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The Wild Weekend, Palmanova, Mallorca

 

Photographs - Rebeca Ulken (@rebeca_ulken) 

From the very moment The Wild Weekend 2019 was announced there was no question as to whether I would be attending. Come hell or high water - I would be there! Having already attended the first two of the three previous Wild Weekends; two Las Vegas Grinds (run jointly between Tom Ingram and Josh & Babz Collins), and numerous Frat Shack nights back in 1990s, I say this with hand on heart, no other events of this ilk have ever compared to theirs. In a scene now saturated with garage/surf/beat festivals, there is certainly an abundance to choose from. However, the previous Wild Weekend/Frat Shacks were never just about the bands - there was always something else, something special - or am I looking nostalgically through rose tinted specs? Also I think they were also one of the first clubs in the UK to present garage/surf/beat & trashy rock ‘n’ roll together (I’m sure you’ll correct me if I’m wrong, good readers). Prior to that it was a choice between Rockabilly and Mod nights - neither of which were ever that appealing (to me), lest one wore the wrong shoes.  

The fourth Wild Weekend, this time located in Palmanova, Mallorca, got off to a cracking start with mystery band (although it didn’t take much to work out who) the inimitable Das Clamps, as delightfully Bad Taste as ever - I love these girls, they encapsulate off the wall humour and kick-ass tunes all whilst looking deadpan glam. A few hours later it was off to Tito’s nightclub in Palma - an opulent Art Deco establishment for the first of the themed night’s - tonight’s being Hollywood Glamour. None of the weekend acts were on offer tonight, instead we are granted the dubious pleasure of the Velvet Cabaret. A tassle-twirling troupe of burlesque bombshells, backed by a cod rock ‘n’ roll band that had more camp than Maplins, indeed there was definitely a touch of the Ted Bovis about them. Still, the drinks measures were muy grande, which helped to smooth the way, and good fun was had by all.

Day two gave us ‘Trash Talks’, the first in a series presented by Lowbrow Artist and Tattooist - Sunny Buick. Sunny gave a compelling presentation of the history of Lowbrow art, which she did in three different characters. It was a real privilege to hear her talk - where else would you hear this? She was both informative, and tres stylish. The next talk was presented by Domenic Priore, Pop historian, Dj and TV producer no less, who chose to bestow his audience with The Rise and Fall of LA’s Space Age Nautical Pleasure Pier. Unfortunately I missed out, as the sunshine was calling, but I hear from a friend that it was fascinating. A very affable and interesting man indeed.

Band time! and onto one of the bands I’d really been looking forward to - purveyors of the ‘North 7 Action Sound!™’ Cee Bee Beaumont. Following a few (shall we say) technical hitches, they prove once again that they are indeed a force to be reckoned with (delving into my memory banks for a comparison as to when I last saw them play - 20 odd years ago?). Perfect musicality is boring right? They played with more oomph than a band twice their size. Their overall sound was impeccable. Another band that stood out, that hadn’t played together for 17 years (announced Babz) was the long awaited return of The Diaboliks - still as full of attitude as ever, and sounding terrific, all delivered with that tongue in cheek naughtiness which the crowd lapped up. Great to see Dan, Babz, Anya and Sophie back together again.

Plenty of mid-20th century miscreants were to be found on Friday evening, at the ‘Villain’s Hideout’. The night was in full dubious swing with a cohort of baddies such as Penguin’s G.O.O.N.’s, from She-Devil on Wheels - The Man-Eaters MC, Bad Cowboys, creepy child psychopath Rhoda Penmark from The Bad Seed, Bonnie & Clyde, and Medusa to name but a few (I certainly felt inadequately dressed in my ubiquitous robbers mask). Norway’s The Scumbugs didn’t have any problems fitting into the villainous surroundings with their big bug heads, bad attitude and bonkers stage show; Mummies-esque full throttle instro ‘Shrimp Nose’ being a highlight for me. Next up The Go-Devils from Japan made their boot mark - right in the middle of our foreheads. Certainly as ferocious as their cover of ‘Get Off The Road’ (from She-Devils on Wheels (1968)) plus a mixture of other well known ‘60s Girls in the Garage covers, as well as their own, joined on stage at one point by Mad “Motor” Matty, and... I won’t say anymore about that. You had to be there.

Fancy a suitcase swap meet around the poolside whilst being serenaded by Ugly Things DJ’s Anja & Mike Stax and Tony Tyger? Yes please! What a civilised way to spend the afternoon. Saturday daytime also bought us more Trash Talks from Dominic and King Khan. Ozzie pop-punksters Thee Cha Cha Chas were definitely a welcome hangover cure and full of light-hearted bounciness, all very engaging. Unfortunately I missed some of the local afternoon bands (I needed to utilise the Spa), plus The Men From SPECTRE and The Loons, and later that evening, The Breadmakers. (That’ll teach me for overindulging at the Villain’s Lair - oops).

Which leads us to Saturday night’s ‘Technicolour Freakout!’ There was an unfortunate cancellation by Screaming Lord Stax - due to their bassist falling off stage earlier in the day. But fear not, The Ogres (featuring Phantom Surfer Johnny Bartlett) were a stone-aged riot. Plenty of all-American Frat-Rock standards with a touch of the ‘British Invasion’ about them (read those pesky Liverpudlian mop-tops); however, the highlight was definitely Bartlett paying tribute to Dick Dale at the end of the set with a fast and furious version of 'Miserlou' - pertinent of course, and loved by the crowd. Cee Bee Beaumont ended the night or started the morning at 2.30am (once again with feeling lads?) and were much more together than Thursday’s performance, and again proved that keeping it simple (two guitarists and a drummer) really works - no frills here, just a gritty solid wall of guitar - hard AF!

Sunday, and the gentle sound of Laurent Bigot’s Glamrock Stomp could be heard poolside, followed by a Ramones sing-along to ‘Rock and Roll High School’, both of which I avoided (nothing personal - sorry!). Later on at the last of the ‘Trash Talks’ Lluis Fuzzhound showed his fabulously fun mid-20th century style animations. If you’re a fan of Hanna Barbera and ‘60s cartoons, then check out his work - it’s very cool indeed. The rescheduled Screaming Lord Stax was monstrously marvelous - I’m SO glad I didn’t miss them. Their version of Sutch’s ‘She’s Fallen In Love With A Monster Man’ was gloriously creepy and kooky - the all important part sung by Anja Stax - thank you! It’s been an ear worm ever since.   

Wrapping up the weekend, and an obvious favourite for me were Les Kitchenettes, who performed on the outside stage at the hotel. They have both ‘60s pop sensibilities a la Yé-Yé, and that effortless ‘60s Parisian cool. They also have plenty of bite, and are not shy with unleashing the fuzz when needed. Ludo and Lucille are real stars of yesteryear, and their energy radiates through to the crowd. I have a feeling that it’s going to be very difficult to top their performance this evening...

Johnny Bartlett and The Crab Shack Shakers serenaded us through dinner with some very much welcomed and desperately needed (by me at least) surf. Ending the evening headliners The Tandoori Knights, who amongst their members have Bloodshot Bill and King Khan, served party time Rock ‘n’ Roll on a spinning plate, and for those who could muster up the energy, dancing and whooping was the order of the evening.

All in all, a fantastic weekend. I hear that there is talk of Wild Weekend 5, possibly in 2021. I sincerely hope that is true. Babz and Josh did it again, with knobs on. Lastly a mention to the fantastic array of DJ’s over the weekend who played the most danceable tunes, and to the Go-Go girls for adding their provocative presence - it wouldn’t have been the same without you.

Why not follow Debbie on instagram @ms_sheringham_boom ?

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Lambchop, EartH, London

 

Having a bit of Lambchop (@lambchopisaband) on an Easter Sunday, what could be more traditional? Inside of EartH, a huge venue which more closely resembles a derelict space dock consisting of a massive berth where space freighters dry docked whilst selling space spice. Fever dreams aside the acoustics of its high and far reaching ceiling are superb being practically three storeys above the ground at their highest points. Unlike most groups I've seen in recent months which spread out and utilize every bit of stage space Lambchop by contrast bunch together, like the herd animals of the Serengeti. Clustered together in the middle of the stage are dual drumkits, a grand piano, steel guitar and tall stool with 'Lambchop' stickered on the back of it. Atop the stool resides a closed tan and weathered '40s era suitcase having seen considerable mileage. What's inside the case you ask? Well unlike Pulp Fiction's glowing mystery we'll soon collectively discover 12 lyrical treasures reside within.  

Shortly after nine Kurt (Vocals/Guitar) and the gang make their way on stage and to their instruments in an unhurried pace. Their manner reminds me of the way a group of long time friends might sit around an old table for an evening meal. Everyone's familiar with the setup after years of ritual and ready to eat with a relaxed air, think alfresco dining in the Mediterranean. The members look as varied as their instruments, some in blazers and button down shirts in smart/casual footwear while others are in blown out jeans, faded t-shirts and rundown sneakers. There's a woodcraft hobbyist meets suburban garage band vibe going on .

Kurt sports his usual 'CO-OP' trucker hat and thick framed glasses as he leans into the mic, "we're just going to play some music for a while" kicking off the informal set with 'The Air Is Heavy' and 'I Should Be Listening To You' (thanks Setlist FM!). I'm sitting cross legged at stage level about 15 feet away from the band. As always the instruments and tones are perfectly balanced with each lending to the other in a series of  perfectly timed hand-offs. This is the second time I'm seeing Lambchop sitting down. The last time was nearly 7 years ago to the day. In March of 2012 I caught them at The Barbican ahead of their 11th album release, we're now at album 13 and one thing still remains true, the band is consistently brilliant. Both times I remember thinking what perfect and beautiful control the musicians have over their instruments while making it look effortless. Last time the drums (a 1 piece) were front and center, this time (both drum sets) at the back. At The Barbican the drummer started playing, I was in the middle of the second row from the stage and remember seeing the drum sticks moving but hearing no sounds until they wanted me to, this time was no different. Over my shoulder I hear a pair in hushed tones say, "you have no idea how complicated what they're playing is." He was right, but it didn't stop me or them from enjoying ourselves because Lambchop don't over-complicate the matter. The music and lyrics lend themselves well to both music aficionados and appreciators alike.           

As you'd expect the performance went off without a hitch, 25 years worth of practice'll do that for ya. There were however a few conversations about an errant pigeon that seemed to concern the band and staff however the sky rat never made an appearance and to the best of my knowledge no one was dropped on. The acoustics as previously mentioned were absolutely excellent. Although only using a fraction of the massive stage at EartH their presence reverberated off ceilings and walls alike filling the vast auditorium completely. In terms of personal preference I've got a few bones that need picking. I think Kurt has one of the loveliest voices in the biz and superb control over its range and hushed tones. That being said why he'd go and put it through the equivalent of a cheese grater using processing effects for a large majority of the gig for reasons I cannot fathom. Maybe he's like the rest of us and isn't a fan of the sound of his own voice? Doubtful but I'm clutching at straws here racking my brain trying to understand why. For the finale 'Up With People' he's got the processing turned up to 11. Sitting as close as I was you could clearly see even Kurt himself put off by the sound. He quickly stands back from the mic and turns the processor's dial way down. Processed vocals on this dudes magical pipes are like face tattoos, maybe, but you know probably not a really great idea. Also, they did not play 'Is A Woman' the first track I ever heard by them which will always hold a special place in my heart.

Aside from that I could not ask for a better way to spend my Sunday afternoon. I got to sit down and listen to some glorious tunes from a couple of legends and even heard a few hilarious jokes from Tony Crow (Piano/Vocals) who assured Kurt that everything was under control because even though he was high he also practices high, so it's cool. Kurt mentions something about heading home after this tour to get back to friends and loved ones and maybe even some 'action' to which Tony replies. “My sex life is like the song 'Freebird', it's a 5 minute solo. Life goes on, we get older, nothing we can do about it", sage advice. Some music, bit of humor throughout the evening involving a couple of birds, a bit of wisdom and that's a wrap.

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Mike Krol, The Social, London - The Gig

 

It's Bank Holiday Monday so who in their right mind would be heading into central London rather than staying totally clear of its high street tourist infested gridlocked carnage? The answer is about 150+ of us lucky enough to have secured tickets to see our very own Pied Piper, Mike Krol (@mikekrol) at The Social tonight. Most of us here for the show are sprawled out on the ground over the pavement, curbs, street and sidewalks chattering away about our weekend exploits and enjoying both the dregs of the sunlight and our drinks on Little Portland Street. It's all but vacant now as the sun sets behind the tall buildings replaced by neon lights and warm lamps which splash their luminescence across our backs and over the ground in front of us stretching out and distorting our shadows. Probably a good time to start heading downstairs into the concrete tombs.

I swing by the merchandise table which is to my right at the bottom of the stairs. I'm well impressed. A variety of 3 clever t-shirts and record sleeves await us. Not only does Mike 'One L' Krol play, write and sing but his also not-so-secret identity as a graphic designer by day shines through. We speak briefly upstairs about how it's his day job and that not only does he design cover art and the like for other bands but for himself as well. It's all very clever, quirky and fun, an amalgamation of costumes and pop-culture kitsch. Definitely a conversation starter.

Over to, and around, the stage all the safe seats are taken. What I'd later learn when watching this performance is that nowhere and no one would be safe once the music started. As the space has filled up I've been pushed and cajoled right to the front front. For anyone that hasn't been here before you're surrounded by stage, concrete to just above your elbow, undulating bodies and walls, you'd have a better chance getting out of an asylum riot alive than this pit. The music on offer tonight ain't your grandma's honky-tonk pianie either, things can get whipped up into a frenzy and out of control quickly. I put my earplugs in (I wish I'd brought elbow and knee pads though) and hope for the best.

The band enters with their back to us, Mike's nowhere to be seen. The lights are out(ish) and suddenly a door opens at the back of the stage, a block of red light in the shape of a door appears with Mike enveloped inside of it. He comes out, the crowd explodes and the band turns around. Everyone looks like they've been thrown out of the tour van as it's flipped over and burst into flames. (fake?) Blood runs out of face holes, Mike's got a black eye and blood coming out of his face and everyone is dressed to kill, or die (Mike Krol is never dead), albeit a bit disheveled. I don't know (or care) what's going on because it's a fuckload of a fun already and Paul the in-house sound engineer is manually strobing the stage lights from the sound booth. Mike wraps about 30m of mic cable around his arm and heads to the drum kit. He counts down, and starts beating the fucking daylights out of a symbol and we're OFF.

 I'm going to borrow an analogy Iggy Pop uses in Jim Jarmusch's 2016 bio-pic Gimme Danger to describe former guitarist James Williamson. "As a guitarist, James fills the space as if somebody's just let a drug dog into your house and it's big. And he-he finds every corner...of a musical premise and of a piece of space and time and fills it up with detail. It's a very detailed approach and it's really hard to find a space to say something that he hasn't thought of or occupied". That's a pretty apt summary of watching Mike inside a venue. No one/where is safe, the first song hasn't even made it to the hook before he's climbing the walls and anything else he can latch on to. Everyone's a trouble maker in this group and bloodied. The drummer has no expression on his face and looks like the kind of guy that could have a stick of dynamite easily roll and stop at his foot, fuse burning, and casually bend over picking it up while simultaneously chucking it over his shoulder without a second thought. The lead guitarist is totally off his chain, shredding up a fucking typhoon. He's removed his glasses and I'd later find out that he can't even see when he does this. Allison, Mike's girlfriend, is blasting out lyrics and thumbing the bass like she's putting out flames.

 

Before I know it the show's over, and an hour+ of my life's gone missing. Miraculously I've sustained zero injuries, Mike did ask us politely not to hurt each other. Perhaps a bit of hearing loss, but generally unscathed, hazzah! Speaking of missing, it's a show not to be missed. If you HAVE missed it and are in the London area this weekend, you're in luck. Mike Krol is playing Test Pressing Festival April 27th in Hackney Wick, which still has a few tickets left. Gettem before they're gone folks!

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Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs, The Sage, Gateshead

 

With an incredible second album under their belts it’s no wonder that Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs are selling out shows across the country. Tonight is just that too, just across the river from their hometown they’ve sold out one of the finest venues around, as the grandiose Sage Two is the setting for the culmination of this three week tour. Opening the show are the fabulous Lower Slaughter whose deep bass and heavy riffs spirals up this cylinder of sound. It’s deep, it’s heavy and it’s angry, singer Sinead Young is a force to be reckoned with as she bounds around the stage. 

Her passion and angst permeates through these aggressive tracks which are compounded by relentless riffs, you couldn’t really ask for much more from an opening act their fervour and enthusiasm lights up this room tonight. As the lights go down and Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs take to the stage, the excitement very quickly reaches fever pitch. The local heroes have returned and Matthew Baty and his band are here to bring the noise. Opening with 'GNT' it’s a ferocious start with Baty throwing himself around the stage in typical fashion, getting up close and personal with the crowd of adoring fans.

This deafening opening is backed by a slew of other tracks, they are in unrelenting form each track more powerful than the last. There is an unbridled sense of frivolity between tracks too as Baty addresses the crowd with anecdotes, whilst this packed crowd are undoubtedly having the time of their lives the band are resonating with their every cheer. The likes of 'Shockmaster' and 'Sweet Relief' sound truly out of this world in this wonderful venue. 

However, it is 'Cake Of Light' that elevates proceedings to a whole new level, this track sounds phenomenal performed with an insane level of passion and brilliance Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs prove why they’re selling out shows across the country. Closing out on the equally fervent 'A66' it caps a truly triumphant homecoming for the band, without doubt they are in the best form of their lives right now and 'King Of Cowards' sounds absolutely incredible. Without doubt they’ve proved how deserved they are of the plaudits that they continue to receive from across the board! 

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Cherry Glazerr, Electric Brixton, London

 

I'm en route tonight to meet some Trash People at Electric Brixton AKA Cherry Glazerr (@CherryGlazer). A few months ago I got my head out of the sand and got switched onto this 21-year-old LA terror of the fretboard. Scrolling through Pitchfork's 'New Album Releases' a few months earlier I glimpsed the cover for Stuffed & Ready and thought who or what was channeling this Dusty Springfield/Courtney Love hybrid? Enter Clementine Creevy on the cover having her cake and eating it to. I gave the album a whirl and liked what I heard, so I dug deeper. A succession of increasingly well produced albums with a variety of sound.

If you think it's impressive that Clembutt AKA Cherry Glazerr AKA Clementine Creevy is a 21 globetrotting rockater with three albums under her belt already, hold onto your butts. Not only has she been touring nationally and globally over the past 2 years but she's been flippin' demos online since she was 15. I'm pretty sure puberty was still my main concern at that age (or the lack thereof). I gleaned most of this info about Clem from a mini-doc by Vice which I was so impressed by that I'm including a link to it here for your to peruse at your leisure. We learn that luck as much as talent had to do with her recent success, she almost didn't respond to Burger Records who reached out to her about the demos she posted on Soundcloud. When asked about this she laughs saying, "and that would've been a mistake ahahahahah". This LA light-hearted sub zero chill transfers on stage, more on that later. There's a bit of home movie footage catching Clem yelling, "COME ON LET'S ROCK N ROLL", not much has changed. The footage echoes my gig notes, 'natural talent, born performer'.

Now in the venue I swing by the merchandise booth. Pastel pink and powder blue boy-cut briefs as far as the eye can see with Cherry Glazerr splashed across them. I'm good though I just picked up a few new pairs of unmentionables a couple of weeks ago. Good selection of goods though, maybe the best I've seen in a while. There's something for everyone pins, stickers, records, prints, shirts and the aforementioned undies, she knows her people. I get to the stage and pass the time chatting with a pair of music vets in their early 60s who's conversation I eavesdropped and shoehorned my way into. One's a Biker looking leather jacket daddy who's talking to an accountant type and reminiscing about the Yak (@yakband) gig he was at in Oxford a few nights ago. Maybe the easiest small talk I've made in weeks, pretty enjoyable way to pass the time before the gig.

Opening acts complete, a sparse stage is laid out with massive gaps between the instruments. It brings the Orielles setup to mind, minus the keys except for in the background a roadie inflates a giant pair of cherries about 2 meters tall. Behind me I notice an equally sparse setup audience-wise, main floor isn't packed and the balcony is barren. Tonight's show was a sold-out gig, which I found weird considering CG's on her third album and second UK tour having even appeared on Radio 6. Her publicity game and online presence are stronger having modeled for Saint Laurent and even doing a bit of acting, my point is people are aware, so what's the deal? There are a few of London's own playing around town tonight, maybe that's the case?

Around quarter after nine Clem and the band strut out arms extended and waving asking if we're ready to rock as she drops into some pre-set squats wearing a huge smile. They start the set off with 'Ohio' the opening track off Stuffed & Ready. I'm about three meters from Clem, gig wise that's really arm's length. It helps me take in her stage presence, where as stated previously I recognize her as a natural performer instantly. In my mind she was always meant to be on stage, it's her element and she's 100% in it. She's come out with a swagger worthy of Jagger. She shred's on her frankenguitar which is missing pick-ups, tone knobs and pick-up selector, it's more like an extension of her body than an instrument. She's not just 'technically' good at what she does, she's a natural. She romps around the stage headbanging, stompin' and kickin' never missing a note. She doesn't stop to solo or climb the fret-board she's all over the stage. It's not a matter of practice makes perfect, I've been walking my whole life and I still look like an idiot doing it, she's been born to do this. You get a sense that when Clem play's she leaves whatever's going on in her life at the door, her playing style is loose, relaxed and fun, envy inducing to watch. There's no weight or chip to speak of on her shoulders, she's free. Her strumming style changes from loose wristed up and down strokes like on her second song of the evening, 'Had Ten Dollaz' to hammering those down strokes later in her set on 'Wasted Nun', a tune with darker, harsher tones and crackin' fuzz. She ends her set with 'Told You I'd Be With The Guys' which is a solid rock tune riddled with excellent PTSD inducing fret slides resembling an electric carpet bombing. The atmosphere of the gig felt a lot like I was just horsing around with some ole chums, a shoulder checks and butt bump smorgasbord.

Downsides, there were a few. I dug the sparse setup but former member Sasami (who's gone solo rather than rogue) really filled the sound out, something to consider. Clem's not only a superb guitarist her vocals and lyrics are on equal par. 'Creevy's unique vocals - alternating from dreamy to high-pitched, hostile and unforgiving - and for its cynical, witty lyrics' (Wikipedia). The only drawback? When you can't hear them that's all you can really think about which completely detracts from the experience. Major fuck-up by the sound engineer. Between her PA and earpiece I'm sure she couldn't hear the audience yelling throughout the set, 'we love you Clementine but we can't hear you!' myself included. Nearly three quarters through the hour+ set this was rectified but too little too late. A couple of half-aborted mosh-pit attempts during chill tunes by a few dudes with Jagermeister on their breath, (skiers am I right?) didn't help either.

That aside, a great gig I'd totally recommend seeing her live, if not for the music (which will fucking get you whether you like it or not) to see the spectacle that is her live show. Whipping around her guitar chord like a makeshift lasso. Taking a break and laying flat on the stage while convulsing as she belts out notes or how about kissing her 'guns' after asking her audience, 'are you trash people? I'm trash people' in appreciation of her own talent (deservedly so) and launching into another shredfest, she's (certainly) a wild one.

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Idles, Vicar St., Dublin

 

Photograph by Szymon Jastrzebski

“We are called Idles. That’s rhetoric for my ego. You know what we’re called”. This gig has sold months in advance, as this tour has everywhere. There are flyers galore for their headline summer show in Iveagh Gardens. That’s a 4000 capacity gig so they are working hard to sell it. I’ve seen Idles once before at Bearded Theory but this will be my first experience of them in an indoor environment. On a side note, for anyone booking tickets for Vicar St., if you are too old for moshing or just not into it, book the balcony. The view is better and there is always space to move without being bumped and jostled. Plus, there’s a dedicated bar and clean toilets.

The 1100 ticketholders are slow to turn up so it’s 20:30 before we get a glimpse of support band, Crows. The pounding toms, heavy bass groove, and the practiced disdain of lead singer James Cox, lend credence to those comparisons with Joy Division and Killing Joke that you may have read about them. I mention it to Szymon and he peels off his jumper revealing a Killing Joke tour t-shirt. Pointing to Cox, he shouts “Jaz Coleman, Junior!” over the controlled feedback of Steve Goddard’s heavily effected guitar. Crows are indebted to shoegaze too, especially in the guitar department, except that these guys have proper choruses. Cox abandons his twin microphone stands to mingle with the audience. He makes his way through the now-full room, almost reaching the seated area at the back, and I realise I’ve stopped dancing for the first time since they came on. The Bastard Sons of Jaz Coleman and Ian Curtis are on to something good.

Idles come on in darkness to a pop stars’ welcome. An arty lightshow introduces the stripped-back intro of ‘Colossus’ that builds to a crescendo while the crowd sings every word back and guitarist Mark Bowen stalks the stage in his boxers. The crowdsurfing starts in earnest for ‘I’m Scum’ as Bowen and fellow guitar player, Lee Kiernan, take turns mounting the barrier. The pair meet in the middle of the crowd for the breakdown of ‘Exeter’ and as they make their way back to the stage there’s an impromptu, a capella rendition of Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’. It’s quite bizarre to hear a thousand people sing Christmas songs in April but it’s definitely memorable. As it is a few minutes later, when the same crowd are chanting along to the band's musings on the nature and origins of sexual violence in the bridge of ‘Mother’.

Below our balcony spot, the floor surges and seethes. ‘Well Done’ inspires pogoing at the same time as singalongs, while others are simply caught up in the groove. Singer Joe Talbot refers to his past drug use and suddenly the pronouncements of positivity and affirmation make more sense. During ‘Never Fight A Man With A Perm’, Talbot parts the crowd, like Moses or Sacred Reich, and has the two sides of the audience face each other. “Wall Of Death is for arseholes”, he says, “This is a Wall Of Love”. Whatever your opinion of Idles’ philosophy, it’s refreshing to hear a band that has one; philosophy needs more mirrorballs anyway.  

I haven’t got their latest album yet but I’m going to rectify that after tonight’s show. The new songs they played tonight like ‘Love Song’ and the Solomon Burke cover ‘Cry To Me’ are great tunes. The new stuff doesn’t diverge greatly from the direction of Brutalism but are up to the standard set by the likes of ‘Divide And Conquer’ and ‘Heel/Heal’.  I’m already looking forward to their next Irish gig in July. See you there!

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