Welles

Welles Live Gig Review Waterfront Jan 2018

Dry January. Veganuary. Whoever took the blackest of months and removed booze and bacon from it deserves a medieval dressing down. I’m not knocking teetotalism or vegetarianism; it’s just January needs all temptations given in to – not a stretch of cold turkey after your roast turkey.

Thank all that’s holy that the crowd at the Waterfront are ready to see the back of this long month. Healthy swathes already line the bar and hug the stage as I arrive to watch Welles support Highly Suspect.

I’ll admit to not knowing anything about Welles as I arrive, but as they take to the stage, they’re quick to make an impression. I say they, but our eyes are all drawn to the lead singer, who I later deduce might be called Welles himself. This is a one-man show. Welles, if that’s him, has charisma, a Cobain-esque rasp, funk-fuelled shoulder twitches and the occasional falsetto that takes his songs to an ethereal high.

You wanna know what they sound like though, eh? Nothing about his worn sweater and scruffy locks. Welles have the bluesy riffs of a band like Cold War Kids; the psychedelia of Flaming Lips, the fragility of Brian Molko and the jiggy energy of Levellers. It makes for a great show, and the Highly Suspect crowd hardly waver from their full attention given. What I like is that Welles as a lead singer is so commanding, and doesn’t have anything of the apology that some support acts wear on their sleeves, for not being the main event.

Songs like ‘Codeine’, ‘Hold Me Like I’m Leaving’ and ‘Into Ashes’ are catchy and have an instant familiarity, but it’s not all good. The rest of the band could be swapped in by any good pub musician, such is their support role and a couple of the songs, like new single, ‘Seventeen’ are basic in their composition.

I’m splitting long, grungey hairs though; I am delightfully surprised at the power and presence of Welles this evening, and it reminded me of the time I went to see a band I’d never heard of called The Black Keys, back in 2007. And they did alright.

As I walk out into the cold of January at its close, stealing myself from the sharp wind against my post-gig glow, I reflect on the sobriety of the month. “Hell”, I think, “With rock ‘n’ roll as good as this, I could give up meat and liquor.”