Here's a review I did for Top (Tower Records' in-store magazine) back in 1996. I remember getting pissed with Stef at the reopening of the 13th Note in Glassford Street - or some similar event- prior to the show and later finding that I'd lost my wallet (for the second time in the same venue having, as a very fresh fresher, lost or been relieved of it at the reggae club in the pre-Garage Mayfair). Anyway, I give you Space...
SPACE
GLASGOW GARAGE 1996
THEY ARE THE urban Space, man: the hybrid offspring of Cast, Black Grape and the Bonzo Dog DooDah Band. Jokers in the Britpack, Space are several leagues away from the turgid beat group rehashes of their less inspired contemporaries. Bizarre lyrical twists, forays into cocktail jazz and dub basslines find the foursome playing footsie, as the equally eclectic Beck would put it, in another dimension. Confidently kept back for the encore, their recent hit 'Female Of The Species' updates the Scott Walker-penned arabesque lament 'Deadlier Than the Male'. And the epic sweep of 'Me & You Vs the World' might seem incongruous from a bunch of scallies who clearly have no pretensions to be Suede were it not for Space's ability to blend the two disparate elements so effortlessly. Franny Griffiths and Andy Parle keep stirring the musical melting pot behind naturally nonchalant bassist/vocalist Tommy Scott and guitarist Jamie Murphy, who exhibits a penchant for wisecracks from behind Captain Sensible shades (thankfully, he's not sporting a beret). There's a surreal buzz at the front of the stage as stage-divers thrust themselves over aficionados acquainted with the Spiders LP word for surreal word. This is escapist pop, spaced and spiced with a sinister edge and a shameless magpie habit. It's a trawl through a dope dealing vinyl junkie's record collection where Bacharach ballads share a bong with crunching guitar riffs to a backdrop of hardcore techno. Welcome to '96's true pop neighbourhood where Space really are the boys next door.
GLASGOW GARAGE 1996
THEY ARE THE urban Space, man: the hybrid offspring of Cast, Black Grape and the Bonzo Dog DooDah Band. Jokers in the Britpack, Space are several leagues away from the turgid beat group rehashes of their less inspired contemporaries. Bizarre lyrical twists, forays into cocktail jazz and dub basslines find the foursome playing footsie, as the equally eclectic Beck would put it, in another dimension. Confidently kept back for the encore, their recent hit 'Female Of The Species' updates the Scott Walker-penned arabesque lament 'Deadlier Than the Male'. And the epic sweep of 'Me & You Vs the World' might seem incongruous from a bunch of scallies who clearly have no pretensions to be Suede were it not for Space's ability to blend the two disparate elements so effortlessly. Franny Griffiths and Andy Parle keep stirring the musical melting pot behind naturally nonchalant bassist/vocalist Tommy Scott and guitarist Jamie Murphy, who exhibits a penchant for wisecracks from behind Captain Sensible shades (thankfully, he's not sporting a beret). There's a surreal buzz at the front of the stage as stage-divers thrust themselves over aficionados acquainted with the Spiders LP word for surreal word. This is escapist pop, spaced and spiced with a sinister edge and a shameless magpie habit. It's a trawl through a dope dealing vinyl junkie's record collection where Bacharach ballads share a bong with crunching guitar riffs to a backdrop of hardcore techno. Welcome to '96's true pop neighbourhood where Space really are the boys next door.
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