Scoundrels already have quite a story to tell. After singer Ned Wyndham sent out hundreds of hopeful promo CDs, he got a call from the legendary A&R god Seymour Stein. The man who signed The Pretenders, Madonna and The Ramones had a plan. He wanted to dispatch the London four-piece to Louisiana to further refine their brand of gutsy blues. Three months of living on a houseboat in a swamp outside Lafayette has been used with good effect, as was the time spent recording their debut album with Sir Steve Albini. A masterplan was being hatched.
So, if this all sounds pretty peachy, a poorly-advertised show in Manchester might bring Scoundrels down to earth. It's the middle of the festival season, and depressingly - but unsurprisingly - few people have ventured out. Clash is accompanied by two other men and a dog - but as the intro to 'Just Can't See It Through' is hammered out, it becomes apparent that Scoundrels care not a jot at the lack of crowd. Playing to empty rooms is a rite of passage, an apprenticeship, a story to be able to tell when they're selling out arenas. What is clear is that Scoundrels throw themselves into their voodoo blues in a blaze of fun. 'Sniff It Up' is good-time rock - a Kings Of Leon minus the stylists - and Wyndham is a scuffed-up sex-god in the making.
Current single 'Hangman's Lament' is charged with sexual menace of primetime Rolling Stones, with guitarist George Elliot, resplendent in an excellent blue lycra jumpsuit, snaking out some juicy riffs. Imagine Keith Richards dressed as Eddie 'The Eagle' Edwards.
They end on with the high-octane 'Porno', a song about a guy whose social life revolves around a pile of 'special' DVDs and magazines. You know the sort. Post gig, the band are bouncing around, just happy for another opportunity to be playing live. For Clash and the other two men and that damned dog, we can chalk up bagging an early view of another great prospect. For Scoundrels, it's just another night ahead of their date with destiny.
Words by John Freeman, photo by Max Webster