Breakup Haircut (because London is not done yet)
London, by largely established definition, is a city in constant change, whether good or bad. Having stated this banal truth, I was recently able to confirm it for the umpteenth time when I ventured to Stockwell (South London, quite central, not far from Brixton) to stick my nose, after centuries of absence, into the Cavendish Arms — which from its name might sound like just any pub, in any England. Beer consequently… but the reason, in this case, was not the usual pale ale, but the concert of Breakup Haircut. I have played at the Cavendish Arms myself more than once, and I remembered it as a place as remote as it was charming and lovely. But since London changes, now the pub in Stockwell doesn’t feel as remote as before, and I even noticed Nine Elms station emerged out of the Northern Line nearby. Moreover, what was once just any pub with an attached but separate concert hall (the best live configuration for medium-small concerts in London, and in the Universe) is now a nice pub with the same hall, made even cuter, but still with a separate entrance. Why do I consider this setup the best? Those who want to drink and chat stay near the bar or in the pub, while those who want to listen to the music just have to walk down a short corridor, open a door, pay a very honest entrance fee, and enjoy the music, a stage, the lights, and not the loud beer aficionados. The Cavendish Arms is now also adorned with bright signs, porcelain dogs, real dogs, porcelain cats, real cats, lights, and more lights, flowers everywhere, fake, real or imaginary, armchairs, sofas and loveseats, art hanging uncertainly from the ceiling, all colourful, so colourful, leaving you almost astonished, the whole package has indeed transformed into one of those pubs that remain imprinted in your memory. Side note, a friend of mine comments that it might not be easy to dust a place like that… but they probably know someone who knows how to dust well because, unlike many pubs full of random stuff, the “Cav” seems as excessive in content as it is clean and fresh to the eye. At exactly ten o’clock in the evening, it’s time for the last act of the day, and so Breakup Haircut takes the stage.
There are four of them (Delphine on guitar, Ishani on vocals/guitar, Jordan on drums, and Ripley on bass/vocals) they are fresh, smiling, really funny and lively on stage, just as they seem almost shy when I meet them after the show, to exchange a few words. New album on the way, their roots in the pop-punk of Blink 182 and Green Day, regular jobs (for everyday life, to pay the bills) behind a sincere Californian punk attitude, a skate punk to fantasise a bit and imagine them cruising on the Southbank (but I didn’t ask them if anyone could actually skateboard). On stage, the show is secretly led by Ripley on bass, with a playing style and moves and riffs and colourful hair and tattooed arms. Everything according to the punk script, one might say, but done with a honest and sincere attitude, especially in light of the sound and tone that her Fender Mustang spits out. Jordan on drums along with Ishani and Delphine on guitars follow the vibe, with Ishani’s heart-shaped guitar putting on its own little show, together with Ishani’s confident singing and dazzling smile, and jumps — where the small stage allows them. The songs sound and roll by fast, just over two minutes, I can’t help but think of those short glorious concerts by the Ramones, and those lucky people who were there. Some Breakup Haircut songs are quite hard, intense, almost like NOFX, almost like a Rancid touch.
Everyone sings in the band, you can’t predict who’s next, and the only thing you know is that the next song will be yet another burst of energy. Flipping through their only full album, some iconic titles scroll by in front of my eyes, such as “Marie Kondo,” “I don’t want to be your friend” (the last number of this performance in Stockwell), “Why can’t I be cool enough to move to Berlin?,” “Out of my way,” “Mum, I wanna be a greaser.” All songs are made to get stuck into your head and stay there for a long time. Punk rock done right, never dead, never fashionable, but always present, alive and kicking, thanks to new bands like this. At the end of the concert, I couldn’t help but congratulate these four surprisingly shy musicians on the band’s name… which basically refers to the haircut that traditionally a woman (but also a man, if there’s something left on his head) decides to undergo the day after the end of a romantic relationship. What a stroke of genius, what a brilliant concept is this and how representative such a name is of a feeling and an action so clear, of something that resists, continues, and moves forward, beautiful and accelerated, like life, music, and punk rock? Beautiful like some of their lyrics that sometimes want to hide behind a simple facade of fun… “My parents sleep in separate beds / We meet up in a tiny treehouse restaurant / I’ve been walking up all night to find a tea-stained egg behind my couch / It leads me straight to you / I’ve been meaning to say I miss you / The smell of you is left behind / On every sleeve, I wash my clothes again / There’s water coming past my knees, I wipe it up / Everything is coming up my way / I’ve been meaning to say I’m sorry”. I believe this is pop-punk poetry, nothing so obvious.
(adapted/translated from the original Italian article on SpazioRock.it)
