From out of the late 80s/early 90s shadows, Loverman launch their ‘Human Nature’ EP amongst the Shoreditch elite at Hoxton Bar and Kitchen with all the swagger befitting an underground goth-rock outfit of the noughties.
More often than not, I prefer listening to music in the confines of my kitchen, or soothing my earholes whilst I’m grimacing on public transport, than in a live setting. A bizarre opinion in a music journalist, but it’s the opportunity to form a personal relationship with the music without the many variables that diminish one’s appreciation. No drunks spilling their plastic pints of lager over you, no frustratingly poor sound system, no nightmare journey across town and back (although at least during which I can get intimately acquainted with an as yet untapped album).
With Loverman’s music however, the live experience propagates my enjoyment of it. It’s not necessarily that I like the musicality of it any more, but seeing something amongst its own fans alerts me to its merits. Like the way you get swept up in singing the chants and blaspheming the ref at a football match even though you have no previous interest in the sport yourself. The messianic allure of front man Gabriel Bruce, as he captures his front row disciples in his visceral sermon, is enough to elevate the music to more than just a death-metal Horrors rip-off. Amongst his followers is model-come-DJ Alice Dellal who takes a moment out of her intoxicated stupor to manically toss her famous locks in time to the band’s knell. As the debonair front man flicks his bleach dyed hair, the girls around him almost physically edge forward in the hope of catching a droplet of perspiration.
It is not just the band’s name and singer’s voice that nod to dark father Nick Cave. Before this band, the London four-piece have experienced their fair share of the scene respectively and have now found their peace with a deathlier sound. It does strike me though that even though the audience may be on trend in their 90s throw-back Goth-grunge attire, they look about as satanic as my nan and far more likely to stroke a kitten than bite its head off like a true Goth should… no?
Tonight, the tracks from their EP swill around the room, lapping up the ominous noise and repugnant imagery, like Beetlejuice sipping a straw through Kurt Cobain’s name. Getting the death theme enough? Expect the cult of Loverman to gain a momentum of deathly proportions throughout 2010.
Check out a clip of Bruce crooning the audience like it were Prom Night:
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