Noughts and Croses, Jay Jay Pistolet, Honeytrap, Pop Up - The Windmill

I saw a rat on my way out tonight, the size of a rabbit, with traditional worm-like tail. It was sneaking up on an elderly asian gentleman when I leapt out and startled it. The beastie ran off into the canal.

Could be a metaphor or like a simile, god know, but I'm in a foul mood, thoughts of fire racing through ma heid.

Not 100% sure where I'm heading to, my net connection was down so I couldn't check, The Grosvenor in Brixton, never been there before, nearest underground station was Stockwell as far as I can remember. Maybe the London Paper/Lite/Metro can help...

Hmm, decisions, there's also a gig at the Windmill tonight and I know how to get there. So the choice is:- indiepop band I missed at Indietracks off of Bowlie or Glasgow band I missed in Glasgow. Hmm, which is more likely to draw traffic to this site? Cos really it's dying off and I can't really be arsed if no one else can.

No one at Stockwell had heard of the Grosvenor, in my best saaf Landan accent:-

“Here, mate, d'ya knah a 'pab called the Grosvenor?”
“Nevr 'eard of it,guv'”

So I headed south to Brixton, stopping to pick up a Time Out on the way..

Christ, the MonoTaxi and Horowitz gig is so low on the radar they're not even in Time Out's listings, even I got into the listings and I haven't told anyone the name of the band.

My eyes glaze over, I drifted to 2005 and let l'espirit d'Agoona guide me to the Windmill, a photo of Magic Tea, a wrong turn and I'm there.

The place hasn't changed much, maybe just a lick of paint and through the crowd a familiar face, its '97 again and I'm doing guard duty with Cathouse Dave, I spy Alec from Nemis, a smile spreading across his face as he sees me, and I know I've come to the right gig.

On stage is an angry young man, busker rather than troubador, out of tune guitar, not very musical, but there's a rare passion in his songs. If only he wasn't so nervous. I reckon he could be Noughts and Crosses.

Okay dear readers, a short note on my history with the Windmill. After my success in the sell-out debut Bowlie AllDayer in '04 I was subsequently banned from that internet messageboard in March '05 for calling Twitch a pain in the neck, such horrendous personal abuse isn't tolerated thre, so I headed to the second Bowlie Alldayer in August '05 as an outcast, mightily pissed with with the girl for being a pain in the neck, with David Kitchen the messageboard admin, and the whole Bowlie community for their disloyal silence on the injustice. By the end of the night, I'd missed the Flyers and was sat out back chatting with Twitch, buying each other drinks and really pissing off her boyfriend.

2007: David Kitchen was told my secret re-registered internet alias and booted me off the messageboard about nine hours ago. Bunch of cunz the lot of them. If only Jockrock was international.

So I'm sat at the bar, where Kattparaden and her boyf were last time and on stage is a wonderful chap, with an uncertain confidence, sings melodic stuff, love-ish songs, slurring slightly and a kind of Damon Albarn look in his eyes. Jay Jay Pistolet

People talking loudly all around me, I wish they'd hear the beauty in this guy's songs.

Crikey, third act on stage have brought their friends and family along. I hope they stay around for the headliners. A lanky speccy lead singer with guitar, wearing a white vest. The nu-punky sound is a little refreshing, as is the “wah-ooh, wah-hoo” backing vocals and its always a pleasure to see violin on stage. There's a little Fratellis to their sound and The Kaiser Chiefs too,

Hmm, they're from Coventry, called Honeytrap.

There's a chap at the front of the crowd taking some rather neat looking photies, I hope he knows that they don't count unless they're on Flickr within 12 hours.

Hmm Honeytrap sound a little too much like The Levellers, I sense them bringing on a digereedoo soon. There's only one way of life and thats your own.

The rest of the crowd realy liked them, and some fellow scribbler called Tom or possibly Mark.

Pop Up take to the stage, female drummer who I swear a friend of a friend used to go out with, lead singer in a green hoodie with the hood up. They start off quiet and BallBoysy, folk in the crowd to the left talking amongst themselves.

The band soon rock out and some cun with his bleached bird squeeze in front of me and start waving his hands in the air, oblivious to the vacant space in front of the band. I retreat to further back, hiding behind a pillar where I saw Thom Flyer stood once.

The singer chap reminds me of the guy who played the eighth doctor.

Crikey this crowd are noisy amongst themselves.

Nice fast paced songs, sound like Ballboy, Akira and some others.

Some refreshing swearing at the crowd. You know, just before they came on I heard a girl on the table behind me say “... Glasgow – eww” Bunch of cunz, the lot of them Londoners. Decent tunes from the band, how could I have missed them for so long? Same way I missed Miss The Occupier I guess.

Oh dear god, its 23:40, I'm in Brixton, the underground's shut, I'm 10 miles from home and I'm mighty hungry. Could this be the end of your eager gig reviewer?

I need a wee.

Pete Green, The Sunny Street, Monster Bobby, The Strange IdOls - Tufnells

The place fulfills the potential that lies in the Woodside Social Club, if only the Woody was done up, it could be as nice as Tufnell's, clean, modern, no mould, fresh, air conditioning / dehumidifiers in the ceiling, bar proudly in the middle of the room. The flyer said doors 7, its almost 9 and the bands are still soundchecking.

They even have mirrors on the walls like the Woody here. Although the barman does bare a striking resemblance to both Leonardo Di Caprio and the T-1000.

The sound was a lot better for Pete Green than last night, amplified, tweaked, smoothed out. But shilst then it was a crowd of twee internet folk hanging on to his every word, toniht the promoter's chatting during his songs, the promoter's mates are chatting, the sound man and his mates are chatting, and most of the punters in the other room are chatting, its pretty distracting. He does give them a good talking to and the chatters depart, just leaving a thin twee line.

The walls here are sparkly, fitting neatly with his song "Everything I do is going to be sparkly" (buy the single). Unexpected phaser effect during his Oh Mr Beeching song and his "MySpace Fucking Sucks" song falls a little flat to the crowd who've heard it a dozen times before and the fifty in the other room who couldn't care less.

His last song reminded me a little of Dire Straits's Romeo and Juliet.

Great bloke, crap venue for him.

I was outside chatting to Fiona during Sunny Street's set, sounded okay, tamboriney, like the Hermit Crabs. But when we came inside it was shite. Two folk stood on stage in silence whilst a backing tape played. The backing tape sounded okay, but the boy with his guitar was too quiet, and the girl singing was way way down in the mix.

I was kind of embarrassed that I'd talked up the gig to Fiona.

Bobby Monster was on next, the guitarist from the Pipettes, I think they're one of these bands what my former flatmate Alan used to be mental about. Anyhoo it was kind of dischordant to start with , a bit experimental and arty. The guy probably thought he was Laurence from Felt. The drum/bass machine/synth drowned out his acoustic guitar and the lyrics were badly sung, a bit ropey.

Fiona was going on about misplaced arrogance and almost pissed herself when he announced he had an album for sale, only ten quid. You can buy Amy Winehouse's latest for £7.99 - compare and contrast. But as the set drew on, you could kind out make out the tunes hidden in there, trying to escape, even Fi slowly warmed to it.

Actually, now as I type this up, I note The Pipettes's wikpedia page references Bill and Jimi's The Manual, so hey ho, the guy's a god, its 2007: what the fuck's going on.

Finally, probably the best band of the night were headliners Strange Idols, but that's no saying much. They looked like they were having fun on stage. The singer girl all mincing it up as a vampish Eno/Dabbie Harry. But the sound was appalling, the bass at first drowned out everything and was pretty painful to listen to, to the sound dude turned up everything else to level it out, making it even hrder to listen to.

We left three songs in, I apologised to Fi, its not usually like this. Live music ought to be accessible, comprehensible, not painful and borderline pisstake. Fix it.

Pete Green, MJ Hibbett - The Lamb

Early doors shows tonight, I didn't even have time for me dinner before heading out and I'm Hank Marvin.

Too early for my London gig companion, Fiona, who was tied up until eight, but hey ho, I'll be able to get home and get my write up online quicker this way.

Pete Green's playing tomorrow night an'all, would it be overkill to see him then too?

At first it wasn't clear where the show was, so I crammed in with a bunch of businessmen supping pints until Pete and Mark passed by and pointed me the way.

Oh to the smoking ban, this place would be so much better if it were smokey, all green carpets, red walls and wood panelling. You may not be allowed to light up, but surely someone could inent tobacco fragranced air-freshener, there'd be a captive market for thousands of sales. Can Silk Cut no do it?

There's no stage here, just a dozen tables and chairs. I rather selfishly took a corner table, three chairs and one me, my lack of eye-contact guards them.

Christ, why did I have to single out Waz in the 'Flyer review? He's everywhere and I have no gripe with him. Just briefly during 'Tracks this overpowering sense of alienation, when folk chatted about the weekend later, I wouldn't be party to the banter.

Pete Green picks a spot in front of thr middle window and dons his guitar. Two adventurous souls join my table, and Crystalball hands out flyers for tomorrow's show. Shit, I just made contact with a chap I thought was Lars Frodo, but wasn't. The place is filling up.

Hi, my name's Chris, I work for a company making hi-fis. With any piece of hi-fi equipment affects the audio signal in someway. Assuming that a CD has been recorded and produced perfectly as the artist and engineer wants it it has a flat frequency response and if on your hi-fi system you turn the bass up or the treble down, you're essentially distorting the way the artist intended it to be heard. Now, with acoustic music, played live, there's isn't so much means to distort the sound. The artist can sing louder or play quieter, as is their perogative, but out of their control is the acoustics of the room. MJ Hibbett introduced Pete Green saying that he last saw him playing in a train carriage at IndieTracks and it was great, now tonight, I'm sat at the back and the frequency response of the room sounds a little different.

He asks is we can hear him okay, well, yeah, its okay, not perfect, but there's little he can do about it.

The weirdest thing, I was just drawing thems graphs abstractly, wondering about when I'd ever heard Pete Green recorded when suddenly I realised the song he was playing was on the Not Quite Rocket Science: Podcast #8 which is almost all I've been listening to for the last week, new computer with no MP3s.

He's very good playing live and acoustic, on his own, which admittedly is how I usually see him. One of his best acoustic shows according to the girl next to me, no chance of technical difficulties.

Comfortable, confident, knowledgable songs but still understated, kind of kneegazery. I bought a single on my way out, no record player though.

Short break between acts for drinks, cigarettes, the loo etc, I texted the missus and may have only just caught the start of MJ Hibbett's set.

He projects more, louder and more animated. The first song The Peterborough All-Saints Wide Game Team (group B) reminds me of the songs passing troubadours would sing round campfires at early nineties scout camps. Do they still do that?

When he played the slow song, It only works because you're here, my eyes all welled up and it was only by scribbling in my notebook that I didn't greet. It catches me right here, inside, as it did when I first heard it so far away.

The Lesson of the Smiths is still a life philosophy rather than just a song. Gay Train just reminds me of going to Clapham. New songs went down well, with the handful of people at the show seeing Hibbett of the first time, the looks of wonder on their faces. For the finale his Fresh Prince cover was the most joyous I've ever heard ir. MJ had to open a window mid-song it was getting so exciting.

Underground ride home, desperate for a wee, would have gone at the gig but I was holding a record.

Photies
here

The Plimptons, Kunt and the Gang - The 13th Note

(Review courtesy of the lovely Claire Yvette as I didn't really want to review my own band even though we were AWESOME that night. Ahem)

The pairing of local band The Plimptons and London act Kunt and the Gang was either a stroke of genius or the line-up from hell, depending on your point of view, but either way, they definitely complemented each other. First the Plimptons, for whom Halloween doesn’t come round often enough, arrive on stage in an assortment of outfits. The keyboardist indulging in some eye make-up and a flamboyant scarf, the guitarist out-doing him with a dress and long black wig, and in between them what looks like a Victorian street urchin on vocals, which he shares with the other two. Behind them, a drummer and a bassist, who would have to be doing something pretty remarkable to steal any of the limelight, but look happy to be there nonetheless.

The band successfully play through their set of songs about a range of topics including affairs with ex-politicians, underage goth club patrons, and a whole lot of nineties nostalgia, while anarchically falling over, crawling about the floor, and the guitarist even lifting up his dress to reveal that the infamous “naked gig” at the QMU they played a few months ago hadn’t put him off full-frontal nudity. Even the holding up of cartoon sketches to accompany the Britpop-era based Rule Britannia turned into an enjoyable shambles, where the absence of a certain Mr Gilmour to do the job properly was felt. Along with the fact most of audience couldn’t make out the drawings, this is perhaps a sign that the Plimps should upgrade to a projector. Britpop makes another appearance, with the anthemic perhaps-pulp-inspired Impulse Records featuring a mysterious “Deborah“.

Having seen them on many occasion in the past few years, this was definitely the tightest and most enjoyable show so far, and they’re sure to have picked up a few new fans at this gig, including a terrifying middle-aged ever-so-slightly-drunken woman who spent much of the set dancing in front of the stage. Suppose beggars can’t be choosers.

Next on was the headliner, Kunt and the Gang, with his own brand of naughty euro-pop. If innuendo is like a strip-tease, then Kunt could be compared to hardcore bestiality. Most would choose the former, although the latter does have it’s fans. On first listen, the songs are shocking yet amusing, in a guilty sort of way, like toilet humour except much more abrasive. His live act echoes a kids TV programme, with dodgy hair, catchy songs, cheery side-stepping and even a puppet friend, Little Kunt. However, the novelty of songs such as Have A Wank (along with fake cock to simulate said title) and Carol Vorderman (in which he describes in vivid detail the effects his favourite daytime celebrity has on him) seemed to have worn off on me after one listen on myspace.

Due to it being a school night, I had to miss the second half of his set, which I can’t say I was too distraught about. He’s definitely doing something right though, despite me being unaware of exactly what that is. The 13th Note was the busiest I’ve seen it in a long time, the crowd are singing along, and seemed to be loving it.

Wintergreen, Compute, Liechtenstein - The Albany

Starting to regret that Flyer review from Indietracks, I'm in a room with these people. Fukkit, I'm going to see them at gigs for the next ten years.

Wintergreen on stage, they sound like how I remember Spiritualised sounding like, like guitars played backwards in t rain by Talulah Gosh.

Too much technology, technical difficulties at times. But the storm through it.

I can't quite put my finger on the way he sings, like a robot stressing the melody or something.

Are all the crackles and pops part of the song or just cock ups. Odd sudden endings to songs.

Whilst other website reviewer stand at the front and chat through songs I prefer to listen and scribble notes.

I've got it, usually its the guitar that's pounding and driving, but here its the chap's vocals urging everything along.

I nipped out between bands to find out the time of the last train home, the chap at the station was very helpful. Also I made a short list of songs I'd play in my solo set if I were asked to play a gig as a last minute cancellation. Four or five songs, mostly covers or pastiches about convoluted situations.

Compute - Three electro-clash girls dancing to an iPod. I count ten folk taking photies, do they realise it doesn't count unles they have them on flickr and tagged up within twelve hours? Cool hot pants on electro-clash girl #2, nice t-shirt print on #1 and #3 has a nice face, looks like a young Purdy.

Sounds just enough like the Human League, without Phil Oakey. A breaking glass at the back of the room could have been a well placed sample. The vocals need to be higher in the mix.

They from Sweden and they do a cover of an Action Biker song. For the final song of the set they get members of Liechtenstein to join them on stage.

This one time I saw a band called Gdansk and almost gave them the three word review 'More like Minsk'. So with Liechtenstein I was hoping I could do likewise and say 'More like Monaco', but that wouldn't fit at all.

So aye, eyespy, a Flyer's here, Crystalball on the door, Lost Music, Uma Thurman, people off of the intenet and folk from Indietracks.

Liechtenstein, Swedes again, with Purdy from Compute on vocals and guitar.Music with attitude and sounds like a female-fronted 'Specials'.

Not sure about the mix, seems a bit lumpy, the vocals were nice and high up, but maybe the bass was too high up compared to the other guitars and not enough bass from the drums.

Some nice girl harmonies later on, to square them into the indiepop bracket.

Need a wee, sneaked out before the end.

Photies
here

Reviews
here

Thread
here

Video

here

Black Cat Bone, Jamie Clarke, The Unrecorded, Kat Flint - Monkey Chews

At some point in the distant past, in a galaxy called MySpace, I think I subscribed to Kat Flint's MySpace blog. Crikey, it must have been around yar ago, I vaguely remember a mention of LNFG webcasts. I grew bored after a few months and unsubscribed.

Still, by the power of the internet, here I am at her gig, just off Camden, in Monkey Chews, waiting on some friends coming through.

The audience is scratching double figures, the walls are dark, the lighting red and brow and subdued. The stage area takes up about a third of the room. 400 miles away I'm missing The Plimptons supporting Kunt and The Gang.

On first is Black Cat Bone, a bloke troubadour, looks like Pete Green, cockney accent vocals. Starts off with simple songs about thing and stuff, slightly messy guitar with fancy flourishes.

A few songs in and I'm stunned by his guitar virtuoso, imagine the surreality and lyricism of the Plimps but just narrowed down to the acoustic blues sector.

The chap's probably an understudy for Fleetwood Mac. He's playing another show elsewhere tonight too.

Jamie Clarke on next, he opens for Damian Rice dontcha know. Troubadour again, kind of hairy too. Starts off with a few technical difficuties.

Oh noes!! He has a loop delay effects pedal thing, sounds like a whole load of Tubular Bells style guitars.

Too fey for my tastes, but Drive Carefully Records would love him, Ceylan's mob too.

In manufacturing terms its more like single stage build than production line manufacture, when needs must I supose. It seems more like a craft than art, Pikelet was artier doing a similar thing. There's something disconcerting about seeing music being constructed rather than performed.

Enough with the troubadours, on next, setting up rather slowly is a girl standing behind a yellow box with cables trailing out. The chap beside me has a flyer saying they're The Unrecorded. I'm starting to feel self-conscious, folk are standing at the back but there are two seats ahead of me, lying empty and I could easily squidge along on this couch I'm on, room for another two at least. Texts from friends, promising half an hour.

The place is stowed and I start to worry for the friends.

The girl on stage is joined by Linus on electric keyboard and a baldy chappy who starts on 'wooden box you sit on' and then moves to bass.

The girl's yellow box seems to be primarily to hide behind.

Squelchy dub organ synth, scratchy percussion loop, steady plodding bass and deep early nineties dub vocals from the girl.

Its beautiful music but I'm afeard at any moment it could invoke Dido. Sometimes too pub MOR. The last minute appearance of a melodica was just about taking the piss.

Kat Flint, purer than all the others , no special effects or blues fanciness, just a girl and her guitar. I thought she sounded like Jennifer Warnes, Fiona says The Cranberries. The songs were all floaty and singy, I could gladly listen to them all day. However, when told that a song is about office romances, prostitutes or snogging zombies, Fiona would prefer it if you could tell that from the song on first listen.

She did a rather neat guitary thing in a couple of songs "Blue dress", where she started off finger-picking, then changed to plectrum strumming for choruses and back to finger picking for verses.

Final act, Kate Meranda and Band, Fiona thought they were okay, I thought they were atrocious. Right of stage you have a talented bass player, some chap in the wooden box thing who bore a striking resemblance to Neil Bratchpiece and on the left a chap on the Paraguaian Harp, I haven't had much experience with Paraguaian harpists so its hard to say if he was any good.

Centre stage is the girl singer, Kate Meranda, all dressed up for the occasion. At first I thought they sounded like a Linn Records reject, jazz/blues/world music, then I slowly became aware through the girl's inability to sing, riffig and warbling and waving arms about and dancing, they they were just a bit pants, and considered writing something about how she was disappointed not to get through the first round of X-Factor for three years running.

Sounded a bit like Bjork at times. When they came to murdering a version of People Are Strange I was almost for walking out. The line is "Women seem wicked..." not "Everyone seems wicked..." the extra syllables just can't fit, ever.

Then again, with the rolled-rrr "arrriba"s coming from the crowd and clapping in time with the music like a desperate stage manager's attempt to draw the crowd into the music rather than just listen, it comes clear that its just a friends and family show. They played songs they hadn't rehearsed, they told the audience they hadn't rehearse, this was the headline act for Christs sake, and they didn't have anything to play as an encore. Poor Kate adlibbing doesnt count.

Rather pleasant evening though from eARMusic, we'll be back next week.

On the way home there seemed to be trouble at The Barfly, mobs cheering.

The Masonics, Preston Pfanz & The Seaton Sands, The Rohypsters, Lord Rochester(?) - Blackfriars

Late night kickoffs ain't good for the soul but, neither is stumbling into the wrong gig at 10pm on a Sunday eve...especially when the band on stage is a horrible amalgam of ex-international football and rugby players. Having shaken off thoughts of John Beattie and Gordon Smith playing pub rock, I successfully enter the basement of Blackfriars to find no wannabee footballers wives in sight and only the rumour of an audience.

Thankfully, around five minutes later the first act of the evening and a smattering of paying customers appeared. Lord Rochester (?) and his cohorts were not on the billing but sparked off this Beatsville Records evening with perfectly pitched rock 'n' roll at it's purest, unadulterated, tartan sports jacket wearing, lo-fi, fiddletastic best.

The Rohypsters are a different story altogether and would likely beat the opening act to death with their own shoes. Of all the acts on show, The Rohypsters are a darker affair but maintain the garage rocking sensibility with the addition of fried guitars and their own brand of prowling menace.

Also through from Edinburgh for the night, Preston Pfanz & The Seaton Sands are a return to the cool clean sounds of rocking days gone bye. Immaculate instrumentals, paired with gentle choreographed sways and melodies to soothe the ol' soul just as you realise it's now Monday morning and you've got to go to work in 5 hours.

Headcoats, Pop-Rivets, Milkshakes...it's a who's who of who's played with Billy Childish when it comes to The Masonics but, on nights like these it's time for them to take their own moment in the spotlight...or pitch darkness...ah, the lights have just come back on...no...actually...they're off again. The Masonics ain't flustered by the temperemental lighting...until the audience are revealed in all their horrific glory by which time they're focused on battering through the opening numbers of their set.

It's a tight, punchy, set from the veterans who are capable of playing this set with their eyes closed...all the better then as they probably can't see their instruments. Fellow Childish scenester Ludella Black saunters on for a handful of numbers for some vocal variety midway through.

Maybe I was just cream crackered, maybe The Masonics were equally tired, with the clocks nudging towards 2am but, there was something missing from their set. There's no spark...no unbridled joy that has been present in their previous work. Perhaps it's all to easy, well within their comfort zone and missing the nervous energy that made Lord Rochester's opening act so memorable. Overall the show was well rounded and covering all the rock 'n' roll bases it can but, Beatsvilles' pick of the bunch featured unfortunately during the previous evening rather than headlining the start of the new day.

The Martial Arts, Down the Tiny Steps, Darren Hayman - Nice n Sleazy

We stagger in about four songs from the end of The Martial Arts's set. Its Paul Plimptons' secret weapon, his suspiciously successful other band.

Some think that Paul is just an excellent song writer, Claires and other womenfolk say "Great", "Loved them", "smiled so much my cheeks hurt", and "ooh, sparkly guitar strap". Paul's on a plugged in acoustic guitar which sounded suprisingly electric guitar and lead vocals, and there's a drummer who also does vocals. Its kind of really bright pop rock, they got picked up off of MySpace by a Swedish record label

"Really do like them, but would be better if they weren't nervous" although, Paul seemed less nervous than usual.

On announcing that his set closer was a cover, I shouted out "Wonderwall" as is my thing, Paul, started muttering the Hector Collectors' Tony McCarroll song, before they launched into Carly Simon's You're so Vain, which was nice and had everyone in the audience smiling.

Down the Tiny Steps were on next, I thought it was just a two band bill, but no, pleasant surprise.



The boy sings like he's 20 years older and 20 pounds heavier. It sounds like a rawer, more guitary Beta Band. That laid back, pulsating happy music, gentle stroking a loved one and cool cool rum and tonic on my last night in town.

Amy wronggirl is here, she was at Indietracks, Claire and Claire are here too, they were at my Wolfknuckles gig last night. Ink Wilson from How to Swim is here, he's impressed by my natural musketeer facial hair.

Indie-trip? Electro twang? "Cross between Mad Skull and The Proclaimers, Mad Skull are really good" says Nastily

Darren Hayman sat near the front of the room, peering about. Paul "Fourth time I've seen him, first time he's been wrecked"

"They were all right, they were all right, everyone seems to be in a crap emo band, apart from these guys who are in a nice Beta Band. Kind if like in High Fidelity, which was on the other night, when everyone listens to the Beta Band and its really nice.

Yet again, I'm a little drunk when Darren Hayman hits the stage..

The violinist looks like Wookie from Something About Mary. Hang on, word comes through that Tony Wilson's dead.



The violin lends a mournful air, ooh, violin and ukulele duel. My companion Nastily gets up to dance, strangely like Audrey Horne. Somewhere in the set, segued into a song is a cover of The J Giels Band's Angel is a Centrefold.

From SoundsXP "As an outsider looking in, he identifies with the loveless and the lost; he dignifies the nobodies with a story worth telling." Now at Indietracks the other week, most people do at times feel like they are the loveless and the lost, but this is a bit of a stretch when you're holding hands with your other half and in a room with your bestest friends. At Indietracks, self inflictd or no, I was the outsider looking in, the loveless and the lost, and what I did was got drunk and threw up in my car

Now, the last time Dazza played Glasgow, Valentines Day last year, I was taken to see him by my then girlfriend Rachel, we were just starting out on our relationship.And it was great, it was the first time I'd seen him, and then I wasn't the outsider, the loveless or the lost.

Now, she's just a paradigm. Sometimes we're overcome by feelings of loss, loneliness and depression, sometimes there's a valid reason for it, and sometimes its just the state of mind we're in. But it comes and it goes. And there'll always be other great relationships, other great things, again. And when they come around you gotta appreciate them more.

And I hold onto Nastily tightly, gaze into her eyes, smile when I watch her dance. Remembering her face when she hears songs like Greedy Ugly People and Hello Kitty for the first time. Hold tightly when I can.

Hang on, thats the same shirt Darren Hayman wore at Indietracks!!! OMG. Hmm, he's playing again this Tuesday, should I go again?

The Deep Fried Wolfkuckles, The Bucky Rage, The Fnords - 13th Note

New carpet in the 13th Note, two new carpets if you count the wee entrance bit. Truly these are glorious times.

Mmmh, springy.

Hi, my name's Chris, I write many of the reviews on this site and I also play in one of the bands on tonight, The Deep Fried Wolfknuckles. Of course right now, when I'm typing this paragraph, its before the gig, some time around noon, I'm in the 'Note supping a beer, awaiting on a friend to come through for lunch. Not sure if the wi-fi thing here is on or my laptop (stolen from mother) is just playing up.

Its a funny old life, on the way in I had to stop at a joke shop to buy Zorro masks for the show, and I see that Darren Hayman's playing Sleazy's tomorrow, time to make up for sins of the past again and go along, right a proper review, try to bluster explanation as to what I meant in the other week's review.

We're on first so we soundcheck last, I get the call from Alan Wolfknuckle at 7pm, “Where are you?” on my way, so at 8pm I'm sat in the Note, guitar all tuned up, wondering where the rest of the band are. Luigi Wolfknuckle is in with his missus, Adam Plimptons in for moral support and sharing my nervousness. Somehow Alan and Dave have sneaked in the side entrace and are waiting downstairs wondering where everyone else is.

So it was one of the best soundchecks ever, we were blessed to have Uncle Brendan doing the sound, but he was off nattering so we rattled through a few of the new songs. I'm not sure who's amp I was using. But it sounded great, I didn't have to tweak anything.

Time passes, the café fills up, friends and acquaintances arrive, Brendan hollers that downstairs is open, people slowly drift down.

For weeks I've been pummelling Alan to spam places on the internet that I can't quite reach with flyers about the gig, after our last gig's turn out of five people (including bar staff) we didn't want to make the same mistake. Alas, off of the internet in attendance we have Robbie and a couple of Claires. A bit of a poor showing from other friends I'd hoped would come along although kind of reassuring, I know my place in the world..

The Deep Fried Wolfknuckles, already wearing their black shirts, don their Zorro masks and hit the stage. Its a ten song set this time, all our best ones and our favourite contemporary covers. The old rockabilly standards of “Outta Control, “99th Floor” and “Led to Believe” we rattled through at a hella pace. I think the newer, left field, covers of Saint Etienne's “You're in a bad way”, relic from MacSorley's Magnetic Fields' “100,000 Fireflies” and John Shuttleworth's “You're Like Manchester, You've got Strangeways” were particular eye openers for the crowd.

The Manchester song and Bad Way with it's “Lose yourself in London” were for me, and my departure from Glasgow. I understand some people in the crowd got quite emotional. I'd planned to get all emotional, but my mask had slipped and I was struggling to see, playing blind.

I missed the first chord of the my first chorus, and burst my finger open three songs from the end (Robbie - “I preferred your earlier gig injuries”). Dave dropped a drumstick during a solo four songs in. Alan gave up playing his bass halfway through cos he was knackered, so we ll kind of relied on Luigi as the bass-stomping backbone of the band.

The Bucky Rage were on next. Gillian (owner of Amydog) had to be excused as she has a phobia of masks. I'd make some comparison with the Village People, but well the was just one cowboy, on bass, a chap in a Mexican wrestler mask on rhythm guitar, the guy on drums wore a stocking with holes cut in it, and looked a little like a singing worm, and I couldn't see the chap on lead guitar.

They were louder and shoutier than the Wolfknuckles, more hardcore rockabilly, with a couple of Sonics covers. The drummer managed to split his cymbol at some point, which I was mighty impressed with.

Headlining for the night were The Fnords, two girls and a bloke on drums. In the film of the same name, he'd be played by Bill Nighy, one of the girls by Gwenneth Paltrow and I'm no sure who we had pencilled in for the other girl, Kim Deal perhaps.

Kind of spooky surf guitar, with neat 60's girl garage vocals, a set up from my usual reference point of Go Gos vocals.

Natalie, Gillian and Rosalind were engaged in swinging their pants and dancing with strangers, Robbie was nodding and mouthing along.

Particularly impressed with one of the songs called “I like to die”, I dunno, it just resonated in a neat rock n roll kinda way. I really loved the solos, I wish mine sounded like that, and the yelps from the bass girl, the Wolfknuckles could do with that sort of thing.

Was that the last ever Wolfknuckles gig? Does the fact that their least talented member lives four hundred miles away from the rest of the band mean that they are no more? I don't know about that. But it was great while it lasted I know, cos I was there.

Photies
Here

Video

Former Utopia, Kattparaden, Lonelady, Christie and Emily - The Social

For once I came straight from the underground station, taking no wrong turns. The hour wandering around Carnaby Street was intentional.

Girl on the door “Do I know you?”
“Yes, we've known each other for years.” I ought to get a t-shirt like that.

Former Utopia on stage, guitar and drums, could be sounding like Idlewild but with more chorus, its kind of like being hit by a 2” thick stick.

Some slower numbers too, slightly wistful, it would be quite nice if I had more inclination to listen to them. Maybe this is what Sebadoh sound like. Arab Strappy too, but without the scottish accent, just the miserable remains.

Female drummer too. Ooh, hand on, according to the flyer, its a six-string bass guitar, I thought there was something faintly dischordant about it.

Also from the flyer comes the realisation that his place is The Social as in the Heavenly Social. Crikey, I feel like such a bumpkin from the styx.

Kattparaden on next, last time I saw Astrid play was two years ago, on acoustic guitar, with a packed out attentive crowd. Tonight she's on electric piano.

She seems a little less nervous than last time, still sweetly vulnerable. I've often though about the need for sons that describe very specific emotions, the ones everyone feels in very specific situations, anger at one's other half late at night when you're in a club, Kattparaden have a song for that – Disco Lights

Paul is here, he looks tense halfway through. Oriental folk behind and to the right are talking loudly. I think Astrid's microphone is a little high up.

Its a short set, only five songs. There about forty people here. Gentle, tender songs can only hold their attention briefly.

LoneLady on next, from my seat at the back they sound really percussive. Singing girl enunciating on the drum beats, cranky guitar lurching around behind it. There's either people talking really loud or the songs also feature random shouts.

Maybe aiming for The GoGos, but need to blunten those arrows of desire. The drums are just too much pounding “Bum tish, bum tish”

Halfway through they get out the bongos and the accordian/bagpips effects module and it all goes a bit Bjorky.

Aw man, the toilets on the ground floor are disguised. Paul says just walk to the end of the bar and push the wall with your right hand. Its like some kind of optical illusion.

Finally Christie and Emily , quiet finger picking, video thing on the screen behind them, one of the girls is on keyboard but to begin with its hard to hear. Its very stop starty, and meandering.

Ooh, clunky spookiness, like a slowed down Adams Family. Lots of old skool reverb too. Its just too atmospheric rather than musicy.

The place had emptied out quite a bit since Kattparaden .

Towards the end the clunky reverbed keyboard rises in the mix, giving the set a neat folk dub vibe. Rather pleasant. Ooh ooh ohh, the girl with the guitar looks like the girl from Cat and Girl.

Review
here

Photies
here
here
here

Architecture In Helsinki - Hoxton Square Bar and Kitchen

It was a hell of a walk to Hoxton Square from Euston, if the scale on the map was an order of magnitude smaller I might have made it to Richard Hawley's gig at the Rough Trade Supermarket, trying to make amends for being thrown off the Richard Hawley messageboard a year ago.

I'm in an expansive kebab house, Shish, round the corner from the venue, some kind of show jazz piped in, my little toe feels like its going to fall off. The waitress is helpful and friendly, putting up with my inability to speak coherently and my poor manners.

Round Hoxton Square hipsters lounged in the sun. From the outside the venue, Hoxton Square Bar and Kitchen looked more like an eatery than a twee music venue.

I wish I were in touch with people of the internet who I got to gigs with, rather than just awkwardly/unexpectedly seeing them there. I wonder what Paul's up to.

I've got it, egg shakers filled with match heads. Just leave them lying round before a gig, indiepop kids pick them up, band plays set and leaves the stage, crowd holler for an encore, indiekids shake their egg shakers ecstatically, match heads blow up – indiepop genocide.

Reassured by the lost looking hipsters wandering toward the venue, and strangely surprised by musos walking the other way. Four guitars and a drum kit I counted.

You know when you're paying the bill for your rather nice lamb kebab and couscous and you pull your credit card out a little too forcefully, hitting yourself in the face and having a nosebleed, in a crowded restaurant, but luckily you're wearing a red t-shirt.

Oh dear god, there's a queue, out the door and at least 2/3 down the block. Is this the right gig? I'm sure there were only a few score when Architecture In Helsinki played Mono how long ago.

Ah, large Finnish community here in London.

Hmm, that bird who stood six foot away from me during The Orchids is here, well it looks like her. I tried to find her on FaceBook, but to no avail.

Been queuing for about two hours now. If I made a point about how badly organised it is, would they change anything? The free newspapers said it opened at 19:30, but it was 21:00 when the queue started moving. Capacity is 150, about three times that turned up. I count 60 guestlist folk who push to the front of the queue, still the same stream as paying punters and the gate is only one person wide, so we have to queue for longer.

I hope the band are worth this hell, ooh, free badge.

Cunts with handbags the size of my dad's old camping rucksack, “'scuse me dear”.

Hundred and fifty of us sweat for another 20 minutes whilst being threatened by what I can only assume is Kevin's choice of music and then the band take to the stage. Sounds like they've mated with Chromeo and Bis, the girls sings like a mid-80's Madonna sample. During the second or third song some girl called Debbie manages to lurch onto the stage and look awkward for a few minutes, ill advised fan or secret seventh band member, gereroff any way.

To bring it down halfway through they did a rather neat cover of 1987's Mental As Anything hit Live It Up. I preferred Northern Uproar's. Ashton Kutcher on vocals has a nice voice at times.

There's still a certain majesty to them, but instead of the sweet and maybe nervous twee, its more the hyper, sweaty party fun of The Go Team, will it alienate more old fans than win over new ones?

I didn't mind that there was only one band when the advert promised two, what put a downer on the night was the queuing for hours and the music barely made up for it.

Photies
here
here

Review
here (with video that you can't listen to)
here
here

Page view stats

In response to Optimus Rhyme's suggestion that no one reads my rants and insights based on the fact that there are so few comments here, I feel I need to cover how popular this site is and other stuff.

Here's the graph from statcounter

I like to think its still building slowly in popularity, but maybe its just evened out. Its all over the place, but on avergae I get 33 hits per day.

Technorati give me a rank of 780,599 and an authority of 8, which means that about 8 other blogs link to it.

Bowlie has a rank of 16, According to Alexa Bowlie gets around 80,000 hits per day, since we're playing to the same constituency, that's the uppoer limit for how many views I could get. I'm nowhere near. But lest we forget, thats a community what's been going for 8 years or so, and this site is about four months old.

Now Optimus Rhyme suggests that the lack of comments suggests lack of traffic, this is a mistake. My other site, an erotic art blog called naked chicks on post-it notes, gets around 1,500 hits per day, a fiftieth of Bowlie's traffic, and so far, its had two comments, one of which I deleted.


This site gets most of its traffic (60%) from people searching for individual bands on google, and for most of them, I'm the only site that writes about them apart from their own Myspace pages. Most of the bands I cover are too small and too crap for anyone to give a shit about. I get about 2% traffic from news agregator sites where people track the rss feed. 5% come from a friendly neighbourhood music scene messageboard in Glasgow where I have the address in my signature, and another 5% now come from someone's wall in Facebook.

I would so love it if other people who went to the same gigs as me wrote reviews online.

Darren Hayman - Indietracks

What I do at gigs is scribble my notes and feelings of the band, the performance, the gig in my wee notebook, then hours/days later, I just type up exactly what I've written, sometimes adding more detail, often adding links and photos where I can. I don't think back and try to remember what the gig was like, I just copy the reatime notes.

So by this stage of the festival I'm so drunk I can barely hold my pen. I'd just finished my bottle of rum, and what I wrote for the review in my notebook was this:-

Damn Hefner
Write about Rachel later

Then at this point I lurched out of the diesel shed into the buffet wagon, verbally abused my friends, then staggered off the festivals site and threw up in my car.

Wintergreen - Indietracks

Long drawn out intro with loads of reverb.

Crouched next to me is Obo-Bobo, with camera, waiting for that perfect moment, the rest of us are sat in seats, our own cameras poised.

If it wasn't for that cunting website, the first few rows here would be empty. I guess if it wasn't there, there'd still be people here, but count them.

Oop, the girl on stage has an accordian, last time I saw this mob there was a scrawny female keyboard player, now abroad, shush.

Its like chaos, a hard-hatted building site with patterns slowly emerging.

My favourite self-penned Wintergreen anecdote involves Linn Products, the hi-fi manufacturer, they were working on the in-car stereo for the Aston Martin DB9, and the engineering chap (me) left a Wintergreen CD in the player and for a few months everyone in the work shop was listening to it all the time. We won awards you know.

I, for one, am overwealmed by how many photographers there are snapping this mob. But unless they're tagged up, on flickr, it counts for shit.

Its all about tags.
Fuck that shit.
No matter what happens.
Its all about tags and links
Peanut
Robbie is wearing shorts.
Paul on the row behind.
Toffle mighty pissed off and I'm so drunk I can hardly write, but strangely I can photojournalise so far into funk land that my soul is on fire.

Percil - Indietracks

I'm not sure if there's a law about it, but the girl from Percil's eyes are so bright, she might have Tip-Exed them.

Drifting into dub territory now.

Synthy drum machine keyboard and guitar managed by some tie-wearing chap.

The girl, green dress, black and yellow stripey tightsis really getting into it.

Wake The President - Indietracks

Fae Glasgow twins Bjorn and Erik, and others, some concern that last night at least one of them got a little too intoxicated and today have been drinking loads. I've never really seen them before, except for the half-arsed venture to a Hermit Crabs gig/crashing at a cafe on Great Westyern Road with the photographer.

They're sound checking and they sound drunk.

Oop, actually they're okay. They sound good, but I'm sceptical of the vocals, its forgivable.

Maybe laying on the accent a little too thickly, even the Hectors don't go that far. About as far as Arab Strap. Crikey, I hope this mob aren't the heirs.

Oh, thank fuck, some other folk are scribbling in notebooks. I can take time out.

Hmm, not sure about slagging off other indie folk, despite the Scottish lilt.

I'm too drunk to really review bands coherently, but these guys, these guys, they sound real, man, you know, they sound real.

Reviews
here

Electric Pop Group - Indietracks

Mumbly Swedish indiepop, the old photographer would call the Swish kids with handbags.

I think the only reason I've nipped out to buy coffee in the cafe today is to get cups for my rum and tonic.

Countryside - Indietracks

Some shoegazery kids from Bristol. They look very young, but get on well with the crowd packed into the church.

The keyboard's a little lo-fi and I haven't seen Robbie for hours, he promised a Casio VL1 gig in the buffet wagon.

Back in Bolton '95, playing at the Bolton Academy Bar, the school indie band were called Flyer, playing mostly covers of mid-nineties Britpop, Blur, Elastica, and their ilk. This mob on stage are like a similar 6th form band, but playing from three years earlier, shoegazer, shallow imitations.

I need the loo more than I want to see them.

Heroin was only invented to make those who like to take their time in the toilet look cool.

MJ Hibbett and the Validators - Indietracks

The mighty Hibbett takes to the stage to tune up.

The unofficial headline act of the festival in my opinion. Through the sweat and the tears, its easy to see the magic, the soul, the energy bubbling through, songs like Leave My Brother Alone and Billy Jones is Dead. Still reaching back to school daze, still escaping to utopian futures where all you need is an acoustic guitar and a heart of gold.

Its the first time I've seen him play with the Validators, despite all his excursions to Scotlan, well, YouTube doesn't count, the man is a god amongst nice guys. Just in front of the stage is his over-dedicated fan who travels the country to see him play.

The front of the crowd haserrupted into indiekids dancing.

I guess his songs hold resonances with everyone. Leave My Brother Alone could be about when My brother stepped in at school, The Lesson of the Smiths, the verse about when my Glasgow mob went on the anti-war march half a world away.

The encore, internet hit Hey Hey 16K. I had to fight back the tears. Indiepop shouldn't be this good.

The Cutouts - Indietracks

A supergroup of sorts according to the Festival guide thing. Familiar looking people including a sunglasses sporting lead guitarist and some chap playing Christoph from Smiley Ribbons's electric 12 stringer.

Its too crowded, there are people just here cos they know at least one of the bands represented. I snook out to scribble scribble notes.

Scribble was this character in Jeff Noon's Vurt, the narrator who's sister/girlfriend Desdemona was abducted/taken by the Vurt, those Curious Yellows are dangerous things. Over a decade later I am he, notepad in hand. Invisible save only my voice, paper, ink, keyboard, zeros and ones.

The Parallelograms - Indietracks

Indiepop by numbers. Talulah Gosh style vox, but without the admirable if years late stance on bank charges.

Girl singing, glokenspiel, standing up drummer, happy bass player far on the other side.

Admittedly they do have half the audience clapping along with them and quite a large audience too..

Wondering if these are one of those internet bands that people know about.

Das Wunderlust - Indietracks

Shouty squeely girls.

People clapped, I didn't

Their Hearts were full of Spring - Indietracks

The weird folk who've been knocking about all weekend with flowers in their hair are on stage, with flowers wrapped round their mic stands. Their percussionist gives me a smile, obviously spotting my drunken bum appearance and notebook in hand. I smile back and remember my girl back home, if only she were here with me today.

Thgis jacket is itchy.

The sound in here is still a little bass heavy. We have violins, electric guitar, "percussion", a stern looking female drummer and bass. The violins make me thing Bluebells, but the vibe is heavier. They have keyboards and obligatory glok. The singing chap has eyeliner, as they cover and pastiche.

Ooh, funky bass at times.

stephenhero - Indietracks

I've become a drunken bum. I bought a jacket for £2 with brass buttons, I have secret rum and tonic. On stage is a middle-aged gent with an electric keyboard or possibly a synth.

I'm not listening. I'm bored so I head to the door, the girl who was stood six foot away from me often last night looks cute in the daytime and returns my drunken smile/leer.

MJ Hibbett and a girl who was introduced earlier wave, smiling and I smile back, the sun shines and I still have lots of rum and tonic left.

Images of Mathematicians on Postage Stamps - Indietracks

Robbie, one third of the legendary Images of Mathematicians on Postage Stamps, rips a guitar from Pete Green and in front of a packed crowd of five people sets out on his band's fifth gig.

Admittedly he can only remember one song, but its a classic, Tim Berners-Lee and the Dream of Spiders. For over a year just a name on Last.Fm before he wrote it. Named in the vein of Judy and the Dream of horses, it tells of how the world wide web revolutionised geekdom and meeting people.

Caroline points out that all the crowd and the band are Bowlies, I back away and frown to myself. Gazing into the distance, its a green and yellow land here. There's a wee carriage decked out as a railway memorabilia shop so I buy myself a British Rail traion drivers jacket with brass buttons for £2.

More people arrive to hear Robbie half remember songs, having listened to them on Caroline's iPod.

Santa Always Brings me the Blues, almost drowned out by short hipster girls chatting. Its a Christmas song, but it does refer to Central Station so its kind of a train song.

Robbie's going to have to sing louder to make it as a troubador.

The Chiara L's - Indietracks

I'm not confident enough in knowing what riot-grrl is, but I'll give this mob a stab with that stick. Soaring chorussed guitars and punky GoGos vocals, electro synths. There's a loverly summery feel to their melodies, and the pew that I'm sitting at is positively rocking with toe tappers.

Keyboard player taking photies of the audience and her bandmates during songs when she ain't playing.

Indelicates - Indietracks

Thundering, snarly Robert Smith over shouty piano girl, with hard rock guitars and drums. A little out of place with this lot, less jazzy than other piano stadium rock contemporaries Lapsus Linguae.

Some of the snarls are from Carter USM.

The girl's awfy quiet. Not sure what they're singing about, there's something out of place with the lyrics, but I'm getting more certain of my carter USM comparison as they reiterate a line about "new art for the people".

The solo girl vox reminds me Cyndi Lauper's more tender moments, or maybe all girls sound the same, they certainly all look the same.

Kirsty McCol and The Pogues?

A wee bit too self-assured on stage.

Ooh, too pastichey

Horowitz - Indietracks

Sounds like Silvertone Stone Roses, they're playing the church and its packed out. I'm outside on the arena grass in the sunshine, rum and tonic in hand, trains steaming by, indie poppers and tourists flocking.

Photies
here
here
here
here
here

Reviews
here

Friends of the Bride - Indietracks

Funk with jazz singing, its a little too early in the day for the crowd. There was a bit of dancing and the people are sparse.

Dapperly dressed, rather pleased gentlemen, could have done with a larger crowd to toy with.

Robert Church and the Holy Community

Not sure who this mob in the church are. Robert Church and The Holy Community according to the schedule, butthey don't match the description.

Four lads with unrelenting, driving music, skinny baldy bass player mid stage and three piece harmony vox. I can feel myself flying away with them.

Neat "doo dooo do" choruses and mythery vocals, can't really make out the lyrics though.

Nice mix of guitar leads. The chap on the left has a rather sturdy black number with a moulded plastic connector, no fear of a bad connection there. On bass the chap has a standard screw together metal connector, but with a woven fabric cable, like yer gran's iron lead. On far right yer man has one of those coiled telephone cable style ones like Jimmi Handrix, they're cool apparently cos they don't tangle, right angled metal connector too, he knows his stuff.

Pop Fact - On average each guitar has 3.3 dials.

Photies
here
here

A Smile and a Ribbon - Indietracks

Ooh, I'd forgotten Christoph was in this band. Its Sunday morning, indiepoppets are bleary eyed and stubbly. I'm in urgent need of the loo, but having just bought a beer (Lost Cause) and been assured by MJ Hibbett that they were the tweeest band here, I'm watching the Ribbons.

There's a bit of a swing to them, whereas last time I saw them, at the Winchester, they were too twee, here in blazing broad daylight, they're just twee enough. Two flowery girls on vox, melodica and glokenspiel and blokes on strings and drums.

Its sweet sweet music. A song dedicated to Darren Hayman, about how dirty his songs are. Whereas I'd missed Hefner back in the day, an ex-had brought me up to speed quickly.

I wonder what Robbie would say about 'the Ribbon this time.

The Orchids

They were just tuning up when I first saw them, they looked a bit like a gang of scaffolders, the craggy faces one who can spec a job on sight, the wee one they always send out for lunch, he's known in every fish and chip shop in town, the baby-faced one all the girls fancy and the Jimmy Nail leader chap.

i missed the Orchids back in the day, whenever it was. Robbie didn't, he was well into them, trying to pimp them onto me. I downloaded all I could find, to no avail, it was all jangily, samey. Other stuff I had to listen to.

So it was tonight, pleasant jangily music. But whilst the crowd cheered for their favourite tunes, old songs, new songs, classics, I just listened and thought little.

Three guitarists, one on acoustic, one on phaser/wah-wah noodles and one on rhythm noodles.

Robbie was bow to them at the end, "We're not worthy"

Yeah, I missed them.

Rose McDowall - Indietracks

Marty Pellow on bass. I've lost my program so I'm just guessing, but Crikey, I think I can see Rose from Strawberry Switchblade or your favourite art teacher.

Its more of the gravitas of the situation than the actual performance. Sounds like Julie Cruise although she predates her. If only I was more drunk, this could be Twin Peaks.

For her second song she straps on a twelve stringer. How can any woman be this driven with indiepop for so long? Its been over 25 years since Saint Bill Drummond discovered her and the other one singing in the Clutha Vaults. Its been 20 years song Bill was in the JAMS. Its 2007, what the fuck have we done/is going on?

Its ethreal music, but not like Ceylan, this has a strong edge to it, like a sturdy oak baton.

I wander if I still have the Strawberry Switchblade tape Robbie left in my car.

Oop, at times it sounds like rose got in Camera Obscura as her backing group "Lets get out of this country" with Julie Cruise on vox

The carefully planned staggering of the bands on the two stages has fallen apart, bands overrunning, so folk are heading out in the middle of rose's set. Cos the church is a seated venue, it mega visible disruptions.

Mournful, drifting music, ideal for this setting. Crikey I'm tired.

Photies
here

Roy Moller - Indietracks

Roy Moller on the Church stage. I can hear the "wah wah wah" line, that I've heard countless times before, drifting across the train yard as I make my way to a train at the platform.

"Are you going to Butterly?"
"Erm, yeah. Hop on"

Its a personal train service, like a free taxi, but its a train, all of my very own.

It was supposed to be a five minute job, nip back to my car, find an off liscense, get in the rum and tonic, drive round to the festival car park, catch the end of Roy's set.

But I got lost, it took me two hours.

Stuart, if there was a map on the back of the program, I would been able to review about five more bands than I have done.

Photies
here
here

Arthur & Martha - Indietracks

Kinda electro, they have synths and drum machines. There is an electric guitar and slightly out of tune boy/girl harmonies.

Its a bit Stereolab. Warm, uplifting stuff. Droney shoegazing, a little bedsit-ish.

The girl singing discovers her soul half way through, at times the boy singing sounds like Ian Curtis, similarly, the melocia sounds like a harmonica.

Hmm, who does the "Sha la la" shorus sound like? Could it be Man Down Door, the classic Motherwell rock act?

Reviews
here

Photies
here
here
here
here
here
here