“Cum on feel the noize”, so sang Slade’s Noddy Holder back in the day...quite what he’d make of tonight’s ‘noize’ I wouldn’t like to say...I imagine the words ‘what’, ‘the’, ‘fook’ , ‘was’ and ‘that?’ might be involved somewhere. Yes, tonight was the sonic equivalent of GBH, a glorious three hour assault on the senses that left all concerned just that little bit deafer...
First up ‘disco punk spazzcore’ from local escaped lunatics DIAMONDS. Fusing...well I say fusing...battering together is probably a better term for it...punk, post punk, metal and krautrock into something as hard as their name suggests it was an explosive set, with odd interludes of guitar noodling that only served to intensify the loud bits. “This is a song about Naomi Campbell’s trial at the Hague” explained the drummer before they launched into powerful kick in the guts that the aforementioned ‘model’ well and truly deserves. DIAMONDS ain’t this girls best friend. Kudos to the lead singer for continually ripping the piss out of his band mates too...some nice dissing there dude.
For Eyes were up next. Billed as ‘post hardcore’ (hey, if nothing else this review’s giving you some cool genres to name drop the next time someone asks you what kind of music you like) they’re surprisingly melodic in places. In fact you could almost sing along to a couple of tracks...oh alright then...scream along. As with all the bands tonight the lead singer spent most of his time in the crowd eyeballing us slightly menacingly whilst going seven shades of mental. I think one of the tracks had the word ‘ocular’ in the title (that would make sense I guess) but what do titles matter eh? What am I...a frickin’ train spotter? Al I know is it rocked...stuttering post hardcore rhythms soundtracking a primal scream therapy session. The set ended with the singer lying on the floor and a couple of the audience body slamming into him. WWF had nothing on this. Smackdown.
Pausing just to check whether I had any hearing left in my left ear (nope) The Computers gone done brung us some dirty, primal rock n’blues, the likes of which we’ve not heard since someone pulled a rocket from a crypt. They’re a classy act this lot. All dressed in white (that’s a brave choice on tour eh?) they kicked the set off with their signature tune ‘Teenage Tourettes Camp’, a heads down, 100mph rocker and the pace never slackened. Their blend of blues, rock and punk is as intoxicating as a bottle of Jack and just as likely to see you waking up with a big dumb grin on your face and your head pounding like a jackhammer. It came as no surprise to hear that they’ve just recorded their album with RFTC’s John ‘Speed’ Reis and, having seen the Crypt in their prime, The Computers are doing their spiritual godfathers proud. Screamin’ Al works the floor like a pro, even ending up playing BEHIND the bar for a while... two pints of lager and packet of riffs anyone...man and Rickenbacker in perfect harmony whilst the rest of the band rock up a storm. Plug yourself in, download everything they’ve ever done and turn it up LOUD you muthas.
Finally...the band your parents warned you about, a group whose music has the power to turn milk sour and fertilise virgins...it’s Gay For Johnny Depp. Imagine if you had a throat lined with sandpaper and shards of broken bottles. Now imagine that you’d just discovered your boyfriend/girlfriend in bed with the local netball/football team (delete as applicable...). Now imagine you’d just stubbed you toe on something hard. And then stepped on a piece of lego...and banged your head on a shelf. The kind of noise you’d probably make is pretty much what ‘Gay For Johnny Depp’ sound like. So this is screamcore you’ll think as bits of your frontal lobe ooze out of your ears. It’s a joyously HOMO-TT performance with lead singer Marty risking life and limb in the low ceilinged Flapper by getting us to carry him aloft as he does his best to bring up a lung or two. It’s not just a non-stop screamathon though. Oh no. There’s some serious debates too. Everything from how hot guitarist Sid’s mum is through to the pleasures and pains of getting a finger up the ass. Kudos to Sid for wearing an rather natty thrift store suit throughout the entire set by the way. He showed me a pair of ticket stubs from the opera dating from 1980 that he’d found in one of the pockets. Boy...has that suit lived eh? Unbelievably they managed to shoehorn in a brief cover of the Robbie Williams classic ‘Angels’ and an impromptu burst of Depeche Mode’s ‘People Are People’ before ending the carnage with...oh the serendipity...Slade’s ‘Cum On Feel The Noize’, retooled (so to speak) as ‘Cum On Feel The Boize’. Slade? We had been. I need a lie down...
No comments:
Post a Comment