If The Energy Group had seen the Cribs perform the first song of their set they would have bulldozed all of their wind turbines, packed Sizewell B off on a cargo ship to a far-off land and channelled all of their money into a consignment of twenty somethings from Wakefield with guitars. The three brothers began with such vigour and force that they could have kept the lights of York on all night. And they probably did. The two front men formulated a slick relay of vocals for the first three tracks, creating a huge sound that pulsed with lithe bass and one booming Fender.
But they say alcohol brings out the worst in people and things were going great until guitarist Ryan cracked open a bottle of beer. Two or three strawpedoes later and he was stumbling into the drum kit. Repeatedly. Then, attempting to string their last song out into a stadium rock “get your lighters out” classic, he failed to bring any moments of remote poignancy to the piece as he stopped mid-chorus to chat to the band’s faithful entourage, who then engulfed the stage.
If I’d been as drunk as Ryan, I would have probably thought I’d seen Hendrix burning his strat. Sadly, however, no amount of alcohol in the world would have got me that battered.