Source: http://news.scotsman.com

Brought together through the Club Noir scene and a mutual acquaintance, Jon Lawler and Lou Hickey are perhaps not an obvious pairing to start a band together. He's the lead singer of Glasgow's ever-rowdy Fratellis, and she's a singer-songwriter of a folksier strain.

Together they've started a group which aims to imagine the sound of a rock'n'roll band playing John Barry. This could go either way.

Although the whole enterprise is shot through with the spirit and style of another great side-project of recent times, Alex Turner and Miles Kane's Last Shadow Puppets, it largely succeeds on its own terms. Crucially, the combination – of Lawler's raw rocker's vocal, levelled off by arrangements best suited to a crooner, and Hickey's assuredly sensual soul style – works perfectly, and the pair have the look to a tee: he in a smart, modish grey suit and brogues; she in a vintage blue dress and a ring of chunky pearls around her neck.

The music, too, is convincing. Not every song grabs the attention, but there's enough variance in the sassy torch-singing of Vanity Kills and Hollywood, the tender balladry of Nevada and the unashamed rocking out of I Would Send You Roses (during which Hickey leaves the stage, the better to let Lawler and his five fellow players and hornsmen bash out the instrumental coda) to suggest they have legs as a singles group, at least. A closing lounge cover of the Stone Roses' I Am the Resurrection, meanwhile, is both ill-advised and admirable for its bravery.

Reviewer: David Pollock

source: http://www.powerfulpeanuts.com

One of the most hyped bands Codeine Velvet Club around - ripped the roof off at their first ever gig this week.
Lead by The Fratellis frontman Jon Lawler and jazz babe Lou Hickey - they took the stunned 550 fans time travelling back to the 60s.

Before hitting the stage Lou, 26, said: "I'm shitting myself because I'm worried I’ll be hated by The Fratellis fans for taking him away. “With Jon’s name and the hard work we’ve done that we’re coming in at a certain level – we need to be bang on from the start."

And they were - backed up by their five-piece band/orchestra - the pair rattled off their entire self-titled debut album. It was the first time any of CVC's songs had been heard live and here is our review track by track:

Hollywood - Super sweeping big band number that instantly showed CVC mean business.

Vanity Kills - The first single and could be the song for the next Bond movie, classy and threatening.

Time - Fast one second and slow the next, got the dancing started.

The Black Roses - Perfect boy vs girl love ballad from Jon and Lou.

Little Sister - Another one straight from the 60s with real jazz roots.

Nevada - Grand tune with a belting saxophone in it, ideal for the first dance on the wedding night.

Reste avec Moi - Takes things down a notch with booming drums and a chilled out vibe.

I Would Send You Roses - Full on rock 'n roll with a frenetic pace and was written by Jon for good pals The Who.

Like a Full Moon - An absolute belter full on inspiration and had you walking 10 feet tall.

Begging Bowl Blues - It's just Jon on this watlz who throws in a Fratellis style guitar solo.

When asked if he had to get Fratellis band mates Barry and Mince's permission to start CVC - Jon snapped: “Did I fuck have to ask them. We were taking some time off anyway – the last tour wrapped up at the end of March. "So I got straight into this – it’s better than sitting at home watching Columbo on a Wednesday afternoon eating penguin biscuits and drinking tea." And he revealed that he was inspired because music made now sounds like a microwave.

Jon, 30, said: "My description of this band’s sound is kitchen sink but that gives you no clue. A good example is Downtown by Petula Clark, it sounds naff but it’s a great pop song. That was the standard way in those days with huge bands and orchestras – that’s what I like listening to, it’s not that I don’t like modern music."

"I’m trying hard not to be controversial but to hell with it, I find the sound of modern records really depressing.
The production is odd and to me it’s like listening to a microwave, so far removed from music almost like a big fancy car, something that’s totally lost the plot. No one knows what people want right now so what we’re doing might be exactly it, like some sort of antidote – no, I shouldn’t have said that."

A flicker of uncertainty – could it even be nerves? – travels over Jon Lawler's face as his eyes take the measure of the crowd. It's an unaccustomed look for a gentleman who, as frontman with brash, bolshy, uber-gallus trio The Fratellis, can lift the roof off venues, slay festival fields full of pissed-up punters and set tens of thousands chanting, ranting and dancing with his cheeky, swaggering aggro-pop.

But Codeine Velvet Club, with Lawler on guitar sharing vocals with silvery-voiced songstress Lou Hickey, is an altogether classier prospect than his other incarnation.

It's glitterballs and vintage glamour. Cocktails and super-sexy high-heels. Suits and skinny ties. A band whose keys, rhythm and brass sections' playing is as sharp as their looks. The audience might not be bouncing in a Buckie-bonkers fashion like they do for
The Fratellis, at least not to begin with, but the band hold us rapt from the get-go.

From fabulously gutsy, showy opener Hollywood the outfit soar way above expectations, getting ballsy on The Black Roses, driving faster through the classy, swirling pop of Time, while moody, slinky Reste Avec Moi is a classic in waiting.

There's swing, waltzes, ballads and sublime duets, spiked with an irresistible twist of glam-stomp that's more refined than The Fratellis, but still unmistakably Lawler.

It's thoroughly gorgeous, though there’s both style and substance here. It's prettier than Last Shadow Puppets, while the comparisons with Lee and Nancy aren't misplaced. This music deserves to be heard in fabulous Art Deco clubs, in a Tarantino movie, or a Bond theme. As a package, it's that delicious.

The volume creeps up throughout the set, while the intensity and rock sensibilities overwhelm the subtlety of the first half, which is little bit of a pity, as the real treat is when Hickey takes the lead on vocals, or when her sweet voice entwines with
Lawler's, such as on Nevada with dreamy trumpet courtesy of Ryan Quigley, it's romantic, starry-eyed bliss.

The show winds up with a superb reworking of The Stone Roses's I Am The Resurrection and closes with an explosive Big Rock Ending (you can take the boy out The Fratellis, but
it seems you can't take The Fratellis out of the boy). As they clear the venue, girls are fussing over the tremendously handsome band – bassist Lewis Gordon eliciting special
attention – while the boys are swooning over Ms Hickey.

As we waltz off into the night dreaming of glamour queens and matinee idols, there's no question we've seen something special here tonight. This deserves to be massive.

Reviewer: Vicky Davidson