The Young Knives are, in a literal, geographic sense, Middle England: they were formed in Ashby de la Zouch, the kind of place where successful Bullseye contestants would return home, towing a speedboat and thinking “how the hell do I sell this on??”. This apart, they wouldn’t really be called ‘normal’ – how many other bands feature two brothers?
Ok, how many other bands features brothers who look like David Mitchell and Ronnie Barker? And in how many other bands featuring brothers who look like David Mitchell and Ronnie Barker does the latter go by the name The House Of Lords (because he exercises a power of veto over the others)?
The Young Knives are regularly marvellously scornful. Quite often at people just like me. Such as in Half Timer: A salary / It gets you through to half time / A salary / Why don’t you, erm, smash the system from within / A salary / Get yourself a promotion / And then take your children to the zoo for the weekend / A salary / With the extra cash you’ve got there.
What I also find interesting about The Young Knives is the moment at which they first (to my – probably limited – knowledge) introduce strings to their sound. This might be one of my typically uninformed feelings, but I swear doing so is invariably the moment when an indie band jumps the shark and loses almost all connection to what made them them (yes, I mean you, Manic Street Preachers – this reference goes back to about 1997. I am nothing if not current).
However, 1 minute into the 6th song on The Young Knives’ second album, in come the strings. And what would you know, it only bloody works a treat. After listening to the song multiple times I can usually convince myself that, at 3 minutes and 12 seconds, as I’m urged to jump from the prow and swim to the shore away from this ghost-ship, the world is actually ending.
Anywho, I’m off to smash the system. Night all.