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
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