Reviews from Cardiff and Dublin, and NME’s stream of Crap Attack

Review: We Are Scientists
I’m guessing that this is the review for Cardiff even though the reviewer fails to mention where and when this concert took place. They also posted the review twice on the page, so stop reading where they talk about the “End of the Road” cover.

We Are Scientists – Ambassador, Dublin
Here’s the full review for you to read here instead of registering at their site.

Peter Crawley

Keith Murray, lead singer, guitarist and chief scientist of this art-pop Brooklyn trio, has a request: he would like the audience to get violent. But could we also remain peaceable? In fact, he suggests, if we have plastic knives, maybe we could just wave them in the air? This seems like an appropriate compromise to make for a band that is equal parts thrilling and zany, whose music hovers constantly between delirious melody and deleterious racket.

Connoisseurs of irony, or those with a very high threshold for goofiness, may appreciate a rock group who take to the stage against the unctuous strains of Phil Collins’s Against All Odds (and proceed to play it), but the appeal of the trio’s spikier guitar riffs, bouncing bass grooves and pounding disco stomps is considerably less exclusive.

Why their star is not as high as Franz Ferdinand’s or The Killers’ – with whom they are most frequently compared – is beyond me, particularly when the infectious post-punk of WAS tends to burn twice as bright. Cash Cow and Worth the Wait are tense confections, where busy guitar lines wrestle with restless hi-hats, where the music feels like a frenzy in a tight corner.

Their best song, Nobody Move, Nobody Gets Hurt adeptly exploits this controlled explosion; not just in its lurches from infectious disco rhythm to an air-raid siren guitar line, but also because its chorus fidgets with sexual tension: “My body is your body/I won’t tell anybody/If you wanna use my body.”

Much is made of the group’s “nerd” chic, something happily bolstered by the fact that their bassist Chris Cain, a man in his 20s, has seen fit to cultivate a thick moustache. But their music is something cooler and cannier. Though there will be last-night-of-the-tour high jinks during the encore (a beautifully over-emoted karaoke version of Boyz II Men’s End of the Road), it is the nervy excitement of Can’t Lose, It’s A Hit and The Great Escape that prove that the group’s creative laboratory is a place of earnest endeavour, where men of science experiment with serious fun. has the full stream of the Crap Attack CD:

I found this picture in this week’s issue of NME. It was a small blurb promoting the live Crap Attack stream at


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