Magic Numbers - Water Rat's London, 16/3/2004

  by Emma Haigh

published: 9 / 3 / 2004

intro

The "shyly raucous" Magic Numbers' tally of live performances has yet to enter into double figures, but already have a stage presence. After a London Water Rat's show, Emma Haigh leaves with her "mind swirling and speaking in colours"

If the gong of Sunday resounding on a Wednesday is cause for unease and disorientation, then showing up on an assembly line Tuesday night to hear a band you’ve never heard before only to discover Friday snuck in and got there first can only result in that delicious relief that comes with knowing you’ve two whole days of freedom stretching out in front of you. Considering their tally of live performances has yet to enter into the double digits, the shyly raucous Magic Numbers swiftly set the week askew. They are the Prozac for the senses after the frenetic hypertension of the working week. If they weren’t the nicest people in the world, they would surely want to stomp on the next person to call their dream-state pop whimsical. They inspire fanciful descriptions of cantering the Happy Meadows on the back of a dream-filly, or of being nifty and sprinkly like trailing cashmere and snow drops, which gets as cavity-inducing to write as it does to read, however well you know, and I, that it’s entirely true. Beautiful and sincere, they are as far removed for the bored, pouty cheekboned soundalikeness of the Collective Nouns as you can get. [They are also impossible to get a hold of, so bear with my audacious familiarity.] Composed of two sets of siblings, they have the lilting polish and easy grace that comes with familial intuition. Romeo’s brilliant guitar and rotund vocals converse fluently with sister, Michelle’s harmony and grooving bass line. Together they pop and waltz over Sean’s percussion, while his sister Angela demurely provides a third wave chorus and the added hits and fizz of a toy mouth organ, and tambourine. Their penchant for subtlety, combining instantly memorable pop hooks with hallucinatory execution, is spun by simple three-way harmonies and jubilant bass lines that reel and sway through layers of intricate melodica. One moment, winding chords and the occasional introduction of a xylophone weave a together, gradually deepening and broadening, until the tapestry awakes. The next, pelting military-esque drums and jangling tambourine lead like a doo-wopping Pied Piper. The immediate kick of songs like 'Wrong Leaves' produce spastic fire-ants-in-socks jigging, while the urge to sing along crackles in your mouth like electricity with 'Mornings Are Over Now'. Three times Romeo announces their final song, three times the crowd stumbles out of their reverie long enough to refuse to accept the night might end. By the time they extract themselves from the loving embrace of the audience, and the bright lights have been switched back on, there is not a person in the place who isn’t beaming. In the same way I had my senses cleaved and orifices filled with pixie dust and splendour upon seeing the Loves, or the Essex Green play live for the first time, I came away from this performance by the Magic Numbers with my mind swirling and speaking in colours. Without question, this was the best March had to offer. *The Magic Numbers will be playing with Hal in April, and are due to release a mini album on Heavenly Records, though haven’t yet settled on a date.