Tuesday, 30 October 2007
The Plimptons - Post it Note videos
The video to The Plimptons Rock n Roll pt 3
Also known as Cupboard of Porn, this video is work safe, unlike my last go at it which was just porn. This one is based on a storyboard drawn by Adam J Smith, animated by myself. 75 individual post it notes frames of animation and a couple of recycled animated video clips.
The song is taken from their 2007 album Pomp, available on Amazon, and was named after Gary Glitter's Rock n Roll pt2
Friday, 26 October 2007
Dananananayokroyd, Spin Spin the Dog, Lovvers - The MacBeth
Big Duncan's near the door when I come in, it was a long time ago when I first encountered him in Glasgow, well, maybe five years ago probly. Tonight at the MacBeth we shoot the breeze while I consider the first band on.
Barking what could be random between song bander or Art School poetry with loud rock noise accomanyment.
Something to do with ex-girlfriends in my head tonight. Last time I saw Dananananaykroyd was about a year aho, well,last two times, when I was kind of seeing Jax, some cool show at The Admiral and something bigger at the Oran Mor where they were running late cos the drummer's other band were caught at a wedding We left before the band came on.
Still shapeless falling apart sounds coming from the stage as I wonder what fell apart between me and she and then remembering... shudder.
ooh, looks like they have Aiden Moffat on bass.
Easy to remember how to spell Danananananna... its Dana - nana - naykroyd.
So a year has passed and now look at them, all famous and frequently heralded by the NME.
I remember how me and Adam Plimp cheered when we read their first mention in the NME, some Sunday morning in the 13th Note.They were a Glasgow super-group of sorts, Duncan from The Boy Cartographer and The Hector Collectors, Dave from The Multiplies, Laura from Michael Dracula, James from Errors and Calum who lived opposite Jef.
Ooh, I think the nervous one from Favours for Sailors is here.
Second band on, Lovvers are rather exciting, Smashing Pumpkins sounders, all bending metal guitars and Billy Corrigan vocals.
I think I see French girls from the original Glasgow Indie Eyespy game, five retro bonus points.
Hmm, with the mob on stage, it looks like Richard Ashcroft on guitar.
On thinking more deeply, I think it was five and a half years ago I was also going out with Jax when I encountered Duncan in the Hectors.
Rather neat howling lead guitar and the same urgency as early Idlewild.
Ooh, I've got it, they remind me of Tiny Little Hearts, but without the fancy lead rhythm guitar shredding
The Dananananaykroyd take a while to set up, removing the frontispiece of the stage and installing their trademark two drumkits. I'm struck by the number of very neat hairstyles in the crowd. Maybe I should make more of an effort when I go out, rather than same clothes as work.
Whilst much of the setting up beforehand is pure theatrics, it'd be dangerous for them to go on without performing requisit stretching exercises, wouldn't want to pull any muscles. Duncan invites me to join him and Calum stretching at the side of the stage.
So with a combined height of more than twelve metres, Dananananaykroyd take to the stage.
(When I showed this animation to Natalie, she remembered she'd been dancing with him the other night in Glasgow. So far away, yet so near)
Bands
Dananananaykroyd
Lovvers
Spin Spin The Dogs
Photies
here
Amusing review of Spin Spin the Dogs
Barking what could be random between song bander or Art School poetry with loud rock noise accomanyment.
Something to do with ex-girlfriends in my head tonight. Last time I saw Dananananaykroyd was about a year aho, well,last two times, when I was kind of seeing Jax, some cool show at The Admiral and something bigger at the Oran Mor where they were running late cos the drummer's other band were caught at a wedding We left before the band came on.
Still shapeless falling apart sounds coming from the stage as I wonder what fell apart between me and she and then remembering... shudder.
ooh, looks like they have Aiden Moffat on bass.
Easy to remember how to spell Danananananna... its Dana - nana - naykroyd.
So a year has passed and now look at them, all famous and frequently heralded by the NME.
I remember how me and Adam Plimp cheered when we read their first mention in the NME, some Sunday morning in the 13th Note.They were a Glasgow super-group of sorts, Duncan from The Boy Cartographer and The Hector Collectors, Dave from The Multiplies, Laura from Michael Dracula, James from Errors and Calum who lived opposite Jef.
Ooh, I think the nervous one from Favours for Sailors is here.
Second band on, Lovvers are rather exciting, Smashing Pumpkins sounders, all bending metal guitars and Billy Corrigan vocals.
I think I see French girls from the original Glasgow Indie Eyespy game, five retro bonus points.
Hmm, with the mob on stage, it looks like Richard Ashcroft on guitar.
On thinking more deeply, I think it was five and a half years ago I was also going out with Jax when I encountered Duncan in the Hectors.
Rather neat howling lead guitar and the same urgency as early Idlewild.
Ooh, I've got it, they remind me of Tiny Little Hearts, but without the fancy lead rhythm guitar shredding
The Dananananaykroyd take a while to set up, removing the frontispiece of the stage and installing their trademark two drumkits. I'm struck by the number of very neat hairstyles in the crowd. Maybe I should make more of an effort when I go out, rather than same clothes as work.
Whilst much of the setting up beforehand is pure theatrics, it'd be dangerous for them to go on without performing requisit stretching exercises, wouldn't want to pull any muscles. Duncan invites me to join him and Calum stretching at the side of the stage.
So with a combined height of more than twelve metres, Dananananaykroyd take to the stage.
(When I showed this animation to Natalie, she remembered she'd been dancing with him the other night in Glasgow. So far away, yet so near)
Bands
Dananananaykroyd
Lovvers
Spin Spin The Dogs
Photies
here
Amusing review of Spin Spin the Dogs
Thursday, 25 October 2007
Indelicates, William, Herzoga - Bar Monsta
You join your intrepid gig reviewer on a Wednesday night. Everything's been a bit ropey for the past week or so, I've starved myself into a skip of nerves where I don't quite have the bottle to buy food or eat in front of other people. I pray for a quick death to level out these rollercoaster emotions.
I'm at Bar Monsta, some gig I heard about off of Facebook and Anorak, the armpit of Camden, I don't know anyone here, but the girl to my right is the spitting image of Jef in Glasgow when she had blonde hair.
On stage are Herzoga or Olympians, depending on how late I got here. Neat Squander Pilots bass, sturdy machine-like drumming, snappy lead guitar with killer rock outs and spikey vocals. I wish I was drunk, I could easily slip into a mid-90s Electrafixion moment. If only that ex- from a decade ago would reply to my Facebook friend requests.
If only, if only, if only, one million if onlys, the limitless possibilities of the future, crushed by the weight of the missed opportunities of the past. I think that's one of the underlying pleas of MJ Hibbett's track 'Born Yesterday' on his CD wot arrived in the post this morning.
The next band on, William, the audience has swelled and applauds every song. More jagged and post-eh than the previous act, the sort of band Brian McKinnon would probably have loved were he here today.
Very yelpy and repetative. They have a single or a 7” on sale somewhere.
Ooh, website idea #129:- 'Indiepop or Not'. Like Hot or Not but with every band on Last.Fm. The audience rates them for indiepoppiness. Could it be done by a mashup?
Oh the Indelicates, how many times have I been at their gigs before? How can I remember nothing of this, had I been drinking? Tonight they are fabulous.
Are they Meatloaf, Kate Bush, Queen? Who knows. But their guitars are manufactured from eighties cheese, the piano is just right, the male vocals has moments of Manics or even Levellers and the girl, can sound Kate Bushy. There's kind of like these beautiful pianoy bits with the girl singing and everything else quite, where the anticipation builds up then the rest of the band storm in. Definitely one for downloading.
Bands
The Indelicates
William
Herzoga
Thread
here
I'm at Bar Monsta, some gig I heard about off of Facebook and Anorak, the armpit of Camden, I don't know anyone here, but the girl to my right is the spitting image of Jef in Glasgow when she had blonde hair.
On stage are Herzoga or Olympians, depending on how late I got here. Neat Squander Pilots bass, sturdy machine-like drumming, snappy lead guitar with killer rock outs and spikey vocals. I wish I was drunk, I could easily slip into a mid-90s Electrafixion moment. If only that ex- from a decade ago would reply to my Facebook friend requests.
If only, if only, if only, one million if onlys, the limitless possibilities of the future, crushed by the weight of the missed opportunities of the past. I think that's one of the underlying pleas of MJ Hibbett's track 'Born Yesterday' on his CD wot arrived in the post this morning.
The next band on, William, the audience has swelled and applauds every song. More jagged and post-eh than the previous act, the sort of band Brian McKinnon would probably have loved were he here today.
Very yelpy and repetative. They have a single or a 7” on sale somewhere.
Ooh, website idea #129:- 'Indiepop or Not'. Like Hot or Not but with every band on Last.Fm. The audience rates them for indiepoppiness. Could it be done by a mashup?
Oh the Indelicates, how many times have I been at their gigs before? How can I remember nothing of this, had I been drinking? Tonight they are fabulous.
Are they Meatloaf, Kate Bush, Queen? Who knows. But their guitars are manufactured from eighties cheese, the piano is just right, the male vocals has moments of Manics or even Levellers and the girl, can sound Kate Bushy. There's kind of like these beautiful pianoy bits with the girl singing and everything else quite, where the anticipation builds up then the rest of the band storm in. Definitely one for downloading.
Bands
The Indelicates
William
Herzoga
Thread
here
Friday, 19 October 2007
Popup, Favours for Sailors, 4 or 5 Magicians - The MacBeth
Its a bit nippy out and my petrol guage ticked over to zero on the way here. Dinner was chips from the place next door to the venue, if I'd had time I'd have gone to the Shish restaurant round the corner.
First on stage are the wonderfully named 4 or 5 Magicians, who I'd earlier witnessed playing pool appallingly
So last time I was at this venue, the girl's drink was spiked and since I'm driving tonight I want to play it safe, but alas, they have no bottles of cola.
Toploader hair and vocals veering between Soundgarden and The Crash Test Dummies. Songs covering the spectrum from Stiltskin to Coldplay. They have a “single” out today, a gentleman on the table next to me sekking CDs. Upon what grounds is it a “Single”? It has four tracks, it is however, one of those wee 3” CDs, I'm tempted for novelty value.
The music drifts a little to far into cheesy 80's rock. But the last song does have sparkles of lyrical genius which makes me smile. “I'm as clueless as the next guy and he hasn't got a clue”
Something weird about where the singsters are standing tonight, tucked away at the left side of the stage, with bass players whilst standing central, not taking advantage of big chunky stage frontispace.
Favours for Sailors, the second band on, look remarkably nervous before they start, but it turns out that's just the way they look. I was concerned also that the bass player had a chord sheet laid out at his feet.
They sounded like the original Radiohead, Pablo Honey era, guitar and prickly raging with teeth, kind of like 'Anyone Can Play Guitar'. I'd thought they were overly concerned with checking sound levels with the soundman between the first few songs, but it paid off, they were great.
Even the weird between song banter after one where the lead guitarist and bass player both lost their picks.. “Even professional make mistakes, my dad's a teacher and he makes mistakes... Cooking with whiskey, well, its not really cook, its pouring... Cooking's like fancy pouring anyway.”
Popup headlining, as confident as usual, rather nice gentle and mature music, their constant gigging getting them a following of early middle-aged school teachers dancing courageously and singing along.
Their last song was a bit of a corker, riff ripped from 'Babylon's Burning'.
Bands
Popup
Favours for Sailors
4 or 5 Magicians
First on stage are the wonderfully named 4 or 5 Magicians, who I'd earlier witnessed playing pool appallingly
So last time I was at this venue, the girl's drink was spiked and since I'm driving tonight I want to play it safe, but alas, they have no bottles of cola.
Toploader hair and vocals veering between Soundgarden and The Crash Test Dummies. Songs covering the spectrum from Stiltskin to Coldplay. They have a “single” out today, a gentleman on the table next to me sekking CDs. Upon what grounds is it a “Single”? It has four tracks, it is however, one of those wee 3” CDs, I'm tempted for novelty value.
The music drifts a little to far into cheesy 80's rock. But the last song does have sparkles of lyrical genius which makes me smile. “I'm as clueless as the next guy and he hasn't got a clue”
Something weird about where the singsters are standing tonight, tucked away at the left side of the stage, with bass players whilst standing central, not taking advantage of big chunky stage frontispace.
Favours for Sailors, the second band on, look remarkably nervous before they start, but it turns out that's just the way they look. I was concerned also that the bass player had a chord sheet laid out at his feet.
They sounded like the original Radiohead, Pablo Honey era, guitar and prickly raging with teeth, kind of like 'Anyone Can Play Guitar'. I'd thought they were overly concerned with checking sound levels with the soundman between the first few songs, but it paid off, they were great.
Even the weird between song banter after one where the lead guitarist and bass player both lost their picks.. “Even professional make mistakes, my dad's a teacher and he makes mistakes... Cooking with whiskey, well, its not really cook, its pouring... Cooking's like fancy pouring anyway.”
Popup headlining, as confident as usual, rather nice gentle and mature music, their constant gigging getting them a following of early middle-aged school teachers dancing courageously and singing along.
Their last song was a bit of a corker, riff ripped from 'Babylon's Burning'.
Bands
Popup
Favours for Sailors
4 or 5 Magicians
Tuesday, 16 October 2007
Miss the Occupier, Antique Scream, Black Carnation – 13th Note
Stevie the organiser dude behind Equal and Opposite introduces me to the boys form antique Scream as a journalist for The Fly. He finds it hilarious that I’m there with a wee notepad and pen but after kicking him in the shins a few times he settles. The boys are dead nice and lavish me with a free t-shirt, CD and, best of all, badge. Turns out they’re from Mesa, a little town in Arizona where strangely enough I’ve visited.
Stevie jokes that tonight is the battle of the three pieces and Miss the Occupier come on stage. I realise I’d seen them at the Wickerman but hadn’t paid much attention at the time. They started off like a energetic punkier Elastica with male backing vocals although at some points I thought it was a feminine voice and got all confuzzled. By the third song singer/bassist Roz’ vocals are coming out really strong and I’m hearing definite Manic Street Preachers 00000000000 (Hey my cat just typed that- speaking in binary now Beau?) but with a more modern basslines providing a different sound. Their sound is solid and at points sound like there’s more going on than for a three piece.
All the songs tend to follow a minimalist verse light on guitar, vocals in time with the rhythm section (rat-a-tat-tat) that then fires into a rocking chorus that makes the song. The 6th song described as near to a love song as they do and again it reminds me of latter day MSP. ”Nothing Ever Perfect” finishes very fast and heavy with some impressive lady growling. Song number 9 struck me with “You make her ill she treats you alright, all night”. I hear that! Later in the evening Mr Snowball asks me what I thought of them and I tried being objective, well they’re punky and fun and energetic…”they’re shite” was his eloquent response and I concurred they might not be the next poet laureates but they sounded good.
I was looking forward to Antique Scream up next, such nice boys. They warm up playing with they’re sound effects and fancy guitar solos and then they get right into it. They sounded great could have been playing at a stadium but….. Led Zeppelin meets Jimi Hendrix. Now both band I love but I want to see something new! Vocalist sounds very much like lead singer from Reef without the warble – which is a good thing. Good old soaring rock vocals – can we turn them up a tad please? Oooh topless drummer, it’s been nigh on a week since I saw a naked gentleman shaped person. Little bits of Lenny Kravitz come into play as a result of the funky oldstylee rock n roll crossed with the smooth vocals. The drummer is amazing. He is banging away non-stop using the entire kit and his sheen of sweat is well deserved. Meanwhile the bass playing side-show bob lookielike is flailing around the stage using up the entire perimeter. Overall well entertaining technically excellent raunch rock but I can’t imagine them finding a niche in today’s market.
Is the Drummer that Timothy Dalton lookalike I fancy wot used to be in Wilbur Force? No not tall enough. Hey, maybe this chaps single. I read in the thirteenth note flyer that Black Carnation is “a bloody orgy of Jeff Buckley and Chris Cornell…with John Bonham on drums”. Oooh exciting! Oh shit is that a lassie sat behind me who’s boyfriend I used to snog years ago? I suddenly want to leave. I manage to stay for three songs. The first song demonstrates the Soundagardeny type riffs and the vocalist does have a Buckley tone to him. The second song however sounds distinctly like Queens of the Stone Age and by the third song I’m hearing the pixies with vocal harmonies very reminiscent of Alice in Chains. This would be my ideal superband but I don’t stay after this – I’ve got all the CDs at home and I’m tired and hungover.
Stevie jokes that tonight is the battle of the three pieces and Miss the Occupier come on stage. I realise I’d seen them at the Wickerman but hadn’t paid much attention at the time. They started off like a energetic punkier Elastica with male backing vocals although at some points I thought it was a feminine voice and got all confuzzled. By the third song singer/bassist Roz’ vocals are coming out really strong and I’m hearing definite Manic Street Preachers 00000000000 (Hey my cat just typed that- speaking in binary now Beau?) but with a more modern basslines providing a different sound. Their sound is solid and at points sound like there’s more going on than for a three piece.
All the songs tend to follow a minimalist verse light on guitar, vocals in time with the rhythm section (rat-a-tat-tat) that then fires into a rocking chorus that makes the song. The 6th song described as near to a love song as they do and again it reminds me of latter day MSP. ”Nothing Ever Perfect” finishes very fast and heavy with some impressive lady growling. Song number 9 struck me with “You make her ill she treats you alright, all night”. I hear that! Later in the evening Mr Snowball asks me what I thought of them and I tried being objective, well they’re punky and fun and energetic…”they’re shite” was his eloquent response and I concurred they might not be the next poet laureates but they sounded good.
I was looking forward to Antique Scream up next, such nice boys. They warm up playing with they’re sound effects and fancy guitar solos and then they get right into it. They sounded great could have been playing at a stadium but….. Led Zeppelin meets Jimi Hendrix. Now both band I love but I want to see something new! Vocalist sounds very much like lead singer from Reef without the warble – which is a good thing. Good old soaring rock vocals – can we turn them up a tad please? Oooh topless drummer, it’s been nigh on a week since I saw a naked gentleman shaped person. Little bits of Lenny Kravitz come into play as a result of the funky oldstylee rock n roll crossed with the smooth vocals. The drummer is amazing. He is banging away non-stop using the entire kit and his sheen of sweat is well deserved. Meanwhile the bass playing side-show bob lookielike is flailing around the stage using up the entire perimeter. Overall well entertaining technically excellent raunch rock but I can’t imagine them finding a niche in today’s market.
Is the Drummer that Timothy Dalton lookalike I fancy wot used to be in Wilbur Force? No not tall enough. Hey, maybe this chaps single. I read in the thirteenth note flyer that Black Carnation is “a bloody orgy of Jeff Buckley and Chris Cornell…with John Bonham on drums”. Oooh exciting! Oh shit is that a lassie sat behind me who’s boyfriend I used to snog years ago? I suddenly want to leave. I manage to stay for three songs. The first song demonstrates the Soundagardeny type riffs and the vocalist does have a Buckley tone to him. The second song however sounds distinctly like Queens of the Stone Age and by the third song I’m hearing the pixies with vocal harmonies very reminiscent of Alice in Chains. This would be my ideal superband but I don’t stay after this – I’ve got all the CDs at home and I’m tired and hungover.
Open Mic 10th Anniversary- Nice 'n Sleazies
A friend popped up for an impromptu visit while I was sorting through nakedchicksonpostitnotes Post-It notes so I didn’t manage to get down to the venue until after 10.00. I assured my friend there would be cake and he came too despite his misgivings having apparently done about “400 shifts” at the open mic when he worked there.
We make our way straight downstairs and I make out Paul Kelly, Tom Snowball and Jim McAteer among a younger generation of as yet unnamed open mic participants. Gilly Baby is there too but I give her the brush off as I want to make sure my companion is safe in hostile territory. Me Paul and Yossi manage to grab a cracking table in the middle and I focus on the entertainment.
A young pale lassie with a high voice is singing a famous song I cannae remember but I keep getting a fright every time she starts singing cause it’s a bit loud and I’m glad I don’t suffer from Migraine.
Now there’s two chaps up on stage singing about bestiality and how they would do any type of animal. I think it’s not a cover. The chorus declares their love for “a spider in a thong” and it’s all a bit of a musical gala performance.
Up next is Tom Snowball, Andrea and Iain Moye doing a song I aint heard before. Yossi comments that Tom can’t sing but I give him a what are you crazy look and he tells me he sounds like he needs a packet of tunes. Turns out I’ve brought along Sheffield’s answer to Simon Cowell. I tell him this and he just smirks in a Cowellesque manor. I then start mimicking Peter Serafinowicz’ “You’re a cunt” impression of Simon Cowell but I don’t think anyone else has seen it.
Poor wee Paul Kelly has a sore throat form over jamming and we hoarsely discuss his up and coming kinks tribute. Apparently I’m the only person wot’s showed any definite intention of going. There’s a biker type guy up on stage with a harmonica, belting out some blues then giving a few lines singing. I preferred the harmonica playing to the singing. Yossi continues his critiques in my ear and I ask him why he’s not wearing his trousers up to his ribcage.
Paul Kelly up next proclaiming he is going to perform the first song he ever did at the open mic way back in 1999 when he was 18. Darren Hayman’s “Mary Lee”. He does great despite his sore throat and gives the song his own Kelly brand. He comes back and I tell him his throat gravel made him sound like John Lennon.
A guy called “young” Tom is up next and after a tentative few opening lines his voice relaxes into a beautiful and warm effort. Yossi says you shouldn’t sing Van Morrison if you don’t sound like him. I didn’t know it was a Van Morrison song (apparently it was Domino and one of his more famous ones) and I thought the guy sounded lovely.
Brown-haired girl up next with a pretty Scottish/American style voice. Yossi’s jaw drops at one point “did she just sing do do do?” I tell him it’s not a crime but his face says otherwise. Note to self: don’t bring cynical old men to open mic nights. Last time I took my ex-chugger boy to Sleazies every time a slow sad song came on he would mimic slitting his wrists. Tsk. No respect.
Can I just say at this point that no-one has offered me a piece of cake but the beer is flowing nicely and then I get me and Paul a couple of Glayvas. His for his sore throat, mine for my addiction. He pours coke in his. Yossi’s draw drops again. I turn my head away and try to think happy thoughts.
Wee Craig is up next. The guy got a fine voice and tends to choose radiohead warbling songs. His attempts to be touching this time isn’t quite cutting it with me. Yossi mumbles something about “shite radiohead”.
Big curly headed guy up next singing a love song. He looks just like the guy who thinks he’s a pirate in Dodgeball. I find his sang quite haunting at points in a maybe I’m just getting a bit drunk way.
Someone maybe called Don is up next with a song called “Cynical Girl”. Hey I have a fan! I quip, “well you know I like you but it’ll never work”.
I can’t mentally envisage who was up next but I’ve scribbled “shite-haired fuck spaz music” in the flyer I’m using for a note pad.
Another lady up next introducing herself as a former music student sings “Mr Manipulator” she’s got an alright voice but she’s playing an annoying repetitive twang thing on guitar. Yossi suggests ambulance but I pinpoint it to car alarm but realise later it’s more accurately my radio alarm clock blare.
Andrea gets up again and plays some small stringed instrument or maybe it just sounds like a ukulele or maybe I’m hallucinating. She finishes with a query to the audience as wether the host of the venue, Mr Gerry Lyons, shouldn’t go up and give us a song.
A man in a scarf passes me by. Goodness it’s Mr Mark Rafferty. I didnae recognise him without a hat.
Yossi reviews him as “Bald gay guy” I look at him up and down and say but so are you! He concurs. Good ole Gerry. I’m sure he’s a lost Gibb brother. Or maybe he wasn’t hirsute enough to play with the others.
Christ there’s a lot into reviewing these open mic things!
Mark Rafferty is up next and I assure Yossi that he’s got to like this. He asks if he’s in a band but all I know is that he’s was/is in a wedding band. Mark does his usual humorous patter then introduces his “The Great Bminor song”. For me the mirth flows straight to my left eyeball which continues to stream for the duration of the song. Even Yossi is impressed and I caught him laughing of all things.
Geeky Tom up next with oh god no Tenacious D’s “greatest song in the world”. That sort of stuff might get you laid in the Cathouse sunny but Sleazies chicks look for a more sensitive or something quirkily humorous. Yossi sums it up with I can’t believe that guy followed up Mark Rafferty with that. It did kind of kill the rapport. Sorry geeky tom.
Oooh wee Ben TD is up and I get excited. This wee dudes got the sweetest voice…wait a minute what’s he doing….rapping? Yep he’s wrapping while his mate beatboxes. Actually it’s not as bad as it could be and wee Ben is so sweet. Yes it was rather endearing I think in my glayva haze.
Guy called Rob up next. Another I can’t mentally envisage but have written “Bob Dylan meets Johnny Cash” however Yossi has corrected this to “Johnny Gash”. Oh dear.
Last but not least Mr Tom Snowball takes to the stage again. “I reckon he’ll play Under the Sea. In fact I’ll bet my Pulitzer on it. He announces he is going to play under the sea and invites everyone up on stage for the finale. I wasn’t going to but Paul beckons me so I follow him through the audience. Also getting up are Jim McAteer, Andrea, Ben TD Lou who I knew in Jersey and Mark Rafferty takes to the Piano. I’m sure I’m missing someone. Oh the lovely Jo Mango.
Anyway this is when the funniest thing in the entire night happens. Paul steps over some girls sitting on the floor (Paul does a lot of jumping in his movements from A to B) straight onto an empty glass which shatters amongst them loudly but he continues his stride straight onto the stage where he trips up as soon as he steps up and goes flying across the stage. You can’t write comedy like that ladies and gentleman. I jump up next to him and give some moral support through shoulder patting and laughing in his face. We all sing along with Tom Tom, the piano accompanying beautifully and Jim’s deep tones soothing in my ear. We all get into a hug line and start swaying and it’s all rather erm cheesy. I point Yossi out to Jim noting he can’t even look at us (Yossi’s head is tuned away at a 90 degrees angle). When he gets his phone out I joke he’s trying to call a cab. Urgently. We laugh for a while at his expense then I concentrate on making animals noises– if you know the song you don’t need to ask.
It was a great end to a great night. Quite nostalgic *sniff* with all the old school attendees on board (oh and Lou but her passion made up for her newness). Oh and Paul continued his comedy by dropping his fag outside in a wet patch and picking it up again. Sorry Paul where you tad inebriated last night?
Peace and Love
We make our way straight downstairs and I make out Paul Kelly, Tom Snowball and Jim McAteer among a younger generation of as yet unnamed open mic participants. Gilly Baby is there too but I give her the brush off as I want to make sure my companion is safe in hostile territory. Me Paul and Yossi manage to grab a cracking table in the middle and I focus on the entertainment.
A young pale lassie with a high voice is singing a famous song I cannae remember but I keep getting a fright every time she starts singing cause it’s a bit loud and I’m glad I don’t suffer from Migraine.
Now there’s two chaps up on stage singing about bestiality and how they would do any type of animal. I think it’s not a cover. The chorus declares their love for “a spider in a thong” and it’s all a bit of a musical gala performance.
Up next is Tom Snowball, Andrea and Iain Moye doing a song I aint heard before. Yossi comments that Tom can’t sing but I give him a what are you crazy look and he tells me he sounds like he needs a packet of tunes. Turns out I’ve brought along Sheffield’s answer to Simon Cowell. I tell him this and he just smirks in a Cowellesque manor. I then start mimicking Peter Serafinowicz’ “You’re a cunt” impression of Simon Cowell but I don’t think anyone else has seen it.
Poor wee Paul Kelly has a sore throat form over jamming and we hoarsely discuss his up and coming kinks tribute. Apparently I’m the only person wot’s showed any definite intention of going. There’s a biker type guy up on stage with a harmonica, belting out some blues then giving a few lines singing. I preferred the harmonica playing to the singing. Yossi continues his critiques in my ear and I ask him why he’s not wearing his trousers up to his ribcage.
Paul Kelly up next proclaiming he is going to perform the first song he ever did at the open mic way back in 1999 when he was 18. Darren Hayman’s “Mary Lee”. He does great despite his sore throat and gives the song his own Kelly brand. He comes back and I tell him his throat gravel made him sound like John Lennon.
A guy called “young” Tom is up next and after a tentative few opening lines his voice relaxes into a beautiful and warm effort. Yossi says you shouldn’t sing Van Morrison if you don’t sound like him. I didn’t know it was a Van Morrison song (apparently it was Domino and one of his more famous ones) and I thought the guy sounded lovely.
Brown-haired girl up next with a pretty Scottish/American style voice. Yossi’s jaw drops at one point “did she just sing do do do?” I tell him it’s not a crime but his face says otherwise. Note to self: don’t bring cynical old men to open mic nights. Last time I took my ex-chugger boy to Sleazies every time a slow sad song came on he would mimic slitting his wrists. Tsk. No respect.
Can I just say at this point that no-one has offered me a piece of cake but the beer is flowing nicely and then I get me and Paul a couple of Glayvas. His for his sore throat, mine for my addiction. He pours coke in his. Yossi’s draw drops again. I turn my head away and try to think happy thoughts.
Wee Craig is up next. The guy got a fine voice and tends to choose radiohead warbling songs. His attempts to be touching this time isn’t quite cutting it with me. Yossi mumbles something about “shite radiohead”.
Big curly headed guy up next singing a love song. He looks just like the guy who thinks he’s a pirate in Dodgeball. I find his sang quite haunting at points in a maybe I’m just getting a bit drunk way.
Someone maybe called Don is up next with a song called “Cynical Girl”. Hey I have a fan! I quip, “well you know I like you but it’ll never work”.
I can’t mentally envisage who was up next but I’ve scribbled “shite-haired fuck spaz music” in the flyer I’m using for a note pad.
Another lady up next introducing herself as a former music student sings “Mr Manipulator” she’s got an alright voice but she’s playing an annoying repetitive twang thing on guitar. Yossi suggests ambulance but I pinpoint it to car alarm but realise later it’s more accurately my radio alarm clock blare.
Andrea gets up again and plays some small stringed instrument or maybe it just sounds like a ukulele or maybe I’m hallucinating. She finishes with a query to the audience as wether the host of the venue, Mr Gerry Lyons, shouldn’t go up and give us a song.
A man in a scarf passes me by. Goodness it’s Mr Mark Rafferty. I didnae recognise him without a hat.
Yossi reviews him as “Bald gay guy” I look at him up and down and say but so are you! He concurs. Good ole Gerry. I’m sure he’s a lost Gibb brother. Or maybe he wasn’t hirsute enough to play with the others.
Christ there’s a lot into reviewing these open mic things!
Mark Rafferty is up next and I assure Yossi that he’s got to like this. He asks if he’s in a band but all I know is that he’s was/is in a wedding band. Mark does his usual humorous patter then introduces his “The Great Bminor song”. For me the mirth flows straight to my left eyeball which continues to stream for the duration of the song. Even Yossi is impressed and I caught him laughing of all things.
Geeky Tom up next with oh god no Tenacious D’s “greatest song in the world”. That sort of stuff might get you laid in the Cathouse sunny but Sleazies chicks look for a more sensitive or something quirkily humorous. Yossi sums it up with I can’t believe that guy followed up Mark Rafferty with that. It did kind of kill the rapport. Sorry geeky tom.
Oooh wee Ben TD is up and I get excited. This wee dudes got the sweetest voice…wait a minute what’s he doing….rapping? Yep he’s wrapping while his mate beatboxes. Actually it’s not as bad as it could be and wee Ben is so sweet. Yes it was rather endearing I think in my glayva haze.
Guy called Rob up next. Another I can’t mentally envisage but have written “Bob Dylan meets Johnny Cash” however Yossi has corrected this to “Johnny Gash”. Oh dear.
Last but not least Mr Tom Snowball takes to the stage again. “I reckon he’ll play Under the Sea. In fact I’ll bet my Pulitzer on it. He announces he is going to play under the sea and invites everyone up on stage for the finale. I wasn’t going to but Paul beckons me so I follow him through the audience. Also getting up are Jim McAteer, Andrea, Ben TD Lou who I knew in Jersey and Mark Rafferty takes to the Piano. I’m sure I’m missing someone. Oh the lovely Jo Mango.
Anyway this is when the funniest thing in the entire night happens. Paul steps over some girls sitting on the floor (Paul does a lot of jumping in his movements from A to B) straight onto an empty glass which shatters amongst them loudly but he continues his stride straight onto the stage where he trips up as soon as he steps up and goes flying across the stage. You can’t write comedy like that ladies and gentleman. I jump up next to him and give some moral support through shoulder patting and laughing in his face. We all sing along with Tom Tom, the piano accompanying beautifully and Jim’s deep tones soothing in my ear. We all get into a hug line and start swaying and it’s all rather erm cheesy. I point Yossi out to Jim noting he can’t even look at us (Yossi’s head is tuned away at a 90 degrees angle). When he gets his phone out I joke he’s trying to call a cab. Urgently. We laugh for a while at his expense then I concentrate on making animals noises– if you know the song you don’t need to ask.
It was a great end to a great night. Quite nostalgic *sniff* with all the old school attendees on board (oh and Lou but her passion made up for her newness). Oh and Paul continued his comedy by dropping his fag outside in a wet patch and picking it up again. Sorry Paul where you tad inebriated last night?
Peace and Love
Monday, 15 October 2007
Sunday, 14 October 2007
HDIF and Pop-Art: Butcher Boy, Brontosaurus Chorus, And What Will Be Left Of Them?, Plans And Apologies - Metro
I wanna be a zombie tonight, a mindless drone on someone else's auto-pilot. I want to not feel anything. I want to sit in the dark and scribble incoherently. To this end, I've only slept for three hours since yesterday's Just Joans gig, I've only consumed one large cappucino since the and I've spent the past five hours wandering round Shoreditch trying to find both Rough Trade and the New Sensations exhibition.
Other than a dull throbbing pain in my feet, I feel nothing. NPL John, I am your blank canvas.
When I arrive at the venue there's already a kick ass band onstage, their music so much potential to be richly textured.
There was a sign on the door saying no photography without permission and after seeing one chap get escorted out by brutal looking security woman I'm not going to risk it, instead this review will be filled with stock photos of Plimptons gigs and in a vaguely ironic twist a Plimpton at the NPL club night in Glasgow, as run by Butcher Boy's John.
So this first mob on stage, I don't catch their name, but they have CDs for sale which the say contain better songs than what they're playing tonight. Lets assume that's a positive thing.
Their last song is quite a funky number, with jazzy guitar noodles and drums ripped out of the Dananananaykroyd songbook. It rather neatly breaks into pounding driving rhythms too, rah!!
They have a lot of support in the crowd, cheering for an encore from the first band of the night.
Elsewhere on the internet the guy at Unpopular was moaning about gigs with too many bands and how it'd be neat if there were more gigs with only two bands rather than this sort of four band bill. I agree.
Next on stage are some mob who have a release, the debut release on the Pop Art label. They launch straight into the deep end. Noisy guitar, Blow Up organ and riot grrl vocals from a young lady dancing like the sixties weren't 40 years ago. Gimme some doop.
Its loud yelpy music, surprisingly bold for the five people on stage, carefully measuring out the guitar nouse, noodles and organ.
On the underground on the way here there was this girl who looked like Heather Graham, and whilst her appearance in Twin Peaks as an ex-nun love interest for agent Dale Cooper signaled the jumping of the shark moment for the series, at this gig she walks past and suddenly I see Mop Girl, an old Glasgow ex-pat who I have't seen for about 18 years and Sam Babies from the first place. Thor is here and the Just joans materialise beside me. With no spiked drink spewing girl I'm in a bright and sunny parallel universe.
On the merchy desk the chap from The Pop Art Allstars is selling and I'm almost tempted to buy a copy of the band on stage's take on 21st century Le Tigre, instead I retreat to a dark corner to scribble.
Third band of the night are Brontosaurus Chorus and they fill me with joy, all seven of them on stage. I think they are the same people as the Pop Art Allstars but with Jona and the merchy dude.
They have trumpets and violin and cello and they fill me with joy. Even the singing girl who looks like Idlestar. They invite folk from the previous band up for songs and there's so much joy in it, I'm both drunk and gleeful. They're like the Hermit Crabs without the whine or Camera Obscure for the new DIY indiepop generation.
The Felt Tips are here, blocking my scribbling light. NPL John comes over and says hi, the past six years of going to his club night have finally paid off.
I was in the Rough Trade supermarket today and I saw the Hermit Crabs album on Matinee and along with news that The Royal We are signed to Domino/Geographic and Dananananaykroyd are the toast of the NME. Its kind of like we are the kings. Sometimes the light catches it just so, and to steal from the Midlands, everything is sparkly.
Its the emotional equivalent of taking e when Butcher Boy take to the stage and whilst when they start the random girls stood behind me and to te right are talking about Dallas or Dynasty, by the halfway stage I'm catching snatches of conversation which progress along the lines of "...like the Proclaimers..." but then drifts into the territory of "...that Glasgow thing..." and "... Delgados... and Sebastian" Which is maybemore accurate. but this mob on stage are sharper. They're the guys that the 'Seb and the 'Scura dance to and write songs about. They wrote the algorithm and perfected it.
Whilst Brontosaurus Chorus had me in indiepop tears, Butcher Boy are stadium heros, Los Angeles will come to a standstill when they get there.
Violin riffs for your mind and the razor sharp lilt in John's vocals. The driving rhythm that doesn't just drive, it carries along in a chocolate bowlie filled satchel.
Here, tonight we all win. How big and for real can they make it?
Cut the crap, the Franz were just a scouting party, Scottish world domination is unstoppable for a third time.
And when I look up, my drunken hyperbol is only a wee bit diminished.
Photies
here
Reviews
here
here
Other than a dull throbbing pain in my feet, I feel nothing. NPL John, I am your blank canvas.
When I arrive at the venue there's already a kick ass band onstage, their music so much potential to be richly textured.
There was a sign on the door saying no photography without permission and after seeing one chap get escorted out by brutal looking security woman I'm not going to risk it, instead this review will be filled with stock photos of Plimptons gigs and in a vaguely ironic twist a Plimpton at the NPL club night in Glasgow, as run by Butcher Boy's John.
So this first mob on stage, I don't catch their name, but they have CDs for sale which the say contain better songs than what they're playing tonight. Lets assume that's a positive thing.
Their last song is quite a funky number, with jazzy guitar noodles and drums ripped out of the Dananananaykroyd songbook. It rather neatly breaks into pounding driving rhythms too, rah!!
They have a lot of support in the crowd, cheering for an encore from the first band of the night.
Elsewhere on the internet the guy at Unpopular was moaning about gigs with too many bands and how it'd be neat if there were more gigs with only two bands rather than this sort of four band bill. I agree.
Next on stage are some mob who have a release, the debut release on the Pop Art label. They launch straight into the deep end. Noisy guitar, Blow Up organ and riot grrl vocals from a young lady dancing like the sixties weren't 40 years ago. Gimme some doop.
Its loud yelpy music, surprisingly bold for the five people on stage, carefully measuring out the guitar nouse, noodles and organ.
On the underground on the way here there was this girl who looked like Heather Graham, and whilst her appearance in Twin Peaks as an ex-nun love interest for agent Dale Cooper signaled the jumping of the shark moment for the series, at this gig she walks past and suddenly I see Mop Girl, an old Glasgow ex-pat who I have't seen for about 18 years and Sam Babies from the first place. Thor is here and the Just joans materialise beside me. With no spiked drink spewing girl I'm in a bright and sunny parallel universe.
On the merchy desk the chap from The Pop Art Allstars is selling and I'm almost tempted to buy a copy of the band on stage's take on 21st century Le Tigre, instead I retreat to a dark corner to scribble.
Third band of the night are Brontosaurus Chorus and they fill me with joy, all seven of them on stage. I think they are the same people as the Pop Art Allstars but with Jona and the merchy dude.
They have trumpets and violin and cello and they fill me with joy. Even the singing girl who looks like Idlestar. They invite folk from the previous band up for songs and there's so much joy in it, I'm both drunk and gleeful. They're like the Hermit Crabs without the whine or Camera Obscure for the new DIY indiepop generation.
The Felt Tips are here, blocking my scribbling light. NPL John comes over and says hi, the past six years of going to his club night have finally paid off.
I was in the Rough Trade supermarket today and I saw the Hermit Crabs album on Matinee and along with news that The Royal We are signed to Domino/Geographic and Dananananaykroyd are the toast of the NME. Its kind of like we are the kings. Sometimes the light catches it just so, and to steal from the Midlands, everything is sparkly.
Its the emotional equivalent of taking e when Butcher Boy take to the stage and whilst when they start the random girls stood behind me and to te right are talking about Dallas or Dynasty, by the halfway stage I'm catching snatches of conversation which progress along the lines of "...like the Proclaimers..." but then drifts into the territory of "...that Glasgow thing..." and "... Delgados... and Sebastian" Which is maybemore accurate. but this mob on stage are sharper. They're the guys that the 'Seb and the 'Scura dance to and write songs about. They wrote the algorithm and perfected it.
Whilst Brontosaurus Chorus had me in indiepop tears, Butcher Boy are stadium heros, Los Angeles will come to a standstill when they get there.
Violin riffs for your mind and the razor sharp lilt in John's vocals. The driving rhythm that doesn't just drive, it carries along in a chocolate bowlie filled satchel.
Here, tonight we all win. How big and for real can they make it?
Cut the crap, the Franz were just a scouting party, Scottish world domination is unstoppable for a third time.
And when I look up, my drunken hyperbol is only a wee bit diminished.
Photies
here
Reviews
here
here
Saturday, 13 October 2007
Twee As Fuck: The Felt Tips, The Just Joans, Stars of Aviation - The MacBeth
Last Night From Glasgow,
Finally The Just Joans have come back to London. Early doors I hand over the CD's I've been making up for them all week and point out Thorsten Sideboard to Dave the lead singer, I'd introduce them, but other than backlinks and awkward eye contact I don't know the guy.
I'm in the chippy next door to the venue and I spy Row Plimp and Katie the backing singers. Cracking chop suey.
So people turn up, huge swaths of the London internet indie royalty, hungry for the album but I've suddenly lost Dave.
First band on are The Felt Tips who shared minibus duties with the Joanses. I'd heard them on the NQRS podcast and they're really nice but tonight they're plsaying as a three piece, acoustic, electric and bass guitars, no drums, they're on top form. Songs about relationships, not so much wholesome as my uncley advice.
We're stood right at the front, with photofolk and it sounds beautiful, gentle even. Between songs the crowd are restless. Their banter big ups the Joanses, which kinda puts them unde pressue.
The Just Joans grasp it well, the last time I saw them as documented here, they were a smaller rawer act, but now they've blossomed into a great big sexy gritty fruit. Whereby if they were a movie, Ken Loach would direct,
They have this magical ability to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. They hit the pressure point to turn my legs to jelly every time. I look around and wonder. Do you feel the same thing, do you remember the times. Oh god, I'm sorry, why did it turn out this way.
Its always been a really personal thing to me, the Just Joanses, some car journey many months ago just me at midnight playing the tape Adam gave me for the first time, somewhere on southside of Glasgow, I don't remember who. How many other people here feel the same. On the door they're actually selling copies of the Just Joans cassette tape.
The song Bellshill Station is about yer boyfriend moving away from glasfgow to London, and I've always become a pool of mush before I find out how it ends. I broke up with my Glasgow last week. Its still raw.
At the back of the room I catch a glimpse of "Helen", not her real name, its Holly, she was the girl in Glasgow's best mate, who's now just moved to London, we're all fans of the Just Joans and it good to see her. I'm surrounded by friends and relics tonight. If I wasn't made of jagged stone I'd be in tears.
But Helen's here and we're sharing memories. The Just Joan's are the perfect soundtrack as I glance around.
Katie and Row's vocals catch the room off guard, people staring at the stage enraptured, different memories, but the same emotions.
Helen's quite drunk, or seems quite drunk and the Stars of Aviation take to the stage. I've been talking them up to Helen with their singalong songs and talking in Frenchy goodness and so many instruments on stage and all the goodness. But time passes and we've had three of four drinks and the Helen is getting strangely affectionate which is so inappropriate and I'm just wanting to hide in a familiar corner and scribble about bands, invisible and epic.
Time passes and I stagger to the door to chat to Uma Thurman about album sales and where the Joanses are staying tonight, Helen wanders off and a few minutes later a girl wanders over and asks me,
"Were you here with a girl in a red dress?"
"Yeah"
"erm, she's kind of fallen over"
So I wander back in and find a small crowd of people around Helen, feeding her water and keeping her from slumpuing onto the floor.
The guy holding her head looking at me and after a few seconds asked if I was on Bowlie.
My teeth gnash and grind, I snarl a little. There's mixed bag of feeling for that internet messageboard and despite this site, the phenominal success of my nuddy art site, the record label, the video webcasts of yesteryear, the third place and Glasgow, tonight feelings run fresh and raw. How much more successful could the Just Joanses be if I could have brought them to London last year, if the fans who follow them now caught them a year earlier, and the shot in the foot was Bowlie and me being banned from there...
"yes"
Ben, recognising me from the Bowlie Alldayer 2004, as mentioned recently elsewhere.
Ben is a hero not just an alias. Whilst I am a suspect for spiking Helen's drink in their heids, he's got her student card and is tracking down an address hwe can get her to in safe hands.
I'm texting and calling the girl in Glasgow slightly too slowly. I find black hack taxis but none who'll take her in her drunken and spewing state. Ben and his friends are nursing Helen, holding her heid out of her pool of vomit. I'm making a mess of trying to get her to drink water, they find a way to a minicab place.
They keep her company in a taxi safely home. I'm staggering the streets about 3 hours away from where I stay, wondering what happened to the night that started so well, why night's like this always turn out badly and who I ought to be apologising to.
Finally The Just Joans have come back to London. Early doors I hand over the CD's I've been making up for them all week and point out Thorsten Sideboard to Dave the lead singer, I'd introduce them, but other than backlinks and awkward eye contact I don't know the guy.
I'm in the chippy next door to the venue and I spy Row Plimp and Katie the backing singers. Cracking chop suey.
So people turn up, huge swaths of the London internet indie royalty, hungry for the album but I've suddenly lost Dave.
First band on are The Felt Tips who shared minibus duties with the Joanses. I'd heard them on the NQRS podcast and they're really nice but tonight they're plsaying as a three piece, acoustic, electric and bass guitars, no drums, they're on top form. Songs about relationships, not so much wholesome as my uncley advice.
We're stood right at the front, with photofolk and it sounds beautiful, gentle even. Between songs the crowd are restless. Their banter big ups the Joanses, which kinda puts them unde pressue.
The Just Joans grasp it well, the last time I saw them as documented here, they were a smaller rawer act, but now they've blossomed into a great big sexy gritty fruit. Whereby if they were a movie, Ken Loach would direct,
They have this magical ability to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. They hit the pressure point to turn my legs to jelly every time. I look around and wonder. Do you feel the same thing, do you remember the times. Oh god, I'm sorry, why did it turn out this way.
Its always been a really personal thing to me, the Just Joanses, some car journey many months ago just me at midnight playing the tape Adam gave me for the first time, somewhere on southside of Glasgow, I don't remember who. How many other people here feel the same. On the door they're actually selling copies of the Just Joans cassette tape.
The song Bellshill Station is about yer boyfriend moving away from glasfgow to London, and I've always become a pool of mush before I find out how it ends. I broke up with my Glasgow last week. Its still raw.
At the back of the room I catch a glimpse of "Helen", not her real name, its Holly, she was the girl in Glasgow's best mate, who's now just moved to London, we're all fans of the Just Joans and it good to see her. I'm surrounded by friends and relics tonight. If I wasn't made of jagged stone I'd be in tears.
But Helen's here and we're sharing memories. The Just Joan's are the perfect soundtrack as I glance around.
Katie and Row's vocals catch the room off guard, people staring at the stage enraptured, different memories, but the same emotions.
Helen's quite drunk, or seems quite drunk and the Stars of Aviation take to the stage. I've been talking them up to Helen with their singalong songs and talking in Frenchy goodness and so many instruments on stage and all the goodness. But time passes and we've had three of four drinks and the Helen is getting strangely affectionate which is so inappropriate and I'm just wanting to hide in a familiar corner and scribble about bands, invisible and epic.
Time passes and I stagger to the door to chat to Uma Thurman about album sales and where the Joanses are staying tonight, Helen wanders off and a few minutes later a girl wanders over and asks me,
"Were you here with a girl in a red dress?"
"Yeah"
"erm, she's kind of fallen over"
So I wander back in and find a small crowd of people around Helen, feeding her water and keeping her from slumpuing onto the floor.
The guy holding her head looking at me and after a few seconds asked if I was on Bowlie.
My teeth gnash and grind, I snarl a little. There's mixed bag of feeling for that internet messageboard and despite this site, the phenominal success of my nuddy art site, the record label, the video webcasts of yesteryear, the third place and Glasgow, tonight feelings run fresh and raw. How much more successful could the Just Joanses be if I could have brought them to London last year, if the fans who follow them now caught them a year earlier, and the shot in the foot was Bowlie and me being banned from there...
"yes"
Ben, recognising me from the Bowlie Alldayer 2004, as mentioned recently elsewhere.
Ben is a hero not just an alias. Whilst I am a suspect for spiking Helen's drink in their heids, he's got her student card and is tracking down an address hwe can get her to in safe hands.
I'm texting and calling the girl in Glasgow slightly too slowly. I find black hack taxis but none who'll take her in her drunken and spewing state. Ben and his friends are nursing Helen, holding her heid out of her pool of vomit. I'm making a mess of trying to get her to drink water, they find a way to a minicab place.
They keep her company in a taxi safely home. I'm staggering the streets about 3 hours away from where I stay, wondering what happened to the night that started so well, why night's like this always turn out badly and who I ought to be apologising to.
Thursday, 11 October 2007
Uptight Presents: The Stan Sermons, Electrophonvintage, Joe Gideon and the Shark - The Albany
Again, on all the flyers and posters and spam it said doors 7pm, so I arrived at 8pm and it looks very much like they're still sound checking, I could be wrong. Anyhoo, I'm Hank Marvin' so I head across the way to Cafe Meze for a lamb cheeseburger and swift Efes.
Service is a little slow, and the vibe of the ever present traffic outside is oppressive.
In a shameless attempt to draw more traffic to the site, I'm going to give the bands overwealmingly positive reviews, so they'll quote and back link me.
It occurred to me that one of the things that sets this site apart from other Indiepop blogs is that here we also give coverage to bands I don't like, gigs I thought were crap.
I'd been dreaming of chips all day and when they came they hit the mark, the cheese on the cheeseburger was suspiciously runny.
Down in The Albany's Lowdown, down tiny steps, its almost too dark to write. Folk off of the internet sat to the back, I lurk nearby.
I've missed a good half of the first guy's set, but what I caught was the very best seated troubadour playing steel string serious acoustic vaguely blues that I've ever heard. Image-wise he seemed to be taking cues from gods of the mid-90's baggy scene Liam and Tim. The guy was faultless.
If this were Glasgow, Tom Snowball would have signed him up in seconds and the Tchai Ovna would be packed.
Internet folk move to the front to catch the next act, so I steal a seat near a candle in exchange for eye-contact and a wave.
A french mob on stage, I see a melodica. Technical problems, but they have amusingly accented banter... "I do habe one jock, it is not very funny, I am saving it for later..."
When they start I melt under the wee snippets of lush pop perfection, like bite-sized Hidden Cameras you could fit in your pocket, almost every song clocking in under a minute.
Bloke singing like a Gallic version of Simon Love. Melodica girl did vocal duties on a couple of the songs which was a bit refreshing.
Next up are Joe Gideon and the Shark, the girl looks affy familiar, behind her drum kit with a keyboard and possibly some kind of sampler, bloke on guitar.
Cool song titles "Johan was a painter and an arsonist" and "Anything you love that much you'll see again". Deep rolling blues, maybe swamp blues over delta, good stomping music to begin with.
My chums off of the internet left, but they're missing a treat. Its a bit of a mixed bag, a potato sack of broken glass.
The drumming keyboard sampler girl plays like a cartoon precision engineer, mybe about 38% art schooly too.
Not that it'd work in real life, but imagine if you put The Fall, Death in Vegas and Ball Boy in yer potato sack of broken glass and pureeed it and you'd be there then.
A bunch of hipster kids turn up, blocking my view along with the tie-less office workers so I leave before the headline act, somewhat satisfied by the evening.
Service is a little slow, and the vibe of the ever present traffic outside is oppressive.
In a shameless attempt to draw more traffic to the site, I'm going to give the bands overwealmingly positive reviews, so they'll quote and back link me.
It occurred to me that one of the things that sets this site apart from other Indiepop blogs is that here we also give coverage to bands I don't like, gigs I thought were crap.
I'd been dreaming of chips all day and when they came they hit the mark, the cheese on the cheeseburger was suspiciously runny.
Down in The Albany's Lowdown, down tiny steps, its almost too dark to write. Folk off of the internet sat to the back, I lurk nearby.
I've missed a good half of the first guy's set, but what I caught was the very best seated troubadour playing steel string serious acoustic vaguely blues that I've ever heard. Image-wise he seemed to be taking cues from gods of the mid-90's baggy scene Liam and Tim. The guy was faultless.
If this were Glasgow, Tom Snowball would have signed him up in seconds and the Tchai Ovna would be packed.
Internet folk move to the front to catch the next act, so I steal a seat near a candle in exchange for eye-contact and a wave.
A french mob on stage, I see a melodica. Technical problems, but they have amusingly accented banter... "I do habe one jock, it is not very funny, I am saving it for later..."
When they start I melt under the wee snippets of lush pop perfection, like bite-sized Hidden Cameras you could fit in your pocket, almost every song clocking in under a minute.
Bloke singing like a Gallic version of Simon Love. Melodica girl did vocal duties on a couple of the songs which was a bit refreshing.
Next up are Joe Gideon and the Shark, the girl looks affy familiar, behind her drum kit with a keyboard and possibly some kind of sampler, bloke on guitar.
Cool song titles "Johan was a painter and an arsonist" and "Anything you love that much you'll see again". Deep rolling blues, maybe swamp blues over delta, good stomping music to begin with.
My chums off of the internet left, but they're missing a treat. Its a bit of a mixed bag, a potato sack of broken glass.
The drumming keyboard sampler girl plays like a cartoon precision engineer, mybe about 38% art schooly too.
Not that it'd work in real life, but imagine if you put The Fall, Death in Vegas and Ball Boy in yer potato sack of broken glass and pureeed it and you'd be there then.
A bunch of hipster kids turn up, blocking my view along with the tie-less office workers so I leave before the headline act, somewhat satisfied by the evening.
Monday, 8 October 2007
Bowl and Sebastian 2 - Bloomsbury Bowling Lanes
Its 9pm when I arrive, direct from Alan Wolfknuckle's wedding and seeing missus for the last time in Glasgow.
The place is packed and on stage are The School doing "Get me away from here I'm dying", mostly drowned out by punters singing along. It'd be nice to hear these tunes with an extra thick honey glaze, drenched in far more melodica and glokenspiel than uncle Stu ever imagined, but its too noisy in here.
Colouring competition results are announced, if only I'd been here a few hours earlier, ooh, one day I'll slay the competition alive.
The final act of the night, the Pop Art All Stars with a selection of guest vocalists. They start with a tribute to Emo Dave artist in attendance "Get me away from here, I'm Diane". They manage to introduce a surprising Oasis vibe to it and somehow take out any musicallity, leaving it a bit mechanical sounding.
Ooh, Jona's here playing bass, I thought it sounded familiar.
Painful version of The Model next, the mob on stage are having a great time, Jona rocking out like a pro, but the song comes across mangled. There's a line in there about Bowlie kids which could have been poignant, but it got buried. What happened?
So it continues, culmonating in tonight's main event, Saint Monica Queen rather sportingly providing vocals on Lazy Line Painter Jane, along with a gentleman called Solo (back combed wig, white face, mascara) singing in the vein of Elvis.
She hits it, but he mangles some of the lines. There's awkwardness on stage. I feel the same as if I'd seen Wanda Dee and the Real KLF in Australia without Bill and Jimi.
I dunno, lots of fun was had but it was more karaoke than cover, the number of people singing with lyric sheets only emphasising this.
Reviews
here
Photies
here
The place is packed and on stage are The School doing "Get me away from here I'm dying", mostly drowned out by punters singing along. It'd be nice to hear these tunes with an extra thick honey glaze, drenched in far more melodica and glokenspiel than uncle Stu ever imagined, but its too noisy in here.
Colouring competition results are announced, if only I'd been here a few hours earlier, ooh, one day I'll slay the competition alive.
The final act of the night, the Pop Art All Stars with a selection of guest vocalists. They start with a tribute to Emo Dave artist in attendance "Get me away from here, I'm Diane". They manage to introduce a surprising Oasis vibe to it and somehow take out any musicallity, leaving it a bit mechanical sounding.
Ooh, Jona's here playing bass, I thought it sounded familiar.
Painful version of The Model next, the mob on stage are having a great time, Jona rocking out like a pro, but the song comes across mangled. There's a line in there about Bowlie kids which could have been poignant, but it got buried. What happened?
So it continues, culmonating in tonight's main event, Saint Monica Queen rather sportingly providing vocals on Lazy Line Painter Jane, along with a gentleman called Solo (back combed wig, white face, mascara) singing in the vein of Elvis.
She hits it, but he mangles some of the lines. There's awkwardness on stage. I feel the same as if I'd seen Wanda Dee and the Real KLF in Australia without Bill and Jimi.
I dunno, lots of fun was had but it was more karaoke than cover, the number of people singing with lyric sheets only emphasising this.
Reviews
here
Photies
here
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