Lime Garden have a particular knack for making unpredictability, embarrassment and chaos sound like the beginning of an excellent night out. And never has this been more noticeable than tonight, in their return to Nottingham’s Rescue Rooms.
The Brighton quartet appear to inhabit their own strange, genre-defying universe (an overused phrase which really does work here). Sharp guitars riffs, nightclub-influenced rhythms and twenty-something romantic misfortune coexist with an almost mischievous ease. Their performance is so attractively unhinged, carrying an almost Bridget Jones-esque swagger of a band incredibly aware of its own frazzled messiness.
Support comes from Sarah Crean, a Brighton-based Irish-born songwriter whose melodic indie-pop provides a fitting introduction to the evening. With her second album Heirloom just out, Crean possesses a muted, slightly hungover confidence that welcomes fans and newcomers into her set with ease.
Both acts of the night possess an effortless charm, an intimacy to their humour that never feels rehearsed, or even remotely thought-out. To not sound too keen – they are all just cool, cool girls.
A flashing visual plays as Lime Garden take the stage. Your Favourite Radio 6 Band. Your Favourite Brighton band. Your Favourite “Wonk Pop” Band. It is a playful acknowledgement of the exhausting business of categorisation, particularly for four women whose musical abilities stretch considerably further than the crowded confines of alternative guitar music.
Opening track ‘Body’ arrives with a wiry confidence, with sharp arrangements and a jittery, excited tempo, with Tippi Morgan’s bass and Annabel Whittle’s drums providing the grounding force for the band’s more restless musical tendencies.
The newer material from Maybe Not Tonight folds naturally into their established catalogue, introducing a new glossy, electronic sophistication without sacrificing the youthful DIY feel of their earlier work. Produced by Charlie Andrew, the album follows the emotional progression of a night out, capturing everything from the exhilaration of bumping into your favourite pub crush, comparing yourself to your incredibly gorgeous frenemy on Instagram or to the less glamorous consequences of your 2am decisions.
Tunes like ‘Lifestyle’ and latest single ‘Moving Target’, embody this contradiction beautifully. The latter, which Howard introduces as an attempt to reconnect with a former situationship, is so hilariously self-effacing – “It didn’t work by the way” – it immediately makes you feel like this is a band that can ‘get you’. The rhythmic precision disguising the embarrassing emotional dread of the age-old ‘Will we? Won’t we?’.
By the end of the set, Rescue Rooms has tipped into its club-influenced second life. It is a fitting atmosphere for the tale they’re evoking. Beneath shimmering melodies, fluorescent lights, and self-deprecating humour lies a more revealing portrait of a band negotiating the uncomfortable transition into early adulthood. It really is just every Saturday night out.
Closing number ‘23’ makes this idea particularly clear. Its reflections on youthful ambition, the disorientating realities of your twenties and the constant dread of having everything nearly slip away, is particularly poignant from a band whose own journey has unfolded beneath the industry’s relentless appetite for emerging talent. It’s all so blissfully relatable.
Lime Garden have grown up considerably, although, thankfully, nowhere near enough. And they encourage us to be the same.
featured image: Sal Redpath
