The Trash Can Sinatras belong to an estimable tradition of literate Scottish pop bands who meld metaphors and melodies to quite brilliant effect. Orange Juice and Aztec Camera would be their most obvious predecessors but the Kilmarnock-based group have never enjoyed the same level of commercial success.
Rather they have skulked around on the fringes of cultdom, retaining a small but fiercely loyal and quite fanatical following over the course of the past ten years. Despite having kept a public profile only marginally lower than Salman Rushdie's for the past three years and, at time of writing, no record deal to help to relaunch their career, the Trash Can Sinatras managed to draw a more than healthy crowd to Dublin's Mean Fiddler on Friday. I spoke to one fan who had travelled all the way from Chicago especially for the gig.
The band have, however, just completed a brief but successful tour of Japan and it seems the tide may be turning their way as there is talk of an imminent recording contract. Indeed, it takes confidence to begin a show with new, unfamiliar material but that's what Frank Reader and his chums did. In truth, it was a pretty subdued, low-key start but nevertheless there were some beautiful flourishes courtesy of Paul Livingston and John Douglas's twin chiming guitars and Reader's mournful vocals, the tone and phrasing of which carries ever more distinct echoes of Morrissey's.
Indeed, at times the Trash Can Sinatras sounded as if they were playing lost out-takes from the Smiths' first album - an impression reinforced by the presence of a Hammond organ. I, for one, was not complaining.
Moreover, a cursory scan of the venue reveals a constituency of bespectacled, serious-minded, single blokes who, one suspects, once had Morrissey posters tacked to their walls. They greet the melodic nous and discreet charm of the likes of Hayfever, The Hairy Years and The Safecracker with open hearts as well and new songs, like Duty Free, with open minds.
If there is a fault it is in the presentation; there is precious little visual stimulation at work here. At worst, the six-piece unit that is the Trash Can Sinatras live experience has the stage presence of a drum monitor.
But what they lack in theatrical dynamics they make up for in their handling of the basics, ie, the songs. I've Seen Everything - the title track of their second album - is an irresistible blast of perfect guitar pop.
If you have any questions, comments, etc, e-mail me at jdimaria@gis.net