Ally Kerr, Chris Leonard, Tom Snowball, Francis MacDonald - Cottiers

I miss the smell of smoke. Pubs, beer and smoke, it reminds me of being young.

I'm an hour late and nothing's started yet. Miles Davis jazz playing and the place is bustling more than last week, no comfortable standing room. I might be relegated to standing awkwardly close to a middle-aged couple, having a quiet Sunday evening drink.

Gah, even worse, its two middle aged couple. I am become Elexender Brown.

Time passes.

Near the front Ally Kerr and Chris Leonard look poised to pick up their guitars. Other awkward standing folk at the back, less awkward, but in couples, no one as alone as I.

A dreamy set, stalked by the spectre of mic feedback and almost drowned out by apathetic audience conversations. It sounded like a hand reaching out in the dark.

I wish I could bring a girl to shows like this, we'd drink wine and talk over the music.

Tom Snowball, his greatest song is "Credit Debonairs", the line about "Computers count our friends", his songs have the greatest lyrics. He wins over the crowd, but its a hard fought battle withquite a few casualties, but they stop talking when he sings.

He manages to plug the Littlest Album, without ever saying its name, which considering the past few days is somewhat a relief.

I've heard some of the songs before, recorded them even, but tonight he seems to slow everything down, mid-song, drawing out choruses, leaving people craning on the edges of their seats expectantly. Seemed a more forthright performance than last night.

He looks quite young does Francis MacDonald, considering Teeneage Fanclub and BMX Bandits legacy. Oop, vocals are a touch too loud to start off with, they're making the bench I'm sitting on resonate up my arse.

I'm a bit underwelmed to be honest, there's something missing, like the script says winsom, but the heart beats for something else.

Frequent words forgetting isn't helping to win me over.

Four or five songs in, and he's more comfortable in his skin, like he, his guitar, the words and the audience are on the same level. The singing becomes a closer match to way back when.

Telemachus, Nathan Persad, Tom Snowball, Joe Kane, Murnie - 13th Note

Its a dark, cold and foggy night out, and inside its warm, low key and friendly. Uncle Brendan is somewhere at the back fiddling with sound levels, and the cute new barmaid is serving with a smile.

On stage, the first act, playing guitar with an array of effects pedles and drum + bass machine backing is the cartoonist known as Rob Miller, tonight known as Telemachus. He bares a striking resemblance to the comic book character Elexender Brown. This gig looks like one of his strips, achingly honest, like we can see inside his head, looking out his eyes. When he played the Tchai Ovna a few months back I wasn't convinced, but tonight the man is an artist, every nuance, every reverb and guitar jangle, the slow pace and epic tones, carefully crafted, even the slightly too quiet vocals, supposed to be that way. He seems far away, but the music is so loud, and vaguely dischordant.

The set ends unexpectedly, jarring even, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Nathan Persad is if MJ Hibbett discovered boogie, songs about lifestyle changes cos of new girlfriends, dedicated to Maggie Broon, songs co-written with Adam Plimpton.

Do I mention him in every review? Quite possibly, I ought to cut down on that. But not tonight, he's curated and arranged all this and the Littlest Album 3. Why does he do it? Why do I do it? Banging my head against the cell door like I'm Leland Palmer or something. Why can't I stop? What am I expecting from Glasgow Indie Eyespy, Last Night from Glasgow, manc_ill_kid, The Plimptons, Ivan Lendil Music, The Wolfknuckles, Shag Times, One Big Snog, SchaudenFreude, Somewhere in The Sun, any of this? The futile hope that some girl from far away will look up and remember and pick up the phone, all forgiven? Wouldn't it be easier to pick up the phone or ring the doorbell myself, rather than spraying this across the nation, half-hearted wank if anything. Maybe that's why she's so far away, and I'm left here dreaming of things that never were, aren't and never will be. This will never work out, I'll always be feeling my way through a fog of choking emotions and deluded beliefs. I am Francesco Petrarca with a 407 mile long conveyor belt of Lauras. Under the sunshine can't I just tell her the way I feel? or would that shatter everything?

And why's it always dead sheep?

The room's slowly filling up, forty paying customers at the 1 hour point.

Someone near the bar says (about Nathan) "This sounds like Johnathan Richman"

Looking at the expression on Adam's face, its clear how wrong I am about his motives. Sheer, unadulterated glee.

Nathan's enjoying himself, pwning hecklers, he's a natural entertainer, given the opportunity to entertain and spread a little happiness.

Time passes

I doubt anyone could sound warmer or fuzzier than Tom Snowball and if I were a girl about whom he'd written a song, my heart would melt. Elements of Americana on the vocals I guess, on reflection sounds like a stripped down Decemberists, deep resonance from the guitar, audience talking loudly.

Time passes

Once again, its Only Joe Kane, onstage alone with backing mp3s, so its like a whole band. The audience, pre-programmed, holler after each song.

The only act tonight playing with a full band are Murnie, drums, keyboards and guitar. Sounding rather rock tonight, a lilting Dire Straits.

They have an old school music stand for lyrics and sweet noodly keyboards which doesn't quite gel with the harsh guitar.

Nathan Persad, The Pendulums - Tchai Ovna

Nathan Persad reminds me of Julian Cope. Whilst last night the between song banter was merely nice, this takes it to a higher level of wholesomness.

Guitar with enthusiasm. A bit merseybeat. Ooh, Spinal Tap are reforming for the Live Earth gigs, the week after the Princess Di memorial show.

Adam say "Yes"

Pendulums - 5 people, 20 instruments

Adam is here, and Tom Snowball and Davy Just Joans and several cute girls standing at the back, in fact, this place is more packed than I've seen it in ages.

New agey and songs about gnomes. Maybe too sickly sweet. Chord sequences named after the hobbs on an oven, songs about breaking someone's teapot by accident, featuring contact details and phone number sung in verse.

I think it was their double-bass player's grandfather who invented the glass milk bottle. I've never really liked The Pendulums, they seem too, hippyish, but well, people are really into them, I've seen them play gigs where there are loads of people dancing, really dancing, even though it was 1974 the last time they tickled the top forty.

Of course, tonight's kind of in aid of The Littlest Album 3, a 7" record with 12 one minute long songs by twelve bands, curated by Alex Thee Moths, even though it looks like Adam's doing all the leg work.

There ought to be more shows across the rest of the UK, it seems unfair that Glasgow benefits so much from such a great gathering of musos.

I did only catch the last two songs of Nathan's set, he's playing the next night at the 13th Note, so I can catch up then.

Other reviews
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Unknown Forces, The Plimptons, Les Enfant Bastard, The Just Joans, Catface - The Captain's Rest

Walked straight past the Captain's Rest, seeking out a free cash machine, the one outside the Shell/Sainsburys was nearest, but even then one of the buttons was broken, and we all got a free recipt.

Meanwhile at the venue, Adam's fretting. The downside of having half a dozen bands playing in a venue this size is that there's not quite enough room for paying customers, like myself. More significantly, this is the launch night for The Littlest Album 3. Twelve songs, under a minute long, by twelve bands, all on one 7" vinyl record, still at the pressing plant about 400 miles away.

It starts.

What is this glitchy noodly pish? Some quiet looking chap sat with his guitar plugged into a laptop. Hmm, I recognise this 200Hz sine wave, and despite the chap's enthusiastic smiling, its still pish. He did apologise to the audience, mind.

Bah, who am I trying to kid? I was listening to The KLF's seminal 1990 ambiant album, Chill Out earlier today and it sounds very much like this chap is just doing his own live remix. Live!! On Stage!!! For One Night Only!!

Plimptons slowly make their way to the stage, in dribs and drabs, painfully slowly, but the rest of the audience don't mind, it just lowers the bar I guess.

They start with Ocean Colour Ressurrection, a 90's/60's Britpop pastiche, tonight possibly missing several instruments and microphones due to them not being plugged in. This is why bands usually have soundchecks.

"I quite enjoyed it, I found it an exhilarating experience"
I dream that not just one day, Adam will remember to hold his microphone to his mouth when his singles and actually verbalise every line, but will do it every single time he's on stage.

"Aw, don't ask me man, I've seen the 10 times this year"

Playing Impulse Records, their Pulp-ish song at 3 time normal speed could have been a stroke of genius.

"It was good... brief..."

Les Enfant Bastards, a three piece tonight with Rowan Plimpton on drums, a cello and male singer with guitar and harmonica. Sounded like a male Joanan Newsom, maybe even like like Hefner, one of the band's top influences.

"I quite enjoyed it, found it an exhilarating experience.

Next up were the Just Joans, the audeince are drunk, and not so much restless, but they've been there for ages, and you know, things and stuff. Rowan's back on stage, playing drunks for the third band of the night and the fourth band of the past twenty four hours, (Tibi Lubin last night apparently).

Shame the crowd were talking loudly all through, these things happen, its a risk you take playing gentle quiet music about Motherwell.

"Do you think the Just Joans were putting on an accent?"

Row's drumming seemed to... slow it down a little, or maybe, it just punctuated the song, in a funny way.

Holly and her crew arrived in time to catch The Just Joans's final song.

A bit of a tragedy unfolds as the final act of the evening, Alex Botten, of Thee Moths, Catface, Lipsick! and other, plays just a one minute set, a rendition of his track on the Littlest Album.

Adam assures me the records should be available at the next album launch night, next weekend at the 13th Note. I hope so.

Reviews
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