From Kerrang!
On one of those all too rare UK summer days when the sun actually deigns to blaze down from a cloudless blue sky, few places in England are more inviting than Brighton. Today, as Palace Pier groans under the weight of coach-loads of beaming holidaymakers and ice cream drips down the wrists of a thousand sunburnt children, it truly feels good to be alive.
The most over-dressed men on the beach today are the members of Halo. String vests, capacious shorts and flip-flops might be de rigeur for the tourist masses, but like any young rock band, the quartet know that the maintenance of rock 'n' roll cool requires that low-slung designer denims, fashionably constricting T-shirts and state-of-the-art trainers must remain in place whatever the weather. Lobbing sea-polished stones at aluminium cans while laughing and whooping boisterously is thankfully acceptable whether you're a thrusting young wannabe rock god or not.
"It's not a bad lifestyle, this," says Jim Davey, Halo's drummer and most accurate projectile hurler. "Today I got up late, went for a paddle in the sea, strolled into town, had a spot of lunch on a rooftop and came back to find all our gear already set up. It beats sitting in an office all day."
Today is the penultimate date of Halo's second UK headlining tour. Things are different since their May tour with Serafin: they no longer have to load in their own gear, audience numbers are higher and the backstage rider has been upped to 72 beers a night. And fans coming to the shows, particularly the girls, are getting there earlier in the day just to hang out and get autographs and say 'Hi'
.
Girls like Halo. Boys like them too of course, but girls really like Halo. Later, a cursory glance around tonight's venue, the Concorde II, will reveal a 70:30 girl-to-boy ratio. By all accounts, that's fairly typical.
"We did an all-ages show in Glasgow last week and it was just full of 15-year-old girls with pigtails in long socks and short skirts," says Jim Davey, trying manfully to suppress a smile. "It was a fun gig."
There are no underage girls on Halo's comfortable tour bus today, but there are trolls, four of the little buggers. They've got unkempt orange hair and tight T-shirts, low-slung designer denim jeans and dinky little wallet chains. And if five-inch high plastic toys could speak, these four would answer to the not particularly troll-like names of Graeme, Iain, Steve and Jim.
"There's one for each of us," explains Jim, as he sets mini 'Jim' down on the table around which his bandmates - frontman Graeme Moncrieff, his guitarist brother Iain and bassist Steve Yeomans - are convened pre-show. "Some girls who are fans of the band made them for us. They've got us spot on. See, they've even got the little beard I used to have."
Ah, yes. They're very sweet. And not the least bit frightening.
"No, it's cool," insists Yeomans. "If someone wants to buy a doll and dress it up like us, that's okay. The day they start making them out of other people's skin is the day we start to worry."
It's easy to see why Halo inspire devotion. On a surface level, they're pretty enough to make Lostprophets look like Raging Speedhorn, and they exude, not cockiness exactly, but certainly confidence; an aura of self-possession and nonchalance which sits easily on the young and handsome. Plus, in Graeme Moncrieff they possess a focal point who, like Gavin Rossdale and Brian Molko, mixes vulnerability, sensitivity and puppy-dog cuteness in just the right measure.
But there's more to the band than just their glamorous exterior. Halo's artful, grandiloquent, soaring songs of hurt and loss and love and sex have struck a chord with the same constituency previously wowed by Placebo and Muse, and while UK media attention has been focused on a succession of increasingly tiresome garage-rock bands, without fuss or hype, Halo have quickly become one of the country's finest bands. Their last single 'Sanctimonious' grazed the edge of the Top 40, and with the imminent release of their debut album 'Lunatic Ride', 2002 is shaping up as a very good year for the band.
Aside from the revelation that Iain Moncrieff is planning on bringing a monkey on the road next time out, the most surprising aspect of meeting all of Halo is discovering just how quiet his frontman brother really is. In an interview situation, Graeme Moncrieff is thoughtful and low-key, leaving the talking to his bubbly rhythm section. Onstage, though, striking classic poses, he's a lesson in rock star cool. And when, during 'Vampire Song', he croons 'I love you, let me go down on you' as a hundred female hearts melt, you realise he's not the sensitive, fragile soul you first imagined.
"There's no hidden subtext to that song," he'll admit later. "It's quite blatant. It's just a dirty f**king song."
And how often has that line been used on you this tour?
"I've had it said to me a couple of times," he shrugs.
And?
"And I've got a girlfriend," he says with a smile.
That's not what I asked you...
"It's the stock band answer, though, isn't it?" Graeme smirks. "We're staying tight-lipped."
In fairness, Halo are not an arrogant band. Asked about their ambitions, Iain Moncrieff will only say, "There are some wicked English guitar bands out there and hopefully when they all start doing well we'll be in the thick of it". Halo have played their fair share of gigs to one man and a dog in the past - one barman and three fans actually, at Hull Adelphi - and they're hugely amused at the idea that their mates now think they're lording it around, when in truth they know that they're more skint than they've ever been. They're sanguine about their prospects in what Graeme calls "the craziest, most unpredictable business in the world", but they're not getting carried away. And nor should they: playing a gig to 80 people on a hot summer night in Brighton isn't cause to put the champagne on ice just yet. But at this level, attitude and self-belief are all, and on those, like their friends and former tourmates The Cooper Temple Clause, Halo are making all the right moves.
"I reckon our album is one of those albums that won't have massive hype, but it's an album people will tell their friends about and hopefully it'll keep selling for a long time," says Steve Yeomans firmly. "We're in this for the long haul, not instant success."
And the pressure of being teen-pin ups? Think you can handle it?
"We'll rise to the challenge," says Jim with a cheeky smile. "Literally."
The most over-dressed men on the beach today are the members of Halo. String vests, capacious shorts and flip-flops might be de rigeur for the tourist masses, but like any young rock band, the quartet know that the maintenance of rock 'n' roll cool requires that low-slung designer denims, fashionably constricting T-shirts and state-of-the-art trainers must remain in place whatever the weather. Lobbing sea-polished stones at aluminium cans while laughing and whooping boisterously is thankfully acceptable whether you're a thrusting young wannabe rock god or not.
"It's not a bad lifestyle, this," says Jim Davey, Halo's drummer and most accurate projectile hurler. "Today I got up late, went for a paddle in the sea, strolled into town, had a spot of lunch on a rooftop and came back to find all our gear already set up. It beats sitting in an office all day."
Today is the penultimate date of Halo's second UK headlining tour. Things are different since their May tour with Serafin: they no longer have to load in their own gear, audience numbers are higher and the backstage rider has been upped to 72 beers a night. And fans coming to the shows, particularly the girls, are getting there earlier in the day just to hang out and get autographs and say 'Hi'
.
Girls like Halo. Boys like them too of course, but girls really like Halo. Later, a cursory glance around tonight's venue, the Concorde II, will reveal a 70:30 girl-to-boy ratio. By all accounts, that's fairly typical.
"We did an all-ages show in Glasgow last week and it was just full of 15-year-old girls with pigtails in long socks and short skirts," says Jim Davey, trying manfully to suppress a smile. "It was a fun gig."
There are no underage girls on Halo's comfortable tour bus today, but there are trolls, four of the little buggers. They've got unkempt orange hair and tight T-shirts, low-slung designer denim jeans and dinky little wallet chains. And if five-inch high plastic toys could speak, these four would answer to the not particularly troll-like names of Graeme, Iain, Steve and Jim.
"There's one for each of us," explains Jim, as he sets mini 'Jim' down on the table around which his bandmates - frontman Graeme Moncrieff, his guitarist brother Iain and bassist Steve Yeomans - are convened pre-show. "Some girls who are fans of the band made them for us. They've got us spot on. See, they've even got the little beard I used to have."
Ah, yes. They're very sweet. And not the least bit frightening.
"No, it's cool," insists Yeomans. "If someone wants to buy a doll and dress it up like us, that's okay. The day they start making them out of other people's skin is the day we start to worry."
It's easy to see why Halo inspire devotion. On a surface level, they're pretty enough to make Lostprophets look like Raging Speedhorn, and they exude, not cockiness exactly, but certainly confidence; an aura of self-possession and nonchalance which sits easily on the young and handsome. Plus, in Graeme Moncrieff they possess a focal point who, like Gavin Rossdale and Brian Molko, mixes vulnerability, sensitivity and puppy-dog cuteness in just the right measure.
But there's more to the band than just their glamorous exterior. Halo's artful, grandiloquent, soaring songs of hurt and loss and love and sex have struck a chord with the same constituency previously wowed by Placebo and Muse, and while UK media attention has been focused on a succession of increasingly tiresome garage-rock bands, without fuss or hype, Halo have quickly become one of the country's finest bands. Their last single 'Sanctimonious' grazed the edge of the Top 40, and with the imminent release of their debut album 'Lunatic Ride', 2002 is shaping up as a very good year for the band.
Aside from the revelation that Iain Moncrieff is planning on bringing a monkey on the road next time out, the most surprising aspect of meeting all of Halo is discovering just how quiet his frontman brother really is. In an interview situation, Graeme Moncrieff is thoughtful and low-key, leaving the talking to his bubbly rhythm section. Onstage, though, striking classic poses, he's a lesson in rock star cool. And when, during 'Vampire Song', he croons 'I love you, let me go down on you' as a hundred female hearts melt, you realise he's not the sensitive, fragile soul you first imagined.
"There's no hidden subtext to that song," he'll admit later. "It's quite blatant. It's just a dirty f**king song."
And how often has that line been used on you this tour?
"I've had it said to me a couple of times," he shrugs.
And?
"And I've got a girlfriend," he says with a smile.
That's not what I asked you...
"It's the stock band answer, though, isn't it?" Graeme smirks. "We're staying tight-lipped."
In fairness, Halo are not an arrogant band. Asked about their ambitions, Iain Moncrieff will only say, "There are some wicked English guitar bands out there and hopefully when they all start doing well we'll be in the thick of it". Halo have played their fair share of gigs to one man and a dog in the past - one barman and three fans actually, at Hull Adelphi - and they're hugely amused at the idea that their mates now think they're lording it around, when in truth they know that they're more skint than they've ever been. They're sanguine about their prospects in what Graeme calls "the craziest, most unpredictable business in the world", but they're not getting carried away. And nor should they: playing a gig to 80 people on a hot summer night in Brighton isn't cause to put the champagne on ice just yet. But at this level, attitude and self-belief are all, and on those, like their friends and former tourmates The Cooper Temple Clause, Halo are making all the right moves.
"I reckon our album is one of those albums that won't have massive hype, but it's an album people will tell their friends about and hopefully it'll keep selling for a long time," says Steve Yeomans firmly. "We're in this for the long haul, not instant success."
And the pressure of being teen-pin ups? Think you can handle it?
"We'll rise to the challenge," says Jim with a cheeky smile. "Literally."