Review: We Are Scientists (w/Tall Ships, Middlesbrough Empire, 13/06/11)

"It's Monday night Middlesbrough, it's time to party!" On first glance at the eerily deserted streets of Teeside's finest drinking pit, you'd probably be forgiven for thinking We Are Scientists' quick-witted, astutely observational lead singer had missed the mark slightly with this evening's opening salvo. A cursory perusal of the city centre reveals a smattering of empty pubs, all offering karaoke nights and strict drug policies, shuttered shops and a punter-less Burger King, its beleaguered workers doubtless desperate for tonight's rock and roll show to kick out so the inebriated hoards will stagger into the joint, desperate for something, anything, to stave off tomorrow's inevitable hangover. For all intents and purposes, Middlesbrough's Monday night appears to have all the social vibrancy of a graveyard.

Woefully lifeless support Tall Ships are well aware of this fact; so much so, it appears, that their performance attempts to replicate the crushing mediocrity... and succeeds unequivocally. The lead singer mumbles his way through a disjointed, entirely incohesive set, never quite sure whether he wants to be in Biffy Clyro or Battles, but managing to be nowhere near as interesting as either. There is a depressing reliance on loops and effects, robbing the set of its authenticity, and all three band members fail to engage with anyone or anything, hiding behind their instruments instead of letting themselves go, looking categorically bored throughout their all-too-lengthy thirty minutes onstage. It's as if they were expecting disinterest, and in so doing, manage to create it, sucking the life and soul out of the party and provoking endless chatter amongst their audience (pockets even begin football chants while they're playing). To call this boring would be an insult to boredom; there's more action in the five person karaoke across the road in The Hairy Lemon than in this joyless, soul-destroying performance.

So is Keith royally mistaken in his assessment of a Middlesbroughian Monday? Well, of course not. His words are a self-fulfilling prophecy: all it takes is for one super-talented, uber-charismatic, devilishly handsome guitarist with silky smooth vocal chords to say it's party time and the masses make it so. As soon as he declares his undying love for the city, the punters are whipped into a frenzy and the lunacy begins; pits form left, right and centre, bodies slamming into one another during an electrifying 'Nobody Move, Nobody Get Hurt', limbs flying stagewards and being sent promptly back again, the Empire's theatrical facilities not really having the provisions for accommodating reckless crowdsurfers.

There is clearly much love for WAS in the building tonight; the earlier football chants become terrace-aping cries of 'We Are! We Are! Say We Are Scientists!', so vociferous that Keith and Chris actually seem visibly taken aback (no small feat for two guys so ordinarily cool, calm and collected). Every successive 'With Love and Squalor' classic is met with the same blind devotion, the same reckless abandon, so much so, in fact, that 'The Great Escape' threatens to deafen everyone within a two mile radius, so powerful is the crowd's attempt at vocalising the song's really bloody brilliant power chords.

The 'Brain Thrust Mastery' tracks prompt a flurry of activity too: 'Chick Lit' has boys and girls alike dancing in the aisles, 'After Hours' produces an almighty closing singalong and a particularly brutal 'Lethal Enforcer' prompts one over-excited punter to ask Chris to 'get [his] tits out', to which he replies, with razor sharp timing, that they had a lovely pair for us all but unfortunately, they got held up at customs. There's a great deal of this throughout the show, the back and forth between Keith and Chris proving almost as entertaining as the music itself. For the good folk of the Boro, this may even be preferable to certain portions of the set: the cuts from 'Barbara' don't exactly set the room on fire, despite being equally as ace as their counterparts. Even blistering opener - and recent single - 'Nice Guys' meets with a much more muted response, an unfortunate side effect, perhaps, of the band's temporary fall from indie grace.

Alas, no matter: WAS don't let such trivial matters stand in their way. With an arsenal of angular indie rock gems this delicious, even the smoggiest of townies can't stop himself dancing, and with the kind of charismatic stage presence that Freddie Mercury could only dream of, Keith, Chris and Andy cannot do anything other than succeed. Spectacularly. Flamboyantly. With style, panache and a bucketload of grace. And while we may have set the hyperbole generator into overdrive, they do prove that no matter how small the town, no matter how quiet the city, We Are Scientists will always, always bring the party. Middlesbrough, consider yourselves well and truly conquered.