Catfish and the Bottlemen (and the Current State of Things)

If you were ever a punk rocker or hippie chick or even just a cardigan-wearing grunge fiend (guilty) then you'll know the whole idea of a "musical movement" or scene or whatever you want to call it is actually just made up. A marketing term. The description of Grunge is really just a description of Nirvana; the movement that sprung up around it just an easy way to market imaginably hard sell acts like Alice in Chains and Pearl Jam (and many others) despite some gaping wide differences, on the basis that all were young, angry and from Seattle. Punk isn't really a good way to describe The Clash, but it made sense to in that they had the rebellious, DIY message of the other music coming out at the time.

A few years ago, hearing rumblings of a new scene emerging, a music mag, say Rolling Stone, would have sent their reporter to whichever city this sound was coming from (most likely a small, never-heard-of-before city that would now be remembered forever more) to make sense of things. Said reporter would listen to the scene's music, try and find some similarities to label the scene's artists (a few greats - many clingers on) together, and at least try some of the scene's drugs.

But we're in the future right now, apparently, and musical movements aren't really working like they used to. We're all interconnected now, so my Sociology teacher keeps telling me, meaning some kids in a rural town in France couldn't land onto some new sound without some old guys in Alaska joining in and putting their own spin on things. Rolling Stone have no physical place to send their reporter; labels are becoming more broad (and even more pointless) and who listens to what music even harder to spot; not even any officially associated drugs anymore.

Lets call the current, modern-equivalent of a movement 'moody, guitar-lite, indie disco pop' (you need to leave some work for the marketing team). The 1975. The xx. HAIM. Vampire Weekend. London Grammar. Bombay Bicycle Club. Tokyo Police Club. (I'll leave it up to you to label the big players and the cling-ons). A movement in the sense of many overlapping sounds - you like one and they all come recommended. Lots of overlapping fan bases of mainly young people.

Catfish and the Bottlemen are like a confirmation that there is a movement out there right now - they have a sound that wouldn't have existed without lots of other bands digging the same well. The best compliment I could give them is they're competent. Wavy, longing vocals; optimistic, jumpy guitar hooks; a production of wide open, lonely space in what is the album of some twenty-somethings who spend most of their time at parties and who think mostly about different variations of relationship - and non-relationship - problems (the lyrics say so). It's like they're running through a checklist - the band do all of these things well, so much that my ears had the tendency of simply switching off for most tracks on their debut The Balcony. It's not talent Catfish lack, it's passion.

There are moments of emotion that slice through The Balcony. Ryan Van McCann's screaming in the choruses of Pacifier: 'But, you just don't know how it feels to/Lose something you never had and never will/But, babe you know I've tried and failed'; The sudden explosions from silence to blaring guitars in Homesick. I don't want to get all mushy but emotions are still something that you have or don't have regardless of the scene you find yourself in. I've heard so many people call Catfish and the Bottlemen the next big thing, and they surely sound like what's hot right now, but that's their biggest problem. Talented guys, but an album that sounds so familiar it fits around the earlobes as firmly as the lost glove you just embarrassingly realized has been on your hand the whole time.