Brel, and I swear there's only ten gig-going people in this town. Colin off of the internet is here and a couple from The Hermit Crabs.
So I wandered in about two songs into the first guy's set, Connor Mason, and got busy scoping the crowd and the venue. We're in a conservatory, laid out with rows of chairs reminiscent of Sunday School. I was being distracted by flashing lights and poorly placed pot plants, but caught the odd glimpse of genius from the stage.
He was sat on a deck chair with semi-acoustic guitar abnd a harmonica round his neck. The sound in here is amazing, he was barely whispering but it came through clear and beautiful. Winsom and drify, caught floating through a dream.
The quiet bloke from the door shuffles to the front, near the stage and takes an empty seat in front of the whole audience, and indicates "one song left".
I make CDs for The Just Joans. They have poignant writ right through. Here, tonight, playing in the shadow of Glasgow university, Dave starts with 'Friday Afternoons', about drinking in the union as an undergraduate.
Och, Cool uncle Stu is here and possibly a member of B&S near the back, Ali's passing out fliers for Drunk at the Pulpit, I hardly recognised her with new hair style.
The whole Just Joans vibe sounds confessional, getting dumped, drunken indiscretions, losing friends, its all been carefully honed over the years. Chris on lead guitar, has played in countless other bands, tonight my favourite bit of his guitar craftis the wee descending line in 'Lookin' like Rain' on the third rep of 'Dumped by my lassie, down at the Strathy'.
The headline act of the night is Willy Campbell, with a backing band. I thought he sounded a bit like Joe Mac from Superstar, some weird pedal-induced vocal effects. Despite proclaimed nervousness, he had great rapport with the audience and his band: keyboard, second guitar and cello.
Actually, the girl on cello looked kinda familiar, I think she was an MSN contact of mine for a month or so two years back, we never spoke in real life, I think I once made eye contact with her twice at a gig, which is almost the same as talking.
Kind of magical songs, he kept on drifting away from the mic, but sang out so he barely needed it.
Thursday, 29 March 2007
Wednesday, 28 March 2007
Hey Princess, Older and Far Away, Feel like Falling - 13th Note
I'm standing in a pub, stone-cold sober, and watching 3 men who appear to be pushing 30 playing like trio of gawky teenagers who just learned how to play the chords D and G. Their drummer resembles a young(ish) John Peel and the singer is trying too hard not to look like a car salesman by wearing a (homemade?) Richey Manic t-shirt, but it doesn't take away from the fact that this band are totally devoid of ideas. Lyrics addressed to someone who doesn't seem to know how great they are or what they could achieve in life, backed-up by the aforementioned major guitar chords just didn't do it for me, so I retreated upstairs to read about Norn Irn for the latter half of their set. Feel like Falling asleep, more like...sorry guys.
Older and Far Away look like a more interesting prospect from the off, they have a cello for a start, and a lap steel. Last time I saw marie on a stage she was playing guitar for riot grrl band Cheetaras, performing a rocking cover of Madonna's 'Like a Prayer'...this time she's sitting at the drumkit for what appear to be a country band. The music starts, and my suspicions are confirmed, these guys like their Americana. For the majority of the set they manage to make it pretty interesting though. So many of these laid-back country bands are content to go through the motions and play safe, but OAFA blend a bit of Pavementesque trickery with good old-fashioned blues emotion to make a very pleasant racket for the fair-sized crowd in attendance.
Despite their obvious talents as a band, they let themselves down on the togetherness front a bit. A couple of songs require a few false starts before they get going, and there appears to be some tension between band members and the soundman (who I thought coped pretty well in the circumstances). The lead singer/cellist and Marie appear particularly affected by any setbacks, which eventually made me feel a bit uncomfortable watching. As they fluff the beginning of the song 'Peter Parker', cello woman snaps at the rest of the band. Luckily their delightfully goofy-looking guitarist (who bears more than a slight resemblance to the webslinging wonderspider) keeps it all together, acting out the Mark Ibold demeanour to a tee. definitely worth watching again, if only to see if they split up on stage...
After a short break (after all, it is a school night), the band I've dragged my sober ass out to see tonight shuffle onto the stage - I can hardly hear Anji's vocals during the opening number as the continuing sound problems make their life just that little bit harder. Luckily, this band are not for throwing the towel in, and by the second song they have taken control of the stage with a quiet confidence that enables the music to shine though.
Their sound is soft and gentle but with an underlying strengh, a bit like Throwing Muses but with a hint of something else in the mix. It's quite difficult to pin down, but very engaging. Hey Princess are unusual in that they feature 2 sets of married couples in the line-up, and unsurprisingly have a lot more comaraderie emanating from the stage than the other 2 bands. The songs also offer something different, their sound is a throwback to the American college rock sound but incorporating the idiosyncracies of the British indie scene in its early 90's heyday. Think of Kim Deal meeting Talk Talk (in a Morris Minor on PCP, of course) and you're on the right track. This band make an effort to be different lyrically too, with numerous references to large cats and historical figures replacing the usual boy-meets-girl-meets-drugs sixth-form poetry we've come to expect from Scottish bands. Hats off to Supermiffy for managing to look so darned cool while playing a cabasa!
HP certainly left an imprint on my mind that night, their songs are now inked into my very soul. I know I'll get a ribbon for writing that down...
Photies:-
here
Older and Far Away look like a more interesting prospect from the off, they have a cello for a start, and a lap steel. Last time I saw marie on a stage she was playing guitar for riot grrl band Cheetaras, performing a rocking cover of Madonna's 'Like a Prayer'...this time she's sitting at the drumkit for what appear to be a country band. The music starts, and my suspicions are confirmed, these guys like their Americana. For the majority of the set they manage to make it pretty interesting though. So many of these laid-back country bands are content to go through the motions and play safe, but OAFA blend a bit of Pavementesque trickery with good old-fashioned blues emotion to make a very pleasant racket for the fair-sized crowd in attendance.
Despite their obvious talents as a band, they let themselves down on the togetherness front a bit. A couple of songs require a few false starts before they get going, and there appears to be some tension between band members and the soundman (who I thought coped pretty well in the circumstances). The lead singer/cellist and Marie appear particularly affected by any setbacks, which eventually made me feel a bit uncomfortable watching. As they fluff the beginning of the song 'Peter Parker', cello woman snaps at the rest of the band. Luckily their delightfully goofy-looking guitarist (who bears more than a slight resemblance to the webslinging wonderspider) keeps it all together, acting out the Mark Ibold demeanour to a tee. definitely worth watching again, if only to see if they split up on stage...
After a short break (after all, it is a school night), the band I've dragged my sober ass out to see tonight shuffle onto the stage - I can hardly hear Anji's vocals during the opening number as the continuing sound problems make their life just that little bit harder. Luckily, this band are not for throwing the towel in, and by the second song they have taken control of the stage with a quiet confidence that enables the music to shine though.
Their sound is soft and gentle but with an underlying strengh, a bit like Throwing Muses but with a hint of something else in the mix. It's quite difficult to pin down, but very engaging. Hey Princess are unusual in that they feature 2 sets of married couples in the line-up, and unsurprisingly have a lot more comaraderie emanating from the stage than the other 2 bands. The songs also offer something different, their sound is a throwback to the American college rock sound but incorporating the idiosyncracies of the British indie scene in its early 90's heyday. Think of Kim Deal meeting Talk Talk (in a Morris Minor on PCP, of course) and you're on the right track. This band make an effort to be different lyrically too, with numerous references to large cats and historical figures replacing the usual boy-meets-girl-meets-drugs sixth-form poetry we've come to expect from Scottish bands. Hats off to Supermiffy for managing to look so darned cool while playing a cabasa!
HP certainly left an imprint on my mind that night, their songs are now inked into my very soul. I know I'll get a ribbon for writing that down...
Photies:-
here
Monday, 26 March 2007
Mutley, The Kimberly Steak, Murder Burger, The Deep Fried Wolfknuckles - 13th Note
I am the guitarist for the Deep Fried Wolfknuckles and we're headlining tonight. Friends of friends from Larkhall have arranged the gig, I think they could be the first and third bands on. It could be the first time they're put on a gig here, fresh and excited, unjaundiced by the cold reality of 13th Note giggery.
Ooh, straight into hard and fast shouty rocking. As the Germans might say "Your hard rock rhythms and devilish guitar playing sets my soul on fire". I only wish there were more than four paying punters here to appreciate it. Some of the tightest drumming I've seen in a while but these kids are still in their teens, how can it be?
Cos!
They neatly manage to maintain the momentum all through the set and countless blistering guitar solos, but I'm a bit concerned the singer chap's going to do his voice in before long.
The Kimberly Steaks, second band on stage, just the two of them, thanking god that this will be their last ever acoustic set. I wouldn't be so sure, it seems like they're trying so hard to be Green Day's "Time of Your Life" even down to the accents.
The talking bits in songs would be so much better if the audience could actually hear the words. Its hard not to mention it again, but we're down to about three paying punters by this point. Its maybe worth abandoning convention and just having fun jamming rather than putting on the originally planned show.
I wonder what's on at the Carling Academy tonight.
Alan say "It was all right, but not in the Smokey Robinson sense of 'all right'"
Third band, same drummer as the first band. The deepest, fuzziest guitar I've heard for a while, by the name of Murder Burger. Aw, the cutest thing, they have matching t-shirts, black with white skull and crossbones.
Hmm, they sound a little too similar to the first band. More animated maybe, the singer/guitarist writhes with his guitar more than the guy from the first band and somehow manages to hold his plectrum through the fabric of his sleevey sleeve.
I'm not 100% sure what it was, but halfway through the set, after fixing a broken guitar string, the sound went crap. Either the bass or a guitar turned into a long drawn out shapeless boom and onstage they didn't care. The singer's guitar turned into the audio equivalent of tin foil but soon got buried under the boom.
Aw man, bring on the Wolfknuckles.
I'm biased maybe, but we were seemlessly professional, hardly cocked up any songs and rocked out a fat one.
Alas the other bands had fucked off upstairs so we were playing to three people, not including Iain the sound guy and the barmaid who kindly agreed to wear one of our Wolfknuckle masks.
Three people.
Three.
The other bands and their entourage made it back downstairs in time to catch our last song.
Fuck that shit.
Ooh, straight into hard and fast shouty rocking. As the Germans might say "Your hard rock rhythms and devilish guitar playing sets my soul on fire". I only wish there were more than four paying punters here to appreciate it. Some of the tightest drumming I've seen in a while but these kids are still in their teens, how can it be?
Cos!
They neatly manage to maintain the momentum all through the set and countless blistering guitar solos, but I'm a bit concerned the singer chap's going to do his voice in before long.
The Kimberly Steaks, second band on stage, just the two of them, thanking god that this will be their last ever acoustic set. I wouldn't be so sure, it seems like they're trying so hard to be Green Day's "Time of Your Life" even down to the accents.
The talking bits in songs would be so much better if the audience could actually hear the words. Its hard not to mention it again, but we're down to about three paying punters by this point. Its maybe worth abandoning convention and just having fun jamming rather than putting on the originally planned show.
I wonder what's on at the Carling Academy tonight.
Alan say "It was all right, but not in the Smokey Robinson sense of 'all right'"
Third band, same drummer as the first band. The deepest, fuzziest guitar I've heard for a while, by the name of Murder Burger. Aw, the cutest thing, they have matching t-shirts, black with white skull and crossbones.
Hmm, they sound a little too similar to the first band. More animated maybe, the singer/guitarist writhes with his guitar more than the guy from the first band and somehow manages to hold his plectrum through the fabric of his sleevey sleeve.
I'm not 100% sure what it was, but halfway through the set, after fixing a broken guitar string, the sound went crap. Either the bass or a guitar turned into a long drawn out shapeless boom and onstage they didn't care. The singer's guitar turned into the audio equivalent of tin foil but soon got buried under the boom.
Aw man, bring on the Wolfknuckles.
I'm biased maybe, but we were seemlessly professional, hardly cocked up any songs and rocked out a fat one.
Alas the other bands had fucked off upstairs so we were playing to three people, not including Iain the sound guy and the barmaid who kindly agreed to wear one of our Wolfknuckle masks.
Three people.
Three.
The other bands and their entourage made it back downstairs in time to catch our last song.
Fuck that shit.
Sunday, 25 March 2007
Court Lajoie, iamchemist, Rabies Nation, Ladder Coins - 13th Note
Some Canadian girl, Court Lajoie, alone on stage, standing with an acoustic guitar and a box of tricks pedal.
I arrived fifteen minutes into her set, this is what happens when the reviewer tries to be stylishly late. Apologies to the folk at Drive Carefully Records who put on this night.
She was good at singing and playing guitar at the same time, except for on a few songs where the guitar played itself, then she was just very good at singing.
She did a neat cover of Gnarls Barkley's Crazy, carefully recording her own backing loop on stage, and stressing that there was a video of it on YouTube, if you search for her surname.
She had a CD for sale too, but my money was going on drinks. Paul the barman does pour very good pints, turning it into an artful with attention to detail in getting the head just right. Such craftsmanship should be applauded far more often than it does.
Next onstage was iamchemist (all one word and lower case). "He made my ears hurt" said one punter, who then added that she was "terribly sorry." He looked like a twitchy mini-me version of Green Day, what is it with eight year olds at the 13th Note with loads of synthy equipment? He was jolly good, vocoder microphone, backing tracks on a microscopic mp3 player and wee keyboard strung round his neck, doing the kind of ultra distorted cover versions that I haven't heard since Dsico or Adventure Kid. The Arctic Monkeys I bet you look good on the dancefloor and Pulp's Babies, which was odd cos I'd been talking about the Pulp song with a friend earlier in the day.
It was the debut gig for Rabies Nation. A bit too experimental for my tastes, but some of the tracks had a great beat. Its surprising what you can get out of a Tomy My First Tape Recorder and an upturned bar tray.
A highlight of the set was chucking their own brand of choccy biscuits to a hungry audience, not many band have their own brand of biscuity goodness.
It seemed very much like this was the first time the band members had met each other. Or maybe that's what they wanted us to think, and it had taken months of studious practise to appear so self-assured and shambolic.
The ubiquitous Cal was on drums and keyboard, Billy Electroluv on keyboards and drums, Steff from Drive Carefully Records on keboards and percussion and a Kirstin on keyboards and vocals. Now Cal's drumming was amazing, even compared to the other night's Hector's gig and Kirstin has been in many great bands, LipSick springs to mind, but Rabies Nation just didn't do it for me.
On the other hand, Ladder Coins, the evening's headliners, did. They were mind-blowing. Instrumental shoegazery guitar geniuses, with a girl on drums. Reminded me of Kaleidoscope-era Boo Radleys, but without the pussy vocals.
So there was this irrepressible onslaught of noise, strangely melodic and warm and fuzzy too. Brendan soundguy running to and fro tweaking the mixing desk to raise the sound to higher levels of perfection.
I found myself talking to a gentleman called Cameron, who was in a band who's name I missed, who similarly enjoyed the Ladder Coins, but was concerned that as an instrument act there was only so far they could go in terms of success. Nonsense, look at Mogwai. I don't think there's a Glaswegian who doesn't own at least one of their albums.
Other reviews:-
here
I arrived fifteen minutes into her set, this is what happens when the reviewer tries to be stylishly late. Apologies to the folk at Drive Carefully Records who put on this night.
She was good at singing and playing guitar at the same time, except for on a few songs where the guitar played itself, then she was just very good at singing.
She did a neat cover of Gnarls Barkley's Crazy, carefully recording her own backing loop on stage, and stressing that there was a video of it on YouTube, if you search for her surname.
She had a CD for sale too, but my money was going on drinks. Paul the barman does pour very good pints, turning it into an artful with attention to detail in getting the head just right. Such craftsmanship should be applauded far more often than it does.
Next onstage was iamchemist (all one word and lower case). "He made my ears hurt" said one punter, who then added that she was "terribly sorry." He looked like a twitchy mini-me version of Green Day, what is it with eight year olds at the 13th Note with loads of synthy equipment? He was jolly good, vocoder microphone, backing tracks on a microscopic mp3 player and wee keyboard strung round his neck, doing the kind of ultra distorted cover versions that I haven't heard since Dsico or Adventure Kid. The Arctic Monkeys I bet you look good on the dancefloor and Pulp's Babies, which was odd cos I'd been talking about the Pulp song with a friend earlier in the day.
It was the debut gig for Rabies Nation. A bit too experimental for my tastes, but some of the tracks had a great beat. Its surprising what you can get out of a Tomy My First Tape Recorder and an upturned bar tray.
A highlight of the set was chucking their own brand of choccy biscuits to a hungry audience, not many band have their own brand of biscuity goodness.
It seemed very much like this was the first time the band members had met each other. Or maybe that's what they wanted us to think, and it had taken months of studious practise to appear so self-assured and shambolic.
The ubiquitous Cal was on drums and keyboard, Billy Electroluv on keyboards and drums, Steff from Drive Carefully Records on keboards and percussion and a Kirstin on keyboards and vocals. Now Cal's drumming was amazing, even compared to the other night's Hector's gig and Kirstin has been in many great bands, LipSick springs to mind, but Rabies Nation just didn't do it for me.
On the other hand, Ladder Coins, the evening's headliners, did. They were mind-blowing. Instrumental shoegazery guitar geniuses, with a girl on drums. Reminded me of Kaleidoscope-era Boo Radleys, but without the pussy vocals.
So there was this irrepressible onslaught of noise, strangely melodic and warm and fuzzy too. Brendan soundguy running to and fro tweaking the mixing desk to raise the sound to higher levels of perfection.
I found myself talking to a gentleman called Cameron, who was in a band who's name I missed, who similarly enjoyed the Ladder Coins, but was concerned that as an instrument act there was only so far they could go in terms of success. Nonsense, look at Mogwai. I don't think there's a Glaswegian who doesn't own at least one of their albums.
Other reviews:-
here
Saturday, 24 March 2007
Television Keeps us Apart, Zoey Van Goey - Bar Baccus
At the 13th Note before heading to Sounds of Sweden, with a jolly old gang of internet folks, nervous supping their drinks, wondering just how late will be stylishly late to arrive at the gig.
Over near the door I spotted uncle Brendan, The Plimptons' producer, and somewhere to my left is a girl previously known as udders from the Barfly.
Actually, they're not trying to be stylishly late, they just don't care. Its just me panicing we're going to miss a band.
Of course we all arrive early and take awkward seats as far away as possible from the stage.
"Its a bit pish," says Robbie. At least until the cupcakes turn up.
Zoey Van Goey hit the stage, if these guys are the future kings of Glasgow, I'm not impressed. I appreciate they're gigging their asses off, last Friday at Beanscene, and its paying off with media coverage, but they don't have me convinced. Jed really likes them "They sound like nectar", Lynsey says "I like them", but they remind me of the pastoral pish my Dad would play when we went on holiday.
Robbie says "Blues-step", inventing their own genre, but for something so generic, I'm not so sure.
"Could do with more vibra-slap" says Jed.
Ooh, their last song was pretty good, but sounds different to all their other songs. That must be really frustrating for them.
Duck eggs + Biscuits = Afghan Yolk
The cupcakes Tara made were nice, but gooey, the icing went everywhere and they were all stuck together. Whilst Robbie went for eating them whole and swallowing the cupcake paper, Lee easily mastered the technique of peeling the paper off. Lynsey say "Lemony in a nice way"
The barmaid, it may have been her first day and she did struggle, but the back of her head was very similar to an ex-girlfriend's, they could have been back of head twins.
Aw man, there's another guy here scrawling notes about the gig in a notebook, a more elegant notebook. He looks familiar, I hope it isn't my cousin.
Television Keeps us Apart - average pish to begin with. They're Swedish which counts for a bit, but not much.
Ooh, laptoppy drums and twee Casio keyboards. I think I remeber this, pre-programmed rhythm No. 6 with a flute setting.
"Dour tweefuckery" say Robbie.
It gets faster, pre-programmed rhythm No. 8 and well, we should like this, but we don't. A little discoy, maybe like their compatriots The LoveNinjas, but from where I'm sitting, less charisma.
Colin - "I quite liked it"
Other reviews:-
here
here
Photies:-
here
Over near the door I spotted uncle Brendan, The Plimptons' producer, and somewhere to my left is a girl previously known as udders from the Barfly.
Actually, they're not trying to be stylishly late, they just don't care. Its just me panicing we're going to miss a band.
Of course we all arrive early and take awkward seats as far away as possible from the stage.
"Its a bit pish," says Robbie. At least until the cupcakes turn up.
Zoey Van Goey hit the stage, if these guys are the future kings of Glasgow, I'm not impressed. I appreciate they're gigging their asses off, last Friday at Beanscene, and its paying off with media coverage, but they don't have me convinced. Jed really likes them "They sound like nectar", Lynsey says "I like them", but they remind me of the pastoral pish my Dad would play when we went on holiday.
Robbie says "Blues-step", inventing their own genre, but for something so generic, I'm not so sure.
"Could do with more vibra-slap" says Jed.
Ooh, their last song was pretty good, but sounds different to all their other songs. That must be really frustrating for them.
Duck eggs + Biscuits = Afghan Yolk
The cupcakes Tara made were nice, but gooey, the icing went everywhere and they were all stuck together. Whilst Robbie went for eating them whole and swallowing the cupcake paper, Lee easily mastered the technique of peeling the paper off. Lynsey say "Lemony in a nice way"
The barmaid, it may have been her first day and she did struggle, but the back of her head was very similar to an ex-girlfriend's, they could have been back of head twins.
Aw man, there's another guy here scrawling notes about the gig in a notebook, a more elegant notebook. He looks familiar, I hope it isn't my cousin.
Television Keeps us Apart - average pish to begin with. They're Swedish which counts for a bit, but not much.
Ooh, laptoppy drums and twee Casio keyboards. I think I remeber this, pre-programmed rhythm No. 6 with a flute setting.
"Dour tweefuckery" say Robbie.
It gets faster, pre-programmed rhythm No. 8 and well, we should like this, but we don't. A little discoy, maybe like their compatriots The LoveNinjas, but from where I'm sitting, less charisma.
Colin - "I quite liked it"
Other reviews:-
here
here
Photies:-
here
Thursday, 22 March 2007
The Rodent Emporium, The Hector Collectors - Bar Bloc
Adam Hector is panicing, their bass player was the singer in The Martial Arts last night in Edinburgh and hasn't been seen since. This was supposed to be a Plimptons gig, them hitting Bar Bloc for the first time, reaching out to a new audience, but Marty Plimp got tonsilitus, so that was off.
There's about 30 people here, fresh meat, trendy looking folk, girl's who've made an effort. Lord knows what they're expecting.
So, The Hectors are on first, just the three of them, Iain, Adam and Cal (Plimptons roadie, now on drums). Hmm, the vocals need more treble and the guitar's too loud, maybe I should say something. Ach, it won't make much difference. Audience participation is limited to half the room looking bored and the other half talking amongst themselves.
Crikey, the band don't half put their backs into it. Wouldn't it be weird if the best band in town's natural habitat was gigs only 1/4 full?
What's even weirder is that if Paul the bass player was here, The Hector Collectors would be the only band featuring four certified savants, alas, they're merely bildungsroman.
Aw man, there are people dancing, really actually dancing, both on their feet near the front, and dancing in their seats. That Supernaturals in the 13th Note is a classic.
On next are The Rodent Emporium, soundchecking very loudly. Opposite me and to the right a group are raiding the Hectors' entourage's coats and bags that have been left unattended, eating all their chocolate eclairs and stealing bags, maybe I should say something. The Rodent Emporium all wear matching blue short sleeved shirts, with the band name emblazoned on the back.
Ooh, the make a much better job of the poor sound in the venue. Stabby, shouty, stop/starty, dual vocals from the singer and guitarist.
The uniforms and the mohawks make them more cartoony than the intellectualism of the Hector Collectors.
Ooh, walking on tablesy bits.
Hmm, the place is jumping now. Barely an empty seat or a dry eye in the room. and the Hectors are wondering what happened to their swedge. I better make a move.
There's about 30 people here, fresh meat, trendy looking folk, girl's who've made an effort. Lord knows what they're expecting.
So, The Hectors are on first, just the three of them, Iain, Adam and Cal (Plimptons roadie, now on drums). Hmm, the vocals need more treble and the guitar's too loud, maybe I should say something. Ach, it won't make much difference. Audience participation is limited to half the room looking bored and the other half talking amongst themselves.
Crikey, the band don't half put their backs into it. Wouldn't it be weird if the best band in town's natural habitat was gigs only 1/4 full?
What's even weirder is that if Paul the bass player was here, The Hector Collectors would be the only band featuring four certified savants, alas, they're merely bildungsroman.
Aw man, there are people dancing, really actually dancing, both on their feet near the front, and dancing in their seats. That Supernaturals in the 13th Note is a classic.
On next are The Rodent Emporium, soundchecking very loudly. Opposite me and to the right a group are raiding the Hectors' entourage's coats and bags that have been left unattended, eating all their chocolate eclairs and stealing bags, maybe I should say something. The Rodent Emporium all wear matching blue short sleeved shirts, with the band name emblazoned on the back.
Ooh, the make a much better job of the poor sound in the venue. Stabby, shouty, stop/starty, dual vocals from the singer and guitarist.
The uniforms and the mohawks make them more cartoony than the intellectualism of the Hector Collectors.
Ooh, walking on tablesy bits.
Hmm, the place is jumping now. Barely an empty seat or a dry eye in the room. and the Hectors are wondering what happened to their swedge. I better make a move.
Sunday, 18 March 2007
St Deluxe, The Hermit Crabs, Sisa, Hey Princess - Oran Mor
A bit of confusion about the door price this evening. It says £8 which is a bit steep, but all the bands had discount fliers pimped on their MySpace pages. £6 discount = £2 on the door, and bottles of Fosters only a punt, could be a cheap night for music fans.
Crikey, Radar's here, he does get around at these gigs.
On stage is a five piece, knowing nothing about the bands, I presume them to be Sisa, laid back female vocalling, Breeders B-side material. They seem nervous, uncomfortable in their skins. They sound like a cross country train ride on an autumn Sunday.
Nope, my mistake, this is Hey Princess. I thought the Princess would be the Diana look-alike with the salt-grinder and chunky necklace, but Tom reckons its the tall oriental gentleman on bass.
The Hermit Crabs, start off with an apology for fannying around with their gear. What is it with bands starting with apologies?
It'd be unfair to call out requests for Camera Obscura songs, but the similarities are there. And if the mighty 'Crabs are to follow in the footsteps of the mighty 'Obscura as they did with the mighty 'nd Sebastian, who's going to be the Isobel Campbell/John Henderson and leave the band?
They've kicked off their very own genre of songs about Sauchiehall Street, it won't be long until other bands follow. Take for example Adam J Smith's genre of song's about the 13th Note, with Kid Canaveral doing likewise with 'Smash Hits'. Alas the 'Crabs had a 'cha cha cha' in the middle which seemed a little jarring.
The gentleman stood to my right was nodding in time to the bassline, as opposed to the drums as normal.
My favourite song was 'Fields Folk Festival' a new song, neat guitar noodles, but they seemed unsure how to finish it.
I was talking to Steph about my fake marriage to a photographer when suddenly Sisa hit the stage. It rather caught me off guard. The mind of Clare Grogan with the body of Katy-Jane Garside stolen the wardrobe from Strawberry Switchblade. A bald Danny Wallace on guitar, playing like Electafixion era Will Sergeant, and a very funky fretless bass player who appeared to be made out of pencils. A bit too bombastic and new wave for me.
Fanzine, the promoter, who I vaguely know off of Jockrock, was rumbling about the size of the crowd. It was bigger than most of the gigs I've been to at the Oran Mor, and I was there, so hey ho.
Ooh, both me and the statuesque girl, who was in front of me in the queue for Spitfire the other night, like St Deluxe.
They're a noisy band, three guitars, a bass and drums. Tom was muttering something about Sebadoh, but I was thinking, more like vocals from Stabiliser or Urusei Yatsura. They were a lot louder than when they played at my flat last year, and they rocked so hard at points Jamie on vocals didn't need his microphone. I liked 'em, I liked 'em loads.
Crikey, Radar's here, he does get around at these gigs.
On stage is a five piece, knowing nothing about the bands, I presume them to be Sisa, laid back female vocalling, Breeders B-side material. They seem nervous, uncomfortable in their skins. They sound like a cross country train ride on an autumn Sunday.
Nope, my mistake, this is Hey Princess. I thought the Princess would be the Diana look-alike with the salt-grinder and chunky necklace, but Tom reckons its the tall oriental gentleman on bass.
The Hermit Crabs, start off with an apology for fannying around with their gear. What is it with bands starting with apologies?
It'd be unfair to call out requests for Camera Obscura songs, but the similarities are there. And if the mighty 'Crabs are to follow in the footsteps of the mighty 'Obscura as they did with the mighty 'nd Sebastian, who's going to be the Isobel Campbell/John Henderson and leave the band?
They've kicked off their very own genre of songs about Sauchiehall Street, it won't be long until other bands follow. Take for example Adam J Smith's genre of song's about the 13th Note, with Kid Canaveral doing likewise with 'Smash Hits'. Alas the 'Crabs had a 'cha cha cha' in the middle which seemed a little jarring.
The gentleman stood to my right was nodding in time to the bassline, as opposed to the drums as normal.
My favourite song was 'Fields Folk Festival' a new song, neat guitar noodles, but they seemed unsure how to finish it.
I was talking to Steph about my fake marriage to a photographer when suddenly Sisa hit the stage. It rather caught me off guard. The mind of Clare Grogan with the body of Katy-Jane Garside stolen the wardrobe from Strawberry Switchblade. A bald Danny Wallace on guitar, playing like Electafixion era Will Sergeant, and a very funky fretless bass player who appeared to be made out of pencils. A bit too bombastic and new wave for me.
Fanzine, the promoter, who I vaguely know off of Jockrock, was rumbling about the size of the crowd. It was bigger than most of the gigs I've been to at the Oran Mor, and I was there, so hey ho.
Ooh, both me and the statuesque girl, who was in front of me in the queue for Spitfire the other night, like St Deluxe.
They're a noisy band, three guitars, a bass and drums. Tom was muttering something about Sebadoh, but I was thinking, more like vocals from Stabiliser or Urusei Yatsura. They were a lot louder than when they played at my flat last year, and they rocked so hard at points Jamie on vocals didn't need his microphone. I liked 'em, I liked 'em loads.
Friday, 16 March 2007
Futuro, The Plimptons - The Arches
I manage The Plimptons.
Arrived at the venue about three songs in and the band are on fire, in full costume. Marty (guitar and vocals) in dress and stacked wig, Neil (bass) in his girlfriend's dress, Paul (keyboards) in eyeliner, white shirt and red tie, Adam (vocals) in chimney sweep garb and Rowan (drums) nun.
Gotta be the biggest gig of their career and with the bestest sound engineer. Even when they cocked up the start of Ocean Colour Ressurrection it turned into a lesson in quality of service.
Half the guys in the crowd didn't have a clue, the other half, die-hard Plimptons fans. There were even cute girls dancing.
Photographers
PHOTOGRAPHERS
Being on stage, miles away from the punters meant they had to drop the usual visual aides for 'Rule Britannia' and Cal missed out on his Thatcher routine for 'John Major'. But they still won out.
Dressing room with a shower and fake booze in the fridge.
Graham PinUp is here, seems to be enjoying himself.
I think I'm rather in love with the girl who served me beer. A little Avril Lavigneish, but perky for that and she had the pixie/hair/ear thing going on. Young enough to be my daughter.
Futuro on stage. They have stardom in their sights. Ticking all the boxes.
Merely a three piece, but they have the thronging crowd enraptured.
Aw man, I broke my camera
I broke my camera bad
"Is this their new single or 'Darts of Pleasure'?"
Other reviews:-
here
Other photos:-
here
here
Arrived at the venue about three songs in and the band are on fire, in full costume. Marty (guitar and vocals) in dress and stacked wig, Neil (bass) in his girlfriend's dress, Paul (keyboards) in eyeliner, white shirt and red tie, Adam (vocals) in chimney sweep garb and Rowan (drums) nun.
Gotta be the biggest gig of their career and with the bestest sound engineer. Even when they cocked up the start of Ocean Colour Ressurrection it turned into a lesson in quality of service.
Half the guys in the crowd didn't have a clue, the other half, die-hard Plimptons fans. There were even cute girls dancing.
Photographers
PHOTOGRAPHERS
Being on stage, miles away from the punters meant they had to drop the usual visual aides for 'Rule Britannia' and Cal missed out on his Thatcher routine for 'John Major'. But they still won out.
Dressing room with a shower and fake booze in the fridge.
Graham PinUp is here, seems to be enjoying himself.
I think I'm rather in love with the girl who served me beer. A little Avril Lavigneish, but perky for that and she had the pixie/hair/ear thing going on. Young enough to be my daughter.
Futuro on stage. They have stardom in their sights. Ticking all the boxes.
Merely a three piece, but they have the thronging crowd enraptured.
Aw man, I broke my camera
I broke my camera bad
"Is this their new single or 'Darts of Pleasure'?"
Other reviews:-
here
Other photos:-
here
here
Magnetic Fields Tribute Night - MacSorleys
I play guitar for the Deep Fried Wolfknuckles.
It was noon when the first messages started coming through from folk who couldn't make it to the gig, Holly washing her hair, Steff having drinks with Lisa Marie.
Kinda soul-crushing that the audience was dropping away before we hit the stage or even arrived at the venue.
Shortly before the show I was checking out a friend's photography exhibition, nice style and narative to the shots, but after saving her bacon and cooking her chicken countless times, she too has a prior engagement and is also shunning the show.
Luckily Stacy and Richard from Sounds of Sweden are here, I am not alone.
For years I remember this place being an old man's pub with the occasional pub rock bands, but its under new management and the band booker chap, Teamie, is a guy I worked with on the university newspaper years ago.
The Deep Fried Wolfknuckles play garage rock, or "ol' time rockabilly like yer pappy used to play" as we once decided. Not quite what you'd expect at a twee-lord indie-pop tribute night, but hey ho.
Drumkit resourcing isses meant that it was acoustic acts on first. JC on stage, acoustic guitar. Unshaven, he mis-starts, changes mics and fires off again, kind of warm, tentative but confident. I don't recognise the song.
Time passes, the next band up, I don't catch the name, but they kind of look familiar, the cute girl in a red dress, the cello player, the wee baldy bloke from countless other bands, he sings. Alan Wolfknuckles is livid cos they're doing 'Underwear', which we'd bagsied. For six people on stage, it was pretty stripped down, they too lacked drums. From where I'm sat down, it sounds a bit bass heavy. The girl vocals would sound great if I were sat elsewhere.
Lizzie Piper from uni is here.
Older and Faraway, sound nicer than the last mob and Mark's half-forgotten some of the lines adds a refreshing delicacy to the set. Actually the girls sure could holler, flawlessly too, compared with the lads. Marie on drums reminiscent of Dolly Parton's vocals.
So, of course the Deep Fried Wolfknuckles were great, hardly cocking up any of the chords. An emergency lyric change with 'Underwear', now in French, saved the day. Followed by a rather wholesom version of 'Punk Love', about three times the length of the original. We then duly punked up for a hi-speed 'Busby Berkley Dreams' and a slightly mellow 'Chicken with its head cut off'.
Our crowning moment was finishing on '100,000 Fireflies'. Power chord rocking out and Alan's hollering his heid off. Teamie had told us to stretch things out so Alan allowed me to indulge my guitar solo fantasies. Going through the Kinks's 'All Day and All Night' solo twice and extensive noodling. The change to the outro was a bit rough and during the chord cycles my zorro mask slipped and I missed a few 'B's adjusting it. So the rest of the band finished, one by one retiring to the bar and I kept on ploughing on. At some point I'd pinged the skin off my right index finger, blood was spraying from an small artery, but still I pounded on.
How much more could I rock on?
That much.
Some said "Rather excellent, actually surprising"
The mighty Dot to Dot followed, going under the alias of The Meritocracy as they played minus Wee Patrick and with 'Nick' doing vocals.
Compared to the Deep Fried Wolfknuckles, they were the second or third best band of the night. Nick's Morrissey-esque mincing kind of grated and the vocals sounded a little too much like "lads down the pub"
Aw man, I gotta do a runner, The Plimptons at Club NME across the Road.
Other reviews:-
here
It was noon when the first messages started coming through from folk who couldn't make it to the gig, Holly washing her hair, Steff having drinks with Lisa Marie.
Kinda soul-crushing that the audience was dropping away before we hit the stage or even arrived at the venue.
Shortly before the show I was checking out a friend's photography exhibition, nice style and narative to the shots, but after saving her bacon and cooking her chicken countless times, she too has a prior engagement and is also shunning the show.
Luckily Stacy and Richard from Sounds of Sweden are here, I am not alone.
For years I remember this place being an old man's pub with the occasional pub rock bands, but its under new management and the band booker chap, Teamie, is a guy I worked with on the university newspaper years ago.
The Deep Fried Wolfknuckles play garage rock, or "ol' time rockabilly like yer pappy used to play" as we once decided. Not quite what you'd expect at a twee-lord indie-pop tribute night, but hey ho.
Drumkit resourcing isses meant that it was acoustic acts on first. JC on stage, acoustic guitar. Unshaven, he mis-starts, changes mics and fires off again, kind of warm, tentative but confident. I don't recognise the song.
Time passes, the next band up, I don't catch the name, but they kind of look familiar, the cute girl in a red dress, the cello player, the wee baldy bloke from countless other bands, he sings. Alan Wolfknuckles is livid cos they're doing 'Underwear', which we'd bagsied. For six people on stage, it was pretty stripped down, they too lacked drums. From where I'm sat down, it sounds a bit bass heavy. The girl vocals would sound great if I were sat elsewhere.
Lizzie Piper from uni is here.
Older and Faraway, sound nicer than the last mob and Mark's half-forgotten some of the lines adds a refreshing delicacy to the set. Actually the girls sure could holler, flawlessly too, compared with the lads. Marie on drums reminiscent of Dolly Parton's vocals.
So, of course the Deep Fried Wolfknuckles were great, hardly cocking up any of the chords. An emergency lyric change with 'Underwear', now in French, saved the day. Followed by a rather wholesom version of 'Punk Love', about three times the length of the original. We then duly punked up for a hi-speed 'Busby Berkley Dreams' and a slightly mellow 'Chicken with its head cut off'.
Our crowning moment was finishing on '100,000 Fireflies'. Power chord rocking out and Alan's hollering his heid off. Teamie had told us to stretch things out so Alan allowed me to indulge my guitar solo fantasies. Going through the Kinks's 'All Day and All Night' solo twice and extensive noodling. The change to the outro was a bit rough and during the chord cycles my zorro mask slipped and I missed a few 'B's adjusting it. So the rest of the band finished, one by one retiring to the bar and I kept on ploughing on. At some point I'd pinged the skin off my right index finger, blood was spraying from an small artery, but still I pounded on.
How much more could I rock on?
That much.
Some said "Rather excellent, actually surprising"
The mighty Dot to Dot followed, going under the alias of The Meritocracy as they played minus Wee Patrick and with 'Nick' doing vocals.
Compared to the Deep Fried Wolfknuckles, they were the second or third best band of the night. Nick's Morrissey-esque mincing kind of grated and the vocals sounded a little too much like "lads down the pub"
Aw man, I gotta do a runner, The Plimptons at Club NME across the Road.
Other reviews:-
here
Monday, 12 March 2007
Kristin Hersh - Oran Mor
Foolishly lingering over a pint in the Whisky Bar upstairs, I walked in half-way through the first song, thereby missing the rapturous applause that would have greeted Ms Hersh as she walked on stage. One of the few from that American college indie scene in the mid-90's who never stopped making records, Kristin Hersh is a genuine legend and the crowd know it. After the angular guitar lines of Throwing Muses and distorted rock-outs of 50ft Wave, here she performs under her own name accompanied by a cello and violin alongside drums, bass and guitar.
I suppose I had expected the gig to be a more sombre affair. A huge fan of Throwing Muses, I was less familiar with her solo output. The track I knew best was the Michael Stipe duet 'Your Ghost', a stripped down song with a simple repetitive guitar refrain and no drums. As I arrived downstairs to find the band rocking out, I was surprised and delighted to find that her new setup had lost none of the energy of Throwing Muses. The string section bowed and bothered away like they were being played by evil pixies, the drums were clattering and Kristin Hersh played like a bastard.
Her voice is a delight throughtout, a soft Texan drawl which could be intensely annoying when spoken by someone else, feels like a warm cuddle from Kristin. She seems at ease throughout the gig, reining in the head wobbling and telling a few anecdotes to the throng. At one point she recalled how her band were unable to 'speak Scottish', as it just sounded like a bunch of disconnected syllables to them, then an audience member shouted something in response and she said 'Yeah, kinda like that!'
A rocked-out version of 'Your Ghost' made all the better for it's lack of Stipiness came towards the end of the set and received a warm reception, especially after the revelation that it was written in Glasgow. Kristin came back out after the end for 2 encores and could easily have gone on all night were it not for the venue's wish to close up. Spoilsports.
So we had to say goodbye to possibly the only woman who could come here and say 'Y'all' without getting a kicking. Hope she comes back again soon, and I'll be down the front this time.
Other reviews at:-
here
here
here
I suppose I had expected the gig to be a more sombre affair. A huge fan of Throwing Muses, I was less familiar with her solo output. The track I knew best was the Michael Stipe duet 'Your Ghost', a stripped down song with a simple repetitive guitar refrain and no drums. As I arrived downstairs to find the band rocking out, I was surprised and delighted to find that her new setup had lost none of the energy of Throwing Muses. The string section bowed and bothered away like they were being played by evil pixies, the drums were clattering and Kristin Hersh played like a bastard.
Her voice is a delight throughtout, a soft Texan drawl which could be intensely annoying when spoken by someone else, feels like a warm cuddle from Kristin. She seems at ease throughout the gig, reining in the head wobbling and telling a few anecdotes to the throng. At one point she recalled how her band were unable to 'speak Scottish', as it just sounded like a bunch of disconnected syllables to them, then an audience member shouted something in response and she said 'Yeah, kinda like that!'
A rocked-out version of 'Your Ghost' made all the better for it's lack of Stipiness came towards the end of the set and received a warm reception, especially after the revelation that it was written in Glasgow. Kristin came back out after the end for 2 encores and could easily have gone on all night were it not for the venue's wish to close up. Spoilsports.
So we had to say goodbye to possibly the only woman who could come here and say 'Y'all' without getting a kicking. Hope she comes back again soon, and I'll be down the front this time.
Other reviews at:-
here
here
here
Sunday, 11 March 2007
USA is a Monster, Germlin, Household - 13th Note
Ah, a door money dude who appreciates exact change. Often overlooked, sometimes this can be vital. In the past gigs have been cancelled due to lack of change, but not tonight.
Stew from Beard is here, maybe this show will get two reviews.
Odd piercings and facial hair in the crowd tonight, but they all seem rather healthy.
Household are on first, a four-piece with a girl drummer, does that technically make them a three-piece? The first song launches into scratchy vocals and guitar which some might describe as 'blistering'. They do pour a lot of treacly vitriol into their songs. 'Raw' would be another word to use when writing a review.
Although harse sounding, there are wee melodic bits, even reggae breaks. I guess this is what it would feel like to be a Toblerone.
A girl walks in who bares a striking resemblance to Magic Tea off of the internet and there are at least three people here who look like my cousin.
Aw man, Household have so much paraphernalia, its taking a whole team of roadies to clear the stage for Germlin who will be a solo performer, man and laptop as one.
Germlin is an eight year old boy with a keyboard and Apple linked together so they make a noise like 'MOWM' or just noise. Sometimes he gets so lost in the music that he has to do toddler gymnastics, somersaults and worms.
It the way he's crouched on the floor with everyone crowded round except the chap who's dancing crazily, its very disarming. If it were anyone else the audience would have fled, scared.
Guitarist from USA is a Monster looks like a Klingon. The first couple of tunes, less tunes, but had a good beat. The crowd dancing looked like grouchin'.
Ooh, Anastasia's here and Andy too. I think they've seen the band before.
Nifty guitar work, but the vocals are lost on me. Its all driving, pounding and gnawing, it gets in your head like a tent peg.
OMG!!! There's a girl standing at the other side of the room with her fingers in her ears. I'm leaving in disgust.
Stew from Beard is here, maybe this show will get two reviews.
Odd piercings and facial hair in the crowd tonight, but they all seem rather healthy.
Household are on first, a four-piece with a girl drummer, does that technically make them a three-piece? The first song launches into scratchy vocals and guitar which some might describe as 'blistering'. They do pour a lot of treacly vitriol into their songs. 'Raw' would be another word to use when writing a review.
Although harse sounding, there are wee melodic bits, even reggae breaks. I guess this is what it would feel like to be a Toblerone.
A girl walks in who bares a striking resemblance to Magic Tea off of the internet and there are at least three people here who look like my cousin.
Aw man, Household have so much paraphernalia, its taking a whole team of roadies to clear the stage for Germlin who will be a solo performer, man and laptop as one.
Germlin is an eight year old boy with a keyboard and Apple linked together so they make a noise like 'MOWM' or just noise. Sometimes he gets so lost in the music that he has to do toddler gymnastics, somersaults and worms.
It the way he's crouched on the floor with everyone crowded round except the chap who's dancing crazily, its very disarming. If it were anyone else the audience would have fled, scared.
Guitarist from USA is a Monster looks like a Klingon. The first couple of tunes, less tunes, but had a good beat. The crowd dancing looked like grouchin'.
Ooh, Anastasia's here and Andy too. I think they've seen the band before.
Nifty guitar work, but the vocals are lost on me. Its all driving, pounding and gnawing, it gets in your head like a tent peg.
OMG!!! There's a girl standing at the other side of the room with her fingers in her ears. I'm leaving in disgust.
The Just Joans, The Fischers - Woodside Social Club
Maybe thirty people here at the Winchester Club after 40 minutes, including the bands, I'm in the company of Holly and Katherine, trying to figure out the seven deadly sins before the bands come on.
- Greed
- Sloth
- Wasting chicken
- Slabbering
- Pride
- Being from Bolton
- Prejudice/Lust/Envy, etc
"I love playing Glasgow, cos its the same latitude as my mind"
"Tap yer da, 65p"
Adam glimpses round the crowd, checking expressions on people's faces, seeking approval for the Just Joans. There's fourty people here and the songs are about any of them. We've all been there, Friday Afternoon's drinking Guiness in the Union.
Three songs in and the punters are restless, new people arrived, talking loudly, they haven't been lulled into the music, but thats okay, the songs have become bitter and aggressive.
Aw man, they played a new song, from The Littlest Album, its about when your girlfriend moves to London, it makes me want to cry.
The room has become divided, to the left, a table of people chatting loudly, and everyone else in the room glaring evily. The atmosphere is grim, but it'd be worse if someone wandered over, snapped a bottle in half and jabbed the broken end into the eyes of whichever bleach blonde drunkard it is who keeps squeeling when something amuses her.
My companions from the internet from the other night lurk on the other side of the room. I wonder what they make of it.
Reviews range from "Good, yeah, good" to "Excellent", passing through "Fucking unbelievable"
The Fischers are in a different playing field, they have a drummer and backing vocals, but somehow I'm not convinced.
But they seem to have brought their own crowd of friends, maybe thats what keeps The Winchester alive, friends of bands, and us. This mob's seem to be mature, but good looking.
I'm loving the drummer, his gurning really turns this into a performance.
"It must be weird playing to an empty dancefloor, save the guy who booked the band, who looks like Holly's mum's boyfriend"
Sounds quite nineties, but with yodelling backing vocals and with a poor man's Alex James on bass.
Ooh, Graham from PinUp Nights is here
Whilst some would say Britpop pish, I reckon they were kind of okay, I just didn't connect with the music. Aye there were nice touches, but as a whole, no, not my cup of tea.
So after the bands, its DJs playing CDs, and I start to suspect that the guys on the dancefloor may be taking the piss just a little too much. Is that really what you want as a DJ, "Music to take the piss to"?
Not sure whether I can claim points for seeing Mark from Older and Faraway or Big Duncan again, those guys are everywhere.
Its almost like Electro-clash never died.
"Why must there be this excruciating wait for the DJ to play some fucking Prince? Also notice how ye think, man, everyone on the dancefloor looks like a bit of a dickhead, but of course when I dance its poetry in motion, obviously" - KM
"Don't you ever notice that its only anti-social/pretentious dickheads who write in a reporters notebook to themselves when they are at a sociable event!" - HG
Ooh, I think Adam sold a copy of The Just Joans album to Uncle Stuart
Other reviews:-
here
Thursday, 8 March 2007
Errors, Big Face, Konx Om Pax - Mono
All full of piss and vinegar pre-gig. In MonoRail they'd put the Plimptons album in amongst the random 'P' CDs rather than in 'new releases' or under a 'Plimptons' section. I know it isn't, but it feels like snobbery, a scenester conspiracy. Luckily, just opposite, on the notice board, there's adverts for two of my lot, the Deep Fried Wolfknuckles, playing McSorleys on the 15th for a Magnetic Fields tribute night and the Just Joans at this Saturday's Winchester Club.
I was rifling through the 12"s, really getting into whatever tunes the 'Mogwai DJs' were playing, when CommanderKeen off of Jockrock, accosted me to shoot the breeze.
The place was dark and full of familiar looking scenesters, all eager for Errors and wishing the show would start.
The chap who took my money on the door announces the first act, apologising if its too loud, but I missed the actual name of the act.
One bloke, crouched behind a rack of equipment, shuffling acetates on a projector, black and white images and illustrations, either yellow with age or cheap projector.
The noise is loud, the bastard son of a washing machine and the Clangers, turned up to eleven. After a while its almost dreamlike, like memories of the scary room at Madam Tousauds when I was six years old.
Bump into some old chums off of the internet and we muse over whether this guy is using backing tapes, or a drum machine, or synth or a combination, whether he's spent much time practising the changing of the acetates. Is there any precise timing to it?
"Once it progressed into a proper beat it was okay with layers, but there was too much fucking around"
There was this girl called Wee Laura.
The next act, possibly called their cute, hat-wearing girl, stood a little too far away fromher keyboard at first.
I tried convincing Wee Laura, that it was performance art, they never had a drummer, they just wanted us to think that they did.
Imagine bis, with an apprentice builder instead of Manda Rin.
Aw man, I just saw Graham from The Royal We
Hmm, when the scratchy lead guitar kicks in, I start to think the girl was drawn by Jamie Hewlett. Not sure about the vocals.
and I can see Big Duncan
I actually wish I were in this band, I'd turn the shoegazer up to 7 and whisper lyrics about the weather in the evening.
"Too many Chrises"
Killer cheekbonesand nice nodding, but she's sharing a smirk with the guitarist, an inside joke that we're not in on. Ooh, hang on, she's just sucking on the inside of her lip piercing.
Too many people around the bar for me to feel comfortable getting a drink.
and hmm, people leaving before the Errors hit the stage.
Woo! Squelchy electro!!
And drums, real live drums, played by a real live drummer!
"'Feedback'" we are told, "is the shortest word to use the letters'a', 'b', 'c' and 'd'" - genius, typographical factoids and squelchy electro, drummery, guitary music.
Fuck me, there's an 'e' and an 'f' in there too.
What about 'backed'?
Those bastards are so wrong, I might leave in disgust.
hmm, what about 'backfed'? Is that even a word?
Kind of clunky and machineish music, sounds like the theme tune to that level of Shinobe where there's all the conveyor belts and cyborgs.
Ooh, from here the keyboard guy with glasses, who took my money on the door, looks like either Gary Spence or that guy who played Cotton Weary in Scream.
Other reviews of this show
here
Wednesday, 7 March 2007
Arse in Gear
It was about two weeks ago, maybe more, that Steff from Drive Carefully sent me a text message asking my opinion on doing a 'music webzine'.
I think my response was something like "Yeah, that sounds great, go on then"
Its been about a month since Jef, moaning about not being in Glasgow Indie Eyespy, kind of volunteered to take over the running of that site.
Its been about three months since I gave up regularly recording videos of the Last Night From Glasgow series of video webcasts. Since Is This Music had a short news item about the 100th installment.
Then two days ago, I had to force down the bile, the choking realisation that The Skinny and The List, the central belt's top two regular indie(ish) review/listings magazines, would never review The Plimptons latest album, Pomp.
Those bastards.
Like my pa used to say
If you want something done,
You gotta do it yourself
I think my response was something like "Yeah, that sounds great, go on then"
Its been about a month since Jef, moaning about not being in Glasgow Indie Eyespy, kind of volunteered to take over the running of that site.
Its been about three months since I gave up regularly recording videos of the Last Night From Glasgow series of video webcasts. Since Is This Music had a short news item about the 100th installment.
Then two days ago, I had to force down the bile, the choking realisation that The Skinny and The List, the central belt's top two regular indie(ish) review/listings magazines, would never review The Plimptons latest album, Pomp.
Those bastards.
Like my pa used to say
If you want something done,
You gotta do it yourself
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