They’re a fun band with some cracking tunes and they provided a vibrant night’s music last night at the Roundhouse, but where on earth did the idea come from that Noah and the Whale are a folk band? On this evidence, they’re about as folkie as Motörhead. Granted, they have a violinist in their line-up, but this is really no signifier of folkiness. In fact, the musician who sprang to mind most frequently during this pacy, compact show was Bruce Springsteen, especially on the material from the band’s recent Last Night on Earth album, with its heroic chord changes, its loose scansion and its tales of driving and escape from suburbia.
To be fair to Noah and the Whale, this was the first time I’d seen them, and it seems likely that I have entirely missed the folkie phase of their existence (there was a time when Laura Marling was a member); there was a moment when bassist Urby Whale stuck his finger in his ear when singing harmonies and for a moment we were in a folk club in the 1960s with tankards of ale and roll-neck sweaters, but otherwise this was pretty mainstream stuff (accentuated by the fact that, to a man, they were wearing suits and ties – a pretty reliable indicator that a band has ambitions to move on up).
Whatever they might once have been is really neither here nor there; unless you are of a purist persuasion and believe that folk bands should stick to the one true path, it’s what they are now that matters. And what they are now is a thoroughly decent and occasionally stirring five-piece band with, as I said, some really top tunes, as well as haircuts that look good silhouetted against bright white light.
If there’s more than a modicum of Springsteen in what they do, it's especially on “Tonight’s the Kind of Night”, whose chorus chords are a dead ringer for The Boss’s "Badlands", though with much less drama and histrionics in the vocal department (perhaps not surprising, given that they come from Twickenham, not New Jersey). There was more than a touch, too, of Lloyd Cole in singer Charlie Fink’s dry, crackly delivery.
For the most part, though, Noah and the Whale sounded very much like themselves: rich and warm, subtly melodic, and with a knack of thrumming up a rhythmic storm. The melancholy mood of “Wild Thing” was accentuated by its pulsing, looping synthesiser pattern; “L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N.” was sweet and singalongable.
Watch the video for "L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N."
If I were to pick holes, the biggest one would be Fink’s voice: it’s a bit thin, frankly, and sounded flat; it was at its best when bolstered by the harmonies of his bandmates. A far pickier hole to pick would be the utterly feeble visual backdrop: if you’re going to echo Mondrian with a screen divided into squares, it’s best to ensure that the material doesn’t bunch up at the top like a curtain in a bedsit. On the other hand, there was a moment when the band disappeared entirely behind brilliant lights that blazed into the faces of the audience (that's what it must be like to be on stage); I’d never seen this done before, and it was really quite stunning.
So there we have it: after barely 80 minutes, Noah and the Whale sent the packed young crowd out into the north-London night happy and buzzing, and Fink had appeared to enjoy what was, we were told by Whale, his actual birthday. I can’t say I was transported into another world, but still, the crowd were attentive (very little chatter, very few camera phones in evidence, always a good sign in my view), and the band’s drive-time pop-rock was rich, warm and easy on the ear.
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