Oh. (Russ L going to and fro in the Earth)

Just for fun (and reduced to the level of pointlessness by lack of analysis), here are my predictions for Cage Rage this coming Saturday. Note that these aren’t necessarily the results I’d like to see and that I’m not knocking anyone, just saying what I think will probably happen. It’s sad that such a disclaimer is needed, but such is life and such is the ubiquity of the near-meaningless term ‘hater.’

Mark Epstein vs Ian Freeman - Freeman, sub, R2
Murilo Rua vs Mark Weir - Rua, decision
Kimo Lepaldo vs Dave Legano - Kimo, TKO, R1
Buzz Berry vs Robert Broughton - Broughton, decision
Abdul Mohammed vs Vitor Ribeiro - Ribeiro, sub, R2
Tony Fryklund vs Alex Reid - Fryklund, decision
Mustafa Al-Turk vs Henry Miller - Al-Turk, sub, R1
Alexander Lungu vs Mark Buchanan - Lungu, TKO, R1
Sol Gilbert vs Paul Daley - Daley, TKO, R2
Brad Pickett vs Robbie Oliver - Pickett, decision
Alex Cook vs Xavier Foupa-Pokam - Cook, sub, R1
Zelg Galesic vs James E. Nicolle - Zelg, TKO, R3

~ Russ L, happy to accept drinks from those amazed at how accurate his predictions turn out to be.

Out to Chapter Eleven (a pub in town that has only recently started having gigs) on Wednesday the 20th, with Boy Trigger in tow. I only vaguely knew where it was beforehand, but once we got into Brum my laser-guided pub-finding radar took us straight to it. I’m good like that.

The Arm opened. I like The Arm a lot. The very beginning of their set was spoiled by muddy sound, but after a few minutes it became absolutely crystal clear and remained so for the rest of the night. Huzzah for the sound geezer. With this blessing, their thousand-miles-per-hour and thousand-ideas-per-second maths-rock come punk/metal business was able to scratch at your eyeballs in the way it truly can. Easily able to switch between destructive, grooving and catchy whenever it suits them, this lot are definitely worth your time.

Slab are a band I have no particular problem with. As with the last time I saw them, I found their Machinehead-y straightforward metal with a few atmospheric intros and a few Tool-y rhythmic bits perfectly OK-ish, although I’m not ever going to go out of my way to see them. Trig liked them a lot more, though. He has threatened to blog about this gig himself at some point.

Mothertrucker then did as Mothertrucker tend to do. Another stonking set, and I’m running out of things to write about them. Trig was impressed: “I didn’t think I’d ever really like a band without a singer as much as that.” They’re bosting. There we are. You’re bored of hearing it, but I’m not bored of hearing them.

Bossk were the headliners, and provided me with reasons to doubt my memory. Firstly, I was afraid that I might have got them mixed up with Symmetry the last time I saw them (I hadn’t); secondly, I recall them being post-rock-ish (they aren’t). Never mind, we can easily write that one off as a result of me probably having been pished last time around. They’re much more in an Isis sort of vein, anyway – not only in sound, but also in the “Let’s have a quiet bit now. Alright, let’s have a loud bit now” sort of air, and the fact that some of their parts are repetitive far beyond the point of achieving anything in particular. Shame, ‘cos some of their parts seem like they’d otherwise be quite good. Not a bad band by any means, though.

I’m not sure if I liked Chapter Eleven or not. There should have been a Chapter Eleven chapter two last night ‘cos The Swarm were playing, but I didn’t feel very well.

~ Russ L, now wishing he’d not been such a tit and instead just brazened it out. The Swarm are bosting, y’see.

A few restaurant trips have taken place over the last couple of months. I don’t remember much about any of them.

A few days off work in August gave me an opportunity to try Wing Wah the Wolverhampton Road branch – ‘Oldbury’ on their website) for the first time in ages, and in fact my first opportunity to attend their dinnertime (tell you what, I’ll even let you call it ‘lunchtime if you’re posh) buffet. Comparisons are easiest here, and by making them we can begin to create the grand Chinese All-You-Can-Eat League Table (now there’s an idea for a website) – the food, while nice, isn’t as good as I remember it and probably coming slightly behind Modern China and far behind The Big Wok. You can’t argue with the price for the daytime buffet, though, it’s a mere ten minutes walk from where I live, and as I say it still was nice (even if I’m not sure what’s supposed to be so drunken about the drunken pork). The Big Wok retains the championship.

Two trips were made to Café Soya, near The Bullring/Arcadian in Birmingham, once with El Maxino on the day we went to see The Black Veins at The Market Tavern (see a previous post) and with my mother on the Saturday of Artsfest (see a different previous post). Despite the name, it isn’t a vegetarian place (although they do have a sister-restaurant that is), and instead we’re looking at top-quality Chinese/Vietnamese (I think) cuisine for very reasonable prices. When with Maxi we shared the crispy lettuce wraps with chicken to start, before she had a chicken hot-pot curry and I had seafood satay. All of it was fantastic, with very (and I mean very) generous amounts of chicken/seafood. The second time around the set menu was partaken of. Eating cashew nuts in sauce with chopsticks is A) a challenge; but also B) gloriously worthwhile. With good service on top of all this, Café Soya gets top marks from me.

Between the two visits there I took the parentals to the Chiquito on the Hagley Road for their anniversary. I used to be a regular at this place, and really consider it a shame that I don’t get to go too often anymore. I’ve heard plenty about how the Chiquito chain is supposed to have gone massively downhill, but after this I don’t agree. It’s certainly not quite as good as it once was, but the food is still fantastic and the oft-repeated complaints of ‘small portions’ lead me to think that there must be some seriously big eaters out there, since I have never walked away from the place any less than absolutely stuffed. The fajitas are so much fun to make at your table (food that you have an excuse to play with – it’s the future) and I’ll never tire of the cocktails.

~ Russ L, getting hungry thinking about all of this.

Artsfest is an annual event organised by Birmingham City Council, in which hundreds of performances take place across the city centre and Digbeth (or - *spit* - ‘Eastside,’ as we’re meant to call it now) for free. Free stuff? I’m on it.

‘Twas the Saturday, the ninth of September. After eventually locating me muvver (it was her birthday, y’know), the first thing we caught a glimpse of was a kiddies’ dance exhibition in Victoria square, happening thanks to the ‘Spark’ youth scheme. They weren’t in the least bit good, but I don’t think that really matters. I approve of things like this (when you consider all of the less positive things the little bleeders could be getting up to in their spare time…), but more in principle than practice – we didn’t watch very much of it.

We headed off slightly to The Waterhall gallery to watch a condensed version of the mystery plays from medieval times (courtesy of the Solo Plus Theatre company), ranging roughly between Christ forgiving the adulteress and The Resurrection. It was interesting, but even more so surreal – not only seeing this sort of thing take place in the middle of the floor in an art gallery, but also the fact that they had a woman standing off to one side translating it all into sign language. I apologise to anyone who got/needed the benefit of that service, but dear me. It’s not something you see every day. I have also come to the conclusion that it was all a big misunderstanding when the mystery plays were suppressed in the sixteenth century – they actually meant to ban the ignorant people who, when you’re watching something, brazenly walk up and stand directly in front of you to get a better view without the least consideration for anyone else.

Back over to the Victoria Square stage in time for The Void, a youngpersons funk/jazz band put on by the abovementioned Sparks and formed with the help of Sound It Out. They weren’t as bad as you half-expect this sort of venture to be, either – amazing musicianship (if you like that sort of thing), and with a gently grooving air. Sound and stage-time problems assailed them but I nodded my head.

Enough Right-Onnery. Mothertrucker were next on this stage, and it all went far better than you would imagine Mo’Tro playing in a public square possibly could. Sound troubles were again writ large (there were a few, but the biggest was undoubtedly the fact that the drums sounded like upturned saucepans and Tupperware tubs being tapped rather than actual drums), but the band’s larger-than-life power shone through. Various random people passing by seemed to stop for a bit of a further listen, and a mad lady decided to do a bit of hippy-ish/bangra style dancing (the things people will do when there’s a video camera in an obvious position…). Bosting. I have since found out that (after they’d finished) Birmingham Central Library complained about the volume rattling their windows, and every other band on that stage for the rest of the day had to make do with quieter levels. Hurr hurr hurr.

Over to the Rep we headed, for a bit of theatre. The Big Brum Theatre In Education Company were conducting an open rehearsal of a scene from ’The Balancing Act’, by Edward Bond. It’s really interesting to see how it all comes together, and being able to canvas opinions from the public on the spot was a useful thing for the director and players to be able to do too (even if some punters are, as usual, appallingly literal-minded). I want to see the whole play now, though.

Next we had Marcus Eyre Productions presenting ‘The Next Drink,’ a piss-poor anti-excessive-drinking play. The most notable thing was that the chap who played Jesus in the mystery play earlier was our protagonist here. Other than that we had comedy Irish and Brummie accents, and simple morality for the yoot dem that won’t encourage anyone to think twice about anything. Really, really cack-handed.

The next one was fortunately a lot better. The Treefrog Theatre Company gave us ‘Don’t Pick Sport,’ a two-hander centring around a couple playing a quiz machine in a pub. It was a nice and warmly humorous look at peoples’ funny little ways and I liked it a lot.

Nipping around the corner to The Flapper, some of the authors from Tindal Street Press were giving readings. Alan Beard has a monotone voice that left me unable to concentrate on/follow the jist of his reading (probably more my fault than his, but that’s not really important). Kavita Bhanot’s fragment of her story was interesting, using the idea of flexible morality in a setting you wouldn’t expect to find it. Jackie Gay’s story, finally, was amazing. Written from the perspective of a young girl whose sister was suffering from cancer, it was the sort of thing that could easily (in less skilled hands) have been quite cheesy and sentimental, but was actually very affecting. I would definitely like to read more of her work.

Hopping over to the CBSO centre we saw TNI, an R’n’B duo. Typically styled stuff, but with some good beats behind them and the obligatory strong voices. They finished with a really nice acapella version of The Lord’s Prayer, too.

We ambled over to the de facto main stage in Centenary Square for the first time after this, finding an unbelievably annoying compere (was he a local radio DJ or similar? He had that sort of air about him) going on loudly and at length about nothing in particular. Do they really believe that people will get bored and wander off if there’s a minute or two in which they’re not bombarded by sound and fury signifying nothing? Oh well. Fola were the next act, and having read ‘Irish Folk’ in the programme I was well up for a bit of raucous too-ra-loo-ra-li. They (sadly) weren’t that type of thing, though, playing songs at the more gentle and melodic end of it all. Pleasantly melodic, though, with a couple of riverdance types joining them for the last song.

Did I say dance, there? The Birmingham Royal Ballet were next. I’m not one for ‘getting’ dance, particularly, but I really enjoyed the excerpts we saw here. There were movements from the Four Seasons, Firebird and The Nutcracker, and three Sinatra songs. I remember liking their interpretation of “One More For My Baby” particularly. The little girl in the audience near us who was adding her own dances was sweet, too.

That was the end of the Artsfest portion of the day for us, as we headed off to Café Soya after that (more on which in a future post). The following day (Sunday the tenth) I popped down for a bit on the afternoon, alone this time. I stuck my head into The Stage hoping to see a bit of Carvalho’s set, but obviously the running order had gone all to cock as I found myself watching Morning View - ordinary poppy rock stuff that I didn’t find the least bit interesting.

After that I was over to the Centenary Square stage quickstyle, not wanting to miss any of The Destroyers. They didn’t have a ranting poet with them as they did for their set at the Moseley Folk Festival the previous week, but their gypsy/Balkan/East European mad energetic danceable traditional thing is just as easy to apply a string of adjectives too without. Fantastic stuff, perhaps even more fun over the bigger spaces this time (then again, I can’t wait for a chance to see them in a proper venue…).

Over to The Flapper then to see my last performance of the weekend, in the form of Laurence Inman, who’s “How To Be A Brummie In Ten Painful Lessons” had amused me no end at the previous year’s Artsfest. The offering this year was loosely based around his own younger days and (while still very funny) was a bit disappointing in comparison. Good, but not as good, and it was a shame that he used some of the same poems. Also, his remarks about Yam-yams hurt. I felt like having a little cry afterwards. I hope he’s proud of himself.

A massively, massively enjoyable weekend overall, and all free. Next year it’s apparently the tenth anniversary of Artsfest, so I can barely wait for that.

~ Russ L, reflecting upon the fact that in less than two months Birmingham had Supersonic, Moseley Folk and Artsfest, and yet some people still try to say nothing ever happens in the city. Madness.

I’ve just done a spot of spring cleaning in the ‘Some Blogs That I Read’ bit, over there on the right (you may need to scroll down a bit). A few that are inactive or that I don’t in all honesty look at any more have gone, and a couple of funky new ‘uns have been added. Have a click on a handful.

Trig, if you’re reading this - get on with giving me a link, you tit.

~ Russ L, more than happy to hear blog recommendations if any know of any they’ll think he’ll specifically like.

True Anecdote From The Day In Question #1: In town, on my way to the event about which you’ll presently hear, I was stopped by a man who asked for directions to Moor Street Station. I’d guess at him being late 40s to early 50s (I’m never very good at estimating ages, though), Yorkshire accent, quite tall, portly, fairly nice suit. I told him which way he wanted to be going, and as he departed… he folded up a fiver and tucked it into my shirt pocket. I, sadly, was too stunned to chase after him and offer to give him a guided tour around all of the stations.

***

The first weekend (2nd/3rd) of September saw the first Moseley Folk Festival, in Moseley Park in South Birmingham. I attended the first day, and naturally that was the one of the two where the weather decided to repeatedly piss it down. Oh well. I borrowed a silly hat to protect me from the rain.

I liked the actual set-up/organisation a lot. It had a nice, friendly sort of atmosphere, probably a result of the relative small scale. You were greeted as you entered with a nice little “Welcome to The Moseley Folk Festival” from the stewards. I can’t imagine getting that at your Carling V-kenders or whatever-have-you.

The one problem they really, really could do with sorting out for next year (I assume it’s going to be an annual event) as far as I’m concerned, though, was the beer. Firstly – more of it. There was a standard lager/lager/Guinness bar selection, but also a variety of barrelled ales and ciders, most of which ran out early on. More barrels were obtained, and they quickly ran out too. This pattern repeated for the rest of the day. Now that they know it’ll sell, I’m sure the organisers will be able to get a shedload more to begin with next time. Secondly – the paying system. You had to walk over to a little caravan a stretch away from the bar, and buy 50p tokens. “Fair enough,” I thought, “it saves the barstaff fiddling about with change when they could be serving people,” but I was suddenly less pleased when I learned that you could only buy them in multiples of five quid’s worth. Since most of the drinks were £3 or £3.50, it didn’t divide too well. I managed to spend every last one of mine (I am ever so cunning), but I imagine a lot of people went home with a least a few left in their wallet. Initially I was a bit miffed that you had to use your first token to hire a glass, but I warmed to that idea when I noticed the relative lack of litter scattered about.

Music, then? Alright. I think these are all in the right order but I’m not entirely sure and apologise if not. Simon Lord and Robert Jessie were already onstage when I arrived, providing me with an early blast of what I’d feared the day might perhaps provide too much of if it didn’t go well – winsome little songs from affable but uncharismatic young men. I wouldn’t call ‘em bad but I did unfortunately find them to be somewhat forgettable.

A line-up reshuffle due to traffic problems for some artists meant that Scott Matthews from Wolves was on next and a lot more likeable. He mixed a bit of country and blues into his sound and, despite me spending the entire duration of his set trying to put my finger on who his voice reminded me of (he sounds exactly like someone but I just can’t place it), I quite liked him. He went down very well, too, but I’ll stop there since we’ll be coming back to him later.

I moved away from the music at this point to have a little wonder around the stalls, and ended up getting somewhat distracted by Tyburn Jig - a two-man show of pirate tales and swashbuckling adventures aimed broadly at children but with plenty of asides to keep the parents amused. It was genuinely funny (I was in stitches, alongside everyone else watching), and I’m never going to turn down an opportunity to shout “HUZZAH!” out loud (this afforded plenty). I gather they perform at a lot of events of this nature all over the country, and they’re really worth a look if you get chance.

That kept me out of the range of the music for quite a while, and by the time I’d returned it was time for Richard Burke on the tiny ‘Bohemian Dukebox’ side stage (and, the more I think about this, the less and less sure I get that I have the running order correct. I remember everyone I saw so won’t miss anything, it’s just a question of whenabouts in the day they came). Just another unremarkable singer/songwriter at first listen (sorry), although I do faintly recall noting some quite sweet lyrics here and there. A bit of spectacle was added by a troupe of Morris Men leaving the backstage area and walking in full finery past the stage while he was still playing.

Mi & L’au’s soundcheck seemed to drag on a bit, so I went and watched a bit of the Morris Dancing before returning to find them doing a fairly aimless drone bit (passing Morrisman: “Is this a song or are they still tuning up?”). It all settled down (or livened up, depending on how you want to look at it) into some very sombre-yet-pretty violin-centred stuff, distantly reminding me of Picastro and at times maybe even a less song-based version of ‘Animal Rights’ era 27. It all came crashing down, of course, everytime L’au opened his gob for a bit of a monotone singing-attempt, but while Mi was taking the vocal lead and during the instrumental passages they were lovely.

I trekked back over to the Bohemian Dukebox stage (it was a good ten yards away) for Ben Calvert’s set. I know he has his devoted following locally, but (much like when I saw him at The Jug ages and ages ago) nothing about him or his songs really stood out to me.

Back to the main stage for The Destroyers, a band I was really looking forward to getting a chance to see. Obviously, what each and every one of us needs in our life is an umpteen strong group of variously be-hatted loonies playing Balkan/Slavic/Eastern European style danceband-ish tunes. An old ranting poet type fella (I didn’t catch his name) joined them to add words to a couple of songs; you couldn’t make out what he was saying for most of the time he was there, but no-one seemed to mind. A fair few people danced, and surely everyone else was led to smile widely by the sheer fun of The Destroyers. I know I was. Second best set of the day.

The next thing we got (maybe. By now I’m really lost as regards the running order) was a reprise of Scott Matthews, again on the main stage. Apparently a contingent of fans had come especially for him (and missed him due to his first set happening earlier than planned), and compere Janice Long (From Off The Radio, Like) really likes him too, so it was re-re-wind. I forget the degree to which he repeated the same or played different songs, but I found myself liking him even more this time round. I support my fellow yam-yams.

Jane Weaver was next on the Bohemian Dukebox stage, and I quite enjoyed her stuff. Interestingly, the festival’s programme speaks of how she avoids ‘anthemic hand wavers,’ but I definitely found her songs to be the most obviously catchy of any of the three artists I saw on the little side-stage. This is not a bad thing. That was it for there, anyway – the main stage was where it all happened from hereon in.

Findlay Brown’s name kept making me think of Nick Cave’s ‘Stagger Lee’ with a slightly changed lyric. That was about the most exciting thing about him. I wandered off to purchase a Thai chicken curry in a tray, which wasn’t amazing but was still infinitely better than you expect festival food-in-a-tray to be.

I made sure I was back for Tunng, the band I was most looking forward to that day. They didn’t disappoint and were possibly even better than the previous time I saw them. Unconventional but very good songwriting is something you can’t go wrong with, really, and their oddball spacey folk is thoroughly infused with it. Set of the day without a doubt.

Jacqui McShee’s Pentangle were next. I’m going to have to confess to not knowing a fat lot about Pentangle’s cannon (they’re the sort of band that a music fan is supposed to know well, I realise, but I don’t…), but even I’m aware that this current incarnation plays in a somewhat different style to that with which they originally gained acclaim. There was a lot more jazz to this set than there was folk, including versions of a couple of standards. ‘Pleasant’ was the word that leapt to mind; nothing gripping, but not as forgettable as some of our earnest young men from earlier in the day.

A folk-lovin’ mate of mine taped me Seth Lakeman’s “Kitty Jay” a while back, which I enjoyed. Imagine my surprise to now find the lad beginning to get famous and releasing singles with glossy videos and so on. His bit-of-old/bit-of-new style provided a nice lively way to restore the crowd’s flagging stamina as night-time darkness drew overhead. His fiddle-playing positively shimmers and a fair few of his songs are genuinely affecting, so hurrah - it’s nice to see a bit of success going towards an artist who deserves it.

Finally (in more than one sense), our headliners for the day were The Incredible String Band in what was billed as their last ever (forever ever) gig. I’m more familiar with TIBS than I am with Pentangle, and I like such of their recorded work that I’ve heard a lot, but I don’t think this set was a fitting send-off. The sound was terrible, leading them to sound really ragged, and although the songs still shone through they only managed to make the best of a bad job. A shame.

It was a really, really enjoyable day out, nonetheless. I had a lot of fun and I’m really looking forward to next year.

***

True Anecdote From The Day In Question #2: At the actual festival, I was approached by a 20-something-ish bloke.
Punter: Who’s this on stage at the moment mate?
Me: Erm… Pentangle are on next. This is just recorded music.

~ Russ L, narrowly picking the title he used for this post over “Nowt so queer as folk.”

To The Academy 2 on Thursday the 31st of August to see Michael Franti & Spearhead, and there were mixed feelings a-plenty. As any fule kno, Franti is a great man who has travelled to many places most of us would be scared to go in order to practise what he preaches (or preach what he practises, depending on how you look at it), as well as having made some absolutely amazing music with his previous outfit The Disposable Heroes Of Hiphoprisy. I was aware (before you start) that his current vehicle aren’t in the least bit like TDHOH. I’ll admit that I’m not overly familiar with Spearhead’s music, but I have heard a few songs (the amazingly amazing “Rock The Nation” and a few more I forget as a result of them not really grabbing me) and so I did know of the stylistic differences. We’re basically looking at a pop-reggae band here, with only the occasional nod towards hip-hop.

The change, of course, seems to be at all levels. The degree to which Franti’s accent has altered from the deep stentorian voice of his earlier days really would have led me to assume it was a different person if I didn’t happen to know otherwise. These pop-reggae songs we spoke of… well, some of them are OK, some of them weren’t (that “Hello Hello” tune had a sweet enough sentiment but good lord was it nauseating to listen to), but all of them were dragged out to run about three times longer than necessary by processions of endless solos, jamming, call and response sections, chorus repeats, more jamming…

“Rock The Nation” blew the roof off the place, of course, but I didn’t really particularly enjoy anything at all other than that. It’s funny, really – although I’m not (for a second) suggesting that artists have to stand still and carry on doing whatever initially made them their name even if they don’t want to any more, the fact remains that former glories are always going to be in peoples’ minds. If this had been a band I’d never heard of before I still wouldn’t have liked ‘em, but I wouldn’t have felt anywhere near as disappointed. For Michael Franti’s music to be reduced to such platitudinous pointlessness really felt like a shame.

On top of all that, they had the partition wall thing between the Academy 2 and the main Academy’s balcony erected. WHY? It doesn’t seem to make any noticeable difference to the sound, and only serves to trap the heat in a smaller space. On a hot summer night this is near torture. We all know Carling Academy venues treat their clientele with contempt, but this goes well beyond that and into the realms of outright hostility.

~ Russ L, not impressed with this gig at all.

16/8/6 - The Medicine Bar @ The Custard Factory, Digbeth, Birmingham - This benefit for Snowdonia Air Ambulance was a one-off re-union of Spine and (even better) Deadsunrising, so you know I was as enthusiastic as John Prescott on the day his wife let him have a mixed grill for breakfast. I was happy (very happy, considering The Kitchen was closed) to see that The Med Bar was selling the cheap bottles of Carlsberg again; I was less happy to see them run out halfway through the evening.

Nog opened the gig, but not in their usual instrumental way - this was the night of Nog’s Thrashaoke. Various members of local bands sang classic thrash metal songs to the backing of Nog, and you’ll rarely see anything quite so much fun. It’s been a while and I can’t remember precisely who did what, but I recall Alex Shid’s version of Sepultura’s ‘Arise’ (complete with dreadlock wig) being a highlight.

Deadsunrising were on next, and oh how I’d missed them. I’ve had the privelidge to see only a very few bands quite as manically fun as DSR were practically every time they played. I never found their music easy to describe the first time around and I it’s no better now - chaotic noisy guitary stuff, perfectly suited to the rampaging performance and the carnage they inspired in the crowd. A couple of people were nearly crippled by means of hillarious comical mosh-suplexes. Spectacular.

Spine finished the gig and suffered a little bit from that age-old local problem of ‘having to play after Deadsunrising’ (when the whole world just seems that bit more monochrome). They had a good stab at it, though. I only saw them twice the first time around (well, I have their split CD with Primate too) and so I’m not as familiar with them as perhaps I should be, but I always liked them and they didn’t disappoint. Metallic hardcore with hooks and a performance full of energy (or it would be if it wasn’t in a situation of direct comparison to DSR), but what was really nice was the way a lot of people’s faces lit up with happy memories.

18/8/6 - The Hare & Hounds, Kings Heath, Birmingham - I wasn’t in the best of moods prior to this (Wise Maxim #1: Never get your hopes up about anything, it’s tactically a bad move. Wise Maxim #2: Other people – they’re just rubbish, ain’t they?), but the Hare & Hounds always cheers me up. Cans of Calsberg Export for a pound a throw. Everyone’s a winner.

Sunshine Republic were on first, playing one big droney type of thing (although thinking about what I’ve read around the internets I’m not sure if this is their normal style). This sort of thing is very popular of late and a lot of waffling nonsense is at large, but this set seemed to convey a feeling of intent and purpose - it seemed to actually go somewhere. Not particularly far, admittedly, but the building dynamics and crescendos of noise were somewhat pleasing.

Armed Response Unit were definitely the stylistic odd-band-out at this gig, playing thrashy punk ala Heresy/Ripchord etc. They kept it nicely varied by breaking it up with a few chunkier almost Black Flag-ish moments, though, and I enjoyed them even though I can’t think of a lot to say.

Palehorse have returned! Palehorse were always a fantastic band and I really cannot emphasise how wonderful it is to have them back. It was the sense of absurdity about them that always made them special, and it’s still there – they play some of the most pupil-expandingly crushing aggro-doom you could ever imagine, but always conveying the fact that they’re aware it’s all a bit… silly. Less po-facedness in metal will never be a bad thing. An amazing band, go and see them.

Red Stars Parade surprised me a little bit. I hadn’t heard them before, but all I’d read about them led me to think they were another one of your Cult Of NeurIsis bands. They are, loosely, but operate in a much more aggressive and more frequently uptempo sort of area. I liked as much of their set as I saw, but they were never going to top Palehorse and I was tired/smashed out of my face. I went home halfway through. I definitely will try to have a proper listen sometime soon, though.

22/8/6 – The Market Tavern, Digbeth, Birmingham - I was out and about with Maxine for this one. After some food (I’ll come back to that in a subsequent post) we waddled our full selves over to The Market Tavern. I’m happy to learn that some non-streetpunk gigs are actually getting a decent turn-out there of late.

Locals All I Need (it just makes you think of Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell, doesn’t it?) and South Wales boys Dispatch were the first two bands. I’m not up on the latest cool hardcore bands that you’re supposed to use for comparisons, so I’ll restrict myself to saying that AIN were at the punky end of it all, and Dispatch operated in more metallic fields. Both seemed to be typical examples of their type and I can’t pretend I’m likely to go out of my way to listen to either of them further, but they were both some level of fun to watch there and then.

Headliners The Black Veins‘ set would have been about half the length if they hadn’t had delays from technical difficulties in the middle, and it wasn’t very long even including them. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, though - since their music presented a series of short sharp shocks, why shouldn’t their set? ‘Not overstaying your welcome’ is something a lot of bands could learn from, in fact, but that’s a separate matter. The Black Veins were very Black Flag-y (perhaps loosely akin to earlier Misfits playing Black Flag), with lots of catchy chant-along bits but still ‘ard as nails. Good stuff, I’d like to see ‘em again.

23/8/6 – The Barfly, Digbeth, Birmingham - I missed the first band (some long mad name with the word ‘Cannonball’ in it, I forget precisely how it went), so Dexter and The Rubikons were the openers for me. As with the previous night’s gig, here we had two typical bands of their style (guitar-pop-rock type stuff, in this case) who I didn’t mind but wouldn’t go out of my way for. Dexter had some nice 60s-ish elements here and there, so they’d probably get the nod if I had to pick.

A quick salute here goes out to my old homegrill Matt, who introduced me to Youngblood Brass Band by lending me an album but wasn’t actually able to make it to this gig. Hur hur hur. How he missed out. YBB were breathtakingly good. Go to their site (or their MySpangle) and have a quick listen, then hear me when I say that live they were everything you wanted. I’m still impressed by the very concept of an urban brass band, never mind the fact that they’re so good. Huge (and I mean heee-uge) swells of hornsome sound roll forth with inventive and energetic percussion skittering above, combining to form some amazing songs. The best live set of August without a doubt.

Also, the Sousaphone is the greatest instrument in the history of music.

24/8/6 – The Barfly, Digbeth, Birmingham - My third gig in three nights, but I wasn’t doing too badly (a good portent, with GDFAF coming up). I missed all but the last little bit of openers Zox, who weren’t entirely what I expected. I saw about half of a power-pop type rocky song, then a final song consisting of a long (it really did go on a bit) distorted violin solo, a dubby bit, then more power-pop. Hearsay (albeit from someone who’s sayings I definitely consider worth hearing) tells me that a lot of bits in the songs they played earlier sounded suspiciously familiar to other well-known tunes. Dunno myself, though. I’m going to have to pass.

Locals Beat Union were on in the middle, playing (slightly) new-wave-ish pop punk with a healthy dollop of 80s good time rock ‘n’ roll mixed in. A confident and energetic performance helped to win a lot of people over, and I was left with a good impression if not entirely convinced – I’m not sure their songs were entirely there and got the feeling they could get a bit wearying. We’ll see, though. Hurrah for the time being.

Bedouin Soundclash are now properly famous, having had their music used on adverts and allsorts. Fame nearly always changes people, and in this case it has led to them seeing the need to make extensive on-stage rants about how, actually, they haven’t sold out, ta very much. This got boring fast, as well you can imagine.

The music, of course, was ace. Having been touring their first album for quite some time now (I’ve only seen ‘em once before but they’ve been at it for ages), they had the good sense to not simply do straight note-for-note versions of everything from the records, adding a much dubbier feel to most of the songs. This took them away from the Police-ish sound I’d loved them for, but still worked well. A few new songs sounded good, one sounded not so good (our abovementioned correspondent spoke of it making his “ears feel like they’d just got Fox teen drama implants” and again I curse my own inability to come up with turns of phrase even half as good as that), but on the whole a great set.

I think that’ll just about do, for now.

~ Russ L, getting closer to gigs he can actually remember.

Amusingly or disappointingly, I find myself looked upon as one of those people who complains about reviews he disagrees with after initially posting because I genuinely thought he’d mixed up one band with another, and thereafter making the mistake of attempting a splash of humour (which didn’t work, admittedly, but the fact that I was playing about nonetheless seems screamingly obvious).

The lad’s blog is very good, though. You should read it.

~ Russ L, who had to be restrained from a comic citation of “You have no right to judge if you’re not in a band yourself” when the implications became clear.

The first and main thing to report in this miscellanea-styled post is that I’m going to have a stab at carrying on the torch of Mr Pete Ashton’s “Going Deaf For A Fortnight”. This is a mighty big pair of shoes to attempt to fill, but I’m going to have a go. More on the subject soon.

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In an older version of this blog, where each post took up a page of its own, I often used to write about a few events in one (as you’ll see if you look at the older archives). Switching to the current ‘scroll down a bit to see some more’ format has made that method seem somehow less appropriate, but I think I might do a couple of digest posts to get some of the last month’s backlog out of the way, at least up until things I can remember slightly more clearly. It really is a bit worrying that I feel faintly uneasy about letting things go by without writing about them (in however a cursory fashion as it may be, and trust me it will be).

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Given that said posts will take us away from chronological order by at least a little bit, I’ll point out here that my latest tilt at Jimmy The Gloves took place on Saturday the 19th of August (I think that’s the right date), and - although in the familiar venue of The Briar Rose – consisted of Chess rather than Scrabble. The result was an aggregate defeat for me, as usual. I did better than I expected, given it this was the first time I’d played chess in a good many years, but of the two games played I ended up with one stalemate draw (down to a king and a rook each), and one loss (bah). Will I ever defeat this man?

~ Russ L, still hoping for Vale Tudo for our next encounter.