Those in attendance are leaving for home grinning from ear to ear. Some can hardly speak. Those who can are uttering the words "fuckin’" and "amazin’".
Steve Cummins, 09 Mar 2005
It’s like a scene from Quadrophenia. “We are mods, we are mods,” goes the chant around the Temple Bar Music Centre. The Ordinary Boys have just laid down their guitars for the final time tonight. A second euphoric rendition of ‘Talk Talk Talk’ has just ended. The crowd are in hysterics. Rock, roll, ska, mod, punk, even soul; we’ve had it all over the last hour. Pigeon holing the band as mods won’t work tonight. Those in attendance are leaving for home grinning from ear to ear. Some can hardly speak. Those who can are uttering the words "fuckin’" and "amazin’". If you’re an ordinary boy, it’s certainly a result.
Tonight, the Worthing based quartet blazed into Dublin on the back of their critically acclaimed debut, Over The Counter Culture. Smartly dressed in Fred Perry and Ben Sherman, the mod comparisons are somewhat inevitable. They have the image, and front man Preston has the looks. As he launches into ‘Week In Week Out’ he resembles a young Paul Weller. Vocally he shares the mod-father's former swagger, but it's on the lyrical front that the similarities are most striking. Working class England and the boredom engendered by modern living are on The Ordinary Boys' agenda. Many of the songs scream of the desperation in working all week simply to finance a night out on Friday. It’s here where The Ordinary Boys are tapping into the feelings of modern Britain.
Modern Ireland is no different. Dublin has been preceded by Limerick on The Ordinary Boys' brief Irish tour and Preston is keen to wind up the crowd. “I think Limerick might have sung that one louder,” he teases during ‘Seaside’. ‘Little Bitch’ follows, a cover of The Specials ska classic which hypes up the Dublin crowd as they put it up to their southwestern neighbours. “Blimey”, says Preston, “Impressive. But I bet you can’t do two in a row”. The remainder of the set is a mass sing-a-long, from ‘Weekend Revolution’ to ‘In Awe Of The Awful’. As ‘Talk, Talk, Talk’ ends for the second time, we gasp for air. It’s then that the triumphant smiles begin.
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