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[Jamesy]

Infadels + Support

Monday 13th February, 7PM, £6.50 adv
Moshulu, Windmill Brae, Aberdeen

Ticket Outlets - Onsale Wednesday 23rd November
One-Up Records - 01224642662




INFADELS
www.infadels.co.uk
In New York and London, Berlin and Barcelona something is happening. It hasn’t got a name yet, it probably doesn’t need one, but, across Europe and North America, a network of cool nerds and sonic visionaries are engaged in a feverish revolt, a wholesale shredding of the musical rulebook, as they mix electronics ‘n’ rock, punk ’n’ funk into a potent new underground sound. It is a collision of art, ideas and energy unrivalled since the heyday of post-punk.

You’ve already heard of LCD Soundsystem, DJ Hell and Peaches, but the scene is much wider and deeper than even those three names might imply. No-one’s really writing about it, and you won’t hear these records on the radio (yet), but whether you’re hanging out in New York’s tiny East Village Plant Bar, at Erol Alkan’s legendary London club, Trash, or, even (bizarrely), in the back room at Manumission, you will hear these records; bent, filthy, leftfield tunes made and loved by a tight hardcore of clubbers, labels and bands fired by a DIY sense that you can build your own future, with or without MTV.
This is INFADELS' world. To understand the above, is to start to understand; Bnann, Matt, Al, Richie and Wag, five East London upstarts determined to fuse Talking Heads, Steve Reich, The Stooges and The Rolling Stones' funkier moments into tunes capable of both rocking clubs and engaging brains.

But, first… some facts. Sort of. Back in the dark mists of time (1999), Matt [guitars/ programming] was playing in a rubbish avant-garde electronic band, while Al [drums], who he knew from university, was playing in a rubbish guitar band. By night, they would clean ceilings at Heathrow. And moan. Meanwhile, Bnann [vocals], whose previous band Greenship had been caught up in the post-Britpop major-label meltdown, was working as a courier. “I went from signing autographs,” he says, dryly, “to delivering letters.”
Together, they formed Balboa. And it sucked. Lumped in with the burgeoning electroclash scene, they played, recalls Bnann, “to the most horrible fashion audiences you’ve ever fucking seen. We’d get put on with ‘acts’ like WIT, who just mimed…”
Matt: “…and we just wanted to rock.”

INFADELS were never going to be trapped in one scene. Even then, Bnann was also working with progressive house producer, Darko, while Al and Matt were playing with Luke ‘Gramme’ Hannam’s art-funk outfit, Tall Blonde. “Luke’s my personal guru,” says Matt, “the nagging voice in the back of my head that it’s never good enough.” However, one night, after too many tequilas at Hoxton’s uber-trendy electro hang-out Electric Stew, Matt snapped, going on a frustrated hooligan rampage across London, that, simultaneously, sounded the death knell for Balboa: “That Shoreditch scene offered a lot, but delivered cheap meaningless shit. I just thought, ‘what am I doing?’. I felt let down, and on the way out I just smashed up Shoreditch."

That anger, however, fuelled THE INFADELS’ passion. When the trio, now joined by Wag [bass] and former national Sega champion Richie [percussion, onstage mixing, backing vocals, crazy dancing], reconvened a few months later, an informal INFADELS manifesto wrote itself. They wanted a raw sound, chaotic gigs and to unapologetically follow their instincts. Matt: “The Infadels was never a band, it was a gang: a gang of people who don’t give a shit anymore.”

Alan McGee wanted to watch them rehearse. But, he couldn’t. Because they don’t. Bnann: “The Infadels is about the moment. None of us know what we’re going to do.”
Matt: “And we’d spent all our cash.”
“Yeah, that’s the primary thing,“ laughs Rich, “we can’t afford to rehearse.”
Even the name, INFADELS, was a deliberate, provocative break with the past, a declaration of their status as heretics and outsiders. Bnann - notorious for, previously, suggesting they call themselves, ahem, Citizen Kaner! - heard the word “infidels” in a post 9/11 broadcast by Osama Bin Laden: “I looked it up to find out exactly what it means, and it said a non-believer in society, politics and religion. That’s totally me.” Matt’s spelling mistake later, and THE INFADELS were born.

Determined to do things on their own terms - “The whole DIY ethic is rebuilding British music,” enthuses Richie - they immediately started throwing their own U Wot? parties, at London’s notorious Rhythm Factory, and set up their own label, Dead At Thirty.
2003’s debut 12” ‘Leave Your Body’ immediately established INFADELS' reputation, gaining support from the likes of John Peel, XFM and Trevor ‘Playgroup’ Jackson (for whom Matt had once dressed up as Julia Roberts… it’s a long story), and leading to INFADELS being invited to play some of the UK’s cooler underground clubs, such as; Manchester’s Club Suicide and Glasgow’s SoCo, the latter ending in a farcical police raid.
A whip-smart, unctuous slab of electro-rock, ‘Leave Your Body’ was inspired by Jeff Noon’s sci-fi classic, Vurt. The b-side, meanwhile, ‘Brandon Vegas’ flirted with controversy, taking its title from an American, Brandon Vedas, who, egged on by friends in an Internet chatroom, died after OD’ing on prescription drugs.

Matt: “Originally, we read about this guy and just laughed, it reminded us of ourselves. But, reading more, and discovering that he died, it’s really quite tragic. The story is really symbolic of the times we live in, and we‘re just trying to reflect that.”
In contrast, follow up single, ‘Can’t Get Enough’*, was gloriously dumb, a pounding apocalyptic club track, literally bashed out by chief songwriters Matt and Bnann in their tiny Hackney Road studio. Word was spreading, and shortly afterwards INFADELS picked up two gongs and several pairs of free jeans at the 2004 Diesel U-Music Awards. “I don’t give a shit about Diesel,“ laughs Matt. “But it’s allright for starving artists to sell out for food… and clothes. I’ve read No Logo, but even Da Vinci painted for a church he didn‘t believe in.”
Bnann nods: “As a musician you have to lie, cheat and steal.” Wall Of Sound duly pounced, signing the lads’ before their late summer tour with Radio 4 and Prodigy’s Keith Flint. Nowadays, INFADELS lead a schizophrenic life. One minute they’re in Ibiza, losing their trousers in Space and playing Manumission surrounded by naked models, the next they’re back in Hackney, dodging moody local hoodlums, building snare drums from ironing boards (they’re that skint) and rowing about magicians (don‘t ask). All the while, taking competitive inspiration from local punk-funk neighbours, such as; Simian and Spektrum. Their life in Hackney is chaos, but a real-life “inspirational” chaos.
Matt: “Hackney’s got more lunatics per square inch than anywhere in the world. But, it’s a laugh, and, if you’re working late in the studio, you can always go out and get a drink at 4am.” And be sure, INFADELS are always up for a party. Just so long as the tunes are right.

Matt: “The other day we heard Erol [Alkan] playing in Belgium and the biggest dance tune he dropped was The White Stripes’ ‘7 Nation Army’. It’s a rave record! That’s surely a sign that there is no rock versus dance thing anymore, that there is open-mindedness.” More importantly, it is, surely, a sign that the world is ready for INFADELS. Prepare yourself.
* Originally, ‘Can‘t Get Enough’ featured cowbell by Yes/ Genesis drummer Bill Bruford, Al’s dad, but Matt deleted it because it was “too good”. Fact!