| It’s fair
to say that Klaxons have an amazing weight of expectation
upon them. Just over a year into their existence and already
the kids love them, the press love them and everyone is
pretty much sporting a glow stick at their shows and a dash
of day glow in their day time attire. The media can smell
something molten hot going on, a Brit pop revival is in
the air yet most are somewhat bemused and are having a hard
time defining what this reincarnation actually is. For the
music consumer and MySpace addict there’s the mad energy
of the three singles - the latest, ‘Magick’, a frenetic
paean to occultist Alistair Crowley, plays regularly on
daytime Radio One but stands out a country mile from the
mass of regulation indie.
Jamie Reynolds (26) grew up on the council estates of
Bournemouth and Southampton. By age twelve he was already
drinking and smoking weed and, by thirteen, hanging out
with lads five years older. A group of them asked him
to be bassist in their nascent indie band, Thermal, and
a few bass lessons later Jamie’s band were supporting
heavy-hitters of the time such as Mansun and Heavy Stereo.
The big break never came, though. When they went to record
Thermal’s breakthrough single they discovered the lead
singer couldn’t sing and the band split up. Jamie was
gutted and threw himself into partying. He studied philosophy
at college but his heart wasn’t in it and he dropped out,
spending the next eight years working in record shops
“giving people hassle for buying records I thought weren’t
cool.”
Like Quentin Tarantino, the video store clerk who dreamed
big, however, Jamie spent these years plotting, drinking
in musical knowledge, and planning. Things came together
spectacularly when he moved to London and was made redundant.
He spent his redundancy money on studio kit and hooked
up with Simon to form a group called Klaxons (Not Centaurs),
named after a line from early twentieth century art text
The Futurist Manifesto.
Simon Taylor (24) grew up in Stratford-upon-Avon. Although
he was into indie music he was also listening to ‘Dance
Nation’ compilations and going to youth club happy hardcore
discos. He asked James, who was in the year below him
at school, to teach him guitar, then he headed off to
do Fine Art at Nottingham University. It was there he
embraced the jagged sounds of Josef K and the Fire Engines
and made drunken late night plans to form a band with
the boyfriend of one of his housemates, one Jamie Reynolds.
James Righton (23), meanwhile, worked every summer on
the boats in Stratford-upon-Avon, but was into music early
because his dad’s a musician. He went to Reading Festival
at ten and saw Oasis at Knebworth aged thirteen. He enjoyed
everything from Pantera to Radiohead but after studying
history at Cardiff University he disappeared to Madrid
to teach English and explore “these great weird techno
clubs”.
In late 2005 his old pal Simon persuaded him to come
back from “his everlasting gap year” and join Klaxons.
The chemistry of the three was immediate. They meticulously
planned what they wanted to achieve and recorded the sci-fi
prog-punk 7” ‘Gravity’s Rainbow’, putting out 500 copies
in hand-painted covers. The b-side was a version of long
lost 1992 rave hit ‘The Bouncer’ (originally by Kicks
Like A Mule). Jamie dropped the phrase ‘nu-rave’ to describe
Klaxons’ “bring the party” ethic and, hey presto, the
balloon started to go up. By the time they did their frantically
oversubscribed first gig it was already clear the band
were onto something special. ‘The Bouncer’ isn’t an electronic
dance record at all, of course, but stuttering brutally
Spartan rock that has more in common with Big Black or
Fugazi. The point was that Klaxons, with their garish
dress sense, lack of poseur mystique and desire to turn
a concert into a frantic good time, were just what the
self-absorbed post-Libertines London guitar scene needed.
An old-fashioned rave-style party at a school gym, with
the location revealed at the last minute on a mobile number,
sealed Klaxons’ reputation. Hundreds were turned away
and the dancing went on past dawn with no police interference.
What followed has been a hectic six months - constant
touring of Europe and the US; the William Burroughs sci-fi
call-to-arms of the second single ‘Atlantis To Interzone’;
the definitive tent-bursting set at the Reading Festival;
endless ‘next big thing’ tips by everyone from GQ to NME
to The Sun.
Klaxons, though, are ready for it. They are not going
to waste their opportunity and are eager to let the world
hear the full palate of their capabilities on the debut
album ‘Myths Of The Near Future’ produced by James Ford
of Simian Mobile Disco. All three come from single parent
families and have become a tight-knit gang of musical
brothers who take all the hype with a pinch of salt, concentrating
on making art that will outlast the fuss. They read voraciously
and their lyrics, full of references to the writing of
Richard Brautigan, Thomas Pynchon, JG Ballard, Alfred
Jarry, etc, are a refreshingly far cry from the current
trend for bus stop’n’chips (that would be fries over here
in the US) social realism. Call them pretentious, if you
want, but they’ll merely say, “So what,” and hammer into
the next ballistic number.
The word ‘klaxon’ derives from the Greek word for ‘to
shriek’ but in French means ‘to toot’. Those who have
fluoro-pogoed along to the galloping ‘Four Horsemen of
2012’, Klaxons set-closer and debut album-closer, would
admit that the three-piece live up to such a description.
On the other hand, tune into deliciously harmonic new
song ‘Golden Skans’, with its Beach-Boys-go-‘80s backing
vocals, and suddenly all spikiness has dissolved in a
flurry of soft-hearted throb. The album will surprise
a lot of people;
“We’ve been making this monster but it’s not what people
are going to expect from some fucking Shoreditch neon
band,” James ventures with typically dry wit. “I don’t
think we’re like any other bands,” says Jamie, grounded
and calm, “We’re out there on our own.”
2007 could be Klaxons’ year, with their stew of cosmic
imagery, avant-garde awareness, dizzy melodies and raging
energy set to lead the way forward. “Light the bridges
with the lantern,” says Simon, ever wide-eyed and passionate,
quoting from their song ‘Forgotten Works’, “You know something’s
going to happen.”
It certainly seems likely…
So, Ladies and Gentleman we welcome you on what is destined
to be a truly unique and universally mind bending, awe
inspiring Klaxons voyage into the future… myths and all
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