These are troubled times, children. Our nation's favourite radio station is running scared of guitars. Major record companies are shunning alternative bands. The corporate ���indie��� ���boom��� time which burst into life in 2004 is now little more than a smudge on Little Lady La Roux���s stiletto heel. Baby, the electropop stars are shining bright and we are left dancing slowly, sadly in the dark.
But wait. All is not dead. As ever, when the mainstream turns its back on guitars the leftfield licks its wounds and then prepares to fight back. Already ��� whisper it - there is a new generation of bands coming through with their neat checked shirts, their tidy fringes and cool quiffs, their nicely rolled-up jeans. They are dressing like it���s 1984 and ��� more importantly ��� with their nods to The Housemartins, Orange Juice and Dexy���s Midnight Runners they sound like they could have formed 25 years ago as well.
In short, there is something growing, growling on the underground. And we aren���t talking about the Mad Wolf Of Walthamstow Central here. Rather, summer 2010 sees the timely launch of a brrrrrand new superclub called RIP IT UP which harks back to a time when indie bloody well was indie; when The Smiths, The Cure and New Order bestrode the musical globe like a great big three-headed alternative colossus, when names like Rough Trade, Factory and Postcard resonated with the post-punk record-buying punters. Remember fun? We do.
But this won���t all be retro-a-go-go. No sirree. The RIP IT UP disc-spinning pups will be deftly blending the old with the new, the gold with the neu!, all the way from The Wedding Present to the present day. So if you think you know your Echo & The Bunnymen from your Frightened Rabbit, if you can distinguish between ���I Don���t Wanna Live With Monkeys��� and Arctic Monkeys, if you can avoid confusing XTC with The XX and if you can tell your Red Guitars from your Elbow then you are part of The RIP IT UP Generation. Come with us on our journey back to the future which will take you all the way from Aztec Camera to Camera Obscura. We���ll even pay the fare. replica longines
Alone we are nothing. Together we can RIP IT UP.
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