Grand Drive

Grand Drive's lovingly crafted music is rooted in downtown bars, rocky mountains and the country-rock of Gram Parsons and Emmylou Harris. The Emmylou Harris voice belongs to singer Danny Wilson, who has the body of an extra from London's Burning, but whose feminine vocals could belong to a raven-haired Texan lady struggling through drink and divorce. Even more unlikely, the creative core of this hugely American-sounding music consists of Danny and his brother Julian, who hail from London and grew up in Australia.

Being difficult to pin down is this four-piece band all over. They have been compared to Mercury Rev and Whiskeytown, comparisons that are at best misleading. But the odious "alternative country" tag isn't Grand Drive either, and doesn't explain excursions into Motown (Undone), Crazy Horse-style rock (Jukebox) and the delicious country funk of the Stones circa Miss You. Their best moment, the eggshell-fragile Wrong Notes, even has a nursery rhyme, mesmeric quality that brings to mind Joy Division's The Eternal. Nobody shouts "Yee-hah!" during that one.

The disparity even extends to their stage set, four silver circles on glittering stands. "We borrowed it from Culture Club," says Julian. "Jon Moss says he wants £200. What do you think?" "Haggle!" comes the audience's reply.

This should all be very confusing, but Grand Drive's music has a wonderful, yearning quality that transcends their dalliances with different styles. With each unfeasible vocal-chord manoeuvre, Danny seems to be striving for something tantalisingly out of reach - a person, or perhaps a situation. "This town's never seemed so big," he cries, supernaturally. "I still gotta believe it's gonna happen to me."

What will happen to Grand Drive, though, is something that must trouble new label BMG, which litters the venue with free samplers of their album True Love and High Adventure. This multifaceted music is crying out for use in film soundtracks - which could give the band the same break that Paris, Texas gave Ry Cooder. If anyone's planning a movie about wide-eyed London-based Australians on a journey to Mississippi, give these guys a call.

At the Borderline, London WC1 (020-7734 2095), tonight.

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