Picasso once said: “Don’t copy. Steal.”
After years of sampling culture, and now on the verge of an AI takeover, we see two lockdown teenagers taking ownership of what the world has produced so far and merging it all together to create their own rock sound. They bring charisma and craftsmanship, married with the passion and creativity that only the very young can bring. For the very young, the world is still fresh, so there is little sense of fear, and The Molotovs are simply doing what feels right: following their guts, making their own sound and showing that rock is still very much alive.
Yes, the UK still has a huge amount of grassroots music happening. Yes, lockdown was a time of self-exploration for teenagers too. And no, AI won’t kill the transcendent experience of sharing live music together. AI can make music by copying everybody, but can it set a crowd on fire like The Molotovs?
Their energy is contagious. They are tight but not contrived. They are in sync and confident. The stage feels like an extension of their bedroom, or just another busking corner. The gig is a relentless display of great tunes, one after another. It’s clear The Molotovs are on stage to perform, and they waste no time.
The no-frills approach is also a clear indication of a band that has played extensively on the busking and pub scene: no time to fiddle around with amps and pedals. Make the most of what you’ve got.
And on that note, the way the two siblings complement each other is striking. Vocally, Issey adds great backing vocals and a grounded, sweeter tone alongside Matt’s angrier delivery, as he throws out every song as if he’s literally telling people what he thinks. Just brilliant.
How they manage to do all that while keeping it so cool instrumentally is another matter. Both siblings are doing incredibly hard jobs: Matt’s guitar switches between rhythm and lead, sometimes seemingly at once, while Issey practically plays rhythm guitar on the bass. It is not only astonishing, but testament to the 600-plus gigs they played before storming the charts.
Watching the queue outside was interesting. The Wellers, an older generation in Nirvana T-shirts, some goths and hipsters… another example of the times we are living in: intergenerational spaces, intergenerational music, multi-tribal venues. I see this as a sign that the world is getting better.
The Molotovs’ sound is rooted in decades of the best of rock, from The Beatles to Blondie and Oasis, so it’s no wonder their fans represent that same variety. If I were rock-illiterate, I would have found it difficult to make sense of that queue of fans, but it is exactly the opposite: rock lovers understand The Molotovs. It doesn’t matter what type of rock you’re into, The Molotovs touch something in you.
And the name could hardly be more fitting. A Molotov cocktail is synonymous with ignition, and metaphorically speaking, that feels pretty perfect for a band of two siblings setting the rock scene on fire.
As if they hadn’t already done so, Carl Barât joined them as a surprise guest for the encore. I’m quite sure there were people looking for the fire extinguishers.