Short of hanging members from the rafters (some sort of harness maybe), it was somewhat intriguing to see how the full nine-member outfit of the Bookhouse Boys would fit on stage at the Bodega. But fit onstage they did - brandishing guitars, trumpets, drumsticks and a sultry distant stare courtesy of the only female in the ensemble.
I try to look past the shallow dismay briefly swamping me, induced by a lack of the snappy attire I expected from these Londoners. But this is a task made easy as the springy reverb of lead singer and guitarist Paul Van Oestren's synonymously Surf six string filled my ears.
Its two songs in and I'm compelled by some divine force to throw my head around a little, aided by 'Dead', which answers any queries one might have about Oestren's live singing voice captured live. Every bit as haunting and exciting. Trumpets flair and a sea of voices fill the air spearheaded by Catherine Turner, "HE WAS DEAD IN YOUR EYES..", howls our leading man as the shit well and truly hits the fan.
Then 'G-Surf' hits; more than a mere tip of the hat to an influential genre. Power surges. Closing my eyes I swear I saw a suited Robert Rodriguez inspired character perched tentatively at the nose end of a long-board, gun in hand, dealing with a giant foaming sea swell...Its shambolic but controlled madness, grounded by a sense of duty to the cause, and every minute of it a pleasure to watch.
Problem being, one wishes they'd of played for another ten minutes. A short tour, and seemingly little awareness about The Bookhouse Boys meant a meagre turnout but I'll wager these cats will be back in the north in front of larger crowds in future.
4/5
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