So. First of all. I’m sorry.
Dear Noah and the Whale. I slagged yous and I was wrong. Sorry. Best, dw.
For everyone else:
Noah and the Whale are a pleasing young and new band from Britain’s Surrey. Back in May, I saw them at the Great Escape Festival. I was probably just annoyed about being kept outside too long and then being ushered into a quiet and reverential Unitarian Church venue to see them. We were sat crushed in tiny church chairs, most of the crowd was uncommonly quiet (and way younger than me) and the band just didn’t want to be there. Too cool for school. Unsmiling. Unenthused. Boringly polished. This wasn’t rock’n’roll and I didn’t like it. And there wasn’t a bar,
Then, a week or so ago, in a moment of magnanimity in an indy record store in Shoreditch (in Britain’s London), I relented. I bought their Long Player peaceful, The world lays me down and it hasn’t really been off the record (I say record, I mean CD) player since. It’s awfully good. I say magnanimity and that’s not untrue.
I was buying the Black Kids album and I asked if they had Fleet Foxes cos I wanted that too. They were fresh out of Fleet Foxes (hardly a surprise after such a a good gig): ‘but,†suggested the gamine girl with dreamy brown eyes peering over geeky specs, with angular bleach blond hair and boots too kinky even for Honor Blackman, ‘if you like Fleet Foxes you’ll like Noah and the Whale too. You should get it.”
Of course, I’m like old enough to be her former Geography GCSE teacher and, y’know, everything. And I should just have said, to at least show a shred of cool and credibility, that I’d seen ’em, heard ’em and slagged ’em on me blog. But no, no I didn’t. No. I didn’t. I didn’t even manage a “no thanks” or “I’ll check ’em out on MySpace.” I managed an over-enthusiastic and slightly over-extended ‘cooool†with accompanying hippy slow nod and I bought the damn record.
But, in the immortal words of the Walker Brothers, no regrets. It’s a cracker. Go and buy it. Noah and the Whale. Sorry.