The Front Bottoms, Pup at Tut’s, 27/8/14

The Front Bottoms return to Glasgow to a sold out King Tut’s and if you’ve never seen these guys before you may just be taken aback by the strength of their following.

The capacity crowd, some of whom have tattoos of the group, know every lyric and nuance of the band’s set and sing-along in the style of  the 1960’s Beatlesmania or One Directioners with taste.

Mild mannered Canadians Pup open the show with some teen friendly indie punk, however it wouldn’t be Glasgow without a joke killing “yer ma” heckle, the band take it in their stride however, taunting that Birmingham crowds beat Glasgow.

The bands bouncing bass lines and clap along choruses hype the crowd into the first stage dive of the evening from guitarist Stefan Babcock and all is forgiven.

The Front Bottoms open with ‘Skeleton’ from last year’s Talon of the Hawk, and you notice that while the band’s studio recordings have a toy town quality, the sincerity and intensity of the material is stepped up a notch live, a desperation shines through in tonight’s performance and is all the better for it.

Songs with understated themes recalling the boredom of small town New Jersey and nights spent on itchy carpets clearly resonate with the crowd’s experience.

The band play a number of instruments; keys and trumpet cut through acoustic guitar and heartfelt whines, providing levity in the set, all the while while they never stray far from the stripped back style of their garage band roots.

Vocalist and guitarist Brian Sellas’ relaxed stage presence crafts shouts of “we love you Brian’’ and underwear projectiles in a charming manner and when asked what the chant he always hears in Scotland Sellas starts the world’s most organised rendition of “here we fucking go”, stopping his on demand – enough of that.

With sweat dripping the frontman announces the last song before playing a three track encore finishing on new single ‘Funny You Should Ask’, on the night the band could have played 20 more songs Sellars jested to the exasperation of his fans, alas an eleven o’clock curfew brings an end to a memorable evening.

Words: Peter Johnstone

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