To some people there is absolutely no doubt whatsoever as to what something will sound like. These people are either shockingly decisive or drainingly unimaginative. To Le Neon a chorus will always sound a bit like ‘School’ by Nirvana and the verses will nearly always take lead from Sonic Youth’s ‘Daydream Nation’, with a bit of ‘Dirty’s feedback thrown about for good measure. Le Neon land somewhere slap-boom-clatter-screech-BANG in the middle of those two definitions. Or slightly and quite probably off centre depending on your personal perspective. That’s not to say they won’t take their minds out of those shackles at all. No, see how they wooze their way through lashings of rusty thrashing distortion towards the 8 minute mark of ‘Drone’. Here there’s a beaten track as well, sure, but it’s a little less well defined and they’re having to beat their way through again.
As with many bands, many many bands, there’s a clear explanation for this kind of behaviour. Le Neon’s explanation is that they are from Stroud. Stroud isn’t in France. Stroud is nestled amongst the quaint Englishness of the Cotswolds. The Cotswolds are equally beautiful and soul-destroyingly incident-free. It’s generally where you go to retire, or to develop a heroin addiction. Existence there can also be tempered by a third way, learning to make a whopping racket. It’s that old gem escapism, an antidote to small town life. That is surely Le Neon all over. And it’s a rabid old form of escapism they’re specialising in, any plant-life within 100 yards of their rehearsal rooms (and there will be plant life) is no doubt withering fast.
There’s probably very little actual difference between West Country wilderness and Scottish scarceness to a frustrated kid with a guitar, and thus parallels between Le Neon and Idlewild’s early ‘Captain’-era jets of steam are entirely justified here. Especially given Daniel Clare’s smouldering sandpaper vocals on top of spluttering guitars through ‘S.P.A.C.E’ and ‘Dying’. It’s the kind of unsteady shriek that Craig Nicholls sounds so stupid spitting. Thankfully Daniel Clare isn’t Crag Nicholls. They’ve a similar spirit to the likes of other teen tearaways Biffy Clyro and Kenesis, the former especially when the melodies rattle like chimes in a gale on ‘I Can’t Go On’ and the excellent ‘Take It All’. Give ‘em a couple of years to get it out of their systems and move somewhere bigger, they’ll mellow and find some perspective. But for the time being this tantrum rock will do nicely.