Tennis: The Band, Not the Game.
I’ve got rock and roll on the brain constantly. A band that, to me, sounds like Buddy Holly, to everyone else sounds like something from a C86 indie band. Maybe this game of who’s copying who is running out of steam. I’m sticking with Buddy Holly though: the simple melodies, sugar-sweet lyrics and teen lover charm couldn’t have come from anyone else but the king of lover pop himself. The story behind Tennis seems like something from a 50s B-movie too; imagine this on the silver screen (it’s all true, apparently): a young married couple (let’s call them Alaina and Patrick) save enough of their hard earned cash, to buy a mini yacht and sail up and down the Eastern sea-board, and in the process they write an album’s worth of jaunty, self-effacing pop. OK, so it’s not exactly something from a 50s movie, but they’re a couple and they’re married and they write quaint songs together. CUTE.
A couple of weeks ago I got the chance to see Tennis at Cargo. The band’s singer, Alaina, has a slight figure and cutesy personality to match; when a song takes off you see her bopping behind the keyboard, perm flailing madly. Patrick, on the other hand, keeps things cool; his wife dedicates a song to him and it doesn’t seem to even register, and the rest of the time he’s bent over his guitar, taking slight steps backward and forward.
Tennis are an interesting watch, and their album, Cape Dory, is an even more interesting listen.