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.

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Stars Of Aviation, With The Owls, Pocketbooks, Pete Green, Maia Hirasawa - Buffalo Bar

The reason given for me being at this gig tonight is "I was just passing and it looked interesting," followed by "oh, I'm not staying," and if pushed, some quote from xkcd about having adventures for the sake of it rather than same old same old.

Drive 400 miles for some gig, some bands I've never heard of? you bet.

This adventure in London is less alcohol fuelled than the last time and more measured. I'm on my way to Liverpool see, for Saturady night's Plimptons gig, part of the International Pop Overthrow Festival.

And that, your honour, is why I'm standing in a quiet corner of the bar in the Buffalo Bar in Highbury for something to do with Fortuna Pop.

Crikey, as the place fills up there's a chap here who looks just like MJ Hibbett, truly there's no escape from LNFG. Seconds after being spotted he come over and says hello, jolly nice chap. Hmm, more people saying hi, this is awkward, taking about twenty seconds too long to recognise people off of the internet in real life.

First on stage is a troubador called Pete Green, was the guy in Fleetwood Mac also the same name? Its not the same chap. Rather jolly songs, Similar to Hibbett I reckon, but seen through a different looking glass. Songs like "I haven't got a MySpace, cos MySpace fucking sucks" and "Share your kit" about snotty hipster bands with all the gear and no idea. Jolly stuff.

Pocketbooks are on next, oop, the guitarist noodles the lead line from Fleetwood Mac's The Chain, Maybe it was that Pete Green. Please imagine I came up with a snide comment about the band. They were really good, a fourpiece, two keyboards, glokenspiel, guiatar, drums, bass, instrument swapping. Belle and Seb-esque boy/girl harmonies, really tight drumming, almost drum machine-ish. The girl had the neatest bob hair I've seen since Bis.

An acquaintance, Paul points out people in the crowd, someone from the Duloks, Maia from Hello Saferide, various promoters I ought to know and folk from Amelia Fletcher bands, she ought to do something about bank charges.

The first two acts were promoting new singles released on Atomic Beat Records, Paul bought them on seven inch and seemed jolly impressed.

On stage next are a dapper two piece, called The Owls, swapping guitar and bass between each other.

A wee bit dour, and rather jarring dischordant guitar.

When the Pocketbooks were on the crowd seemed restless between songs, but with the owls they did even get that courtesy.

A girl walks by who bares a striking resemblance to Natasha Smith from school, or more honestly, Uma Thurman from Pulp Fiction.

So, looking at posters advertising other gigs here... bands I've never heard of sponsored by corporate entities such as Diesel, LaCoste and Cafe2U. Crikey.

Aw man, now there's hundreds of people on stage. The Stars of Aviation, sound like Aberfeldy, all of them seemed to be armed with egg-shakers and I'm convincedt the singing chap is called Eliot, but Paul assures me he simply cannot be, much like the end of American Psycho.

They spent a good ten minutes trying to get the audience to sing along to some song in French, that wasn't singing, that was just a load of drunk peopleshouting.

"A bit too... something" says Paul, maybe too twee indie. Some of the songs were nice and jaunty, but well, others were slow and sleepy and too easy listening.

Oop, as a secret bonus, that Maia girl, from Sweden, is going to play a set with her band and I snap my own photies. I love her dimples and her theatricalness and enthusiasm and the pleading in her voice with these really personal sounding songs about friends and MySpace. And the way she stomps, rocks and reels.

There's to be DJs and music and dancing, so I leave.

An hour later, I feel regret, after the bands I could have chatted merrily from people from way back when, firming up viewer/creator relationships, offering my services as nationwide music distributor and Ivan Lendil Music head honcho. Shit, just engaging would do. Instead I bungled a hug and noddled farewell awkwardly before barging and my way out in terror.

400 miles, I have complete control over my actions, its my feelings that require more work.

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Mutley, The Kimberly Steak, Murder Burger, The Deep Fried Wolfknuckles - 13th Note

I am the guitarist for the Deep Fried Wolfknuckles and we're headlining tonight. Friends of friends from Larkhall have arranged the gig, I think they could be the first and third bands on. It could be the first time they're put on a gig here, fresh and excited, unjaundiced by the cold reality of 13th Note giggery.

Ooh, straight into hard and fast shouty rocking. As the Germans might say "Your hard rock rhythms and devilish guitar playing sets my soul on fire". I only wish there were more than four paying punters here to appreciate it. Some of the tightest drumming I've seen in a while but these kids are still in their teens, how can it be?

Cos!

They neatly manage to maintain the momentum all through the set and countless blistering guitar solos, but I'm a bit concerned the singer chap's going to do his voice in before long.

The Kimberly Steaks, second band on stage, just the two of them, thanking god that this will be their last ever acoustic set. I wouldn't be so sure, it seems like they're trying so hard to be Green Day's "Time of Your Life" even down to the accents.

The talking bits in songs would be so much better if the audience could actually hear the words. Its hard not to mention it again, but we're down to about three paying punters by this point. Its maybe worth abandoning convention and just having fun jamming rather than putting on the originally planned show.

I wonder what's on at the Carling Academy tonight.

Alan say "It was all right, but not in the Smokey Robinson sense of 'all right'"

Third band, same drummer as the first band. The deepest, fuzziest guitar I've heard for a while, by the name of Murder Burger. Aw, the cutest thing, they have matching t-shirts, black with white skull and crossbones.

Hmm, they sound a little too similar to the first band. More animated maybe, the singer/guitarist writhes with his guitar more than the guy from the first band and somehow manages to hold his plectrum through the fabric of his sleevey sleeve.

I'm not 100% sure what it was, but halfway through the set, after fixing a broken guitar string, the sound went crap. Either the bass or a guitar turned into a long drawn out shapeless boom and onstage they didn't care. The singer's guitar turned into the audio equivalent of tin foil but soon got buried under the boom.

Aw man, bring on the Wolfknuckles.

I'm biased maybe, but we were seemlessly professional, hardly cocked up any songs and rocked out a fat one.

Alas the other bands had fucked off upstairs so we were playing to three people, not including Iain the sound guy and the barmaid who kindly agreed to wear one of our Wolfknuckle masks.

Three people.

Three.

The other bands and their entourage made it back downstairs in time to catch our last song.

Fuck that shit.

Magnetic Fields Tribute Night - MacSorleys

I play guitar for the Deep Fried Wolfknuckles.

It was noon when the first messages started coming through from folk who couldn't make it to the gig, Holly washing her hair, Steff having drinks with Lisa Marie.

Kinda soul-crushing that the audience was dropping away before we hit the stage or even arrived at the venue.

Shortly before the show I was checking out a friend's photography exhibition, nice style and narative to the shots, but after saving her bacon and cooking her chicken countless times, she too has a prior engagement and is also shunning the show.

Luckily Stacy and Richard from Sounds of Sweden are here, I am not alone.

For years I remember this place being an old man's pub with the occasional pub rock bands, but its under new management and the band booker chap, Teamie, is a guy I worked with on the university newspaper years ago.

The Deep Fried Wolfknuckles play garage rock, or "ol' time rockabilly like yer pappy used to play" as we once decided. Not quite what you'd expect at a twee-lord indie-pop tribute night, but hey ho.

Drumkit resourcing isses meant that it was acoustic acts on first. JC on stage, acoustic guitar. Unshaven, he mis-starts, changes mics and fires off again, kind of warm, tentative but confident. I don't recognise the song.

Time passes, the next band up, I don't catch the name, but they kind of look familiar, the cute girl in a red dress, the cello player, the wee baldy bloke from countless other bands, he sings. Alan Wolfknuckles is livid cos they're doing 'Underwear', which we'd bagsied. For six people on stage, it was pretty stripped down, they too lacked drums. From where I'm sat down, it sounds a bit bass heavy. The girl vocals would sound great if I were sat elsewhere.

Lizzie Piper from uni is here.

Older and Faraway, sound nicer than the last mob and Mark's half-forgotten some of the lines adds a refreshing delicacy to the set. Actually the girls sure could holler, flawlessly too, compared with the lads. Marie on drums reminiscent of Dolly Parton's vocals.

So, of course the Deep Fried Wolfknuckles were great, hardly cocking up any of the chords. An emergency lyric change with 'Underwear', now in French, saved the day. Followed by a rather wholesom version of 'Punk Love', about three times the length of the original. We then duly punked up for a hi-speed 'Busby Berkley Dreams' and a slightly mellow 'Chicken with its head cut off'.

Our crowning moment was finishing on '100,000 Fireflies'. Power chord rocking out and Alan's hollering his heid off. Teamie had told us to stretch things out so Alan allowed me to indulge my guitar solo fantasies. Going through the Kinks's 'All Day and All Night' solo twice and extensive noodling. The change to the outro was a bit rough and during the chord cycles my zorro mask slipped and I missed a few 'B's adjusting it. So the rest of the band finished, one by one retiring to the bar and I kept on ploughing on. At some point I'd pinged the skin off my right index finger, blood was spraying from an small artery, but still I pounded on.

How much more could I rock on?

That much.

Some said "Rather excellent, actually surprising"

The mighty Dot to Dot followed, going under the alias of The Meritocracy as they played minus Wee Patrick and with 'Nick' doing vocals.

Compared to the Deep Fried Wolfknuckles, they were the second or third best band of the night. Nick's Morrissey-esque mincing kind of grated and the vocals sounded a little too much like "lads down the pub"

Aw man, I gotta do a runner, The Plimptons at Club NME across the Road.


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