I didn’t find out last night, despite going along to the much-vaunted indie club of the same name. Indeed, the NME would have you believe it’s “legendary” and there are many more similarly gushing reviews out there.
For those of you unfamiliar with HDIF, it’s an indie pop night, taking place on the first Friday of the month at the Canterbury Arms in Brixton, SW9 and on the third Saturday of the month at the Phoenix, W1. The music policy is strictly unrockist, by that indie pop is favoured over indie rock – so no Britpop or post-punk. Strange considering most would classify the jangly guitars of Suede and the wry lyrics of Pulp as indie pop but the minds at HDIF think differently. Hence if you’re like me, a twentysomething and wish to relive the soundtrack to your teens, you won’t be doing it here. However, your desire to bop along to 60s soul pop and Riot Grrl forebears, i.e. a great deal of twee girl groups, will be satisfied. Just chuck your skinnies for your polka dot dress and you’re in with the French pop/Sixties ‘no tears left to cry’ heartbreak crowd.
Disappointing was that the much-anticipated (at least on my part) ‘it’s like one big Smiths’ song’ description failed to materialise. The Smiths’ track played was not an instant classic – ‘Handsome Devil’ from the Hatful of Hollow compilation – but the refrain “Let me put my hands on your mammary glands” made many a pencil-skirted girl loved, so at least they knew How It Felt and I could tick the ‘emotion in motion’ box on my overtly analytical mind. Perhaps this was where I was going wrong. Why not loosen my stud belt, kick off my Converse and waltz with the whirly women. Be a pretty girl for a change: ditch my own caustic lip in favour of Rimmel’s vermillion red. Indeed I thought about doing this in the queue for the ladies as I was juxtaposed, dressed in black right up to the scowl on my face, next to the gossip queens behind me, burbling away in crystalline tones about the men their friends are cheating on. Alas no, it wasn’t to be. On my way back to the dance floor, I hope a Smiths tune or something vaguely belonging to the indie genre will save the evening. Clearly, no one expects much of the playlist to be made up from one single artist’s catalogue, so I wasn’t really expecting any more from Morrissey et al, but I was certainly anticipating more in that vein. Eventually after a few ‘sha la la’s later it came courtesy of much-loved Scots Belle & Sebastian.
The Upshot: If you want to enjoy HDIF, be prepared to go with twee tunes and soulful singalongs. Dress for the ladies is erm, your daintiest flowy garb. Don’t go looking like an Interpol fan.
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