I saw Youth Club at a recent gig in Camden, as aesthetics go they’re an odd looking bunch of semi-pro mexican skaters and heavy metal hipsters. The array of possibilities as to what this band would sound like were endless, maybe Mariachi metal? But no, these Southend boys are pure indie pop, and no, that is not a veiled insult or a snooty, up turned nose towards a bastardised genre because Youth Club are as tight and funky as James Brown in a straightjacket and they’re our Unsigned Sunday pick.

Youth Club are Danny Blanco, Joe Fran, Gerarrd Duffield & Rees Broomfield. They are currently writing their debut album and if their sound cloud is anything to go by it will be brimming with pop sensibilities and an indie dancefloor sound that will infiltrate your brain and take over control of those dancing feet. Indie pop has a habit of doing that, but Youth Club have a pure funk and vibe that pulls them from the Kodaline/Mumford cesspit. They are unreeling in their fun and frivolity on stage mixing modern electro and minimalist beats at points to create a plethora of modern sound.

Tunnel is a stand out hit. Lazy and lethargic in the way that cool kids are in 90’s sitcoms but with enough candy filled bouncy and synth to keep the head bobbing. There’s a Cajun Dance Party feeling surrounding this band, a youth movement of rot your teeth fun; the kind of fun you have at the fair. Youth Club are like eating whiskey flavoured candy floss on the waltzer, slightly queasy but as much fun as is legal for a minor.

Indie pop is a jam packed genre full of open mouthed and open arsed bands ready for the corporate cock. Youth Club though, have a swagger and a nonchalance that sets them apart from the conveyor-belt trash; they use their funky sound to make hits for the dancefloor and entirely unashamedly. It’s Gerrard’s vocals and performance, however that distinguishes the band as real contenders, his tone is warm and unattainable, coupling this with the bounce and energy in Tunnel and other demos there’s no reason that the state abolished Youth Club can’t find it’s way on to most street corners of Britain.

 

Jack Whatley

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