Britt Lundborg attended last night’s gig and offers an extensive report! Last night, South London foursome Athlete played the Bowery Ballroom. You probably know their one big hit (“Wires”) since its epic melancholy was inescapable in 2005. I’ll give you a second to Google it. Ear-worms in? Good. Athlete’s a funny outfit – sure handed when piecing together melodies and highly competent live, but perhaps a touch out of step? I mean, they look like indie rockers: the drummer is festooned with ugly eyeglasses and a silly beard, lead singer Joel Pott tones down his super good looks with boring clothes and work boots, the bassist even has a face piercing. Swimming in all these alt signifiers, you’d think it would take, but their sound is Top 40 Radio. Proudly, unabashedly, straight for the middle. Their first LP was nominated for a Mercury Prize and they’ve picked up a highly-coveted Ivor Novello song-writing accolade. So, what’s the problem? Well, backlash for one thing. As typical with music fame in the UK, as soon as the Brits skyrocket your LP up the charts, they loathe you. See: Coldplay. Like Athlete, Coldplay started as a rinky-dink piano/kee-tar group held together with little more Chris Martin’s tears. They made perfectly accessible, square music and got hugely famous. Coldplay occupy Athlete’s space in the charts. Their built-in earnestness is a crucial part of both these bands’ appeal. When you want to soar or when you want to weep, this is the kind of easy-listening music that acts as a low-grade beta-blocker. It calms you down. But don’t get me wrong – the audience last night was rapt, singing along, loving every carefully-constructed moment. Does love flow in when irony’s gone? There were moments – the choral breakdown on “Wild Wolves”, Pott’s strange jaunty dance on the edge of the stage – but the night’s hatches felt fully battened.

View another photo & download an Athlete tune AFTER THE JUMP…

MP3: Athlete – Wires