THE BRAKES
The Point, Cardiff

The worst part of any gig is the encore. What’s that I hear you cry? Why would I say such a thing? I'll tell you why, you bloody ingrate, because they are an embarrassingly contrived form of attention seeking. Why don't they just put the famous songs in the main part of their set, where we can all enjoy them without the self-conscious braying of 'encore' ringing in our red ears? Why do they have to make us beg like children to hear the songs we’ve paid to come and hear?

So it was at the Brakes show at The Point in Cardiff. They had played all of my favourite songs: Ring a Ding Ding, All Night Disco Party and their punked-out version of Johnny Cash’s, Jackson. The last song of the main set, the six second grammatical growl Comma (comma comma comma comma full stop! Thwomp!), would have made it the most perfect end to any gig in history. We were exhilarated, stunned and trying to work out what had happened. The stage was empty and our ears were ringing. But after a meek mewing from the audience, Brakes front man, Eamon Hamilton, came back to the stage alone and finished on an acoustic performance. Wanker.

Don’t get me wrong - I am, what they call in the industry, a FAN. Their debut album Give Blood was an astonishing, vitriolic supernova, like hearing your normally bookish friend let forth a stream of expletives. It was the most exciting album released in 2005 yet you could not see them live for love nor money. They didn't stray far from their native town of Brighton, mainly because, although brilliant, Give Blood didn't break any world records for album sales. For those people who heard it, Give Blood planted a seed firmly in their minds of the potential brilliance that Brakes had to offer, making the chance to see them live a rare treat. The 30 second songs such as Cheney (Cheney, Cheney, Cheney, stop being such a dick!) were whacked out with such precision it took the back of our heads clean off.

The tracks from their new album, Beatific Visions, released on Rough Trade in November 2006, run along a similar theme: the country tinged acoustic picking, the erratic bursts of fast punk guitar with smart, sarcastic lyrics and Eamon’s distinctively unmusical voice. If in fact the songs off the first and second albums do sound homogeneous, it’s because they were written at the same time. It would be better to think about Beatific Visions as Give Blood's older, wealthier more successful brother. His suits are a bit flasher, he knows all the best clubs but he has lost some of the adolescent venom of his younger sibling.

Happily, the live show brought the best of the two albums together, seamlessly brushing off the overproduction of Beatific Visions in favour of a rawer sound. The new songs easily stood up to the punkier early works when delivered with the passion and skilful elegance that you would expect from a band made up of 1 part of British Sea Power and 3 parts Electric Soft Parade.

Playing to a half empty Church lent an air of seriousness to the gig, and there was a general expression of reverence from the audience as we experienced one of the finest live performances of 2006. It was almost perfect, if not for that pesky ill-conceived encore. Boys, take a tip from someone who cares.

NAT DAVIES