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Action Plan
Sat 24 September 2004 @ Bull and Gate
Jerky punk with soaring anthemic melodies.
Don't be fooled by the British Sea Power feel of the fatigues, Action Plan are a class act. The high vocal SCREAMS with the torture of Robert Smith and Tom Verlaine, but strikes directly at the tune-spot. Vocal also chops out rhythm guitar, but the lead guitar demands extra attention. Awesome pedally squalls, plucked rock'n'roll cycles, soaring solos from the Edge, Bauhaus spook flourishes. The two guitars spar to shower out massive orchestral harmonics. The force behind is a speeding power-bass thump and a firmly twisted drum beat.
The material involves neatly concluded 3-minute songs, each accelerating to a fitful crescendo. Too absorbed to note lyrics, I jotted "You've lost the wonder in your eyes" and "Love knows no rules: I don't know where love comes from". Action Plan capture the harsh intensity of New Order's Movement and the wayward grooves of Television and Sonic Youth.
OppositionT exists because bands like Action Plan exist. In 2004 it doesn't get much more exciting than an out-of-the-box punk act happy to draw on 25 years' of creating gnarly pop songs by subverting the rock'n'roll genre. Action Plan have a captivating otherness. As sweet and sinewy as sugar cane.
Author: WT
Active-M
Wed 2 November 2005 Goonite Club @ Buffalo Bar
Poptastic bubblegum rock 'n' roll.
A-M music is about close three-part harmonies - two parts male and one part female. What are their harmonic pronouncements? 'Skeleton designs' and 'I just want a face that fits' feature. Two guitars generate chiming and feathering chords, and simple repeating jangle hooks. Add pogoing bass tunes, catchy psychedelic grooves, clean high school rock 'n' roll beats, and you're at the prom.
Active-M form a bridge between Ash, The Verve, The Las and Teenage Fanclub. A few bands have been vibrating local souls with these sounds for a while, notably Samurai Seven. Sooner rather than later, melodic guitar pop is going to be the sound of now, and Active -M will be ready. Are they infectious? They're catchier than the plague.
Author: RF
Agent Flux
Fri 30 April 2004 @ Hope and Anchor
Punk grind that is amateur, thrilling and loveable.
The sound of Joy Division fronted by Richard Hell. This feels like real punk rock, the way it used to be. It's not about knowing how to play, it's about knowing how to INVENT. If anything is by the book, they've been following an obscure Ian Curtis manual "how to play rock music really badly and become legendary just the same". And this band actually does have "buzzsawing" guitar, an expression Time Out applies constantly to a whole host of bands who'd never make the timberyard. Initially, there are measured guitar cycles of 3 or 4 notes, but this progresses into fantastic staccato disconcordance. The bass is a low melodic depth-plumbing driver. Drums are part metronomic ticker and part deadened bass limp. The vocal is marvellously dry and flat, and I could throw choice lyrics into the review for pages. A beautiful mix of cold angst and trashy rock 'n' roll. Here goes. "I pray you're gonna stay around… 'cos I got nothing for you". "You can take your chances… and feel the loneliness". You're taking me down to the wire". "I won't be projected on you". "I've been smashed and burned". "A crime betrays me". Do you need any more? This has all the fantastical creativity of people playing in a front room or a basement FOR THEMSELVES. Simple line up of vocals, guitar, bass, drums.
Awesome DIY music virtually non-existent since 1977. It's technically crap, and therein lies its charm - at the start so were Sex Pistols, Damned and Joy Division themselves. Agent Flux state flatly "I don't know what it is, but it's here". It's dirty, and you WANT it.
Author: OT
Akira
Wed 10 August 2005 Akira/ Smalltown America Records presents @ Catch 22
An anxiety attack over grudgingly catchy tunes.
Akira are a three-piece with both frontmen pitching in vocals. Desperation contorts the tunes at times, but the response is deftly soaring croons and falsetto that squeaks with concern. "Do you see what it means?", they demand. Guitar lines buzz, curl and zap, floating off into liberated freeform solos. Bass output is a gently stroked series of sonic nudges, so low down they're almost subliminal. Drums are stilted to the max, toppy waltzers, strangely reverby and disembodied. As with manga animation, Akira are about leading not following, and the only comparable act I can offer is US post-rockers Ten Grand.
Akira bludgeon and spike their sounds, but there's an oblique and thinly veiled tunesmithery to be found. The reluctance to quite accept the joy of the melody makes me think of Belle and Sebastian. A measured aural painting where the colours bleed over the edges, its attractive because it doesn't ignore the boundaries, and fresh because it doesn't adhere to them. Pop-art never stretched it this far. Ignore it, and you've not got what I got. You're rotting. You're rotting.
Author: RMC
Akira
Mon 25 August 2003 @ Bull and Gate
Monikered after the classic Japanese animation, and with a grandeur fit for the name. Post-rock 3-piece with a feeling of restrained anger and power.
Tracks built on the relentless wall-of-sound stylings trademarked by Bob Mould's Sugar, or framed as angsty emo soundscapes. Bass-driven melodies to rival New Order's Ceremony and instrumentals in a Mogwai vein with oodles of guitar and bass feedback. All done by your personnel of lead vocal/ bass; guitar/ backing vocal; and drums.
Mighty fine mix of the awkward and the accessible. Could take post-rock to the masses.
Author: OT
Alf-alpha
Wed 21 April 2004 Club Fandango @ Archway Tavern
Quirky pop-edged new wave rock 'n' roll from the Birmingham Four (not to be confused with the Six).
This is headed up by a white-soul wail of a voice to rival Joe Jackson or Graham Parker. In this acoustically challenged environment, lyrics are indiscernable, which is sad, because there seems to be a welter of wry lovelorn lines. The lead guitar picks around warmly like Nick Lowe, and the bass bounds around to produce neat one- or two-bar melodies. Pre-programmed synth delivers understated Hammond sounds. And the snare-obsessed drumming pretty much drowns out the lot. Set up is lead vocals/ rhythm guitar, bass/ backing vocals, lead guitar/ backing vocals, drums.
There are fine tunes and impressive musicianship on show here, but they desperately need greater sophistication in the drum souind and to make sure the drawled faux American vocal doesn't subvert the lyrical content. We'll have to wait is see how they turn up next. Don't you know that it's different for Brummies?
Author: OT
Angels Fight The City
Fri 14 October 2005 @ Bull and Gate
Magical punk'n'roll'n'rockabilly teensurf vamp everything.
I love this band. The male-female front partnership, it's a marriage of Biafra and Grogan, vocals chanted, sneered and schoolgirled. Gorgeous guitar, scratch noise and feedback, spiralling chord sequences, slides and fiddles with a plastic bottle. Groove is paramount, wholly encompassed by the bass forcefield. Gallows humour in every line, and the drummer's stilted beats command that you strain and jerk as you fall. There's gold in them daft lyrics: "Don't fuck around with love, you know"; "Baby you're a psycho"; and "It's what you always wanted anyway". There are sounds together here that could come from the Rezillos, The Pixies and Sonic Youth.
Angels Fight The City are blessed with the ability to craft indie-pop perfectly. They can take the vibe and subdued hooks of "Love Will Tear Us Apart", and turn it into the bright wryness of "I'm glad that I feel good inside". They can even craft their own brand of psycho-poppabilly. How could you not adore a band that inspires the heckle "I don't believe in God but I believe in Angels"? This played between last night's John Peel posters, smiling slightly as if appreciating the band. Calling all avenging angels, kick-ass angels. This punter's gone to heaven.
Author: RF
Angels Fight The City
Fri 20 February 2004 @ Bull and Gate
Engaging garage-punk sophisticates.
Although the opening is worryingly sub-White Stripes, these guys quickly produce a pronounced end-of-the-70s stamp. The bass plugs away at serious serious melodies. Guitar does scratchy flash-reggae chords and the spiky punk-lines of iconic rebels like Patrick Fitzgerald. Plus hard squalling that jigsaws into the bass groove in the style of the Stranglers, or more recently Corrigan. Keyboards add more of a feel than an active component, complementing a charming and flatly diffident female vocal. Lyrically, we are in the company of those with Higher Education. "The same sensation with different faces" is the reductionist account of sex, and "Jerusalem" gets a rock makeover (whether based on Blake or the Israel-Palestine conflict is not clear). Potential roots behind this are endless - Police, Spear of Destiny, Department S? Set-up is male lead vocal/ guitar, female vocal/ keyboards/ tambourine, bass/ male backing vocal, drums.
Angels Fight The City are hard to define, lo-fi for sure, complex for sure, clever-clever for sure, 70s punk attitude for sure. Neat, neat, neat.
Author: OT
The Archers
Wed 8 December 2004 @ Bull and Gate
Bright and energetic guitar-fuelled pop music.
The guitarists share vocal duties, diligently weaving sweet boy-next-door tunes and harmonies. The twin guitars are nothing short of lavish, a layer of anthemic strumming, drizzling and plaintive picking, bursts of crunch collision chords, complex waterfalls, busy wagon wheels, chortling jangles and syrupy solos. Bass is the master of the wild roving melody. Drums batter their way through a rollicking cymbal and snare race. And the lyrics are madder than the average hatter: "Today's the day she feels but never shows"; "And there is no sky", plus "I swapped my DNA with a pair of reptiles". The Archers close with a slightly shambolic encore of the Beatles' "Hey Bulldog". The stuff of honest fun-infused story-telling, Lloyd Cole meets the Bluebells and the Bluetones.
The Archers sound is both catchy and intricate, fun and thoughtful, pop-drenched and musically articulate. Not a radio broadcaster's mike or a manure heap anywhere in sight. Happiness is a warm bow, mama.
Author: RMC
Archie Bronson Outfit
Thu 30 October 2003 Club Fandango @ Bull and Gate
Ace 3-piece garage blues band.
Spartan simplicity at the start soon gives way to a heavy blues-rock onslaught. Three people have no right to create such a full sound, but the meaty first vocal, the awesome guitar swagger, energetic bass, and beat-tastic use of a tiny drumkit could blow your average 5-piece off-stage. Lyrically, some of the lines seems basic - "you can do what you want" - but the game is raised with bluesier references like "blood-hate". Set-up is first vocal/ guitar, bass/ second vocal, drums, plastic illuminated goose (Swan Light).
You don't need to be a big garage fan to be gripped by the true greatness of Archie Bronson Outfit - photogenic they ain't, but even in these fickle times, they must be destined for greatness. Archie Bronson Outfit are hi-intensity lo-fi - your new favourite harmonic generator.
Author: OT
Armchair Multitude
Mon 10 November 2003 @ Hope and Anchor
Fine indie musicians play pop-rock.
A vocalist of warmth and clarity to match Squeeze's Glenn Tilbrook, although without Squeeze's kitchen-sink lyrical drama. Many songs are balladic introspection and musing on relationships with the hallmark of the Bluetones, although they haven't quite mastered the two-and-a-half minute pop classic of Bluetonic. There is a wonderfully wide-eyed self and world interrogation about this. The interplay of acoustic and electric guitar is engaging, with brief blues and country solos occasionally bringing Lynard Skynard to mind. The keyboard piano is impressive too, spanning many octaves [no large organ jokes please - ed]. Lyrical themes include fallibility ("I Fall Down" and "Circle") and joy ("Cloud 79"). Some of it does almost inhabit the world of cheese - "I won't walk away unless your demon's in my way; I won't walk away, so let your demons fly away". But some of it's a bit more self-aware - "If you grew up in the same way you wouldn't have to teach us" (loadsa possible meanings there). Whatever, it's all delivered with infectious delight. The set-up is: vocal/ semi-acoustic guitar/ keyboard; lead guitar; bass; drums.
Armchair Multitude represent the very best and most articulate pop music you will find being played in a pub. Label with love.
Author: OT
Art Brut
Tue 27 April 2004 Glasswerk @ Upstairs at The Garage
Joyous 5-piece garage punks.
Time Out has "Art Punks" - did they say the Sex Pistols were art? This is unashamed rock 'n' roll. That'll be why "rock 'n' roll" is mentioned in almost every song. Like "My little brother's just discovered rock 'n' roll" (not jazz then?). The vocal rant is part poetry, part anthem: a little bit Mark E Smith, a little bit Johnny Rotten, a little bit Beastie Boys. Backing vocals are marginally off-key sneers in the "oooh, oooh" and "the girl can't help it" vein. Guitars mix the wonderful raunch of the Stooges with the easy progression of Ramones 3-chord pop. Speed thumping simple bass lines and stand-up frenetic orange box drums complete the picture. OK, lyrically, they do go a bit art-house - talking about "Popular culture, no longer a blasphemy", and a song ostensibly about entertaining terrorists (did they have Gaddafi round for tea then, or just Blair?). But moments could be the soundtrack from 'Grease' - "Girls don't like him, boys wanna fight him". Primarily, this sounds like the Sex Pistols and The Damned, with maybe a touch of Sonic Youth savvy. Set up is lead vocal, first guitar/ backing vocal, second guitar/ backing vocal, bass, drums.
Demented not-quite-top-of-the-pops entertainment as pioneered by the Rezillos. Popular punk as it was 70s/ 80s, before it got into teenagers cacking themselves on aeroplanes whilst chatting-up hostesses. But is it funny twice? Like the Damned song "Another case of hit or miss". Could be pink grease. Could be wink, sneeze.
Author: OT
Attack Switch Attack
Mon 4 October 2004 @ Bull and Gate
Twisted and dark lyrical indie guitarmeisters.
A wayward vocal cry veers around a melody to deliver dense Manics lyricism - "The hyperbole, you see right through it"; "You mustn't follow me so blindly"; and (sarcastically?) "He knows too much and he's well read - and wanted by the MI5". The singer's guitar draws on wildly varied indie classics - the wonderfully mismatched chopping time of ex-Strangler Hugh Cornwell (on "Oh! Rats" of all possible titles), the ringing of high-noon in a Theatre of Hate west-world ghost-suburb, flippy-floppy jangle chords, stroked-up thrumming like the gentle grunt of an overfed bear. Big bass-bellows drive a sound-system float around a bent-up hooky tune. Drums New Order themselves into a cycle that trickles and lurches with compulsion. The sound of Attack Switch Attack straddles the legacy of ancient New Order (Movement), REM (Life's Rich Pageant), Husker Du (Candy Apple Gray) and Manics (The Holy Bible).
Attack Switch Attack are art-shockers perched on the cusp of indie-pop and agit-punk. The ground that the Manics and Husker Du have left fallow has now been invaded with aplomb. A PC pyrrhic victory. An Attack Switch Attack long-term gain.
Author: WT
Audible Thought
Sat 26 June 2004 @ Bull and Gate
The thinking person's rock n roll.
Unassumming melodic vocal. Fantastic guitar, focussed on dirty minor keys, produces fresh-picked Postcard Records bouquets, staccato strumming, soft acoustic chords, and taut Stranglers axe-chopping. Bass slaps and bubbles. Drum can be a punchy cymbal and snare or trickling jazzy beat. Lyrics are nothing if not thoughtful - "Information's running riot"; "We know what that means - we know something different"; "Staring at my reflection - staring at the Sun". Some neat oppositions too - "Ice: Fire" and "Your stock's in your share: your share in your stocks". Layout is: vocal/ electric guitar/ 12-string semi-acoustic; electric guitar/ 6-string semi-acoustic/ 5-string bass; drums.
Audible Thought combine brainwaves with Stiff Records new wave. Moments of Pulp picture-painting and Del Amitri balladry. Sounds broadly like Elvis Costello fronting REM (pre- Losing My Religion, naturally). Compelling.
Author: OT
Audioreader
Thu 11 November 2004 @ Bull and Gate
Consummate layered indie-rock with genuine gravitas.
Musicianship hand-in-hand with edginess and originality. Lead vocal is the strained melody of mild torture - think New Order's Bernard Sumner. The flightiness is countered by a weightier wailing back-up harmony, interjected at intervals. Bass is a pounding trailblazer of lollops and meanders. Drums are neatly syncopated, firing on all cylinders and thrashing none. Three guitars are the key to the layering. Semi-acoustic is the master of the ultra-fast steel chord. Electrics produce jangle and sustain musing, classical perorations, atmospheric cycling and crunching, sustained flights of dragonfly and seagull, plus minor key lines of scouring, scribbling and screaming. Lyrics that I managed to jot down were nicely dour: "You never asked me why, and I never said"; and, apparently "Just nail me to the background, you know nothing changes in the end". The stratigraphy reminds me of the Waterboys and Radiohead, but the songs are angsty, direct and pretension free.
The Audioreader sound is intelligent indie, a refreshed prog-rock that sticks to the point and embellishes it, makes a statement that we feel we should know about. Bass and drum drive with a light touch, vocal ponders quietly and earnestly, and the guitars create an ocean of swells, wavelets and surfers. Immerse yourself. Smile, it may take a while, but it's better than being nailed to the landscape.
Author: RMC
The Beale
Sat 16 August 2003 Guided Missile @ Buffalo Bar
Adrian R Teenbeat's vehicle for psychotic ranting surrounded by some of the best off-the-wall musicians around.
A bizarre videoclip accompanies, in which Barbie-doll Stormtroopers oversee a ritual Barbie sacrifice, and are in turn overseen by a baby Buddha. The Fall-like sound of churning bass, rumbling guitar and persussive casiotone keyboards (remember Mark Riley?) create a punky dance sound that is the perfect backdrop for Teenbeat. The lyrics are stoically downbeat complaints: "Some people call me a fucking cunt". OT shares that burden.
Forget looking for art in a gallery. This is catchy anti-pop art strictly for a bar.
Author: OT
Bifteck
Sat 12 March 2005 Fresh Rock Showcase @ Mean Fiddler
An encapsulation of mod cheek and punk anger into consummate blues rock passion.
The singer is almost painfully earnest in his adherence to the melody, but there are plenty of endlessly stretched notes for you rockers, and some cleverly placed high harmonies and responses sung by the lead guitar man. As guitarists, these two mesh brilliantly, around a core of chords that crunch rocks and riffs that spiral. Add on classic Gary Moore high chortles and wails, broken chugs, solos of sustained pirouetting, bluesy mastications, cod reggae staccato strums and funky squeaks and cackles. The bass thumps out a weaving 38 tonne juggernaut of a tune. Drums are showy, steady cymbal blasting set against rockadelic tumbles and rolls. For Bifteck, every single line tells a story, and the audience joins in the narrative: "You can see all the colours of my world, if I changed the way I looked at yours"; "No more tears, and no more turning back"; "Life's a parody"; "As I stood there alone in a crowded church" (eh?); "I'm an atheist who yearns for eternal life, not God, or figurehead, just continual life"; "I see through those eyes into that filthy mind"; and "I recognise that face, it's uglier than mine". Bifteck open like the Rolling Stones, but the Stones haven't been this personal and intimate for many years. It's a course charted between the opulent rock recreationism of Oasis and the openness and musicianship of the Bluetones.
No toying with fashion for Bifteck, they've nailed their colours to the bues-rock mast, and they play it with more passion than anyone else. Fantastic lead guitar playfulness, and incredibly honest and direct lyrical contemplation. This is the acme of contemporary rock music. Bifteck are a band with a wealth of talent and a taste for stardom.
Author: RMC
Bifteck
Sat 18 September 2004 @ Dublin Castle
Mod-punk colliding with blues-rock to produce bittersweet anthems.
The three most memorable things about Bifteck are the singer's smooth but tortured melodies, the angry disappointment of the lyrics, and the massive overarching rock riffology. Frenetic guitar strumming is combined with the lead vocalist's declarations of faith and lack of faith. His foil a lead guitar man producing swooping wails, superspeed Thin Lizzy licks, deftly choked-off disco-riffs and choppy flavours of reggae and flamenco - not to forget fine vocal harmonies and responses. All this is backed by ferocious bass and drum explosions.
The material here is mostly familiar from earlier sets, but there seems to be an extra injection of fuel with each performance. A new song, Parody, starts like a slow Lynard Skynard anthem and accelerates into a sizzling stomp. There's the classic "Good Bloke Seamus", with its fresh-from-the-gutter opener "I recognise that smell because I know it well"; this comes complete with its twin bongo-based instrumental, infused with a guitar funk to match The Jam's "Precious". Other set highlights are the pacey anthem "We'll find our way, never give in to this" (Any Other Business), tortured blues building from "To love is to lie, stop wasting my time" (Succeed to Deceive) and choppy emo "I'm an aetheist who yearns for eternal life" (Lack of Faith). Add it up, and Bifteck have a blistering take on the blues-funk-punk combination espoused by Paul Weller at the end of the 1970s.
There's no shortage of powerful blues-rock around (apparently there's a European Union stockpile). Bifteck hold the 3 trump cards of honest intelligent songwriting, nuclear energy, and instantly catchy hooks. Bifteck are master craftsmen of punky blues. You can keep watching the telly and thinking 'bout your holidays; this amateur band plays in a nearby bar, and that's real entertainment.
Author: WT
Bifteck
Sat 24 April 2004 @ Bull and Gate
Forceful 4 piece producing emotionally-charged punk and blues with mod hues.
Vocals are a clear melodic Sarf London blues. Guitar produces rocktastic AC/DC solos, wedges of Gary Moore soul cheese, flashy disco swatches and even swanky reggae skank. The passionate drummer gives every drum in the kit a good pasting (groan). And the bass is in for a severely funky pounding. Lyrically, there's a bit of social observation and some painfully earnest lessons in love. The seemingly cutting "I recognise that smell because I know him well" turns around to describe "Good bloke Seamus". There's extreme loneliness in "I'm feeling it now, silence so loud", and "Obsession with fiction is bringing me down… and I'm tired of waiting for you to come around". And there's uncontrolled bitterness in "You take all my pride… don't help me to confide… to love is to lie… stop wasting my time". A fantastic mix of Britpoppiness and psychy MC5 blues. Set-up is lead vocal/ rhythm guitar/ tom-tom, lead guitar/ backing vocal, bass, drums/ backing vocal.
Song-writing genius, and an impressive mix of the anthemic and the soulful. The only time we feel this alright is by your side.
Author: OT
Bilge Pump
Sun 13 November 2005 VF Loud Alldayer with Silver Rocket, Noisestar and Monotreme Records @ Bull and Gate
Feel: mechanical, with shearing bolts.
Vocal: wild cries, gargling with soup, singing against the tide.
Guitar: Jack White and the strangled cat.
Bass: a fur-covered mallet.
Drums: steel fists, derailed train trips, pudding basins.
Extras: I'm sure there's a Casio VL1 lost in there somewhere.
Lyrics: traded slogans and asides.
Popstar factor: 99%, I'd do 'em all at the same time.
Familiarity factor: 50%, I've seen 'em before, don't really remember the songs, but I get the drift.
Song count: normal (about 16 per hour).
Longevity: timeless, like jazz.
IT factor: 10%, no beards, limited head-banging potential.
Antecedents: Jimi Hendrix Experience, Ten Grand, TEAM, Wire.
Quotable quotes: "You make me feel I've got my head screwed on", "Throw my things away".
Remark: ridiculously over-amplified Voodoo Children.
Author: RF
Bilge Pump
Fri 3 December 2004 Silver Rocket @ Upstairs at the Garage
Jerky power blues and jazz twisters.
The Bilge of the moniker may be the bizarrely esoteric lyrics: "Don't forget my vested interest"; "I want to end this struggle"; "These are my future wives waiting in the wings"; "What you may want… what you may not… what's your name?". The singer manages to be simultaneously angry and breezily melodic, poetry veering between speech and song.
Or possibly the maverick guitar styles qualify as Bilge. Lines that bark and guffaw wildly. Blues wails, perambulating screeches, high squealing birdsong and short chiming hooks.
Then there are the two contenders for the role of Pump. The singer's bass guitar belts through short sludgy tunes. The drummer addresses the whole kit in creating crazy jazz atmospherics and Creatures-grade tribal passages.
There are moments of prog-rock indulgence, but most of the set is gnarly blues pop caught in a high-speed car crash. At its worst, shades of ELP, at the best echoes of Captain Beefheart.
Bilge Pump are a wonderful dappled cross-breed of catchy blues simplicity and wild jazz-powered mayhem. The subsequent performers rename them Bulge Pimp; but the sounds on offer are loud rather than fat, and stripped down rather than forced into skimpy clothes. Each song has a lot of noises crammed into it, but all cover the whole mile in four minutes. Fundamentally, Bilge Pump play post-rock, but the brevity, the blues and the melody lend a refreshing directness. Why, here's the boys with the chainsaw.
Author: RMC
Black Kube
Fri 19 September 2003 @ Bull and Gate
Heavy alterno-rock 5-piece dicatating their own review: "We're Creed meets Bon Jovi".
The feel is quite punky, but the posture and riffology is classic heavy metal. Titles like "Kerosene" ignite the idea of a punk-metal crossover. Sub-Jagger vocals vie with AC/DC guitars, wide-boy bass, and a drum-ethos of "hit EVERYTHING maniacally fast". The singer sports perfectly ruffled blond highlights, and complains about The Guardian calling him Mark Owen. Wonder why?
Although the pomposity is almost turned up to Spinal Tap 11, in the context the clichés are good fun. The final impression is that the Black Kube sound is situated between the Stooges and the Foo Fighters. See it for pure entertainment value. Don't try to take it too seriously.
Author: OT
The Blacklines
Sat 31 July 2004 @ Bull and Gate
Supreme punk metal.
The Blacklines' singer is an earnest Dave Grohl, a master of resilience under torture. Guitar-core involves questing chords and niggling solos, but - with the fuzz and reverb of a thousand pedals - there's also glam spangle, grunge intensity and space-rock wailing. Occasional keyboards soar spookily into the stratosphere. Bass is a big big beautiful throb. Drum is a skilfully controlled explosion.
The Blacklines invest real passion in their songs. "When everything's misplaced, serving the human race"; "I know you're fucking dreaming, dreaming is for fools"; and "We hear another story of someone else's glory we know we'll never find" (these last two from their small-town blues "Evacuate Now"). Shades of Sugar, The Pixies, The Cure, Foo Fighters, even Tears for Fears. Players are bass; vocal/ guitar; guitar/ keyboards; drums.
Just as OT discovers them, The Blacklines are on the verge of 6 months' hibernation. Typical luck. The Blacklines are the fantastic conclusion of 28 years of punk, new wave, indie, alt-rock, grunge, nu-metal. Thinking inside the box, but the very best thought in the box. The Blacklines burn like a fire in Cairo.
Author: WT
Black Madonnas
Sat 13 December 2003 Guided Missile @ Bull and Gate
Storming psych-garage rock.
Evil stooges bass delivers wide-ranging melodies, guitar produces squalls and strangled-cat sounds. All is backed by insistent native Indian drumming and fronted by seriously bluesy Zep vocals. Lyrically, this is heading directly up your alley - the fear of a lover's husband gives us "Let's get this clear, I'm gonna get the fuck out of here - he knows my name". To be followed by an unbelievably cool cover of "Ain't nothing going on but the rent". The feel of this is somewhere between the White Stripes and the Stone Roses, but at the close of the set it's stretching into a neat krautrock workout. Still, I can't quite get my head around a frontman with a ginger moustache. Set-up is: subdued first vocal/ guitar, out-there blues second vocal/ star guitar, bass, drums.
High quality low fidelity. Black Madonnas can take you to the promised land.
Author: OT
Bluestate
Fri 25 June 2004 @ Water Rats
Warm atmospheric miserablism.
Vocal is diffident, accurate, unassuming, and boring. Guitar produce edge-free glowing jangle and sub-flamenco chord flourishes. Bass is a simple romp, but played-out double-time. Keyboards are bright even painting, but with ever-present sustain fx and the threat of minor chords. The drums just chatter away. Sound mixing and balancing in the venue is not good, but vocally, I think I picked out "Everyone seems to know that" and (inevitably) "Under a grey sky". It all sounds worryingly like Talk Talk. Players are lead vocal/ guitar, bass, key-synth/ guitar, drums.
Bluestate play songs that seem to dwell on lost love and the advance of the desert. Soporific. Gloomy.
Author: OT
Bobby McGees
Sun 13 February 2005 UK Antifolk 3 @ Buffalo Bar
A genuinely funny duo telling the story of a stop-start stop-start relationship with the aid of ukulele, banjo, guitar, xylophone, melodica and flute.
The Bobbies come from Glasgae via Brighton it would seem: he with the chewy sub-melodic musings, she with the beautiful baby doll romanticising. Ukulele and banjo are picked-at like the redneck instruments they purport to be, electric guitar rocks'n'rolls, the flute butterflies like the eponymous theme tune, xylophone tinkles, and melodica wheezes.
And so, to the opera. The nervousness before the meeting: "I've got no friends, not one". The head over heals phase: "Our love is indestructable, totally watertight, uncorruptable". Trying to recapture the good times: "Tomorrow could be like yesterday and tie us up in knots again". The dreamy lullaby credited to Presley: "Forever and a day". Uncertainty over a partner's continued dedication (proclaimed also to have an undercurrent of Czechoslovakian politics): "I'm still getting butterflies, I'm sure she's not getting butterflies". Desperation phase: staccato repeats of "Please don't dump me" paired with threats of vengeance: "I'll slit your throat and gouge out your eyes". The development of pure hatred: "You used to be a wanker and you're still the same, so kill yourself" - followed by a catalogue of favoured death rituals. And finally, the glimmer of hope from a weekend in Paris: "We'll pretend it was chic, just for a laugh, I'll be Sacha and you be Piaf… we'll be friends for a little while, happy again". The concept of the antifolk opera surely owes something to Attila and Otway's "Cheryl"; but this is less cheap and far more engaging.
I love the Bobby McGees. They are coy and extrovert at the same time; you similtaneously believe they are not quite sure about themselves or each other, but that they completely understand and trust each other (ergo, they are not having a relationship). They encore with a knockabout of VU and Nico's "Femme Fatale", which they claim as an Elton John cover. The Bobby McGees are the antifolk Sonny and Cher. And they're way more twee than the Picklemen. There must be fifty ways to kill your lover.
Author: RMC
Bob Cuba
Tues 17 August 2004 @ Upstairs at The Garage
Bright punky pop with a heavy dose of melody, a slice of irony, and an elemental trace of danger.
Singer and guitarist Stuart is as chirpy as the boy next door, innocently singing too loud with the headphones on. Colin on drums effortlessly throws in 70s harmonies that reanimate memories of dozens of Chinn-Chapman songs (Sweet, Suzi Quatro and… erm Smokie). The guitaring covers a hell of a lot of ground, chords that rattle, scream and surf, proclaiming and chiming solos, a massive storm in a honey pot. John is the nuttiest Cuba, he weaves his bass into a funk, then throws in a bounding and controlling Cure melody and some uncharacteristically serious groove. Colin drums on, a rolling affair, a steadying touch, the whip-hand keeping that wagon train a-circlin'. But above all, Bob Cuba have SNAP! CRACKLE! And POP!
A brace of familiar love-songs from their Bounce 6-tracker. "Never let you go" (with a gorgeously silly vocal take on the syn-drum - "Boan") gives us the line "There are things that take a while to build up - things that are built to last". And "Prodigal" sweetly proclaims "You have touched me". Also from Bounce, there's light-hearted fist-waving at boy bands that reminds me of That Petrol Emotion in dance mode - "Karaoke Tribe". Then we get spacehopper-free material. "I'll be anything you want me to be" recalls the folksy joy of 80s popsters the Bluebells, whilst the deftly catchy "Remember your soap in the shower" unaccountably has me thinking of a Virgin phone advert featuring Wyclef. Perhaps the finest offering is the 60's Animals threat of "Million Eyes" with the hook "You didn't think of that".
That's another fine set they've got me into. "Are we having fun?" demands one of the Cuba's rhetorical hooks; they surely are, it's infectious, and there's no vaccine. Defiantly edgy and catchy guitar pop that enjoys its heritage and looks to its future. You HAVE to feel the beat.
Author: WT
Bob Cuba
Wed 25 Feb 2004 Goonite Club @ Buffalo Bar
Punchy Scotpop from this trio.
BC deliver an A to Z of indie guitar music from 1978 to the present day, covering ground from The Associates to The Sundays and The Undertones (probably not Vibrators or Xray Spex). Frantic drums, bouncing bass, brightly anthemic vocals with a little semi-sweet harmony, plus guitar that squalls, blisters, jangles and reverbs with the feel of the moment. Lyrically, this is endearingly singalong. "I'll never leave you alone" (so sweet), "Shine a light" (sounds like Shang-a-Lang), and "Remember your soap in the shower" (bathroom-sink drama). The best sounds of the Buzzcocks, the Damned, Josef K, Orange Juice and the Smiths. Simply guitar/ vocal, bass/ backing vocal, drums/ backing vocal.
This is a wee bit off-beat, but nevertheless, perky enough melodies to get you pogoing in the shower. The time for BC is surely now. Franz Ferdinand should watch out, Bob Cuba could produce some fierce competition.
Author: OT
Rolan Bolan
Sat 30 August 2003 @ Bull and Gate
Go in a sceptic and you will come out a convert.
Bolan and his hard-edged R&B band prove that the black man KNOWS how to sing the blues. It's difficult to believe the man is playing to such a modest crowd, but - despite a style that suggests a 21st century Presley - the man is engagingly humble himself. We're not talking trademark R&B. Yes, the sloppy funk bass is there, and the light touch up-and-down the fretboard guitar. But there's so much more. Reggae and rock n roll themes, amazing rhythmic twists from the drummer, and Bolan drawing on (but not labouring) Bolan senior's beautifully tremulous vocal. All the tick-list blues-rock components are present, but all provided by consummate musicians and without a single descent into cliché. Bolan also prevents the social and personal from seeming hackneyed - when he sings "Opportunities are changing in my lifetime", you believe he means it. The Rolan Bolan band make playing beautiful music look easier than a stroll to the corner shop. Spot on, and certainly more Robert Cray than T-Rex. Set-up is: Bolan on vocal/ guitar; guitar; bass; drums.
A must for any R&B fan, as it was understood in the seventies or as it's understood now. Rolan is just a lovely guy who enjoys playing his heart out for an intimate crowd. What a star!
Author: OT
Brains and Virgin
Sun 13 February 2005 UK Antifolk 3 @ Buffalo Bar
Mad electric take on Dames Hinge and Bracket.
One partner performs primarily home-counties accented poetry, half music hall compere, half fairground barker. Add on kerchunk kerchunk synthesised rhumboid beats, embellished with mad dance squiggles, squishy scratching, plink-plonk tunes and sampled strings. Also sampled are the sounds of US Hawkishness: "outlaw Russia forever", air-raid sirens, cries of "ceasefire". Extraterrestrial conquest gets a look in too: "We are the superiors of the human race… We'll kidnap Jamie Oliver and atomise his brains" (someone beat you to it). Just to prove they're serious, there's an episode of supposedly jungle drumming accompanied by madcap dancing around the audience to shouts of "Mumbo jumbo", the claim "I am a tower of attraction to women", and the chant "Get yer tits out, get 'em out" (the home counties has slipped into mockney by now). This sounds like the Flying Lizards perform Gilbert and Sullivan.
Brains and Virgin are twenty-first century vaudeville. Clever it may not be, but entertaining it is. Not every idea is original (or even inoffensive) - the sample of "You can't touch this" as a backdrop to the story of a street-drinking whiskey-sodden MC Hammer is pretty obvious. All the same, Brains and Virgin are crazy showmen, and you can't touch that.
Author: RMC
The Brakes
Tue 16 November 2004 State of Decay @ Hope and Anchor
Cool as fuck swampy blues rock.
The singer is oddly static, but has a voice like sand and gravel, and oozes understated blues directly from his pores. He's also the master of a fine chewy mouth organ wobble. Guitars mix up hard-edged chords with riffs that meander and shimmer. Insistent 2-bar tunes are the bass line-of-communication; punching with the rolls is the job of the drums. Lyrics are classic blues too: "It's not me"; "Your money doesn't mean a thing"; "You never look me straight in the eyes… you'll never make a fool out of me"; then finally "And when the Sun goes down you feel my pain". The Brakes sound is a remarkable mix of ZZ Top and Sonic Youth.
The power of the Brakes comes from the contrast between the bemused and effortless charcoal grill of the vocal and the wild rock'n'roll on-hot-coals of the music. It's almost as if the late Robert Palmer had performed with the Bad Seeds. Refreshingly, the songs deal with the hurt felt by a man instead of boasting about the pain casually inflicted by a man. The blues had a baby and they named it rock'n'roll. This is the sound of rock'n'roll making a break for the big city, with the whole blues of creation snapping at its heels.
Author: RMC
Brigade
Fri 28 January 2005 @ Bull and Gate
Inescapably infectious skate-metal with complexity and brainpower.
Two-boy vocal exchanges are melodic and joshingly angry. Magnificent guitars involve niggling hooky intros, bright ringing chords, spangly and scribbly solos, and some grinding dual onslaughts resembling an out-of-control concrete mixer. Speedy grunt-bass melodies climax in pure thunder. Deeply bassy percussion delivers explosive crunch-ups. And their signature seems to be accelerating to a rock-out at the end of each song. Lyrics appear reflective: "What does it feel like?"; "Taking apart all of the things that I know"; "I will not ask for answers, I will not tell a single soul"; and "You could take this all away". This is what Green Day would have sounded like ten years ago, with added Sugar to thicken the guitar grind, and a Placebo to up the angst level.
Brigade are a superb punk-metal outfit. After about 3 songs I just plain loved them. Punchy, urgent, playful and perfectly performed - but more important, a massive guitar mosh around. If Brigade don't become massive, it can only be down to seriously bad management or a seriously bum record deal. They're on their way.
Author: RMC
Broken Summer Soundtrack
Wed 24 November 2004 @ Bull and Gate
Dreamily pretty post-rock soundscapes.
One 15-minute progressive piece and a handful of vignettes from these sonic sculptors. The longer piece is a pair of growing and fading storms, each a brief squall rather than a hurricane. Guitars chime and nibbles, finally producing a jangling solo in the second crescendo. Insistent bass defines a fresh key every two bars. Percussion comprises deftly controlled drumming brought to a military climax, with intervals of xylophone tinkling in the introduction and the lull. In the shorter pieces, there are guitar juxtapositions between high capo jangling and gentle low melodies, plus reverby birdsong, passages of e-bow infinite sustain, bass rumbles, galloping drums, and clever percussive combinations like xylophone and sleighbells. There are no vocals.
The overall feel is of an extended Steve Hackett composition, or better, a proggy Cocteau Twins without Liz Fraser.
Broken Summer Soundtrack play music for musicians. It's evocative rather than direct and contemplative rather than exciting. The progressions are slow, but they hold your attention, and the combination of sounds - particularly guitars - is quite beautiful. Gods of Magog. Inspired.
Author: RMC
Bugeye
Wed 18 June 2003 Goo Nite Club @ Buffalo Bar
Furious female led post-punk in the manner of the Breeders without any of the balladry or calm.
The male drummer hides behind 3 guitarist girrrrls, who between them jump manically from tuneful purrs to raucous screams and dreamy sustain and pedal effects to wildfire finger-picking guitars. Scarily, the lead guitar crosses the Skids bagpipe sounds with the jangle pop of Josef K.
Female might is right.
Author: OT
Bugfly
Wed 19 November 2003 Up All Night @ Buffalo Bar
Urgent femme fronted punks.
The obvious comparison is Hole, but English-as-foreign language and the deep sultry singing are reminiscent of Drugstore, and the occasional quirky judder-timing is pure PJ Harvey. There is a wonderfully coarse and open texture about the sound which allows the guitar's skittish strumming and sustain solos to shine through. Lyrically, this is personal and social observation, catchy enough for the song "Sign of my life" to stick with my from an earlier gig. There's a hint of sister-power here on the joy of male company: "You just bring me down".
Bugfly have healthy dose of the atmospheric blues-punk of Harvey and Nick Cave - Bad Seeds, but with the speed and curious everyday observational style of The Kinks. Melodic, but way off the beaten track.
Author: OT
Bullettrain
Thu 12 August 2004 @ Hope and Anchor
Remarkably twenty-first century sleaze in a Stonesy rock 'n' roll 'n' blues work-out.
The vocalist has an exquisitely grimy blues bellow, and adds a classic mouth-organ burn for good measure. Together with two fellow axemen, he gives us the true sound of guitars colliding - chords from the gutter, swanky pedal effects, and complex cowboy stand-offs/ shoot-outs. Bass is ousted from the mini stage to deliver direct rock 'n' roll deliberations from the floor. Drums are a steadying snare-whacking affair that stutter and skiffle as required, with the bonus of a guest tambourine player. The titles are as rock 'n' roll as you'd expect, well-tried ideas like "Disease" and "Come and get it". Bullet Train represent stiff competition for Canvey Island's Doctor Feelgood or Australia's Beasts of Bourbon, with the addition of a good few years of twenty-first century dirt.
London's pubs have blues-rock spilling from every stage and oozing from every cellar, but Bullet Train are the genuine article. No need for debates about the relative merits of Stones or Beatles either, they draw happily from both reference points. Their last song could almost be "Tomorrow Never Knows". Songs maybe laidback or breakneck, but they're always gutsy. Bullet Train may not be highbrow, but they are amongst the high quality blues rockers you will encounter.
Author: WT
Burning Pilots
Sat 22 November 2003 @ Hope and Anchor
Melodic art-punk of the highest quality.
Initial impressions are of a driving bass, clever wheedling guitar, and light vocal harmonies over staccato drums and crashing cymbals - sounds of Television, XTC, The Cure's year of "3 Imaginary Boys". Extra quirkiness quickly feeds in with the Fall-styled "Case History" (pronounced almost Kay-sir Hiss Toree-ah). And the Pilots then move on to modern post-punk comic verse in the idiom of Montana Pete and Joeyfat. As a finishing touch, keyboard backing appears for the final songs to raise us towards the off-kilter dreaminess of Air. Core set up is: guitar/ lead vocal; bass; drums/ backing vocal.
The Burning Pilots produce modern pop-art. Andy Warhol - radar screen - can't tell 'em apart at all.
Author: OT
Joe Buzfuz
Sun 1 August 2004 UK Antifolk Festival @ Buffalo Bar
Dylanic balladry focussed on relationships.
Buzfuz (sometimes Sergeant Buzfuz, sometimes Joe Murphy) plays solo, one man strumming determinedly on a semi-acoustic guitar. Tales of drugged up holiday romances: "The DJ was playing Phil Collins, Depeche Mode and the Farm. He looked like Noel Edmonds, he was waving his arms". Stories of happily lost loves: "Your dress is creased; the monkey with you's greased; he walks like a man, but he talks like a beast". Songs on unhappily lost love: "I didn't even know my name, but you were inside my brain". Dirty women: "If you want someone to borrow your pants and return them unwashed". Social conscience: "The wheels of industry crack-deal ths skies; the television will not be revolutionised" And the first cover I've ever heard of Robyn Hitchcock's "1974". Excellent.
Sergeant Buzfuz is the executioner's Billy Bragg. The dark wit and acute obserevation of Aussie folksters Mick Thomas and Robert Jackson. A big daddy of UK antifolk.
Author: WT
Byrne
Thurs 31 July 2003 @ Spitz
Patrick Byrne playing in a haunting and passionate piano-guitar four piece.
Consummate indie rock, a pretension-reduced take on Radiohead. Or, if you prefer, a sophisticated take on the Coldplay/ Travis genre. Byrne rock out and chill out in equal measure. At the core of this is an enormous cigarette-blasted, whiskey-sodden, lost-love sadness. Piano breezes through majestically, whilst guitars add huge washes and intricate wires. Byrne fronts with vocal, electric piano, and regular switches to guitar. Accompanied by guitar, bass/ synth/ backing tracks, drums.
Byrne dumps on the mainstream stadium rockers from a great height. He has apparently been taken to the (no 1 chart) hearts of Eastern Europe and Australia. So why not Fool Britannia? Miss out on Byrne, and you’re a donkey.
Author: OT
C33X
Fri 18 June 2004 The Queen is Dead @ Borderline
Glorious glam inspired by seventies rock heroes.
C33X are fronted by a chillingly cool and understated female blues vocal. Glammy guitar chords are married to oozing solos that glow with (Mick) Ronsonesque white heat. Keyboard can be a soft organ or an Aladdin Sane toy piano. Decisively funky bass provides deep underlying melodies climbing up and down the scales. Drums are neatly damped and full of prog-rock tempo changes. Backing vocals pick up the spirit(s) with lots of honky-tonk "Nah, nah, nah" responses.
The songs are the mix of dryness and surrealism you might expect from a seventies glam-rock tribute. "Fortune teller told me I was wasting my time"; "I know I've made mistakes but I know that I've made them... Well"; and "Cut from a glass figurine". A fine homage to Moonage Daydream is dedicated to the Hampstead Bowie wannabe (not BG surely?) - it's called Alligator of course. But this isn't a Bowie cover-band by any stretch of the imagination. Surely there never was a song so indebted to Lynard Skynard's "Sweet Home Alabama" as C33X's "Never Mind". And the whole set-up echoes the cabaret style of Sensational Alex Harvey Band.
That set-up is: female lead vocal/ semi-acoustic guitar/ keyboards; guitar/ keyboards/ male backing vocal; guitar/ female backing vocal; bass/ male backing vocal; drums/ male backing vocal.
C33X do not simply make the mid-seventies come alive, they bring the sound of the seventies into the 21st century. Their coup-de-grace is the closing "There's only so much we can do for you"; they surely do as much as you could wish for. Making love to your ego never felt so good.
Author: OT
C33X
Wed 17 March 2004 Goo Nite Club @ Buffalo Bar
Epic female-fronted glamrockers.
Lead vocals are good natured raunch, between Debbie Harry, Hazel O'Connor, and the metaphorical rock chick who works in the Virgin Megastore. Drums are understated drivers, with melodic bass bounding along on top, and a pure seventies swell of syrupy drugged-up guitar. Keyboard parts, when added, are gloriously pompous baby-grand. Lyrically, it seems pretty space-cadet - themes like "Free love", "We're obscure objects of desire", and "We can only do so much for you". Bowie, Roxy Music and early Ultravox all spring to mind as precursors. Set up is female lead vocal/ keyboards, guitar/ keyboards/ male vocal, guitar/ female backing vocal, bass/ male backing vocal, drums.
An affectionate take on the seventies which reads as a joyous tribute rather than a silly parody. Lady Stardust and the Memories of a Free Festival.
Author: OT
Captains of the Citadel
Sun 4 April 2004 @ Bull and Gate
Primal folk-funk blues-punk from the four prodigies.
The Captains' focus is the amazing bluesy David Gray singing. The voice is complemented by frighteningly squally guitar, funked-up bass and jazzed high-intensity drumming. Lyrically, there are moments of pure poetry: searching titles - "Whatever it is"; towering lines - "The rooftops of your burning house of passion". The Captains' sound is almost a hybrid of The Ramones and Nirvana fronted by Robert Plant. Set-up here is: lead vocal/ guitar, bass/ backing vocal; guitar; drums.
A&R men! Get your cheques out for the Captains of the Citadel. These guys are very very special. Young, accessible, tuneful, good-looking punk-poetry. Shits on Busted.
Author: OT
The Carbon Plan
Thu 18 November 2004 @ The Garage
Supercharged punky-pop tunesmiths.
The set opens with a searing synth wail and explodes into a manic melodic attack. The pace is set by rollicking drums and thundering bass tunes, whilst twin guitars add an air of brightness: spangly chords, punky chops, bluesy squidges, ambulance chasing lines that shimmer and sparkle. Vocals are a joyous mass of melodies and harmonies, with forays into minor keys to add to the sense of urgency. Lyrics spread the joie de vivre; aside from "I can't decide what you want from me", messages include: "Hello, hello, you are the one I wanted"; and "Life is for the living, I want a little bit extra. I want and I want, and I want and I want, and I want and I want, and I want and I want… I wanna get stoned". It sounds a bit like Terrorvision versus Teenage Fanclub.
Carbon Plan write grand guitar pop with a sense of fun, energy and humour. Nothing especially unusual or challenging to the ear. Just a manic pop thrill.
Author: RMC
Carbon Plan
Sun 27 June 2004 @ Bull and Gate
Grungey punk mix of attitude and joy.
Deft vocal melodies in Dave Grohl style and spirited backing harmonies plus false falsetto responses. Complementary guitars, hitting the chorus with the same chord sequence at a diiferent pace, and leaving the verse for the lead to deliver dirty spangles, measured fx, and occasional rock heroics. Bass produces disturbingly deep melodies. Stand-in drummer is an imprssive all-rounder [apparently, due to an accident unloading the gear, their regular drummer is injured]. Songs can be cuddly or gnarly. "She's got a picture of you". "We all die in the end". And the curiously old-man blues (I think) of Teenage Scum: "I want what I want, what I want, what I want, what I want, when I want, when I want, when I want, when I want" etc. The sound falls somewhere between Green Day and Queens of the Stone Age. Line-up is first vocal/ rhythm guitar, lead guitar/ second vocal, bass/ backing vocal, drums.
Carbon Plan play fine punky sounds with passion, wit, and half-an-eye on a big stage. Their classic anthem "God bless America, God help the rest of us" would be a fine MTV-friendly sound to stir the minds of the Busted generation. Quality. Wye aye, man.
Author: OT
Cassalis
Sat 24 April 2004 @ Bull and Gate
4 piece Aussie fronted psych-rock drenched in 60s retro.
Some excellent guitaring with chords recalling the mystical east, wah-wah effects to die for, glammy Mott the Hoople chords and kinky disco riffs. We have a pair of vocalists that could almost be Glen Tilbrook and a whispering Chris Difford (both of Squeeze). Some of the lyrics seem a bit throwaway, and some thoughtful. "I don't feel happy because I'm starting all over again", "I get a feeling inside.. This is my time", and "Sometimes you know you've gotto agitate your mind… Sometimes you know you've got to satisfy your mind". Set up is first vocal/ second guitar, first guitar/ second vocal, bass, drums.
The nearest comparison OT can come to a sound like these guys would be The Animals of "Don't let me be misunderstood" era. But The Animals were in a league of their own. Cassalis niggle by re-inventing close to the point of plagiarism. Their "Something about you I just can't explain" is a very close approximation to 70s song Driver's Seat (Sniff 'n' the Tears). But they are forgiven for also inventing Gaytonbury Festival (Gayton Road is a street in NW3) for those of us too technologically or financially challenged to get Glastonbury tickets. It's all a bit old-hat, but they're dry, witty and fun.
Author: OT
Castro
Mon 3 May 2004 @ Barfly
Sonic terrorism from these Brighton punks.
A 20-minute set, but they pack in a couple of numbers that aren't from their CD, including a bit of glammy stomp-rock. And this remains mostly trademark Castro territory. A droning sub-vibrato wail of a vocal that manages against the odds to be expressive and musical. Rapidfire guitar side-swipes. A pummelled spped-bass. Cymbal-crash, snare-crack and bass-thunder drumming. Lyrically, Castro are as dour and threatening as ever: "Oh my God, is there something wrong?", "I'm the reason why you came here on your own" and "Oh my sugar, why do you look so sad". Line-up is lead vocal/ guitar, bass/ backing vocal/ tambourine, drums.
The only point of playing rock 'n' roll in the twenty-first century is to take noise somewhere it's never been before. Castro take noise somewhere it's never been before. The unmissable unforgiven.
Author: OT
Castro
Wed 13 August 2003 @ Dublin Castle
A post-rockin' wall-of-sound, blending Bob Mould on speed with the low density musing of a pensive Sonic Youth.
Staccato stream-of-consciousness vocals, crammed-in Dead Kennedys style. Bass playing must rank as some of the fastest ever seen, assisted by audacious use of a mike stand (I can't explain, go look for yourself). Typically, this is a short set, but just feel the quality. Economical line-up too: guitar/ vocal, bass, drums. Nothing wasted, nothing spare.
The motown of the post-punk world, with an undercurrent of barely suppressed anger. I know, I fuckin' know, you must see them now.
Author: OT
The Cells
Mon 20 February 2006 @ Bull and Gate
Nineties electro-baggy with hefty post-punk roots. Either they're on something, or my drink's been spiked.
The sound of the Cells mutates and divides so quickly it's near impossible to encapsulate. There are a couple of constants though. Constant #1 is the Pete Hook bass-style, stamping its command on the tunes. Brick-tonning drum density seems like it's set in, but slims to a light trippy beat. Guitar travels from harsh clangs to fuzzed-up needling, to fx chews and the strange world of violin-voiced slides. Then it disappears. Vocals throw you around to Kelly Jones bluesers, fly-off into Bryan Ferry warbles, and then jettison into helium falsetto. Keyboard and synth are almost ungraspable, a Telstar treacle-dragon soars, a kraftwerk modem-link beeps and squiggles, a prehistoric pigeon chirps squidgily, piano-bells peal, staccato organ strikes jangle, droning pipes didg and doppler. So that leaves constant #2 - entertainingly clever lyrics. Ok, one song is introduced as an account of extreme paranoia, and you just know a lot of the words emerge from being stoned, but they work: "You're killing me from within"; "Why won't you step into my world?"; "Have you ever had a conversation in your head - but the words are not yours?"; "If I can't have you, no-one else will… you're just like me, we see in black and white… you're fuckin' with my head and I can't stay still"; and "I can't hold back the tears, though I've been doing that for years". Somehow, it feels like 1994.
The Cells have gathered up genetic material from all over the scene: Joy Division, New Order, The Beloved, Super Furry Animals, Nirvana, Leftfield, British Sea Power - put that in your pipe and smoke it, fly one minute, plummet the next. Angsty balladry that makes Coldplay look like petulant toddlers is suddenly bounced for 2 minutes of instrumental electro-groove. I was blown away by The Cells show, and not in the Cobain sense. But you can't help thinking that there is, in fact, more black than white. Do you hate what you are?
Author: RF
Central Reservation
Thu 10 March 2005 @ Bull and Gate
Palatable and unpretentious countrification.
Vocal is open and direct, almost falsetto at times, gently drawling a sweet tune, with close harmonies and ooh-aah by-lines from the backing. Guitar gives out circulating semi-acoustic lines and catchy chord sequences, traded briefly for Formbyesque ukulele strumming. Bass digs you slow gentle nudges. Drums are artfully brushed, dabbed, trickled and smacked. Lines tackle relationships with vehicles and relationships with women: "The twenty-four wheels turn and drive to the south, one too many truck-stop meals leaves a bad taste in my mouth"; "You're the one who makes her smile, and makes her cry and laugh a lot"; and "Treat me badly, so I wouldn't mind, cos I love you madly, so I wouldn't mind". Then the ukulele song, about the extra pulling power that lead singers and guitarists have: "What you need's a good old-fashioned man". To compare these guys to Neil Diamond seems cruel, and musically Bread would be nearer the mark: on the other hand, Bread were joyless, and Central Reservation are genuinely (if gently) amusing.
Central Reservation aren't coat-tailing in the Scouse Psych scene, they're a pub-friendly country band with sights apparently set on Radio 2. To me, Central Reservation are too laid back to be exciting, but they occupy the middle of the road perfectly. Because the world is a roundabout, it turns me on.
Author: RMC
The Changes
Thu 20 May 2004 @ Bull and Gate
New Lad rock - The Changes should be called Travasis.
I feel I should point out the clear melodies of the emotional vocal, the autumnal lead guitar swirls, the warm chords, the tunefully angsty bass and the dramatic drums. And these things do glimmer through the aggressive treble frequencies. Now, swallow down a handful of the words. "My light shines on now you're gone… sunshine on my body's all I need". And "I'm gonna be with you one day, if I have it my own way". There's a wonderful title "11:11 Wigan - St Helens", which I desperately wanted to be about - or even an allusion to - a rugby match. But it seemed to be Healyish squish about separated lovers. The villains of the piece are: lead vocal/ guitar, guitar/ backing vocal, bass, drum/ backing vocal.
The Changes must be New Lads, they're even sporting blond highlights. The brilliance of the Changes lies in their perfect merger of Travis's "Writing to Reach You" and Oasis's "Wonderwall". The awfulness of the Changes lies in their perfect merger of [etc etc]. It's a taste thing. And what's a wonderwall anyway.
Author: OT
The Chap
Thu 4 Dec 2003 @ Buffalo Bar
Wonderful experimental 4 piece mixing electronics, repetitive beats, staccato vocals, weird intervals, cool jazz guitar and feedback-laden violin.
The Chap feel like Wire - gentle percussive openings build up to a sonic crescendo via a set of progressive tweaks to the initial theme. But there are almost constant vocal echoes and harmonics in the build-up, based on simple poetry rather than the impenetrable Wire lyrics, stylistically closer to Laurie Anderson: "Everyday I will go jogging in Clissold Park… Every day I will bake a cake… Everyday, when my boyfriend comes home, I will ask 'How was your day at work?', and 'Why don't you hit me back - And why don't you hit me - Back and why don't you hit - Me back and why don't you - Hit me back and why don't - You hit me back and why don't - You hit me back and why - Don't you hit me back and - Why don't you hit me back?'". Musicians are: vox/ guitar; vox/ bass/ guitar/ violin; female vox/ keyboard/ synth; drums/ keyboard/ vox.
The Chap's combination of simplicity, clever clever overlaps and whimsical delivery is utterly addictive. Ra Ra Ra Ra rather than Da Da Da.
Author: OT
Charlie Says
Tue 17 June 2003 @ Metro
Articulate rock and rollers.
A short but intelligent set. The core of this is a female vocalist with the combination of superior sneers and little girl lost you’d associate with Nancy Sinatra, Courtney Love and Tanya Donnelly. There are some off-kilter sounds and beats, and lyrics of social critique, dealing, for example, with the ‘me me me’ generation.
Way way more than zero (apologies to Brett Easton Ellis and Costello).
Author: OT
Charlottefield
Sat 17 January 2004 RoTa @ Notting Hill Arts Club
Classic post-rock.
Stilted beats, fulsome motor boom bass (Stranglers' Burnel grade), guitar minor chords both rounded and jarring, soaring lead guitar reveries. All overlain by a blues-rock scream worthy of Captain Beefheart. Lyrically, either surreal or impossibly existential: "It didn't happen" rants the twenty-first century Don Van Vliet. The beautiful sound of an impending LA inferno, with 50 emergency trucks dopplering around the one way streets and freeway ramps as they try to home in on the blaze. Set-up is vocal/ guitar; guitar; bass; drums.
Charlottefield are urgent and compelling. Essential ingredients of the post-modern noisescape.
Author: OT
Cheenah
Sat 12 November 2005 @ Bull and Gate
Accelerated ska punk madness.
Lovely stuff. A staccato vocal onslaught with shouty melodies, plus backing coos of "aah-aah" or barking responses. Tight jangle-strum guitar. Bouncy bass tunes. A controlled drum explosion. Stream of slogan lyrics: "It's all the wrong way round here", "Such a loser" and "You know it gets right up my nose". I'll bet it does.
Cheenah play like a hyperactive version of The Beat. Quality stuff. I'd like to get them on a bill with The Starts. Sound as a pound.
Author: RF
C-Jags
Tue 6 April 2004 Club Fandango @ Dublin Castle
Garage punk 'n' roll.
Guitar and bass take traditional rock n roll stylings at an unbelievable pace. Drums are over-enthusiastic on bass and high-hat, but how else to play it, eh? The vocal mix between melody and wailing-drawl is pure Bowie-Ronson Queen Bitch. Superficially, this is an emulation of Strokes material like "Last Night", but it's in a tradition that goes back at least to The Damned's "Neat, Neat, Neat". There's a curious version of Adam and the Ants' "Deutsche Girls" in there, and lyrics seem to tumble into self-abasement and abuse of others: "Can't say I'm a big lover, but what the fuck?" and "Hey baby, I want you… yeah, baby, I could give a shit". Set up here is: lead vocal/ guitar, bass/ backing vocal, drums/ backing vocal.
OK, I know that sounding like the Strokes in 2004 seems a bit like plugging an Oasis-sound in 1999. A well-ploughed furrow becoming rather barren. But C-Jags are wide-ranging, leftfield and lyrical. Music for pleasure.
Author: OT
Seb Clarke
Wed 2 June 2004 @ Bull and Gate
Awesome 12 piece combine blues rock, big band and trad jazz sounds.
This is so far off the OT mental map it's hard to know where to start a description. Seb conducts affairs, looking (and sounding) a little bit John Otway, barking out occasional blues lyrics of the "oh yeah" and "all right" variety, and wielding a semi-acoustic guitar from which he wrings punk flamenco and and Ry Cooder blues. Bass rocks 'n ' rolls, drums are light touch rhythm makers. True to tradition, this is a genuine ensemble effort, focussed on the massive output of a 6-strong brass section alongside electric guitar and a pair of keyboards. Also in tradition is a series of showcase solos, although Bull and Gate sets are not long enough to showcase them all. Moments include fairground organ, mellotronic underwater keyboard seething, and the biggest, biggest and most beautiful saxophone you've ever seen (the sax player wasn't bad either). Think of every bit of blues with horns you've heard. Say Blues Brothers, The Commitments, Dexy's Midningt Runners. Multiply fourfold, and add the little jazz knowledge us philistines have - say Ronnie Scott [ed - "we philistines"]. You might be getting close. But "Minnie the Moocher", "Oh, Geno" and "Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" is kid's stuff compared to this. Personnel - as you'd have figured, comprise Seb on semi-acoustic guitar/ mouth organ/ vocal/ conducting, electric guitar, bass, 2 keyboards and the 6-strong brassmen.
The most magical event OT has witnessed at the Bull and Gate. Seb has nothing if not brassneck. "Somehow I just couldn't make it home".
Author: OT
The Cleo Whip
Wed 18 February 2004 Goo Nite Club @ Buffalo Bar
Haunting lo-fi groove.
Subtle sub-jazz drums, evil pumping JJ Burnel bass-lines (Stranglers), scratchy guitar, one-note-wonder keyboards and beautifully sung waif-like melody and harmony. The lightness of Belle and Sebastian with the groove of new-era Julian Cope. Lyrically, it seems like a bit of an existential nightmare. "I have an extra head" (apparently) and "What you don't believe in can't hurt you". Formation is female lead vocal/ keyboards, guitar/ keyboards/ female backing vocals, bass, drums.
The Cleo Whip bring you dance grooves, sinister noises and a fey attitude - all together. Shake your bootee!
Author: OT
The Cleo Whip
Sat 6 September 2003 @ Bull and Gate
Spacious bass-driven surf rock from this 2 boy/ 2 girl combo.
Reminiscent of Belle and Sebastian, The Breeders and (gulp) New Order - all at the same time. Beautifully sung, and accompanied by frantic guitar strumming, wild scale-climbing bass, choppy drums plus occasional simple keyboard patterns. What it means is beyond me… "My destination is a vacation". Uh-huh. Formation is: female lead vocal/ keyboards; guitar/ female backing vocals; bass; drums.
High powered pop really doesn't get much better than The Cleo Whip. Wonder-fuel.
Author: OT
Comanechi
Sun 13 November 2005 VF Loud Alldayer with Silver Rocket, Noisestar and Monotreme Records @ Bull and Gate
Feel: sex on the beach.
Vocal: come to bed and expect to die a tiny death.
Guitar: vicious scratch and twang.
Bass: none.
Drums: concrete in a food blender.
Lyrics: a murderous Poly Styrene.
Popstar factor: 100% - they're already stars, and the bloke's got a better jumper than me.
Familiarity factor: 80% - I know exactly what they're about, but wonderful chaos reigns.
Song count: hundreds.
Longevity: this decade.
IT factor: 100% hair coverage.
Antecedents: White Stripes, Winnebago Deal, PJ Harvey.
Quotable quotes: "I wanna be naked"; "You lay down… No, No, No".
Remark: this band have already put their own name in lights, and they are So Right.
Author: RF
The Colony
Thu 8 April 2004 Club Fandango @ Bull and Gate
Cool vaudeville punk.
The waily vocal lies somewhere between a younger Robert Smith and the Violent Femmes. Drum rhythms and insistent driving basslines capture the intensity of Joy Division. Guitar beautifully mixes sound-squalls, two note solos and punky flourishes. Lyrically, its full of enjoyably sneery poetry, which OT failed to write down except for "Suck. A lone stranger". Unembellished set-up is lead vocal, guitar/ backing vocal, bass, drums.
The Colony modernise the arty punk of Magazine by adding an almost metal Placebo rant. Crisp clear rock n roll angst. No fluffiness. A wondrous band. In The Colony's words "You're lethal". They are.
Author: OT
Cove
Sun 13 November 2005 VF Loud Alldayer with Silver Rocket, Noisestar and Monotreme Records @ Bull and Gate
Feel: a ton of bricks - Flettons to be precise.
Vocals: rare, bawled.
Guitar: It growls. It pounces. It kills. It thrills.
Bass: thrumming, grooving.
Drums: the extra special ingredient in a complex stew of chopped up jazz.
Lyrics: just about.
Popstar factor: absolutely none, and that's great.
Familiarity factor: 10%, it's always an adventure.
Song count: normal.
Longevity: again, jazz remains timeless.
IT factor: modest, not more than 20% facial coverage.
Antecedents: traces of Hendrix, Beefheart, Rock of Travolta, Princess Headbutt (ho ho), but primarily themselves.
Quotable quotes: "People disappear, Disappear, DISAPPEAR".
Remark #1: I am a pioneer, they call me perverted.
Remark #2: Cove wrote one of the ultimate post-rock pieces, but they're not playing it tonight - Abstemious Monks.
&nbs
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