even a little apprehensive, and if any anxiety remains it immediately dissipates the second they hit the stage. James' punky cabaret vocals and intense smirk have the aching ability to leave his audience gasping; his egregious flair for knowing what his audience wants both disarming and intoxicating. The bass and drums from Milan and Section Q send the heart reeling in an aural beat-down, while sweet Kev?s sweet guitar and pretty little harmonies sets the room alight. Theirs is a brand of postmodern looping sci-pop that infiltrates the body with exacting inebriation, burlesque glam and glippy space-pops hurtle about propelled by unparalleled voltage.

The pop-y electro-jangle of Living Room sets it up with sing-back choruslines, thumping basslines and James raving gleefully at centre stage; their methedrine energy cleaves the room with head-spinning ferocity. The Colour of Sound dances in hues, starry Signals hum and gash in a tumultuous seduction accompanied all the while by quantum pop and glammed up space blips. By Masters of Disguise their proclivity for the synthtastic is luminescent. With a bit of more traditional keyboards, the thudding graze of bass and drums clash in a precise waltz with nigh-on angry vocals. It?s a much harsher number, set in immediate juxtaposition to high-string glitzy synth. James' droning scream arcs above it all before seething into nothing. From the gloriously retroglam of Rescue the Revolution to the hauntingly, almost Triffidianly, postapocalyptic and glitchy Piccadilly in Sepia, Nemo is nothing short of dirty sophistication that will threaten your sanctity and fill you with ecstasy.

Emma Haigh

 

The Purple Turtle/Camden October

It's possible that some of the crowd were only there because they couldn't get tickets for Ladytron at Koko's, but I'll bet not a single one regretted their luck.. Nemo didn't get on stage until after 11 and by this time the crowd were ready to go... From the opening song, the looks of surprise started to spread - there were a few regular Nemo fans, loving it as ever, but there were many more who just hadn't expected this - nodding hypnotised along, calling their friends down from the balcony to join them dancing down the front, their smiles said it all - another live band in Camden, and finally something fresh and exciting. And the band fed off this reaction - James loving the attention in full on rockstar mode, mic stand aloft, kicking over the speakers, voice filled with emotion and chatting to the crowd between songs "we're from North London - are you from North London?" (yes!) "what? all of you?".. The set was flawless, full of energy, loud twanging guitar, rumbling bass, fluid, stirring drums and well placed synths. There was no slump, the songs built up to the epic Clones at the end and when the band finally left, dripping, from the stage, they left behind a whole room full of new fans.

Lisa Howdle

www.unsignedcentral.co.uk

Rendition/London April

More pipe cleaner limbs abound as the incredible Nemo appear - and this sexy bunch of electro-rockers do everything right (and I'm not just saying that because, funnily enough, two of them helped me move house a while ago... although I do have a carpet that needs shifting...). For the first time the audience gets spoken to (we need acknowledgement, dammit!), we get humour, we get impressive amounts of eyeliner, and we get a band theatrical enough to match the decaying glamour of the venue. They play an explosive set with enough of a punk slant to be exciting, but sufficient erring on the pop side to actually capture mainstream attention. They deserve greatness.

Zoe Street

www.gigwise.com

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