| A band takes the stage and, right there, sets out a new template for pop. It doesn't happen often and life rarely gets much better. By way of Trinidad, via New York--with the soup of influences that journey infers--the Magic Numbers have melodies, charisma, and songs that come on all lazy and mellow, then get inside and burn you.
More than anything, they are refreshing. Nothing remotely fake. And they are entirely loveable. Romeo Stodart who sings, writes the songs, and wears a broad Cheshire cat grin almost always, grew up with sister Michele in Trinidad where their mom appeared on TV singing opera and Burt Bacharach and Jimmy Webb songs. The family listened to local stuff, country, and soul. Romeo clearly remembers playing his Grandmother's piano: "She had arthritis and she'd tell me to get on the piano and hit anything. I'd make up little tunes and she'd really like them. I remember it very clearly, the pleasure in working out little sequences of notes."
At 16, Romeo and the family packed up and left for New York where an uncle gave them the promise of the old fashioned American dream. Trinidad…New York…Hanwell, England (the holy delta was complete). Sean and Angela Gannon were waiting there for them. "When me and Michele came to England the Gannons were our first friends." Soon Romeo and drummer Sean hooked up with some smalltime bands, feeding on scraps for a few years.
Suddenly Romeo began to pour out songs full of light and space, beautiful things, with time changes and chord progressions from Mars (or at least the same planet that gave us Laura Nyro and Jimmy Webb). At the same time, kid sisters Michele and Angela came on board. Quite serendipitous.
Autumn 2002 saw the quartet's first gig at the Betsy Trotwood in Farringdon, UK. Straight away they knew they had found a sound all of their own, of country soul, west coast harmonies and melancholic joy. "We know each other so well," says Romeo, "we can get mad or be sad together, two families locked in a room together getting on each other's nerves. There's always been music around us and between us. We always just wanted to make the best music we could. We just felt so relaxed together."
A steady trickle of word of mouth rumors, of something very special, culminated in a jam-packed gig in September last year where you could hear a pin drop: 500 people holding their breath at the end of "Hymn For Her."
Last October their first UK single, "Hymn For Her," sold out in a week leading to frantic online bidding. "This lot are going all the way," purred the usually aloof Evening Standard. Anticipation of the first album began to build when, at South By Southwest in March "people were screaming 'Where the hell is the record?' But it's cool," grins Romeo. "Texas was insane, but amazing!"
So the record is here, and it's a sun shower. "Call me if you're on your own, maybe I can meet you in the morning" runs the opening "Mornings Eleven," skittering from Monkees glee into a doo-wop caress, as Michele and Angela coo "I would die for you." The power of the true love knot.
Another highlight, "Wheels On Fire," one might assume is a Gram Parsons song upon first listen, a perfect country soul distillation. Thrilling and chilling, "Love Me Like You," builds as apocalyptically as "River Deep Mountain High." More than any band at the moment, they've got it. And anyone who hears this album will know it.
"Usually I write when I'm melancholy" says Romeo, like we hadn't all guessed. "Most of the songs come from failed relationships—including one major one that ended after eight years. It's about dealing with loss for me. I was brought up in a close family. Leaving New York left a big void. My Granny died and I wasn't there. Trying to find some way of coping and lifting yourself up."
And every time he finds a way. Crowds are left reeling and staggering. Jaws drop. Such warmth, such happy sadness. Good times never felt so good. The Magic Numbers will mend broken hearts worldwide. |
