Majestic Dandelion are an alluring trio from Edinburgh who look like they shouldn’t be out on a school night, with faces so fresh they make the rest of us wish we’d been able to sound like they do when we were young.
Their site describes them as Cream meets Wolfmother-not far away, but with a funkily laid-back Americana vibe in there too.
They haven’t been together long apparently but they seem at ease with each other on stage, if they can refine their lyrics a little bit without falling into the trap of being either saccharine or preachy they’ll undoubtedly be ones to watch.
Tonight’s main event though is Nine Black Alps, this their first show after a hiatus of a few years-not that you’d know.
New bassist Karl Astbury looks right at home with a band who between acutely ferocious renditions of songs everyone in the sold-out crowd seems to know word-for word and the band seen to legitimately enjoy the fact that they’re back to their storming selves.
This tour coincides with a new, self-produced album Sirens.
I’ve been following them since the mid-late noughties when their work was a refreshingly un-tampered alternative to the developing sounds of Biffy Clyro, Bloc Party and the like.
While their contemporaries have shifted from the raw, guitar-laden grunginess we see from Nine Black Alps, they’ve stayed the course.
Which begs the question “why are a band this good, with fans this loyal and a stage presence so complete, playing King Tut’s?”
Nothing against Tut’s-of course-but as I watched Sam, David, James and Karl belting out song after song of fervently apathetic passion I couldn’t help but wonder why there weren’t about 500 more people sharing the experience too.
At any rate it is a great night, blessed with a band who have developed rather than stagnated, and another whose promise was glowing like the knowing smirks between its members: both at ease enough in themselves and their music to put at ease, if temporarily, the cloying feeling that they should be better recognised than they are.
Still, there’s always time.
Words/Photos: Simon Jones
