Some Punks
Jan. 22nd, 2008 01:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shermaramaMustn't get behind. I went to Brighton on Saturday, to go and see some punk bands at the Cowley Club and I took khalinche with me.
I was there for a bit of the first band but wasn't really taking them in, just waiting for the BFs. I haven't seen the Bad Fucks live since we parted ways in the summer, and this was only the second gig they've done with the new drummer, Tom, a lad with dreads down to his knees. The main thing I'll remember about this gig is Wayne. I've never seen him do his frontman thing properly before; at gigs obviously I couldn't see him directly and often I could hardly hear him, and then in practice rooms it's not the same. He was ace - it's all shouty grimacing stuff but he does put some variation in it, make it sound like it's meant to mean something, and of course the fact that he's a big ugly fucker works well when bellowing at a crowd. I told him afterwards that I'd never realised how good he was and he was terribly self-effacing about it.
Next up were Flatpig who were their usual selves, i.e. ace. They never seem to have the same bassist twice but they're always good ones so it doesn't really matter, and you always get Austen, a wiry bloke with his glasses taped onto his head, doing ace things with a guitar and Dave doing both drums and vocals with astonishing amounts of breath apparently at his disposal. I've got the single of Dear John somewhere, their tribute to John Peel, must dig that out again.
Umm, the Offcuts must have been next but I didn't really listen to them, I'm afraid. They weren't bad but they weren't interesting. I drank oatmeal stout and chatted to people instead, not least to avoid one over-enthusiastic mosher who was being an arsehole. Wayne lamented no longer being in Newcastle, where arseholes get taken out of circulation a lot quicker by way of getting lamped. But anyway. The last band were Axis Of Arseholes, who mainly do songs about things like arms manufacture and the whole War On Terror malarkey, but in the sort of musical style which is party music for punks, which makes them ideal headliners for a place like the Cowley. They're not the best band ever (which makes Liz (my ex-bandmate from Vegas Hell) getting chucked out for unreliability even more impressive) but they can keep a crowd of punks happy. I took over the job of keeping the right-side PA speaker upright, it being too far into the moshpit to have any chance of staying standing unaided, and thus mainly watched rather than danced. I seem to have got my phone out to video a song, though, which I'd forgotten about til now, I probably ought to put that up.
But not right now. Yesterday involved a car that doesn't think it's got gears any more and rail replacement buses and alternative tube routes and half a band practice and then cooking pasta at midnight and I was supposed to be getting an early night...
khalinche with me. I was there for a bit of the first band but wasn't really taking them in, just waiting for the BFs. I haven't seen the Bad Fucks live since we parted ways in the summer, and this was only the second gig they've done with the new drummer, Tom, a lad with dreads down to his knees. The main thing I'll remember about this gig is Wayne. I've never seen him do his frontman thing properly before; at gigs obviously I couldn't see him directly and often I could hardly hear him, and then in practice rooms it's not the same. He was ace - it's all shouty grimacing stuff but he does put some variation in it, make it sound like it's meant to mean something, and of course the fact that he's a big ugly fucker works well when bellowing at a crowd. I told him afterwards that I'd never realised how good he was and he was terribly self-effacing about it.
Next up were Flatpig who were their usual selves, i.e. ace. They never seem to have the same bassist twice but they're always good ones so it doesn't really matter, and you always get Austen, a wiry bloke with his glasses taped onto his head, doing ace things with a guitar and Dave doing both drums and vocals with astonishing amounts of breath apparently at his disposal. I've got the single of Dear John somewhere, their tribute to John Peel, must dig that out again.
Umm, the Offcuts must have been next but I didn't really listen to them, I'm afraid. They weren't bad but they weren't interesting. I drank oatmeal stout and chatted to people instead, not least to avoid one over-enthusiastic mosher who was being an arsehole. Wayne lamented no longer being in Newcastle, where arseholes get taken out of circulation a lot quicker by way of getting lamped. But anyway. The last band were Axis Of Arseholes, who mainly do songs about things like arms manufacture and the whole War On Terror malarkey, but in the sort of musical style which is party music for punks, which makes them ideal headliners for a place like the Cowley. They're not the best band ever (which makes Liz (my ex-bandmate from Vegas Hell) getting chucked out for unreliability even more impressive) but they can keep a crowd of punks happy. I took over the job of keeping the right-side PA speaker upright, it being too far into the moshpit to have any chance of staying standing unaided, and thus mainly watched rather than danced. I seem to have got my phone out to video a song, though, which I'd forgotten about til now, I probably ought to put that up.
But not right now. Yesterday involved a car that doesn't think it's got gears any more and rail replacement buses and alternative tube routes and half a band practice and then cooking pasta at midnight and I was supposed to be getting an early night...