Everyone Says Hi, The Lexington, London (Live Review)
- Published in Live
Everyone Says Hi
The Lexington
Words & Pics by Captain Stavros
Playing it safe at The Lexington
Everyone Says Hi; great name for a band, and it fits. There’s a broad appeal baked right in, and the room at The Lexington proves it: a mix of everyone and everything, all their noggins noddin’.
ESH wander on from stage left, right on cue, to a spaghetti-western intro. We want to say The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, but we were too busy being disgusted by an overly sweet 2.5% grapefruit beer to be entirely sure. Regardless, the drummer, and, incidentally, ourselves, were in full western regalia. Pure happenstance, not planner-stance (is that a word? PATENT PENDING!). Glenn Moule, formerly of Howling Bells, even gave us a sideways look when we peeled off a layer at the bar to reveal our vintage Japanese rockabilly number. Before bending the elbow. Eat your heart out.
Back at the stage, the set opens with ‘Somebody Somewhere’, a track begging to soundtrack a Sofia Coppola number. “Imagine your worst day got a little bit worse,” floats over the crowd, sung back by everyone except us; we didn’t know the words, but the sentiment landed. A little too well, maybe.
‘Lucky Star’ follows, and by then they’ve fully slipped into their groove, hardly surprising considering each member’s been in the spotlight once or twice before. The sound is clean, confident. A warm hum spills from mic to speaker to crowd.
The room is into it. Not much pandering, but plenty of new material on the menu. The jokes? Not a ten. The laughs? Generous.
By ‘Communication’, Nick Hodgson’s given up the fight with his suit jacket. He thought he could tough it out; he couldn’t. A besweated frontman reneged. The kick-drum-and-bass pairing, though, was glorious; a thump-thump-thump that punched through bodies straight to the back wall. “A miracle is happening but nobody noticed,” Nick sings; the crowd at least got the gist.
But around ‘Holding On To Let Go’, the set sags into a predictable lull. Our attention drifts. Eyes wander to rhythm guitarist Tom Dawson, who’s pinned the hem of his trousers so they don’t skim the stage grime. The vibes land somewhere between “should I start paying for dry-cleaning?” and “should I move out of my parents’ basement?”
And then, just like that, ‘Just Like That’. A new one, strong out the gate, splashed in ‘80s keys and easily the least formulaic thing they play. It snaps us back. Another new track follows, ‘Don’t Underestimate Yourself’, written for Nick’s daughter. Sweet, sure. Also a bit on the nose. Our attention falters again, and we make for the exit.
Not easy, mind. The place is properly packed, a great sign for them. And honestly, it’s all very easy to dip into. But to hang onto? That’s another story. It’s pleasant, polished, entirely inoffensive, like stumbling on a skilled busker: they catch your ear for a moment, then disappear into the night as quickly as they arrived. There's absolutely a place for it. And the crowd clearly loves them.
We, however, spent the last few songs thinking about the commute home.
