As soon as you read the words ‘from Hanwell’ you know that a band are never going to be the most radical, and certainly won’t be vying the best for rock’n’roll excess infamy.
Having lived there, I can confirm that life experiences in the West London suburb are somewhat staid. Rather than let this crush their inner musical yearnings, Et Tu Bruce have embraced sweet simplicity, releasing their new (slightly tongue in cheek titled?) album Suburban Sunshine.
These guys have been lapping up praise in the US, and on our side of the pond found fans in Amazing Radio, BBC 6 Music, Absolute and XFM, and it’s easy to see why. Radio friendly melodies looped together with hooks straight out of the ‘how to write a pop song’ manual make Et Tu Bruce a pleasant listen. And I mean pleasant in its true definition, not the defamation it has come to insinuate by the cynics among us; i.e. good, not shit.
Lyrics such as ‘never say never again’ (Never Say Trevor Again) and ‘if I could I’d be your man’ (Never Seen You Cry) verge on the cliche, and the sunny chord sequences reveal the influence of a record collection consisting of The Beatles, The Kinks and The Byrds, they’re not the most original of bands, but we don’t always need that. Sometimes a good solid pop album is enough. And Suburban Sunshine is just that. You can buy it now from all the usual outlets.

Becky Glass

It’s hard to charm a selfconscious crowd, let alone one the size of a modest birthday party. But the Guillemots cast a spell every time they appear live, and their performance for the Hard Rock Café’s 40^th anniversary was no different.
This was no exceptional venue – it was a little too staged and sincere – but the band radiate talent, from frontman Fyfe Dangerfield, a vortex of charisma, to the button-clad Aristazabal Hawkes, the six-instrument-playing bassist; somehow they made it intense rather than awkward.
New songs earned impressed murmurs, and classics bristled with life like the first time they’d ever been played. A run of new and old tunes ended in a rip-roaring pop belter and a sultry, intense finale; the crowd, all prepared to play cynical spectators, were grinning from ear to ear.
From the primary-colour piping on Fyfe’s jacket to the in-jokes going back and forth on stage, the Guillemots are so fun because they are so into what they do. They very clearly, very passionately, believe in music. It’s a (surprisingly rare) quality, which seems to make everything fall, beautifully, into place.