Outside the restaurant, a publicist for Switches is on the phone giving directions to the lost Brit band as they try and find their way on a windy night in Midtown Manhattan. Blue Ribbon Sushi's newest outpost, at Six Columbus hotel, makes a welcome addition in Columbus Circle and is not far from where the band is staying– right next to the Late Show with David Letterman. They are in the midst of a US tour with the Brooklyn band The Bravery, promoting their latest album, Lay Down The Law. Switches have attracted the attention of two dominating forces in the British music scene: Radio 1, and the weekly paper NME, which wrote, "Switches can be confident that they are one of the finest purveyors of lip-smacking indie pop delicacies in the land." Their sound is not stripped-down guitar garage rock, but Beach Boys-influenced, power-pop harmonies.

A minute later they arrive for dinner in a flurry from the cold. "No one sounds like us right now. There's a big trend in the UK to be a regional band. To sing in your own accent. It's a bit sceney and we want to be bigger then that," says lead singer and the band’s songwriter Matt Bishop, wearing grape-colored jeans and patent leather high-top sneakers.

The restaurant seems more then double the size of its downtown sisters. There’s not an empty seat in the windowless, wood-paneled room, which is packed with Midtown tourists in business casual. Switches’ table is the only one with five young men all donning some variation of a shag. I assume this must be the reason our waitress, Sunanta, appoints me in charge of relaying all orders. That, or the amber light makes them look like a group foreign teenagers who don't speak the language.

We order Asahi beers and Bloody Mariko's (wasabi, spicy sauce, tomato juice and vodka). Sunanta rolls off a list of suggested appetizers: shrimp and pork shumai, hijiki salad, and scallops. "I don't eat sushi. I'll try it one of these days. Just not today. Are they going to bring forks and knives?" the drummer Steve Godfrey, aka "Beans," states, smelling of too much cheep cologne. "Tommy Hilfiger. I'm always running out," he offers, ordering another beer. "I like Asahi. Write that. Beans likes Asahi. And the waitress– she's cute."

Bishop plays around with his chopsticks. "I've never been able to use these," he says, trying to get it right. Bassist Ollie Thomas tries to soothe the situation. "I'm the band foodie," he says as he dips a shumai into wasabi. He has wide, Harry Potter-like blue eyes and is eager to tell me about his food experiences on the road: alligator in Louisiana, Artz Rib House in Austin, and a bus driver in Mississippi who ate goldfish. "These taste like real dumplings. Prawns, mate," bassist Thom Kirkpatrick tells a reluctant Beans who orders the orange duck breast entree. "I don't have a girlfriend," Beans goes on, "Haven't met the right one. But I figure if I just stick to the drums. I like Japanese girls." I tell him he may want to start eating sushi.

Making it in North America is difficult for a foreign band, but means a whole other level of success if they do. "Recording in LA was one of the best experiences of my life," Bishop says of making the Lay Down the Law on Sunset Boulevard. Ollie slides a piece a raw salmon onto the edge of Beans’ plate and gently coerces him. "Go on, mate. Try it. Do it for me." Beans bites, and the table cheers. "I'm really going for it now," Beans says stabbing his fork into a Maki roll. "I met The Vines after a show we played out there. That was a dream meeting. We grew up worshipping them and Blur and Pulp. Bands who were ambitious. The scene in England is small-minded." An enormous platter of chef’s choice, Omacasa, is placed before him. "I don't want to sound corny, but we want to take on the world." Bishop continues disassembling the bones of the twisted silver mackerel centerpiece with his fingers. "But we also want to make good music that we're proud of. We'd feel dirty if we didn't do that." Kirkpatrick pulls himself away from conversation with their publicist and his venison stew to report: "It's cooked in wine. A bit alcoholic, with these big semicircle things with holes in them. It's tasty, mate." Sunanta comes to my side, and I order green tea ice cream for the table. "And a cognac," Bishop adds.

Sunata brings me the check and bowls of the milky tea bags. "Texture’s nice, isn't it" Bishop says. "I just hope I don't get sick from all that fish. Big show tomorrow night." It turns out the restaurant has no idea who Switches are or that dinner was arranged to be complementary. I began to unravel the miscommunication as the band leaves for their hotel. "You should meet us at the bar in the lobby. It's perfectly faded with a run-down sort of glamour," Thomas tells me. The night goes on, and I wait at Blue Ribbon for phone calls and faxes to come in so that I don’t get stuck with the bill. I never make it to the bar to talk more about Switches’ plans to storm North America. But I do see them play the next night when they open up for The Bravery at Terminal 5. Shags hair-sprayed high, singing in harmony with the unsettled outcome of the previous night’s dinner not really weighing heavily on their minds (or in their stomachs). It remains to be seen whether Switches will make it big in the US, but at least we could agree that Blue Ribbon was by far the best meal in Midtown.

~Sara M Costello

Go There:
Blue Ribbon Sushi, W 58th St, NYC. (212) 397-0404.

Last photo by Bill Ellison
All other photos by Sara M Costello