The Tuckers in Brigg

1 Dec. 2006

You know when you are past it: when you start liking 'young persons music'.

Ok Ok - I'm a BOF - I'll freely admit that. I can't even remember the last time I went to see a group. Do they even call groups of musicians 'groups' now? Have they moved on to become 'hangmates' or 'download buddies' ? Who knows? I certainly don't.

So, here is a review of The Tuckers - an 'Indie band' (pic. above) according to that 'hip-sheet' the Market Rasen Mail Damon / Damion Albarn of Blur lives there, or his mum lives there, or somebody who once played with Blur lived there ... anyhow The Tuckers played in Brigg at the Brigg Christmas Fair. For free ... ! How about that?

In fact I am the perfect person to write a music review: I know absolutely nothing about music so I will be totally and absolutely impartial. Even better, I know even less about wine, so I'll review the The Tuckers as a fine wine. Here goes.

With deep, woody base notes and metallic highlights The Tuckers fall between a fine merlot and an exquisite chardonnay. Challenging your palate playfully with hints of Range Rover and old gundogs. Marshmallows, yes *pained Oz Clarke-like expression* amber - or is it walnuts? A hamster's wheel after a busy night on an autobahn in Düsseldorf surely.

How shall I compare this? To a summer's day in Skegness? To wandering in Wolverhampton? Hopping on the Paris Metro en route to Simply Red songs performed in the original French on electro-flute? Slapping of hand on leather shorts in an alpine meadow? Hans, käse und beaujolaise-e?

... or rather it's better if I don't.

I have physical evidence of their appearance: a postcard featuring a crawling, naked woman holding a beer bottle with 'the tuckers' tattooed down the side of her outline body. Post-ironic? Pre-watershed? Past-caring?

The fact is that if I say that I like the group - the big BOF that I am - then by definition no-one under of the age of 30 will even vaguely like them any longer. Teen-contra-parental-generation-musical-taste-aversion syndrome being a far too common an affliction, that is. So I had better not. Also not 'bad' say either. Being confused with a naff 80s US anachronism is too bad to be even considered.

Better to stick to the facts: The Tuckers played notes from the start to finish of their set. And then had a beer.

Most fascinating was watching the wannabee fans. As soon as the band struck up the first notes, the assorted teenagers gathered in the Market Place split into two groups. The hoodies sloped back to the their shadows while the skate-dudes, rockers and indies drifted towards the stage without ever apparently consciously moving in that direction. Dressed a la LA they formed knots of two or three face down texting. Being careful not to get too near to the stage of course.

Bofkont