We’re no heroes are a three piece from Cardiff who have turned an admiring eye on the eighties and reflected their esteem in something solidly from the present. Tom Collins, Michael 'Dewey' Owen and Luke Llewellyn have formed a freshly laundered and starched crisp outfit that by the simple expediency of guitar, drums, bass and voice has produced a funky soul brew that bounces along with ebullience.
Similar to stalwarts of the time such as A Certain Ratio, The Au Pairs and XTC, they pay respects but invest with originality. They even call to mind an outfit like Haircut 100, a chart topping act from the period who are somewhat overlooked because of their teenybop commercial success. That era was a time of exponential musical evolvement with bands appearing like mushrooms. Many were unpalatable but many were smoked salmon to the musical taste buds and still bear listening today. WNH have spiced it all up with the bite of jalapeno peppers and Tabasco sauce.
Tom’s lead guitar leads in more ways than one. It’s one of the trademark sounds of the band and gives every track a real starburst sparkle. Like a precision made diamond tipped drill it penetrates each song with crisp rhythms and sprightly high notes that ker-ching like a cash register. The unison singing is another hallmark stamped on the songs and gives a nice feeling of cohesion. This is a genuine group effort that serves to undermine the sentiment of their name – a modesty that demands every member is vital and that no prima donna takes the curtain call in front of anyone else. They once again demonstrate that when every member is made to count and is working full tilt then you only need three people and can make it sound like a big band in the process.
Listen to ‘Atlantic hearts’ from the forthcoming ‘Quiet colours’ and it begins with a riff like a demented ticking clock that emerges into a chipper foot-stirring feeling of joy which blows away any morose thought or pressing problems. If you were to throw these guys in the water they would not only float with a remorseless buoyancy but they would probably tap dance on the waves while singing a bright little sea shanty. Or listen to the single ‘Ghost coast’ that sets off with African tempos which then yield to the delightful glint of that lead guitar and basks in it’s piercing illumination. Many of their numbers have a metronomic beat to them. ‘Tigers’ is a prime example, a great number that stomps along with machine-gun bursts from Tom’s guitar who delivers covering fire for a bass line that hits home like a nail-gun.
The insistent cadence of the bass and lively drumming throughout is like a bed of rice upon which is served the piquancy of guitar and the sustenance of the voices. Often their singing becomes almost a chant, a call to arms and a direction to the legs to keep dancing. Even a track like ‘Aerials’ which has a bit more intrigue and studio production still retains that sinewy vitality that keeps it bubbling away. Imagine a bottle of sunshine and shake it like champagne, then when you pop the cork out flies a plume of music. That’s what it’s like to listen to this band.
By definition heroes are noted for some act of courage or nobility of purpose. These three from the land of coal and chapel might not fulfil that description but their performance and zeal is certainly heroic. If not heroes then they are certainly legends in the making.
Review by Peter Heydon
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