Amongst the hundreds of bands playing over last weekend’s Camden Crawl, it’s fairly predictable I didn’t get to have my eyes opened as much as I hoped. Being an anal planner down to the minute if possible, as many bands as I could find out were playing were listened to, judged and noted as to being something to avoid or something to try and make it to. And yet, one of my favourite performances of the weekend was one who wasn’t even on the official schedule, I didn’t even know their name until I asked them. Therefore I am now a believer in what the organisers promote: your new favourite band can be someone you just stumble upon.

So, this band that proved my planning to be a bit over the top? The Correspondents. A combination of hip hop, swing, scatting and Disney classics, Chuckles and Mr Bruce rework age old music genres into a modern interpretation: not abstract or tasteless, but the kind where you don’t need to have a dancing partner to twirl you in a swing skirt to be able to enjoy it. Speaking of dancing, trying to take a trick or two out of scat-man/front man Mr Bruce’s book is something to aspire to. Dressed in yellow skinny jeans with the brogues of a gentleman, he actually dances more like an orangutan but with grace, legs kicking and bending in ways unheard of back in the day and still a bit extreme today.

But let’s be fair, many other bands this weekend were equally as impressive that I expected to be; another being similar in their nostalgia for the old being Kitty, Daisy & Lewis. With very serious expressions on their young faces as they demonstrate their multi instrumental talents they provide the kind of attitude and performance of bands from the 30s and 40s, and we can believe they know how to act like them, what with the amount of vintage attire, instruments and array of props around the stage. Once in the swing of things (bad pun?) the bands attitude spread through the crowd, getting people bopping-and making that not look ridiculous.

Headliners Yeah Yeah Yeahs (pictured) were obviously phenomenal, Karen O lapping up centre stage and making the rather large Roundhouse feel intimate and electric by bringing everyone into her own private world behind her cape, by shoving the microphone into her mouth to growl-truly intense.

Little Boots the next evening is just as small as Karen, and just as eye catching in a sparkling blue number, foregoing the multi-tasking of playing every part of her songs to jump around the stage, which allows the pop element of her act to really entertain. Dramatic backlighting and the twinkly lights of her Tenori-on give us an idea of the kind of big shows she could put on, though for now, Victoria Hesketh is a little overwhelmed by the size of the venue admitting, “it’s the biggest place I’ve played.” Her pop-electro that sides more with a real, home made ethic rather than a soul less manufactured stereotype is a perfect opener to the evening, “New in town” being more than fitting to Saturday night, “I’ll show you a real good time.” And she does.

Friday night’s Skint & Demoralised has similar feelings about how we should continue our evening, “Let’s go out and get fooking battered” being his last words before he walks off stage necking his bottle of vodka. A straightforward romantic from Wakefield, the poet Matt Abott clarifies the ins and outs of our lives whilst producer Mini Dog and the band provide a beat to dance it all out to. Yes it’s all a bit bitter, but the wit and the northern soul sounds reflect how we should all laugh it out like British can do best.

Many more bands were excellent, but I’m not going to go on about them anymore. I’m going to encourage you to go next year, blind to half the bands and hope you experience what those very clever organiser promise: your new favourite band is just around the corner. And that’s something to look forward to.

Words: Alexandra Rochester