THE RIFLES at THE TROXY

As geezerish cockney Saturdays go, yesterday took some beating. The players of Queen’s Park Rangers finally delivered what they’re paid to do and put in a committed performance resulting in a 2-1 win over in-form Arsenal; and East London band The Rifles provided a knees-up dahn Mile End where the conversation in the pub beforehand and in the Troxy was predominately football related. It was good to chat to blokes who’d been to West Ham (grumbling), Fulham (indifferent) and Rangers (delighted). I often wonder how well The Rifles do outside of the capital as they seem a very London band, albeit from the disappearing "working class" London where everyone is “mate” or “son”, rather than the trendy London of wannabe media types wearing moustaches and red jeans rolled up to their shins.

The band put in a typically workmanlike performance, there's nothing poncified about them. In Alfie, Michael Caine says he wants "proper grub, like Spam" - The Rifles are Spam. The crowd jumped about and heartily sang along to stuff about wanting a little peace and quiet from their bird. Drinks and plastic cups were lobbed in the air (there is even a Rifles branded beer). A stray shoe landed on the stage. My mate got punched in the head and had his glasses broken. It was a good night topping a good day. All that was missing was a bloke flogging cockles.

THE RIFLES - FREEDOM RUN (2011)

Despite having the whole history of recorded music at my fingertips there are moments when I don’t know what to listen to. Those moments are inevitably filled by sticking on The Rifles 2006 debut No Love Lost. Not because it’s the best album ever made but its snappy bursts of mid-period Jam wears its heart on its sleeve, gets the head nodding and invites an exaggerated cockney sing-along whilst doing the washing up or pottering around the flat. ‘Andsome. The follow-up Great Escape didn’t quite match that standard but it’s still a decent album, strong on melodies and hooks, and now we come to Freedom Run.

On first play I was so bored it was a feat of endurance to last the course. For something so innocuous it was riling me. I’ve never heard a Snow Patrol album but this trudge through mediocrity is exactly how I imagine one; a stodgy production cloaking a lack of ideas. In the interests of fairness and loyalty I’ve played it another three times. That’s three hours of my life gone. The “Shout to the Top” style strings on the single “Tangled Up In Love” raise it an inch above the others and “Love Is A Key” (terrible title) will translate well in a live setting, but that's all and not good news for a band who’ve built their live shows around a geezerish, beer chucking audience. I’m not suggesting success is measured by the amount of wasted Stella but they’ll be plenty of uncomfortable periods at gigs now when punters are desperate to jump about to oldies rather than stand around arms folded.

The artwork is a giveaway: all moody photographs of mountains and desert highways, which fits the sense of nothingness these tracks evoke but The Rifles aren’t at home driving through Death Valley; their natural habitat is in Walthamstow pubs telling their mates about the latest argument with the girlfriend or their shitty day at work or how West Ham got beat again. To pretend otherwise fools no one and frankly makes them look a bit desperate.

There’s nothing strong enough on Freedom Run to give them the breakthrough hit and win them a legion of new fans; but there’s plenty weak enough to lose them a lot. They could shortly find they do have freedom, only not the kind they were searching for.

THE OLD DISTRACTION ROUTINE

Sorry to neglect you gentle reader but I've been busy, so here's another picture of Diana Rigg. Gotta be better than me slagging off the new Manics single or Rifles LP hasn't it? Not that either are outta the woods yet...

THE RIFLES at THE ROUNDHOUSE

It’s difficult to pinpoint precisely why I like the Rifles as much as I do. If there was an indie Top Trumps and you got their card you wouldn’t have a strong hand; scoring low points in originality, inventiveness, influence, virtuosity and all-round coolness. Their strength lies solely in their no messing, no fussing, straight-down-the-line brand of modish pop-punk. 2006’s No Love Lost is a collection of razor melodies and lyrics which lend themselves to swathes of boisterous blokes singing along unselfconsciously. Must admit, that doesn’t sound very inviting and exactly the sort of thing that would normally have me running to the hills rather than to gigs. They may argue that it’s just about the music. But music is not just about the music is it?

Another thing they do have in their favour – and should count their lucky stars for – is a passionately loyal fan base. Even a year or two without a proper release they still sold out large London venues from the Empire to the Forum to the Academy. No mean feat. And it’s their supporters that make their gigs; where Fred Perry, Tootal scarved skinny boys and their paunchier elders (they'll be me) swop the (mythical) terraces for the beer throwing moshpit. Although the band put the graft in, they’re far from captivating performers. A guitarist in a hat and a neat line in bonhomie doesn’t compensate for a collective lack of charisma. And the less said about the bassist’s new Harry Potter look the better. I'd rather go blind than wear glasses like that.

Tonight unsurprisingly showcases nearly all of the new Great Escape LP plus a large portion of No Love Lost. Great Escape inches towards that dreaded “mature” sound that bands end up with on their second album; as if the debut album – which first attracted their audience - is somehow not good enough and they need to “progress”. The Rifles one doesn’t suffer too much, and apart from sagging in the middle it’s another strong set of toe-tapping singalongs. Lyrically there’s a sense of nostalgia that permeates through much of their material and the newer songs add an even more pronounced bleak sense of hopelessness that things were shit, are shit, and will stay shit. “And if I get away from the pain and the voices that hound me/ Well I’m not quite sure I’ve got the strength to start over again” (“Fall To Sorrow”); “Waiting for the day you’re not looking for something else” (“The Great Escape”); “Expect nothing changing except for the name of the day” (“ToeRag”); and so forth.

The Jam-like oldies “Robin Hood”, “Repeated Offender”, “Local Boy” and “Peace and Quiet” get the biggest cheers and still pack a decent punch whilst “Spend A Lifetime” displays an endearing heart on its sleeve vulnerability. “The General” is the encore closer and The Rifles’ most impressive track to date. It still won’t win any awards for innovation but with violins and trumpets beefing up their usual pie and mash fayre this is a best-yet. It’s no Forever Changes but it’s no This Is The Modern World either.

I’m not sure The Rifles are equipped for the Premiership; they’re more suited as a dependable Championship side, but if they can sign another couple of “Generals” or bring in a surprise match-winner they may scrape into the top flight, but like their songs, I’m not optimistic.