To Kill a King turn up the heat in the Camden Head
Tonight one of the oldest pubs in Camden- the Camden Head- sees the launch of To Kill a King and a special performance from new Swedish outfit, Francobollo.
Camden Head is a curious little venue. Downstairs opens out around a wide island bar to incorporate a pool table and plenty of room for crowds to assemble and natter into the early hours. Whilst upstairs, en route to the ladies', you find a cramped L-shaped event space.
To Kill a King are the new line-up of recently disbanded Kid iD; and for tonight’s rescheduled launch night they have introduced a healthy spread of musicians to balance perilously in front of the crowd. The two lines of the L are crammed with fans and friends, the room is a sauna of expectation, and sweat patches the dark terracotta walls. The stage is practically a continuation of the crowd; the two singer-guitarists only become apparent when they lean into their microphones. But with them huddle a bassist, keyboardist, trombonist, trumpeter, violinist and drummer, all packed incomprehensibly into the corner.
It’s certainly an intimate venue, and tonight it feels quite cute. The manner of To Kill a King compounds it. It should be the other way round, but the band relax the audience. Chatting on stage and to us in jovial tones, we ignore the heat in admiration for their lack of guile. Still, swathes of bodies fill in, the audience outweighs the doorman and spills out into the stairway.
But something is awry. There are lovely moments, musically; the riffles from the trumpet add an eerie cacophony to a humming violin and give their songs a dose of power and emotion. But, despite the passion these guys show cramped in the corner, the audience has to assume the final sound. With the PA system only containing two speakers – each pointing down a line of the L – the overall sound is boxed-in and cluttered.
Singer, Ralph Pellymounter, is an impressive lyricist, and his clasped vocals merge Ian Curtis with Charlie Fink from Noah and the Whale. But whilst those singers front bands famed for meditated self-effacement, To Kill a King transform that morbid denial into something heart-warming and positive; a kind of minimal Arcade Fire. This realisation at times forgives the location, but before there’s time to settle into satisfaction, static cuts out the sound and the disillusion returns.
As To Kill a King disband and pack up their instruments, they also take a large chunk of the crowd. But Francobollo couldn’t care less: the Swedish three-piece are just here to play their songs and rock out. They’ve got a great sound. Imagine a surf-grunge three-piece fronted by a topless, bowl-cut Caleb Followill and you’ve got it. But their attitude is what’s great and they make sure the night ends on an energetic high.
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Keep checking Spoonfed for the band's tour dates.
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