HUNDRED REASONS/ KIDS IN GLASS HOUSES-
Kids In Glass Houses are of not much interest to me. Or the people I am attending the gig with this evening, one of which summed them up in the simple statement of "no style, no substance". This upset him as he usually prides himself on his three word reviews, a few of which I have thrown in for good measure: "please go home" or "who are you?" The list goes on. In short, KIGH are from Wales (like Lost Prophets), play catchy USA-inspired, post-hardcore muzak (like Lost Prophets) and wear white trousers (not like Lost Prophets- the principal thing I have always enjoyed about them is that Mr. Ian Watkins has wonderful taste in menswear). So, you get the idea. If you like Lost Prophets, you probably won't see the need for a second version. And if you don't really care what you're listening to, then you probably will.
Luckily, Hundred Reasons are, as I already knew, far superior. And, after the rollicking they have had in recent years, going from poll-topping favourites to poll-topping unsigneds quicker than you can wipe singer Colin's spittle from your eye, it is good, nay, great to see them back tonight. Receiving rave reviews for their forthcoming third album "Kill your own", it is clear to see why the V2 label have taken them under their wing.
Although the mad curly hair is a little thinner, the tracks annihilating an excited crowd are the perfect mix of loud and aggressive and melodic and accomplished, resisting the pressure to hop on the same bandwagon as their support act, hence refreshingly it is not just the kids that go bonkers.
Appealing to a wide audience, Hundred Reasons produce simply great British rock music, conveying the energy and enthusiasm that so many other acts lack in recent times. With one of the most impressive vocals on the current rock scene, coupled with hard-hitting hooks and rhythm akimbo in the crowd pleasing album title track, the sing-a-long "The perfect gift" and old favourite "If I could" to name a few, albeit they could say more to the audience than "come on Cambridge, let's rock!" yet even the group hand-clapping and punching of the air didn't make me grimace. The finale was very almost the lead singer being taken out by a Mono Effect CD. Luckily it turned out to be a rousing rendition of the classic "Silver" instead. Even my old decrepid friends who prefer to stand at the back and look suave had to get into the moshpit for that one. A triumphant return.
Thanks to Anthea at Press Counsel for sorting this for us