After a succession of felicitous gigs as a support act, or the main event in smaller venues, where an audience is guaranteed, Race Horses, have stepped into the breech, a bunch of affable debutantes, on a full UK tour as the headlining act promoting the recent release of their debut Album 'Goodbye Falkenberg'. Interestingly, although they have in the past been able to attract a formidable crowd of regulars and longstanding supporters across the border, only one show on the tour is scheduled in their native Wales.
Brimming with self belief, far from being arrogant, or in it solely for the money, their keenness to succeed and the enthusiasm which with they perform is infectious, a spectacle of enjoyment where yes- things go wrong - but they smile through it, and its impossible to not smile with them. Bringing to the stage the same captivating melodies produced on record, but with the palpable tautness of a coiled spring just waiting to unfurl into the ricocheting chaos of the climactic exit numbers, a quality that cannot be captured in a studio and thus pitches them up several notches as a live act.
Their exuberance and charm, is undeniably reflected into the audience and back onto the band, where, a glance round will see a mass of smiling faces, non perhaps so devilish and mischievous as the front man, whom after a full set of innocent songs with adult allusions, looks positively impish at the prospect of saying the F-word, an expression both endearing and bewitching, encapsulating the sense you are in the proximity of something anachronistic. They have a timeless and untarnished quality... You feel you are in the presence of a band in their infancy, guileless choirboys who once accidentally had tea with a Brothel Madam, certainly you walk away with the feeling you have witnessed the beginning of something wonderful... retrace your steps to that moment, if this is the birth of cool, then consider this both the coitus and conception....
Sidestep out of the here and now, and enter another world, back in time, but within the realms of recent history, when Euros Childs emerged with a raft of post Gorky's pop music, in his inimitable way, all contagious guitar hooks and promenade organs, with words of sunshine - a unique approach that has served him well through the years. It was inevitable then, that an upcoming band Radio Luxembourg were comparable to this,and fitted into that self same niche, though more through extraction then comparison or any notion of being a pastiche. Its a fair summary to suggest the Welsh language music scene exists within its own Macrocosm. Bordering at times on being incestuous and remaining a source of hidden treasure to all but the natives, and those foolhardy enough to venture deep across the border and face the at times extreme Xenophobia and Negativity that lingers on against the English, we of course being the great oppressors whom throughout history littered their landscapes with Castles. Obviously there have always been the exceptions to the rule, those who have gone down in anecdotal legends for sacrificing their fees at high profile events by singing in English.
Whilst success on your home turf is a highly important feature, there will always be those whose drive and ambition sees them looking beyond the horizon. Seeking new boards to tread, and a wider demographic to reach out to. With a healthy collection of releases on the Peski Label and a string of TV appearances under their collective belts, things were looking promising for Radio Luxembourg. With an irrepressible charm and enthusiasm they bypassed the sneers usually reserved for those succeeding on a bilingual level. They were gathering momentum in the manner of a rolling stone on a steep incline, they were attracting interest from high profile record labels, most notably Rough Trade, at around the same time it became apparent that copyright issues were going to emerge if they persisted with their name.. and so in 2009 'Race Horses' became their official moniker, and the two steps to the left change in direction that had begun some months previous became a permanent fixture. Not so much a deviation from their original path, as an extension building upon a solid foundation, but removing slightly the 10p mix and a sherbet dip quality of their previous incarnation.
Whilst undeniably there will always be people, myself included, who silently, and not so silently wish for a retrospective inclusion of that sugary sweet pop in their live sets, Race Horses have resolutely risen above relying on their past success, and started afresh.. although sometimes on their home turf, you are treated to 'Cartoon Cariad', although that marked in many ways the beginning of their regeneration. With new material circulating and performed regularly their appeal remained catchier then a magnetic tennis ball for an Iron handed giant.
It is perhaps testimony to their driving ambition, that they manage to not only face up to the challenge of attracting a new audience, but succeeded in swinging around their existing one, ignoring the inevitable fun poking of those resistant to change, they have taken their sound through a range of influences, and have at times bewildered audiences by opening with their own take on electronica and prog rock - a swirling mass of feedback and organs comparable to an adolescent fretboard recently acquainted with productive masturbation to then at the point where even the most determined onlooker is giving up hope, fall into the kind of effortless pop music that appears so simple and naive, yet infiltrates your subconscious like a subliminal call to arms, leaving an audience disquieted but ultimately hooked..
And so, find them where you will, what so appears to be the beginning has been a five year long journey, those first unfaltering steps of a toddler now racing down hill in a confident sprint.
Taking in a range of influences, yet managing to still sound unique, you occasionally realise that perhaps all that has come before has led to this moment, they are if you will a musical mnemonic. The vocal harmonies echoing back to the Beach Boys, the music hall narratives that take you smiling in your head to the Kinks at their most wonderful but ultimately career damaging peak, those occasional nods to George Formby and Glenn Millar, yet still not wholly derivative. That they are in part classically trained musicians is evident, as is their penchant for wordplay and alliteration. What combines and coalesces is something the like of which you may never encounter again.. suspended out of time and leagues beyond the music pouring from more commercially viable bands, there is, quite simply something happening here...and long may it continue.
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