A jaunt to the Hairy Hounds once more to see a band I’ve read about but never actually listened to, partly ‘cos I’m a bit slack like but mainly ‘cos whenever I go onto/into MyBook, YourFace or SpaceTube I inevitably get distracted by some Albanian Gangster Rap, videos of exploding goldfish or messages from people I’ve never met offering to enhance the length of my manhood for just $68 a month. For $68 a month I’d want my manhood to do all the housework, rustle up a nice bit of tea and sing me to sleep too. Why can’t science be more useful eh?
Anyhow, casting aside thoughts of singing members, tonight’s bill looked strong enough to get my left leg twitching (it does that a lot you know…it’s what passes for dancing in my eyes). First up were local boys Black Market Empire who kicked off proceedings with another fine Weller / Cast / La’s / OCS infused set. There’s an infectious jauntiness about this band that’s instantly likeable and each time I see them (I think this was the third or fourth time this year) I’m never disappointed. No ‘Get Up, Get Down’ tonight (often one of the band’s set highlights) but tonight ‘The Letter’ and ‘The Tony Allen Dance’ (it is called that isn’t it?) came off really well and, despite opening for two much ‘heavier’ bands, they got a great reception from the crowd too. Bonus points for a nice bit of banter with one of the audience who took the piss when the lead singer stuttered over one of the song titles “Thanks for coming Damo…you c***”. That seemed to do the trick…
Next up Scotland’s Sucioperro (all wearing a distinctive ‘uniform’ of black trousers, white shirts and black armband with a red cross on it) who played a set full of meaty drum driven rock with a good chunk of (fellow Scot’s rockers) Biffy Clyro in the mix. That’s probably not a surprise as lead singer JP Reid is also in (the frankly terrifying) Maramduke Duke with Biffy’s Simon Neil. The set, mainly consisting of tracks from new EP The Dissident Code (out now), cracked along at a rollicking pace and featured plenty of thrashing about and ‘foot on the amp’ rock god poses. The funereal ‘No. 273’ and slower ‘Conception Territory’ took the pace down a notch or two, but we were soon back with the thrashy stuff thanks to a blistering ‘Mums’ Bad Punk Music’. “Believe in your dreams and tell the ones you love that you love them” implored singer JP Reid just before their closing number ‘Don’t Change (What You Can’t Understand). Coming from the mouth of some people that would sound a little sickly, but at the end of a bruising set, and delivered in that slightly menacing Scottish accent, I found it rather touching. Proof that heavy rock has a heart…albeit a slightly twisted, blackened one. Finally, Nine Black
Finally, Nine Black
PS: Noticed a nice blog post on the Nine Black Alps MySpace page slagging off the NME (who, rather unfairly I’d say, gave the band’s new album 3 out of 10). As a reader of NME back in the 80’s and 90’s the magazine’s decline is pretty sad but, I guess, inevitable. The pace of change in the poppier, more mainstream sector of the music biz is so rapid that a printed format just doesn’t stand a chance, which is probably why the NME is now stuffed full of glossy posters and desperate attempts to latch on to any new act that might pull in the punters. As a well established (three albums under their belt so far) straightforward rock outfit, without a hint of the electro sparkle or garage-lite that’s so hot right now NBA would seem to be the complete opposite of what NME’s after. A shame, but I can’t be alone in wishing the NME a speedy end before its dignity and reputation is sullied even further.
PPS: Both ShakeyPix and Wayne (snappers to the stars) were there last night so, for proper pictures, click on the links under Da Snappers.