They’re from London and they’ve been in form for nigh on five years now; beginning out days in earnest, attempting to etch out a reputation by filling every gig list possible for dour, gin-sodden pubs and filling up stagnant back rooms with their sound, English Pop Rock group (as titled online by the band) Rocketeer got their first surge towards prominence in 2008, after having been granted a slot on Glastonbury’s John Peel stage. Which leads me to ultimately wonder: what would John Peel (in his boundless wisdom) have made of them?
Sadly, that’ll never be known, so I had to scrap that thought. Rocketeer are indeed a very English-sounding affair, (because after all, where you’ve spawned from does influence you to some degree. Unfortunate if you’re from North Korea or Middlesbrough) cultivating and crafting a sound as home-grown as wholemeal bread and more deeply nestled in the English countryside than Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall at a Somerset pig farm.
There’s no stronger evidence of this than in their new single Cupid,
The opening few seconds of Cupid could be mistaken for the membership of The Vaccines on a comedown, although things propel to a couple of atmospheric stretches while being embroiled in crisp, erudite-sounding lyricism and guitar and drum work to compliment.
It’s tender workmanship, however fragile – and I can just imagine them slipping off to the most picturesque old tavern in town to sip mild ale and roll their own cigs after stepping out of the recording studio.