Radio Free Alice prove their live power translates to tape with ‘Rule 31’
Earlier this year, a new name seemed to suddenly emerge, screaming loudly. Melbourne’s Radio Free Alice decided to pack up and move to London for the summer, and almost as quickly as they landed, the city was obsessed.
From where I was standing, it felt like everywhere I looked, the band’s name was there. On the chalkboard outside Shacklewell Arms, on the pavilion of Scala, on the posters at George Tavern, on the busy schedule at the Windmill.
Talking to Strand ahead of the move, frontman Noah Learmonth said, “I’m just excited to fully give myself, or ourselves, over to music. We’re here for only one reason and that’s the band.”
The mission was simple – take the following they’d already built, and boom it. The plan was the noble boom that followed the organic way by playing as many gigs as possible, and making all of them great. For a summer, I couldn’t move for stories of their shows, for people tripping over themselves to sing the band’s praises.
The plan worked. The following blew up into a fully fledged cult that earned them fans in high places, as they’re now prepping to join Geese on their Australian tour. Word of mouth has spread their name worldwide as proof that news of a good show can travel and travel fast.
But really, when you hit play on a track like ‘Rule 31’ it’s understandable. This is the type of song that almost demands to be heard live. You can taste the lager, feel the floor shaking, and imagine the bodies moving.
Especially in the UK, it sounds exactly like the kind of dark, gritty indie tune that British crowds eat up in the country’s finest independent venues, making perfect sense of the band’s busy summer of 31 sold out shows when they will have sounded like this.
Is it the world’s most inventive rock song? No, no, it’s not. But what Radio Free Alice do incredibly well as part of their recipe for success is being foolproof. This is a song that would have even the grumpiest person in the room tapping their toe as the beat carries you off whether you want it to or not, pulls you into the cult regardless.
It’s really no wonder. This is a song that sounds like a Saturday night in a sticky floor basement venue room, or bounces like the wobbly upper floor gig room at London’s Old Blue Last, so it’s no wonder the band keep getting crowds in the palm of their hand.
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