Clearlake are one of those bands who piss merrily on the "if-it-doesn't-kick-you-in-the-face-and-demand-that-you-listen-it's-not-worth-hearing" ethic. There's nothing remotely face-kicking about Clearlake; in fact one wouldn't be inaccurate in saying that they're a very polite and cheerful band. They make polite and cheerful conversation with the crowd, and when one random lad in the seated mass on the floor requests a song, they politely and cheerfully oblige. Like I said, polite and cheerful. And there's NOTHING wrong with that. Why does everyone figure that every worthwhile band in the world has to be full of angry, raging, politically charged activists? If every band was like that we'd be sick of them all! Sorry, going off on a tangent there. Anyway.
It's while watching Clearlake that I realise that not making time for them earlier was a VERY VERY STUPID mistake. They're fantastic. They really are. To coin an apt phrase I found in the Organ zine this month, they're great "in such an unobtrusive way". And they shouldn't be berated for this because the results are marvellous. They have the sweetly melodic harmonies and melodies of Coldplay, with a smarter, more angular edge; they're not as straight and obvious as Coldplay; they spin out tunes that manage to make you smile at the sheer loveliness without verging on the cloying. Something To Look Forward To is a growing, thoughtful whoosh of a song, while I Hang On Every Word You Say is possibly the sweetest and most innocent love song I've heard in years; unashamedly old-fashioned and wearing a head-in-the-clouds smile, it smacks of romantic musicals where the hero sings a swooning song to his chica and gets the girl. Lovely, ain't it? I did actually find myself grinning like a loon at very frequent intervals throughout the song.
Towards the end of the set, the band dedicate a song to a member of a mysteriously unnamed band (who turn out to be the Cardiacs); it's unlike anything else we've heard throughout the set; sadly I didn't catch the name but I shall be investigating. Their pianist picks up a guitar and they rattle through a mental song that combines Buddy Holly guitar shapes with frenetic drums and a triple invasion of..well... it sounded like aeroplanes and air-raid sirens to me, but I guess it's open to interpretation. Utterly loony and completely brilliant.
For all the sweetness and light though, there's something darker about Clearlake; it's difficult to pinpoint and define but it lurks there nonetheless; perhaps it's the slightly skewed, resigned and almost fatalistic melodies - tunes that hold a hint of "oh shit things are fucked aren't they? Oh dear. Pass the biscuits." What also becomes clear is that at times they sound EXACTLY like the Kinks - though more Dead End Street than Lola, I should point out; they recreate the subtle element of weirdness that hid quietly in the background of much of the Kinks' music. And you have to see them live to notice this, because it just doesn't come across on record. So apart from all the above, there's another reason for you why you should see them live. Convinced yet? I am.
Clearlake