I used to live in the Smokey Mountains of Tennessee / now I live in Los Angeles
I used to be a Jehovah's Witness / now I celebrate my Birthday
I didn't go to high school / instead I built forts
I sing / I play guitar piano and bass
I will always make music

If the past couple of years have been rock’n’roll’s radio iceage, right now our toes are teetering on the brink of a lush new dawn. The question is; beyond the shit-storm of supposed saviour bands whose name-drops christened the New Year, which of the lauded gangs of axe-wielders are the genuine sculptors of tomorrow? Well, of the few promised Next Big Things, none have actually earned their hype more than Camden’s Tribes. “When you’re a kid you want to be cool, so you make experimental weird music. But for us, I think there just came a point where we couldn’t be bothered messing around anymore,” prophesises singer Johnny Lloyd. “I realized that there’s no point being in a band if you’re not gonna be one of those life-changing bands. Not the one’s you stroke your chin too, the one’s you beat your heart plate to.” It’s this unabashed manifesto of anthemia that’ve taken the rag-tag four-piece from prodigious debutant slots opening for idols The Pixies, to relentless grassroots grafting of the UK’s dives, to being christened “The future of rock’n'roll” by fanboys The Mystery Jets, a sentiment chimed by everyone from NME to Radio 1′s Huw Stephens and Zane Lowe, the latter of whom named their debut single Hottest Record In The World amidst an airwave airstrike that saw it tear through most of the BBC and XFM. They’re a shining testament to the blood, sweat and tears so many buzz bands seem to bypass these days, at their peril. Joining the dots between Nirvana and The Libertines, their debut album, including lead single ‘Sapho’ is a fittingly heart-racing call-to-arms for a generation left crying out for band name worthy of being Tip-Ex’d onto a satchel.