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The Orielles, The Scala, London


I'm leaning against the wall near the exit of The Scala, non-nonchalantly, looking at a coat hanger dangling three metres above the cloakroom window. It's hanging off a steel conduit run that traces the room, I can't help wondering how it got there. Lost in wonder I slowly start to realize that almost everyone in the foyer after party is staring at me, are they also pondering the coat hanger? Turns out they're curious for a different reason, the lights are going on and off. I've been leaning against the light switch triggering the chandelier house lights for a couple of minutes now, so much for blending in. I move away and watch someone else hole up in the now vacant (too good to be true) spot, I give them no warning and continue to float away pondering the coat hanger and The Orielles (@TheOrielles) performance I've just caught at The Scala's 20th Anniversary Party.           

Coming off my bike at speed down Caledonian Road I realize, too late, that the rear mudguard has come loose and locked up the back spokes of my bike. Fortunately it's garbage pick up for the local residents that evening and I land softly in a pile of discarded trash bags, you cannot make this up. Miraculously unscathed I pick myself up out of the trash and remove the remnants of the mud guard, turned mud offense, and kick my back tyre and rim into place, and we're off. I make it in time for doors open and clear security who after a pat down ask me what the ear plugs were for in my pocket, obviously you're not a golfer I think to myself. Clearing this minor obstacle I head to the bar where drinks are half price, I double-up and make my way to the stage. First up on the docket are Crewel Intentions (@CrewelIntent).

The members of this quintet have a motif that can only be described as a mashup of styles, predominantly Western Wear meets up-and-coming Mobster Foot Soldier, their duds move along nicely paired with their classic looking instruments and music with assured confidence to match. Only frontman Chilli Jesson (sounds like a name that has outstanding debts with bookies in Vegas) stands out in his leisure suit and white scuffed up brogans, most likely from kicking the shit out of the air and stage all night long, the man has bundles of energy throughout their performance. The band is in good spirits and Chilli's got energy with the moves to back up someone auditioning for Chippendales; running back and forth around the stage, jumping to and from the stage to barriers and making intense eye contact with those of us at the front when he's not jumping into their arms. Intense isn't the word I'd use for the contrast in riffs and twangs coming off the small slide guitar, keys during the set, they're great and wash over you like a Coen Brothers soundtrack. Their set finishes and I pick up my book (The Elephant Vanishes – Murakami) and crack open a chilly frothie between sets.

Juggling the book and the beer I'm enjoying at '90s prices along with the '80s hip-hop pumping out the speakers (JJ Fad – 'Ya Goin' Down') the crew setup for the main event. I see Henry's (lead guitar/backup vocals) head peak through the stage door. I catch his eye and give him the horns, he smiles and reciprocates in kind and the door closes. The crowd is elbow to elbow in chill anticipation but unlike the audience the stage is set with personal space in mind. I can't remember the stage setup at The Scala ever being so sparse but much like their last performance I caught in the Butlin's at Rockaway Beach the setup is spread out giving each member a comfortable space to play in but it's not alienating either. The Halifax natives putting the old H back on the map make their way onto the stage metaphorical Silver Dollars chiming loosely in their footsteps. They're all rockin' mid-'90s Smashing Pumpkins-era threads (trust me on this, I lived through it). Esmé's (Bass/Whistle/Vocals) look is Liv Tyler straight off the Tower Records poster and I'm wondering if it's rude to interrupt the set to ask Alex (Keys/Vocals) what model OG Reebok's he's wearing because they are legit as all get out (if you're reading this Alex I must know!). Not a minute lost and the gang is straight into it with 'Old Stuff, New Glass'. The stage throughout their set is a, jumping, nodding, dancing, and head tossing from side to side akimbo marathon, they sing and play with a joyful and carefree effervescence. All members (aside from Sid anchored on percussion) take turns visiting each other and spend their set chatting and smiling about inside jokes I'm so close to but not privy to hearing, frustrating I must take up lipreading! Henry, as per usual busts out the banter and a couple of guitar strings along the way, one on each guitar, but soldiers on. Alex not to be shown up destroys an instrument I can only assume is a cousin to the cowbell? Esmé and Sid retain intact their civility and instruments, good work ladies. The Orielles knock out a 13 track set in just over an hour. True to their word (see last interview) they've been writing during their downtime between tours (liminal space?) and lay a new single on the audience called, 'Sound Of' and end their set with 'Sugar Tastes Like Salt' no encore but a great track to finish off a solid set with.

Back in the foyer of The Scala which is packed with fans and members of both Crewel Intentions and The Orielles, I lean against a wall without a light switch for a change still having the coat hanger, and mystery there of, both literally hanging over me. It's been a great evening and the party looks far from being over with the bands mingling, smiling and chatting with friends and fans alike. I make a quiet exit and get a message on my way out from an acquaintance to check out instagram which is blowing up with news about The Social in central London. There's been a fundraising gig put on this very night by Wrangler with Yak/Shame and Talk Show on the bill that's saved the tiny venue with a massive history by raising the £95,000 necessary to keep the doors open. As The Orielles and myself are huge fans of the joint I thought it a fitting ending to the article and renewed lease on life for The Social.



Bass Drum Of Death, Borderline, London

It's Wednesday evening and I'm trying to find what I'm looking for which would also turn out to be the theme for the evening. I've resorted to using my GPS to find Borderline as it's my first time at the venue, nestled in between a network of congested one-way streets and hidden behind a ton of construction in central London. I park up Cliff, my don't-steal-me-bike, lock 'em up and head into the subterranean venue once located. 

I descend into Borderline's bowels just a few moments after doors open. A quick frisk by security and I make my way through the horseshoe shaped space between the sound booth and the stage to the bar, where I nab a beyond perfectly poured pint from a genial barmaid. Things are misleadingly looking great. Back at the stage I dump my stuff and chuck my ear plugs in. The opening act's performance is pretty deflated but they stick to their set times, more than I can say for the headliner. During their performance John Bass Drum Of Death (Lead Vocals/Guitar) pops out of the Green Room putting his hood up seemingly to avoid the limelight, the paparazzi must be hounding him again. Since it's still pretty sparse pit side I take a chance and make my way over to him, never miss an opportunity to see about grabbing a few words after their set. 'Hey John' I say, 'I'm a fan writing a few words about the show tonight, I was hoping I could bend your ear with some questions before or after your set? 'Sure, maybe' he squeezes by and out checking his phone and sliding into his patented leather biker jacket promptly making his way up the stairs and out the door. 'Was it my breath or something?' I say to no one in particular.

To be fair there is zero reception in the basement and I muse momentarily thinking on the auction I've bid upon earlier in the evening for a Destroy All Monsters t-shirt circa 1982. John on the other hand, I'm sure, had more pressing matters to attend to. Eric (tour percussion) and Jim (tour guitarist) are floating around the venue but I figured I'd track them down after the set for some facetime based on the chilly reception I'd just received from John. I get back to my nook as people start to pour in. Periodically the boys come on stage to set their kit up at a snail's pace. John tunes up this beasty looking blue retro guitar with a rust speckled chrome pick guard. I'm standing at floor level and he's at stage level and I find myself, well...face at crotch level. I notice his fly's down and decide to lean in close (get your head out of the gutter) and whisper 'yo my dude, your fly is down'. He looks down, gives 'the horns' saying 'rock and roll' sticking out his tongue, zips up and leaves the stage. Eric brings out his snare and various cymbals along with some drinks as he sets up. Jim carries out his guitar and pedal board, but still no music, it's just after 9 (start time was 8:50, this matters because there's also a 10pm curfew in effect). Finally the guys come out and start playing some music.

Their set is okay, they've got the look that a garage punk 2-ish piece should have. The back up guitarist with his unkempt guitar headstock, strings going everywhere, sporting a pair of Brogues (odd choice). Drummer in a singlet sweating with knees going to shoulders as they work the double bass pedals. John sings from behind hair combed in front of his face in a moth eaten Budweiser knock off T that reads Bahamas, King of Beaches. Each track came out like juiced lighting and had a healthy helping of punchiness. That being said during their setup Eric passes their tour manager a pre-fab setlist he fished out of a bag, it's later handed back and replaced from where it's kept, the replica lists are then littered about the stage. Throughout their set I'm hearing music in the sense that at McDonald's I'm eating food. The performance feels processed, bit of a mechanical vibe if I'm honest. It's weird that they should be going through the motions as the last tour was years ago (4-5). Watching the guys shuffle around the stage I felt like a dog being faked out by a game of toss, confused by the first few fake-outs, but ultimately losing interest quickly. There's none of the unhinged beauty in the performance that comes off the albums, it's all Just Business, tame. I've had to brace myself against the stage with my leg and foot a few times during the set but you can tell the crowd's hearts weren't in it. A pit never forms and most attempts at crowd surfing implode with bodies draped in Fidlar shirts making their way underfoot.

At about 9:30 during a song Eric holds up his phone to the guys (9:30 the cracked screen reads), I guess they're running out of time? They hurry through a few more songs, and announce it's their last song. They of course return for an encore of one whole song and it's now 10 to 10. Eric leaves the drum-kit jumps into the crowd before being tossed back on stage and exits. Their tour manager comes around and starts to tear their kit apart, I grab his attention for a setlist, he hands over Eric's. I mention I'm writing a review and I'd love to get 5 minutes of John's time for 2-3 questions. 'Sure mate, we're tearing down but if you wait at the bar we'll be about in 30 minutes'. 'Done' I say, the break'll give me a few minutes to shape this review into something malleable.

Eric walks out and meets up with some friends. Hey Man', I say, 'I'm wondering if I could grab a few words with you for a review I'm writing?' 'Sorry' he says, 'it's our policy that we don't give interviews but I'll talk to John for you and let him know you're waiting'.  Without pressing it I say 'cool, thanks' but as he leaves I'm left wondering why his lips are sealed, was this the same caution to the wind dude that was jumping into the crowd minutes ago? I've never had trouble getting a drummer to talk. Their tour manager comes by a few times, I'm leaning against a wall waiting for the heads up. The time passes as a couple of food bloggers strike up a conversation with me and before I know it I'm elbow deep in topics like sourdough starter and French New Wave. Jim floats by with a harem of several ladies.

'Yo man, righteous work on the guitar tonight', 'Thanks' he says. 'What was it you were mouthing to me when I was asking you to-bring it-' I say. 'I was saying, are you ready for it?' 'Shit, I thought you were asking if I was safe?' we laugh. I ask him how he's doing for a drink and if I can ask a few questions over a pint but he stops me with raised hand and says he can't comment on anything involving the band, double shut out, weird, we shake hands and part. Finally their tour manager swings back around to talk to Jim and sees me there, 'didn't know you were still here mate, can I get your e-mail address? John's already left to meet some friends.' Fuck You makes its way to my lips but not out of my mouth. Know that irrational urge to kill when you feel someone step on your shoe heels, twice? I was feeling that at this moment. 'You didn't know I was here, you asked me to wait here for 30 minutes and you walked by me a at least twice to talk to Eric who was right next to me.' 'I'm really sorry, John's left', This, is a lie. In fact at that very moment I see John walk by the doors leading backstage. 'Could I get your e-mail address, we can try over e-mail' 'Naw man, you know what, I think I've got everything I need.' I say and bail out the joint.

This experience, with their tour manager and their performance in general, has left me less than satisfied, feeling ripped off and lied to with an overall bad taste in my mouth, sorta like the fast food chain mentioned earlier. Bass Drum Of Death's performance was a disservice to their fanbase.  With 4 albums, one of them out last year, not even being able to fulfill your set times of an hour isn't saying much. Making my way to Borderline tonight I did end up finding the venue eventually but I'm not sure I found what I was looking for. I left feeling more lost than when I'd arrived.


Broncho, MOTH Club, London


Broncho's stage setup is minimal but it still looks cramped with plenty of trip hazards. Cables are woven like a tapestry all over the stage, there are 2 stacks of Fender amps, bass amps and a drum kit. Ben is missing, along with his equipment, but I'm not sure there would have even be room for him or it. The set starts off with 'All Choked Up' off their latest Bad Behaviour. 

Don't sit down, I need to say something 

I need to say another before I get choked up 
I wanna dig deep and I wanna dig deeper 
Unless you use another way to get choked up 

Their message to the audience (I was sitting down and I'm sorry) and introduction to their set, fitting I think to myself and make a note to note it. The crowd was a buzz, although some people sat no one sat still, but not in that hostile tooth-chipping way...that would come later. Through the first half of the set Ryan, Penny and Nathan are impossible to photograph (using my phone camera). Every shot is blurry because like their audience they can't sit still either. Ryan's shoulders are bouncing up and down as he strums along with his knees like pistons.  Penny's moving and swaying with her audience and long-neck-bass even taking a moment to lean down at one point to dance for someone's phone. Nathan at the back hammers at his drums like a Lichtenstein a-la rat-tat-tat-tat. 

Then about half way through 'Speed Demon' comes on off Double Vanity and the energy shifts from restrained and pleasant tunes to overdrive. I'm hearing distinct similarities to Ty Segall's 'Candy Sam', one of my favourite tunes off Emotional Mugger. The audience has finally been giving the green light to cut loose, and they do. The audience moves en masse and that energy is fed right back to Broncho and they follow up with 'China' then slow the pace down a second with 'Taj Mahal' before they're right back up again with 'Class Historian'. Everyone knows the track because it starts off with Broncho's unique non-lexible stylings, T T T T T T T D D D D D D D, coming over the speakers like an alien transmission waking up a sleeper cell on earth. The audience heeds the call lumbering to and fro like some headless beast, Broncho are all visibly sweating from the effort of non-stop-play-till-you-drop music. There is no end in sight. By the time the 10 year old French Birthday girl (see interview here) has passed out the rest of the audience is still swinging around wildly, their energy and the band's is palpable. Broncho crack out 20 tunes without a break or chatting up their audience. 

Obviously go see Broncho if they're playing near you, beg, borrow and steal to go see them. I don't get paid to say or write that by the way. If you listen to their music and you don't, you're doing yourself a disservice, but that's not how I want to end this article. During our interview Ryan dropped this one quote that really resonated with me but didn't exactly fit into the flow we had going or the line of questioning for that matter either. I didn't want to omit it though and I thought re-locating it to the end of the article as a summation might be best.  Watching Broncho play that evening, listening and re-listening to their music or how they interacted with everyone throughout the night showed me this simple philosophy works. Hopefully it'll help me the next time I find myself on the other side of the velvet rope or curtain. 

Ryan: I'm sort of like, between, act like you've been there before or also I don't expect to be anywhere, it's somewhere that I'm teetering on. I want to be comfortable but I tell myself that I'm supposed to anywhere that I'm at. And then there's also the other side that is I don't expect to be anywhere. 


Advance Base, The Islington, London

Rolling up to Islington Town Hall for doors at 6 (6, seriously?) 'That's odd' I thought, scanning over the penned up herd waiting to be let through the doors, this doesn't look like your typical  lo-fi electro solo project crowd. I made my way along the crowd to security by the entrance hoping to jump the queue in order to get a clear view of the stage. "Good evening, I was wondering if I could get in a bit early? I'm writing a review and taking pictures of the gig tonight and it's going to be hard to see over all these giants" I motioned to Redwoods standing behind me. "No" (ouch). "The people in the queue have been there since before I even started work this morning at 11am". "I see.....weird question, it's Advance Base that's playing here tonight though, right?" "Right", and with that I threaded my way through the piles of empty bottles littering the path to the very back of the queue.

"Wrong venue mate" was what I got instead of my ticket at the collection counter when I finally got in. Sometimes life feels like a game of Snakes and Ladders, this was one of those times. The floor slithered below me as I walked out of the wrong venue more than a little embarrassed. I leaned against the massive tour bus parked outside the Town Hall with its equally massive trailer attachment. A full compliment of staff hurried about inside of it, weirdly hoovering bits of I dunno what off the floor of it while I looked in through an ajar door. If only I'd paid this much attention to where I was going I wouldn't be in this situation. The scene on the bus peaked my curiosity so before I looked up where I needed to be I investigated who'd be playing here tonight. Words would not do it justice so see below:- 


Korpiklaani. In hindsight the lot in the queue made a lot more sense now. I regrouped and opened up G-Maps. Finding the correct venue and its location which was fortunately only a short ride away. Arriving moments later at The Islington it seemed a much more appropriate fit for tonight's show. Billing itself as, 'best known for its open minded entertainment' inside I find a low lit cozy affair with framed pictures on it's warmly lit walls in neat order dotted with scaffolding on the outside just off the high street in Angel. It was nearing 7 as I made my way through the doors to... a completely deserted pub, cue tumble weed. What my ticket neglected to mention were doors to the pub open at 6, first act was on at 8 followed by Advance Base at 9. Great, but what's this? Out of the corner of my eye I catch sight of Owen who's just hanging out by the merchandise table. Making my way over to the empty table I'm greeted with, "the merch table is empty", Owen upon my arrival continues stating, "the merch hasn't arrived yet". He asks someone to update Instagram with set times and files out the pub with a friend. In a totally not creepy or stalkerish way I leg it out after them into the night. A few quick strides and a small hop I tap Owen on the shoulder. 'Hi' I say, he has to look down. For an instant I wonder are giant people not as impressed by the inversely proportioned as I am? FOCUS STEVEN.

Cpt: Soooooooo, doors at 6 huh?

Owen: Yeah, sorry about that, we just updated social media with the set times.

Cpt: No problem, I'm writing a small review of tonight's gig and I was wondering if I could ask a few questions.......since we've got all this free time?

Owen: Sure.

Cpt: Great. Are you a Twin Peaks fan?

Owen: No I'm not a fan, a lot of people ask me that though. It's too, 90210ish for me.

Cpt: Hmm, I wasn't prepared for this response, it's pretty much torpedoed my whole line of questioning.

Owen: Sorry.

Cpt: It's cool, I only asked because yesterday was un/officially Twin Peaks Day.

Owen: When we had our first kid my wife would be sleeping and I'd channel surf while rocking the kid to sleep. I mainly caught all of The Wire and the Sopranos, that was more my scene. Excellent music in Twin Peaks though.

Cpt: Agreed, nothing quite like that theme song and opening titles. I heard about how you left your merch at a friend's house back in 2013 it's now 7 years later and your just getting around to pick it up. What's taken you so long to get back to (touring) the UK?

Owen: Having kids. I don't really like being away from the family in case of emergencies. In the States I just drive everywhere so I can always turn the car around. They're older now so I'm stretching my legs a little. I'm back again in July too.

I thank him and we both part ways leaving unsaid the mental pinky swear we've made that we'll reconvene in just over an hour, not for ourselves, but for the fans. Fast forward nearer the set times and The Islington is filling up. Massive curtains separate the pub from stage which when drawn back expose the entrance, I make my way in. The stage and surrounding walls are draped in thick crushed velvet curtains, I'm expecting a tiny man in a red suit to pop out at any moment and start dancing. Strangely there are some chairs set up stage right a few meters from the gear, shortly thereafter Owen (Advance Base) comes to the stage, "those chairs are for people who would like to sit down, feel free to use them" he says from where he stands looming over me. I hesitate for a second and a sprightly older couple occupy the first 2 seats in the blink of an eye followed by another couple both considerably younger and drunker who crash over the PA making their way to the seats. I decide to hold fast.

I'm new to Advance Base with his latest Animal Companionship being my introduction before shuffling through the rest of his back catalogue. Listening I found myself hearing echoes of Lambchop and The Magnetic Fields which are already favourites of mine so I was pretty much primed to dig these tunes too. When doing my due diligence later for the article I learned that The Mag-Fields and L-chop-o are both on Merge Records and that they all started off about the same time as one another. Not only can you hear similarities between all 3 artists but there's even a cover of 'You And Me And The Moon' by The Magnetic Fields on Animal Companionship. Both bands came out in the early '90s, with Casiotone For The Painfully Alone emerging in the latter half of the decade metamorphosing into the Advance Base we know today. It's not hard to imagine these older siblings not playing their part in influencing Owen. Although all 3 bands pull you in with the similar(ish) warm and sweetly underlying melodies of their music with clear approachable spoken-sung vocals you'll notice there are 2 underlying differences that set Owen apart from his forerunners.

Firstly, he's a 1 man band that means every song's a solo! I've seen both aforementioned artists play Barbican Hall with a full compliment taking up most of the stage with their members and equipment, it's impressive. Advance Base by comparison fits in your pocket, also impressive! Owen's setup is like that of a Swedish masseur except he massages the keys on the back of a large rectangular case for an electric piano instead. Spilling over and outside the case are various cables, effects pedals and other unrecognizable doodads, all this is ladened atop a keyboard stand. Relatively speaking small by comparison but still packing plenty of punch. Secondly with Owen there's a constant stream of consciousness throughout his set. Breaking the magician's code Owen reveals his tricks but in the process, for me at least, the magic is not lost but instead amplified. Take his intro to Christmas in Milwaukee for example:

"This next song's about going to your brother's for Christmas when you don't want to. This isn't about my brother because I don't have a brother."  

Grappling with minor technical setbacks throughout the set he conjures the forces of dark magic in a deadpan and relaxed tone announcing,

“I'm going to lean into this echo, and hope darkness prevails"

It's hard to know where the line is between darkness and light or fact and fiction is drawn as he introduces 'Christmas In Nightmare City',

"Driving around Gary Indiana is like trying not to drink alcohol while listening to Steven King's books. You tend to notice how all the houses in the area you're driving through are completely dilapidated except for the original home where the Jackson 5 grew up which is in pristine condition by comparison and one of the only houses with a roof."

They sound like alternate lyrics for the song that you'd find on a B-side.

Yes, there is a certain melancholy woven throughout the set but he's aware of it and his chats add the necessary levity to compensate. I envy his comfortably-cool and composed pace of speaking to a room full of crowded strangers reminding me of just how much different my own behaviour is whenever I'm in a similar situation. If it wasn't for the music playing it would be practicably impossible to differentiate between song and spoken thought, but that's what I really enjoyed most about his set. There was no buffer between mind and mouth or between the audience and the musician. He ends his set promising when he comes back in a few months if we come to see him again he'll play all new songs. The set ended there and he made his way off stage by use of an emergency fire escape and appeared at the merch table as if by magic moments later as we all filed out, one more trick for the road I guess. I waited patiently as a pregnant woman bought a t-shirt (medium) and exchanged some words with Owen. On my way out I felt compelled to say, "Owen, that was really beautiful man, thanks a lot." "Thanks, have a good night" he said coolly (again) and with that for the first time since the evening started I felt like I'd finally secured a firm grip on a ladder rung instead of being ankle deep in snakes.


RY X, St. Luke's, Glasgow


Had I not listened to FluxFM (a radio station from Berlin) for some time now, I’m not too sure if I’d come across RY Cuming, better known by his stage name RY X. The first time I heard one of his songs on the radio I was instantly hooked by his music, despite his tenor voice and electronic chilled music not being what I’d normally go for. So when I saw he was about to play St. Luke’s in Glasgow I knew I had to go. 

I ended up going on my own, excited to see and capture him in the setting of a beautiful church. By the time I get to the venue his support is about to finish her set. RY X comes on stage at 8:30pm dressed in layers of light coloured flowing clothes and a matching hat. He almost has the aura of a priest or preacher. The stage is only dimly lit, there’s even proper candles spotted around. It couldn’t be a more perfect setting for the soft almost soothing music he and his three band members are about to play. Apart from a drum set and RY X’s guitar there’s synthesisers and a lot of other electronic gear that is being used.

After two songs RY welcomes the audience and tells them how nice it is to be back after such a long time and that this evening is the first gig of a long tour.

He then goes on to play 'YaYaYa', a single from his recently released second album Unfurl. The start to 'Untold' is atmospheric and almost hypnotically beautiful. 'Bound' is one of the songs played live for the first time that evening, but you can tell that a lot of effort goes into coming up with the perfect arrangement for their live performances.

One song would melt into another if it wasn’t for the short breaks in between to get ready for each song. 'Berlin' (their first single, released in 2013) and 'Howling' are two of the songs that get the biggest reaction from the audience, who are otherwise in complete silence while RY X is performing for over 90 minutes. 

I leave the venue, calmly uplifted and almost feel like I’m floating through the streets of Glasgow.


Art Brut, Sneaky Pete's, Edinburgh


You wait years to see a band and then manage it twice in two months ...

Having seen Art Brut in January at Rockaway Beach the thought crossed my mind that, despite having wanted to see them for the past 15 years or so, I might want to knock back my review slot for tonight's show, given the rather long-winded elements of the set that night. Countering that though was the fact that Sneaky Pete's is one of Edinburgh's few remaining intimate gig venues so the overall experience was bound to be of a different tenor than that which the large hall in Bognor Regis afforded.

Support tonight comes from Glasgow's Slime City & we managed to catch three of their energetic and humorously delivered tunes. They make good use of sampled speech between the tracks & purvey an infectious punk sound (the Toy Dolls come to mind). Audience engagement was plentiful & you certainly have to like a band that rails against the safety of UK music television when personified by Jools 'Musical Parasite' Holland. I'm not though too sure about the working class credentials assigned to Top Of The Pops but we can agree to differ on that score.

Things were a tad behind schedule tonight due to Art Brut suffering a van breakdown (shows they're properly doing it for this largely sold out tour though - self-propelled via Transit van) so there was little messing about between Slime City vacating the stage & the headliners taking to it, with Eddie Argos simply joining the crowd from his spot at the bar to then jump into place as the Guns 'N' Roses joke intro was gone through.  

I'll admit now that hearing that & with the first two songs being the same as at Butlin's (complete with blether about Eddie's brother etc.) I was initially of a mind that things might be a bit of a drag, not being big on watching repeats, but as the show progressed there was enough variety & diverting audience interaction to cancel out such concerns. Two pissed-up Italian blokes were especially unique, despite it looking at one point as if one of them was about to kick off.

'Modern Art' got a run out later in the set, despite being described as a song no longer played, & occasioned a waffle about a supposed trip to the Van Gogh museum. Argos wandered amongst the crowd a couple of times, even getting the bulk of it to crouch down with him for a mass jump back up near the end of the night, the Sneaky Pete's stage height causing none of the issues witnessed in January.  

If you've had the sense to get a ticket for any of the remaining shows on the tour then you've made the right decision. If not then you'll likely be able to see the band at one or more festivals in the coming months as they seem to be popping up on a lot of bills. Which is only right & proper.

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