The Young Playthings

Matt Hinds checks in from his comfy confines somewhere in London. When he is not feverishly pushing lead to pulp, wait a second who the hell does that anymore, Boney flesh to keyboard he enjoys a good rock show every-now-and-then. His latest jaunt into the city was to see a new band (well new to me) called The Young Playthings.

May 10th 2007, at the Betsy Trotwood, Clerkenwell, London.

I saw a band the other night that I expected to sound like a genre of music called “fantasy speed metal” Ã la Battlelore. Therefore, I was happily surprised when the band that appeared did not act like Arthurian troubadours, singing songs overtly concerned with dragons and magic. Actually, the band was called the Young Playthings. After the show, the name was ringing in my ears and I kept thinking that the moniker was the “Bright Young Things.” Certainly, they possessed an amount of Evelyn Waugh cheek. I bet they were the kids in school who were infinitely smarter than those teachers’ pets (or the teachers for that matter). Instead, they merely sat apathetically in the back row, took the gentleman’s “C” and laughed at the kids who were lame enough to read Whalesong for homework.

The lead singer/guitar player, a bulking man decked in business attire and Chuck Taylors, goes by the name Bateman. He reminded me of the WWF’s yuppie bad guy (and sometime Ted DiBiase tag team partner), Irwin R. Schyster. Regardless of how it played out in the squared circle, the look works for Bateman. His voice has a lot of depth, pleasantly textured with a hint of a “not for everyone” taste. To his immediate right was the bearded bass player Jors Truly. Playing something equivalent to “lead bass,” Truly captained the music, sweatily directing its sound and singing along with Bateman. (Very much) in the background was the sublime drummer, Tibor, a man who concentrated on his musical craft. He was solid, steady and adaptable, allowing his band mates to explore new musical territories, whilst keeping them moored to the tune.

Immediately, the warmth of their sound struck me. It made me feel as if I had been a fan of the band since I was their 3rd MySpace friend or something to that effect. They were remarkably inventive, refusing to rest on their musical laurels, as two-minute surf-rock ditties naturally evolved into starry contemplative ballads. My interest was further piqued by their lyrics - songs invoking images of Volvos, the fiery demise of a middle class (British vernacular) kid who is not up for “compassionate conservatism,” a beachcomber, ex-pat alienation and Long Island Sounds.

There was one song titled “Just a Fool,” which was unashamedly heartfelt, reaching a dizzying crescendo as Bateman sang to grieve. It is one of those songs where you know things are just a little bit better now that you have heard it. At least it is a song that you can blissfully hum along to while on a dystopian city bus.

Overall the band’s music is diverse, but unifying, with touches of Pavement and Big Star. It is even splashed with the cinematic aesthetic very reminiscent of the criminally under appreciated, Brooklyn-via-Austin band, Volcano, I’m Still Excited!!!.

In these days when music omni-fests are plenty and certain bands flaunt their messianic tendencies ad nauseum as a necessary means to connect with their audiences, the Young Playthings seem rather disinterested in being crushed by the full weight of their seriousness. Refreshingly, they avoided grandiose statements and simply played music as Townes Van Zandt once said, “for the sake of the song.” The Young Playthings’ first album, Who Invented Love?, will be released on May 14th on Small Town America and it is worth checking out.