In The End

....a good weekend. ITC one way or another has provided some top class entertainment, not least altercations, drunken adventures, tales of high class porn during recording sessions and the Silent Bob / Bill Bailey look of Arthur Baker (who looks smashing in his new svelte guise).

The bands have been good. But one thing that struck me is that despite the A&R panels and screening process, I didn't see anything that impressed me more than the stuff we have in Manchester. And as even City Life have noticed - "Where were the local unsigned Bands in the ITC Unsigned calender ?".

Astonishingly no-where. However the sheer quality and number of fringe events is a credit to all those involved and the bands who played. A fantastic effort, mainly at the expense of those who arranged them, but all very well attended. Most, if not all of these were independently promoted and its a credit to Manchester - and I think typical of the music community here, that it should be done so well.

Obviously I didn't see all the bands, but there seems from my perspective only, to be a buzz surrounding INFRASOUND*, YOUTH MOVIE SOUNDTRACK STRATEGIES*, PERFORMANCE, SAMMYusa (signed), EARTH THE CALIFORNIAN LOVE DREAM* (ace), LISA BROWN, MAXIMO PARK, NATHAN BURTON, GRAND TRANSMITTER* and of course THE OBSESSION..! (* denotes official UNSIGNED entries).

The most memorable experience, whilst pissed !, has to be Akoustik Anarkhy. It was mad. Took you back to the 'wedding reception with drugs' feel of The Withy Groove Club (Club Suicide precursor). You pulled it right out of the bag boys - I loved every minute of it.

Oldham Street seemed to work well, although anything north of Acension was like a no-mans land (literally : barbed wire, bodies, earthy trenches and the sound of screaming...). Funnily enough, although the Northern Quarter area has the best smattering of full-time music venues, there didn't seem enough. However Ascension and North had a very good set up - it all seemed to work quite well. The only good/bad thing was the Key103 stage. Great idea having a free out door live gig, but it ran on into the night and detracted from the Unsigned/ Independent event stuff going on. Coupled with piss poor advance notice and lack of prior knowledge about who was on. Hard to envisage what would be best. Maybe an outdoor Saturday afternoon (conflict with shoppers?), or just a Sunday afternoon set up ? Not an easy one to resolve, but everyone in attendance seemed to enjoy the whole plot and KINESIS were ace !

There's a real hope that ITC will be back in Manchester next year, but there needs to be some real consideration of whats on the doorstep - artistically, creatively and in terms of local resources. Everythings last minute, co-ordination is difficult and getting really involved in the guts of what happening in Manchester itself seems at times to be a struggle for ITC. But things seem to be hitting a stride - The Darkness may be complaining about having to play a "shit" gig in Salford last year and it being a "let down", but without ITC they most definitely wouldn't be where they are today and no other music event in Europe, maybe the world has that sort of track record.

*!*



JA

A super fast round up of a hectic night.

I had a final opportunity to get out and see the sights and sounds of the Northern Quarter before bidding a sorry farewell to ITC and entering the day job again.

Drive at Ascension were extremely competent musicians but touched The Bluetones once too often for me. They didn't look the part, reminding me of that confused age when you hesitantly try and grow your hair but there's still enough skinheads in school to beat you for it, so you give up. They had an absolutely superb drummer who managed to lift some very ordinary guitar music.

Scanners at Dry Bar had something to shout about and that's exactly what they did. The female fronted trio had both the ferocity and the cool to impress a well attended gig. With military dress hat and the obligatory slim leather jacket, our frontwoman had a dirty bass sound and a set of lungs to rival the most stressed drill instructor. Their music was pretty much punk laced with a definite talent for a tune and some pretty impressive guitar work.

The Gems at Night and Day were Scottish as it turned out and sounded like The Cult. For a small lad, the singer of this three piece had one hell of a set of lungs on him.

Escape Pod broke the mould of noisy guitars and presented their off the scale quirk at Dry Bar. In between the bleeps and squeals there were the west-coast harmonies and even though the feedback did them no favours there was people visbly enjoying themselves. I wondered how they would cut it live and this is proof that although there is no element of dynamic showmanship they have the skills to please.

The Vox at The Roadhouse are as much a mystery to me as they were to the bemused onlookers I shared this sweat pit with. I don't mind some attention to detail but these boys seem to have let their Kings Of Leon beard obsession get in the way of the real picture. It was too much a scene from The Face to take seriously from the start, who wears a crevatte apart from Ocean Colour Scene? In a way I can see the potential with no compromise in their music, including a 10 minute country bluesy slow burner than displayed some talent. I wonder how much their sound might change with the fashion though?

The AM at Life Cafe are the band who have formed from the other half of Jeff Buckley's writing team. With white stetson and tobacco chewing American attitude they certainly kicked off to a good start. It became clear though that tonight was not a good night and the main man's voice disappeared into the mix and the absence of any real potent ditties let them down.

Then I ate some beans and went to bed.

Rob.

TELL ME WHY I HATE MONDAYS?

by JA (Mon 15/9/03)

The last night of the ITC Unsigned Showcases (quite a good crop this year, but no real ‘buzz’ bands as yet on the official list) is undertaken through the insomniatic haze of no sleep for two nights running.

Weird, as it seems to be mainly industry folk knocking around as well. Ascensions back room is being run rather casually. The badges seem to be hiding behind a pair of small walls that separate the bar from the dancefloor. WEED (Wild Evil Entertainment Department) are playing to an effectively empty room, with the resident A&R behind the barricades. Solution go beserk. WEED aren’t bad – post rock with furious guitar bits and a mad front man. Tambourines get bashed against the pillars and at least the band have made the effort as the life is sucked out of the room by the corporate jockeys. Haven’t they been to a gig before ? The venue’s not bad though, but just can’t get the people in and seems badly signposted, which compounds the lack of passing traffic.

Night & Day seems to have stolen the show this year, by just being the central place to hang out. Despite its planet mercury type temperatures. Earth The Californian Love Dream, probably didn’t have to try too hard to get noticed with their big hitter connections, but despite any cynical concerns, their music speaks for itself and they are rather good. Basically they live up to their name, with some hard hitting guitars and more than a leaf or two taken from the pages of the Nada Surf book. The vocals are quite punchy and work well when doubled up the drummers backing vox. Some really neat tunes in there, mean that ETCLD could be big and are easy to enjoy. Their next to last tune was absolutely brilliant, but they pissed on their chips slightly with a rather ordinary end to their set. One of the best bands I’ve seen so far this weekend.

At North, DOGS, having accosted us the night before were preceded by the rather undeveloped sounds of THREE CHILDREN OF FORTUNE. Competent but basically any band in any town. Not sure how such a band could get through the screening process. They’re young and its definitely a first band effort. But DOGS kick up a storm with their John Otway meets supercharged Strokes numbers. A bit of a mix. One guitarist looks cool, the bass player doesn’t move an inch and the singer can’ t sing that well and even though there’s some attitude it’s a little contrived. A big crowd is here though and rumours abound that Mercury may be interested and being managed by the same person who looks after Razorlight is no disadvantage. They had one of the best tracks on the ITC CD, but it's very much a personification of “now”.

Talking of the CD, a couple of things stuck out. The aforementioned DOGS track is actually pretty good, but 28 Costumes sounds like a reworked Chameleons influence – the whole track sounds almost live, but its very interesting indeed. The best band of the whole weekend though has been the astoundingly brilliant LISA BROWN. They should have been on at ITC and I’m staggered that no-one else seems to be going on about them. They should be signed now – 18 but could be massive before their 19th birthdays….you read it here

Owls, flyers and headaches

Sunday: Awake from dream in which the woods that don’t exist in the back garden are populated by killer screech owls who steal all the babies and when we find the bodies hanging in the trees the baby owls have pecked out their eyes. Arrive relatively late for the afternoon’s frolicking on account of having to review the new Clea album (yeah, I know, wow), but despite amassed hordes on Oldham Street, Dave manages to sully his track record by being exactly where he said he would be, Alex in tow.

We are on a mission this afternoon to go forth and flyer for the evening’s gig. The initial plan is to only give them out to good looking people, but there aren’t any (at least we fit in). Manage to scare two girls with over-enthusiasm, briefly meet Fi-Lo (the first good-looking people, and Jon-Lee is, in particular, absolutely fucking gorgeous), then head down to the Printworks for Degrassi, who, entirely unsurprisingly, deliver a harsher rendering of the latest Idlewild LP – you could more precisely pick it as “Hope…”-era ‘wild doing Astrid covers. Dave, who seems to be our social face at the moment since Alex and I spend most of the time talking to one another in favour of anyone else, appears to know most of the people in the advertising utopia that is the Printworks, and spends the duration talking to them and not introducing us. I am meanwhile down to my final flyer and looking for a really, really attractive target. The more people I reject the more my expectations seem an impossibility, so eventually I give up and pass it to someone boring. Sixty seconds later she walks round the corner.

The Roadhouse is empty-ish by 8, and fills slowly around the start of Ormondroyd. “Perfect Designs” and “The Storm” both get a run-out and are so soft and immersive to the touch that after a while you forget where you are and stop noticing anyone else. Am rudely awoken by Jon, to DJ Bruno: “Dave! Dave! They’ve finished, Dave!” (Dave stalks back across room in scrappy Kiss T-shirt that he was wearing the first time we became reacquainted two years ago and possibly hasn’t washed since). Something random; probably Good Charlotte covering “Nothing Compares 2U” ensues. Jon (raising eyes to heaven): “You’re the world’s worst DJ. You’re shit.” Dave: “It’s not my fucking fault, someone pressed the fucking pause button!” Notice Econoline have brought the Twominutemen LP with them, but I am £2 short and poor. Dilemma.

Ten Days, whom I honestly expected to be no better than last time, trump everything yet again with another exhilarating ripped-up burst of bellicose shapelessness. I have no idea what the name is, but you can hear the splinters coming off it. The first half of the set is continuous sound; each song punctuated by tears, snarls, feedback and the trademark Levantine riffs. It’s better than the second, when they talk between songs. “Changes,” or whatever it’s called, doesn’t really need Navid’s preamble about how we can change the world. We know we can – we just put Ten Days on, and quite a few people are watching. Finally pick up my “Resistance Is Your Duty” sticker from the freebies table, and feel embarrassed and like a 14-year-old buying The Holy Bible.

Twenty Minutes start well – rather like a softly-spoken early Wolfgang Press; Laymar do it better but this is fine. There are shades of Pablo Honey too, but the songs are mercifully more challenging. By the end, though, like most followers of that album, it’s all gone very MOR and sounds like James Walsh crying into a bucket. Or, to put it another way, Starsailor. Dave entertains us during the gig by parading a CD (apparently newly bought), and then standing, legs apart, pushing it into our faces, and going: “Yeeeeeees!”. Me: “Where did you get that?”. He: “It’s mine, I’ve had it for ages” (it turns out to be something by Chavez). Jon: “That’s a bootleg!” D: “Yeah, it’s the first album, you can’t buy it anywhere, it’s very rare.” There’s some strangely inverted triumph about this, but I can’t quite fathom it. Besides, Econoline are starting, which is a hell of a lot more interesting than watching Dave. They’re gimpier than I expected, but that just makes their anger more appealing. What really sticks in your throat is that however dirty and sour-mouthed the songs at their root, caught in the folds of this dejected tapestry they somehow slip out so cleanly. Alex becomes quiet and emotional, and everyone fancies the drummer, herself included.

ED: For the Following statement Tom Kirk has been fined, beaten and lambasted for being of poor taste - we think The Obsession are the best new band in Manchester and we accuse TK of tossing off over his Comsat Angels and Ride Audio library, whilst blinkered to the sweaty '77 inspired Kinetics of The Obsession....)

[so he rambles.....]
I am told by Jon, at once earnestly and sarcastically, that The Obsession will blow me away. For about thirty seconds this appears to be an overstatement, but by far less a distance than I expected, because instead of ripping off The Stooges, these lagging underlings of the Rehashed Rock Regurgitation seem to be doing an okay rip off of Joy Division instead. It ain’t good, but it definitely ain’t crap. Then it goes crap again, with the usual one-cord wanking about and falling over in the audience. It’s actually a pain to stand up and watch it but having forced both Dave and Alex to stay on grounds of not letting Jon down I kind of feel obliged to take an interest. Much of this involves not looking at Dave, because when we do catch each other’s eye we start laughing. I would think I was closing my mind off to them, but every time I try to open it back up they seem to kick it shut again with yet more gristly jabs of sub-MC5 drivel. Resort to joining the others and Econoline to sign up people we hate on to the mailing list. Unfortunately, I don’t know the email address of anyone I hate and know (with good reason), and therefore have to make some up. But it’s already got to that level. Even Bruno has an entry @ursineterrorism.co.uk.
[Ed - right you're dead Kirk...]

Dave has got his second wind but is so tired you’d barely notice. Alex has to report for his first day of school in a few hours and takes his leave (ohhhw, I’m coming over all paternal). We also meet new writer Craig, who has done a stunning job of blagging his way in for the evening on the basis of something I didn’t tell him, simultaneously managing to piss off all the twats who run the joint on everyone’s behalf. The boy will go far. His mate gives me a CD, which I then manage to leave in Dave’s record box. He’s probably running around Prestwich with it going “Yeeeeees!” as we speak. We head our respective ways, D and I agreeing that The Obsession are MM’s crippling delusion. I sleep, but do not dream, but finally have Thetwominutemen album, which probably accounts for my feeling so peaceful.

TK.

15 minutes with you..........finally!

This flippin weblog thing sounded like a great idea when Lord Soviet announced the plans. "Wonderful!" I thought, "I'll have a few minutes everday to keep people upto date with my movements". In reality, I'd have been better off sending it on the back of a postcard. Exactly how my writing buddies at manchestermusic.co.uk find the time and energy to keep up with proceedings is beyond me, but respect where respect is due, they are doing the business.

Super 8's were the first band I bumped into this weekend at Gullivers. My mind drifted to last years ITC and particularly the faces of the locals who had gone in for a quiet Monday night drink in their regular boozer, only to be mobbed by the out of town music bod contingent. The karaoke night at this particularly "traditional" Manc establishment didn't seem to be disrupted too much by our presence.

Anyhow, the band did a great job in kicking off the night. Turning David Bowie's "Heroes" back from the scally shade that Oasis coloured it in the late 90's back into the glittery glam hue that it should be. Their own material is a driving punk pop crossbreed and the performance is polished up so that you can see your face in it. Street Regal arrived with an endorsement from Sir Bob Geldof and that was enough for me to stick around and check them out. A couple of industry type blokes later described the frontman as a David Baddiel or (worse?) an Ian Broudie lookalike. He certainly had the appearance of a man who'd cry if you put his POG collection out of order.

Just proving how unfair and cruel this very business is, the band were actually not a bad listen. Our cosmetically challenged (I look like James Dean by the way) frontman had the "man to man", "tell it like it is" qualities that can only come from meaning what you sing. He had a plain voice with plain words coming out of his perspiring face, but there was a sincerity and the occasional subtle quirk that made it somehow beyond ordinary.

As my little night got underway on Saturday night at 42nd Street with Garron Frith, I'd already heard soundcheck after soundcheck and would really have appreciated somebody else to take over the running of the show whilst I slipped off and started a new life as a pillow tester. As it goes, the night was a blinder and we eventually staggered home at 2.30am. Garron was great, he's a mature and intelligent songwriter who has the huge bonus of a decent voice.

Twenty Twenty Vision arrived as a brand new four piece who had rehearsed only that afternoon. The boss of a rather large, local live promoter had turned up early to catch Adrian Lomas and his band, I'm not sure whether the reaction was favourable or not, I was watching my backdrop slowly fall to the floor as the air conditioning loosened the gaffer tape. I wiped away a solitary tear as the black fabric drifted to the floor, finally mustering the energy to loudly applaud the band as they completed another fine set of subtle, fragile pop songs.

Anyone who has got either of their EPs' will know that Rises are a match for anyone when it comes to cramming six men onstage with decks, keyboards and guitars and making wonderful music. From murmering acoustic tracks to all out rock assaults they have a ready to go sound and style that has seen them develop a reputation in the capital. It was their first Manchester gig and although we seem to have lost a guitar in the aftermath, they enjoyed the experience and an ample audience showed their gratitude for them making the journey in the Rises-mobile.

Gay Dogs had come up from Bristol at the last minute and were stuck between two of the best bands of the evening. Drums, guitar and vocals were the only requirements for the duo and they took the bull by the horns, turning in a set that was far removed from what everyone else had peddled. Angular, punky songs that were constructed with some forethought and performed perfectly with the tools at their disposal.

When a venue goes from being comfortably attended to uncomfortably "cosy" it's likely that Lisa Brown will have arrived. Suddenly the venue was plastered with Lisa stickers (the venue manager halting procedings until they were removed, oops!) and the chants of "Lisa, Lisa, Lisa!" grew from the back. The aforementioned Chief of this website had turned up by this point with Sov Twin 2 and Mr Rob F, his jaw hit the floor so that should tell you something about what we're dealing with. They had mobbed the ITC HQ during the day and one member of the band had even been donated a delegate pass by the frontman of an established Mancunian band on the correct analysis that they'd probably get more out of it than he would. Makes a change from getting the "Elbow" from your heroes!

Running out of time, Nathan Burton
had to put in a set that was limited to four songs. Somebody had said of him that he was the new Stephen Fretwell, whether he'll stand up to that comparison we don't know but the reaction from the set he offered and the dismay at his set being cut short was unusually enthusiastic. He and his acoustic guitar took on a crowded nightclub crowd and won, a feat that you don't see very often. Then The Beans came and did the business as they always do, but as I have an interest in their progress it would be very, very wrong of me to use this weblog to sell their talents and their fantastic "Sun Is Shining" EP. I wouldn't therefore be able to tell you that they were brilliant as usual and that they rounded off the night perfectly.

Tonight is my night to get out there and hear more music than my ears can possibly hold so there will be much to bring to your attention in the next 24 hours.

That was Rob who wrote all that.

I'm Tired And I Want To Go To Bed.....

by J

Sunday morning is a bit hazy, but as we manage to place ourselves in Stevenson Square, we catch up on the morning after the night before.

Coming around in the brilliant sunshine, one of the keynote occurrences from Saturday transpires, after remembering that there was talk of the Police being rather bemused on the Saturday evening. It went something like this.

Police to a Venue :
“Why are there hundreds of people milling around on Oldham Street?”

A Venue:
“There’s an international Music Convention”

Police:
“What?”

A Venue:
“There’s an international Music Convention – In The City – delegates from across the globe - hundreds of unsigned bands..”

Police to a Venue :
“But why are there hundreds of people milling around on Oldham Street?”

A Venue:
“It’s supported by the City Council – didn’t they tell you about it…?”

Police:
“No – can you move all these people away from Oldham Street ?”

A Venue :
“Errr Isn’t that your job – most of these might not even have been in here ?”

Police:
“We’re going to have to shut the venue – can you check inside the venue to see if anyone’s drunk ?”

A Venue:
“ It’s a bar – Everyone’s pissed……I’m pissed..”

Fortunately common sense prevailed and the “venue” shut itself down for a short while just to calm things down….only to open up later to the crime scene that is CHIPS piss up. Just where are the police when you need them?

Anyhow – Sunday saw the Key (‘Unlocking Manchester Music’) 103 live stage. I think they mean that its being ‘unlocked’ after they’d stuck it in a safe, behind some old boxes in a boiler room, in 1982. Come on Key 103, the last decent thing you did for Manchester was “Tony The Greek” and that was decades ago.

But, I suppose you can’t bite the hand that feeds you. UN-CUT were the first band we saw. We missed the poorly named Machine Gun Fellatio – apparently it was all topless women with nipple tassles and a bloke with a gaffer taped cock and modesty covering teddy bear, ruuuning around the square in an excited state. All at a family friendly time of mid-day. Anyhow, back to Un-Cut. Or should I say “Un-able to be there”. Un-Cut comprised of the singer and ….the singer and no doubt a CD (the rest of the music). Not as naff as it sounds. What was lost in only having a virtual back up was more than made up for by the lead singers fantastic voice and stage persona. Given the lack of any other musicians, it was a hell of a performance, although the backdrop of a middle aged roadie installing a carpet for the next bands drum kit was less than inspiring.

Manc Favourites NYLON PYLON took to the stage, with a no-prisoners attitude. Everything was in there, “Music:Noise” (maybe their best track ?), plus the summer pop thumper “Foot In Mouth”. The drums are made to look too easy and the bass grunts and grinds in perfect support to the inspiring structures of Pylon’s deliberately disjointed arrangements and the throbbing pulses of their electro-beat rock. Many whispers are circulating around re: the Pylon and we’d like to quell rumours that they’ve been dropped by their label. As we have been tipped, they’re reported to be very much in control of matters, so watch this space . As if to prove a point, a drum stick is hurled from the stage at the end of the set. Instead of taking someone’s eye out (which it could have easily done), it sailed from the stage to way past the Coffee Pot Café, where it gentle descended into the hand of a punter, who just effortless plucked it from the air. It couldn’t have been planned any better – a fitting, if not divine, Pylon sign.

Another band suffering with their label is The Rain Band. Their brand of baggy rock, isn’t entirely inspiring, but they sure damn look good. There’s a certain air about them, but tracks from “Knee Deep and Down” translate well into small “Stadium” rockers. The Rain Band aren’t quite as hot to me as the Pylon, but again their label shamefully doesn’t seem in it for the long run and having stripped out the ghosts of Madchester in long player number one, they most surely have something yet to pull out of the bag.

A couple of years ago, 4 lads from Bolton were swotting for their GCSE’s whilst planning their debut gigs (which would feature a guest slot by an as yet developing Fi-Lo Radio). This year, the Kinesis debut album beckons and they unleash another single on us. Kinesis, as though you need telling, rock. The shadow of The Buzzcocks allows them to shine brightly, but it’s the crowd surfing attraction of their Nu-Rock outlook, which sets them apart. There are shades of the “new” Manics (Dave Eringa connections aside), but the youthfulness of the Kinesis sound finds no shame in its heritage and references. Such energy and utter passion is rare these days and the only real question to be answered is why these rising stars were not headlining.

Unfortunately the ELECTRIC CIRCUS soundchecks beckoned and the Roadhouse basement was my next location. This brought it’s own little adventures, with 10Days still on the tram from Bury at their appointed sound check time and Sheffields’ Ormondroyd causing on stage overcrowding issues, by turning up with seven band members. ST2 sneaked out to see Puressence and reports came wandering back, of another excellent gig, from the almost legendary act that just need a label to entrust them to write some of musics greatest anthems (they’ve already written braces of them). If anyone can listen to “I Suppose” and “Walking Dead” and then not be prepared to offer up their blood, then music is really, truly dead.

Competing against a free, outdoor event on a Sunday night, was never going to be easy, but the crowds kept coming and going and much to my relief, 20 MINUTES entertained an impressive crowd, Ormondroyd threw melodic soundscaped shapes and 10Days are giving us a peek of their only slightly hidden brilliance. The best quote from someone in the audience – “This is the rock sound track for Beirut and Tel-Aviv”. The best quote from the band “An Eye For Eye Makes The World Blind…”. Compelling. Thankfully the wonderful ECONOLINE gathered up a growing crowd and their jutting, abrasive songs demand careful listening. The Obsession created the late night factory club feel though. This is 1977, featuring Raw Power, the JAMC and smatterings of pure Joy Division. Gone is the rasping Detroit sonics and a more earthy, exciting and darker but violently energetic performance stamps The Obsession sound with a new breed of forward thinking, adrenalised soundtracks. The bomb, most certainly, went off. (please note I'm battling an internal conspiracy from Mssrs H, K & R which is forcing me, to force them, to dig the The Obsession sound - I'm getting there - slowly, but surely - or are they just letting me think that? ). I currently have the upper hand though, being able to recount, soberly, Bruno's DJ set, complete with arthouse "Gaps" between songs - including records that had in built gaps in them as well...

So its, half past midnight on a Sunday night and after a days hard toil, I pay the price for drinking the night before. ST2 demands some late night drinking and the only place left is the Midland. It serves its purpose although a fiver only gets you a Lager and a coke. Everyone’s mooching even the ‘anti-establishment’ who true to style, are sucking plenty of corporate cock. We can confirm though, that no-one came.

A better time was had after we bumped into one of our local photographers who had been covering the Key 103 event. The words, “pissed, “as”, and “a fart” sprang to mind, but the chap’s so loveable that he kept things together in a swaying sort of way – and despite the inebriation levels he did introduce us to a couple of MancMusic heroes. We did get accosted by LANDAN scum rockers DOGS though. The down your throat cockney sales pitch was hilarious, especially as after half an hour, we were asked if we would sign the band. To which we replied that we ran a website. Their track “Tuned To A Different Station” on the ITC CD is pretty good though. A rasping lo-fi rocker, with plenty of melody. They play North on Mon 15th Sept. Also on there is YOUTH MOVIE SOUNDTRACK STRATEGIES “Give An Infinity For, Or Leave The Building”. It rawks like its got rabies.

Several attempts to leave the building were thwarted, as you have to clear the bar as you try to exit the building. Our favourite ‘Carpet’, relayed some updates on the Printworks insistence that ITC “turn it down” as the ears of viewers going to see the Matrix2 were seemingly assaulted by the sounds of tomorrows stars blasting out from a PA that had been inserted into the heart of Bling Bling land. But meeting of the night must be, being accosted by Wilson Junior. Ollie, relayed some fantastic tales, amongst many I’m sure, of attending the Hacienda in a carrycot. We wish him well in his DJ Production / D’n’B work down in London. He didn’t buy us a drink, but did inform us that his “Dad was in bed…”


More mayhem, we are sure, to follow…

Out of the City s'where it's all at.

By Dhimmels

Urrrrghhh!!! Old faithful alarm clock relentlessly chimes. Dizzy, headache nausea - must have been a good night. Which it indeed was. I do recall myself and Alex indulging a call and responce bout of shouting "rubbish!" as loudly as possible at a club night that will remain nameless. Drive into town to catch Newcastle's most wonderful Sefelt at the Late Room, only there's nowhere to park and I don't manage it. Bollocks. Neither do I manage to take advantage of a generous free bar due to the duty of sober driving. Members of Selfelt and indeed the surprisingly wonderful Parklandsway manage to however.

Having heard early Parklandsway I was somewhat unimpressed with their flimsy Primal Scream impressions. But suddenly it's gone all modern punk and very very angry. There's still more than a trace of Bobby Gillespie in the singer who leans drug entranced over the mic stand not that the combination does any harm.

Then it's Maximo Park also from Newcastle. Rarely do I enjoy something retro but this really transcends that and I realise that it actually isn't that backward looking at all. Absolute killer melodies, dry humour and keyboard proddings that rip the jugular - ace!

Tea at Cafe Uno with a record person and then back to Late Room for some horrid caterwauling and piano from Beccy Owen. I've missed The Guessmen too - bollocks!

I get involved in conversation with a couple of Glaswegians who it turns out used to manage Lapsus Linguae and are friends with (and have also dated) Idlewild to name but a few accolades.

Meet Alex at the Metro at we head off to see Kinesis cocksurely bouncing about St Stevenson's square. Strategically dish out some flyers (anyone in vans and comfort fit jeans is sure to receive one) with Tom who scares the shit out of a young lady stranger by pogoing right up to her. The Stands don't really spark any passion.

We check out Bob ex-Idlewild's DeGrassy at the tacky as fuck Printworks who struggle with no PA b/c of complaints from the characterless restaurants overhead. Needless to say, the event manager is furious. A brief chat with the Glaswegians and the sublime Youth Movie Soundtrack Strategies.

Another subway sarnie where we meet one of Laymar there at work.

Leccy Circus. Rotten awful DJing from yours truly who'd probably struggle to answer his own phone let alone ooperate a crossfader. Ormondroyd are 1st class despite spartan attendence. Technical problems blight ten days as do silly comments between songs. Predicting the interRoadhouse crowd migration is proving near impossible - one minute everyone's at the bar the next they're watching 10 Days.

The Twenty Minutes crowd fuck off the microsecond that their mates band ends leaving me to the disheartening conclusion that the majority of gig attenders aren't usually music fans but more like socialite nob-rashes.

Econoline exhude power and honesty with a tiny girl drummer who plays heavier than Lars Ulrich.

A&R vultures start their descent as The Obsession belt out numbers that effectively manage to block out the last 30 years of music [Ed - Wrong DH !! - oh the one eyed man in the kingdom of the blind....] -desperate to have the prestige of some early association with what may be "the next big thing". A certain other band manage to amuse themselves by signing up people they don't like to the 'session's mailing list.

The intense humity of the Roadhouse enables myself and Alex to effectively sweat out our hangovers.

"This is a proper Dublin band that don't suck anyone's cack"

Right, can't be on long as am knackered and have to get up early and go and do things. Just returned from the first Electric Circus at the Roadhouse. A rather splenedid evening it was as well. Quite where everyone disappeared to during Econoline's blinding display is anyone's guess, but sundry A&R slags came to watch The Obsession, who have made a partial transformation into Joy Division (no kidding).

Econoline's closing number 'Missing From Pictures' actually had me in tears, as I never realised the lyrics were so sad and beautiful. Ahem, anyway..

I rather enjoyed Ormondroyd, who made the trip from Sheffield. They had a killer intor tape (featuring uncle john peel and football pundits) and did a nice line in cute pop meets white noise bursts.

Ten Days emerged to a Soviet work song (I think) complete with bass player Eddie sporting a rather ill-toughtout jacket with 'Rommel' written on it. They sounded better than ever but I think it would be wise to keep the between song banter to a minimum. Music does the best talking.

Twenty Minutes were pretty good, the fella had a good voice but it went a bit Starsailor near the end.

Econoline were fantastic. They previewed a few tracks from their forthcoming second album (the brilliantly titled 'this Band isn't funny anymore') which erred more on the side of harcdcore along with I'm Plagued, EMV and Missing from Pictures from Music is Stupid. Quite why so few people were watching is beyond me. Especially when you consider that drummer Valentina is possibly the coolest person alive (the thining man's meg white anyone?). I'm glad they made the trip. Check my interview with their very lovely frontman Ian at www.unbarred.co.uk.

I fled like a coward when a band who I had reviewed (and slated) turned up, announcing they had just relocated to Manchester and were talking to Jon.

Earlier in the day me and dave had been wandering about, watched Kinesis and The Stands, then (joined by Tom) Degrassi (Bob from Idlewild's new band) at the Printworks (who, rather surprisingly, sounded not dissimilar to Idlewild) and done a spot of flyering (with Tom waiting a good 40 minutes to give his last flyer to an attractive woman (in some kind of seedy ingariating manner one must suspect), only to cave and give it away to a random passer-by seconds before a rather striking young woman rounded the corner. Needless to say he wasn't chuffed. I however, found it rightly amusing)

We also managed to notch up another Sub-Way visited in our quest to eat at all of the sandwich chains outlets in the greater manchester area within the four days of ITC. Today, Piccadilly Approach. Tomorrow, The World!

Night night,

Alex.

I've been asked to point out...

that despite appearances, 'Mwah Mwah sweetie darling' was in fact written by Mr Thomas Kirk and not me, Alex. The sneaky bastard posted just before I managed to. Hope that clears things up (he was threatening legal action)

There's beer up North!!

Hello,

It seems a lot longer than two days since waking up on Friday morning and having that Christmas morning feeling. I'm having a great time and there's still another two (well, one and a half) days to go. It might be strange for those who know me to hear me admit that I'm having a "great time"(it was Moz who said "I'd never do anything as vulgar as have fun"), but it seems to be the written rule that a delgate pass comes with a free smile.

Yesterday was consumed by the preparations for the night at 42nd Street so I had no real opportunity to go out and about to see anything else. When you spend 14 hours in a dark nightclub, appearing to take in some sunlight and fresh air only twice, you really begin to understand why managers of such establishments wear dark glasses during the day.

On Friday I went to the Printworks bash to see Houston 500. The passing Friday evening trade who were more interested in collecting their cinema tickets didn't seem that appreciative of their ball busting rock. They had a vibe that somehow made me think of Manchester's very own Bonebox crossing paths with The Mighty Mighty Bosstones. A uniform of black shirts and slacks put them in the fashion league of The Hives but the inspiration was a little lacking, and the punch not delivered. The next band happened to be Blofeld who I had heard a few sketchy details of and was pleased to see such energy in a frontman. Taking Mick Jagger's ticks and Jim Morrisons delivery he did a sterling job in presenting the attitude. The tunes were OK but again, whether it was the venue or not, I wasn't held by the throat and forced to pledge my alliegance to their cause.

I'm off again, I'll tell you all about Super 8's, Street Regal and the Northern Ambition night tomorrow.

The Last post...

was by Alex.

Mwah mwah, sweetie darling

Afternoon. Sorry I'm late.

Missed Friday because I had to interview old people about their neighbourhood noise nuisance torment at the hands of callous juveniles. One woman informed me the little bastards even drink alcopops on her garden wall. Dis-gusting. It was very funny, but you probably had to be there. Needless to say the heartless deviants in question were nowhere to be seen - I suspected that in a cruel twist of ironic fate they were enjoying themselves at ITC - but you'll be glad to know that Mr Colby, angry, of Prestwich, thinks we should reinstate the guardian angels on the tram system. Idiot.

Speaking of idiots, when I finally did make it to ITC registration under the guidance of Mr Ringsell yesterday afternoon, I found myself confronted with the horrific spectacle of Elliot Eastwick, of "This Is Music" (or, as it's know chez Sov: "No it bloody isn't") fame. Elliot had just had his photograph taken for his pass, but for reasons best known to himself only the top of his head was visible on the resultant picture. Attempting not to come out of this looking like a total twat, which is difficult when you're still wearing the same golfing gear you had on a year ago to present a live set by Alfie, Elliot was laughing about this VERY LOUDLY INDEED, in fact, EVEN MORE LOUDLY than the staff who were printing the photograph, so that anyone entering the room would presume he was in fact just sharing some sort of in-joke with his muso mates. I speak from experience; only a few months ago I tried to do the same thing after nutting a light fitting in a crowded pub, and believe me, there is nothing on this earth that can prevent you from looking like a wanker once you start behaving like one. Sadly, this is a lesson Elliot has clearly yet to learn. Getting rid of the flat cap might be a good start.

There is an element to ITC which is all about that sort of thing. Anywhere else on the planet, if someone came up to you and called you a wanker in the street you'd probably treat them rather as I treated that light fitting. Yet for one weekend, beyond the hallowed portals of The Midland it's all a very different ball game indeed. Everything has to have weight, everything has to have purpose, and most important of all, everything you do has to indicate to everybody else just how centripetal you are to this whole affair. It's probably entirely possible to go up to someone at ITC, call them a wanker, and be met not with a quick blow between the eyes, but a cascade of "HA HA HA THAT'S RIGHT I DID I REALLY AM VERY IMPORTANT YOU KNOW" for the benefit of everybody else. It's almost enough to drive a man back to local politics, but then the spectre of Mr Colby in a red beret looms.

With "malfunction" blaring on the tosserometer, Alex and I retreated to Subway, where even Gordon Park appeared to be doing his best to get into the spirit of things, arriving talking loudly into his mobile as if he was in some swanky London celeb-ridden dive. Barely had we registered GP's new found cleanliness, sobriety, and lack of Melton's pie than several pigs flew past the window, pursued by an angry looking bear with a blood-stained meat cleaver. Needless to say, it wasn't real cheese.

On one of several up-sides, the panels this year are looking excellent, and extremely confrontational. Examples today include something on the non-sidelining of the urban music business, the relevance of awards ceremonies and the need to devolve control of the music biz away from London. Yesterday, we opted for "Lipstick, Powder and Paint", a debate about the style-over-substance issue which disappointingly involved no references to Sigue Sigue Sputnik whatsoever, despite lasting for at least 45 minutes. The topic was promising, the panelists were, for the most part, boring as hell; Simon Napier-Bell's voice alone filtering through a lethargic pall of cigarette smoke with anything worth hearing. Thirty minutes of nebulous wittering, much of it by The Sunday Times' Dan Cairns (who at least had the grace to admit he was rambling at one stage), were followed by the apparent resolution that packaging was probably very important to everybody, and that - get this - bands with no image use their non-image AS an image meaning that they do, in fact, have one.

All groundbreaking stuff, I'm sure you'll agree. Indeed, as Alex and I dozed off on each other's shoulders (Dave was late and sat in the wrong place), it was almost possible to see the panel chipping away austerely at the edifice of the bloody obvious. "People use their lack of image in an image-type way to demonstrate their credibility" someone said (I think it was Marco Pirroni). "Ah, but what is credibility?" wondered image-maker Gerard Saint. For the benefit of the reader, I should interject that credibility is a state of being believable, trustworthy or reliable. For the benefit of Mr Saint - buy a dictionary. Ah, but who eez Mister Saint? I mean really, when it boils down to it - I began to wonder? Who am I? What, really is this chair on which I am sitting? "So," continued Mr Cairns jolting me back to the tedium of reality "are we saying that bands who don't have an image actually do?". Yes, indeed it was. It was, in fact, all anybody had been saying in a variety of increasingly boring ways for the past three-quarters of an hour. Had Simon Napier-Bell not come out of it looking quite so clever and witty he would probably have strangled Cairns there and then. As it was, he was looking pretty good, and as I mentioned before, what goes on in the day here has less to do with who you are than who you appear to be. Maybe next year someone could do a panel on style over substance not in music, but in the music industry. Now that really would be controversial.

Saturday, saturday, saturday...

I attempted to type something up last night but, being pissed and it being abut 3am I hit the wrong button three times and eventually gave up and passed out.

So anyway, yesterday I went to one of the industry panels. Sat next to Tom 'quick hands' kirk, we witnessed a fairly circular discussion with the only comments of much interest came from Yardbirds/Bolan/Japan man Simon Napier Bell. Highlight was the late arrival of a choreographer who was either hung over or had been eating cake in her hotel room. Every time a question was tossed her way (outside the boyz club sat at one end) there was a good few minutes silence before a fraily incomprehendable response, although to be fair, I was often struggling to understand some of Dan Cairns' questions!

Following some moocher-watching outside Urbis (where the Youth Music event had moved outside and had taken on the form of a pow-wow, me and the boy dhimels headed to the Northern Quarter for the start of ITC Unsigned! Spencer Tracey were, well, ok, and that was the problem.

There was a strong Mancmusic contingent at Dry Bar for Infrasound, probably because they listed Joy Division, Can and PIL as their influences. They looked like a bunch of scallies but they kicked up a heady stink of rock. They were aspects of Air, baggy, krautrock, the Stones and much more, with the overall effect being they sounded like late Primal Scream but with actual tunes under the noise.

Heading next door, Youth Movie Music Strategies blew away the assembled throng. Sonar Yen meets Transelement with songs that last a long time and rock and glide effortlessly. Hopefully Manmusic will bring them back to Manchester very soon.

A quick dip into the Methodist Hall check out The Approach was fairly unrewarding, a bit of an elaborate Stones rip. You have to feel sorry for the bands that are playing this particular venue though because, given that this is an A&R jolly, they don't serve alcohol. Subsequently there is hardly anyone there.

Next a return to Dry Bar to watch Tokyo Dragons. It stinks of the more cynical end of ITC, as these fellas (look like Kings of Leon, sound like AC/DC (read The Datsuns) prancing and preening like The Darkness but without the conviction) wouldn't have had a cat in hells chance of getting in ITC two years ago.

Grand Transmitter next door is similar, as if someone has looked for the new Coldplay. Unfortunately they have come up with the new Starsailor. Pretty dull, so should be coming to the top of an album chart near you soon.

I really don't understand the thinking: Surely the reason The Darkness (and to a lesser extent Coldplay) have been successful is because they are new and fun. The next big thing, one would guess, will not be another Darkness.

Greatly enjoyed Autokat and the Acoustic Anarchy showcase at a bizarre and sweaty venue, then a quick duck into Chips where some painful Chorlton B-Boys were biggin up the sloshed throng. Horrible. Mr JA went AWOL on the way out so we ended up chatting to the bouncers until he was eventually turfed out. Suggestions to the bouncer to go and drag him out for us were unsuccessful.

Piccadilly Chippy and the Bus home were a nightmare. I hate people. But other than that, an absolutely cracking night.

SATURDAY SIT DOWN AND TAKE AWAY

by JA

Arrgggh ! My Head - A quick trip to the hotel see's us catching up with old regular Rob F - one of the original scene setters from the 2000-2002 era. Loads to talk about and we press ganged him for the night. We managed to evade the childcatches net, as people were being scooped up for Paul Morleys Waterstones appearance and caught up with our favourite band (more of which later) who wee stalking the Midland reception area.

The lead singer of Mancs most popular/active band at the mo' was around in tall bearded glory but had decided to donate his pass to the young campus rockers, who managed to give out all of their (excellent EPs) to the passing trade / industry.

First stop was Oldham Street. Dry Bar had INFRASOUND on who sounded really rocky - hardcore shapes are thrown with attractive post-EMO vox. We popped next door and managed to catch the absolutely mighty Youth Movie Soundtrack Strategies. Imagine Sonar Yen / Tsuji Giri doing Oceansize songs - yes that good and vindication that other people listen to the same stuff, along similar emotional lines- pretty awesome.

Best stop of the night was Northern Ambitons night at 42nd Street- Hammered out, with the diminitive LISA BROWN on stage. This four piece bascially interpreted their current EP perfectly - I absolutely assure you that this is Manchester's next big band. There's echoes of Elbow's ambience, Tim Burgess's vocals, The Chameleons guitar lines and the etheral splendour of decaying urban ballads. At long last someone has taken a really hard look at the same influences as say Interpol did, but actually made something new of it. It's only a matter of time.

Next stop is the mad, bad, Anarkhik wedding reception that is Akoustik Anarkhy !- Set in the Piccadilly Gardens Hotel the place is Chocca Bloc and we catch the Sometimes Ska sometimes Rock and Roll of AUTOKAT, before the world leaders in protest rock, Loose Cannon provide the perfect post dylan rock blitz.

Way past midnight and its time for some Chips. What we get is a sodden meal out of a trash can. N&D plays host to a drunken, incoherent ramble, where people are just rolling around pissed, the stairs and bogs are flooded and the temp has risen to 100+ figures. What looks like truck drivers are on stage doing a bad beastie boys impression, whilst everyone else is sken eyed and the event has turned into a monged out ramble - like a cider drinking youth club playing abba tapes its hard to find anyone who's interested in what is billed as THE event... but its open to past 2.00am which is great until I'm dragged off into the night and deposited at my front door. Groundhog day demands it be repeated again on Sunday..

saturday 13th

by dhimmels

furious hangover. i blame palo alto and then myself some more.

1st band - spencer tracy - a bit of ok but very pedestrian power pop. even the moron ibiza interjections of "whoop whoop" during one tune. not destined to endear.

then there's countess zapek and the bourgeoisie - with a name like that you've already put yourself into an arduous world of expectation. sexually centred frontwoman with knickers over her pedal pushers superman style and a skinny "Cunt Rock" tee. She's very keen to put the cunt back in rock. hi heels hinder graceful ascent of the speaker stack and indeed of an unwitting spectator. musically generally fucking awful. but to the countess' delight, at least i said "fucking".

Infrasound at Dry Bar's back room. Absolutely packed. Scouser's one guesses do a pretty nice line in driving indie with synth noodles. i walk back and mike hands me a pint. he then swaps the pint for tim id's neck (true!). all is resolved peacefully and everybody wins!

Off to Colliers. A basement only recognisable by an ITC poster at the top of the stairs. No booze, no audience nevertheless Royal McBee are actually quite interesting despite the fact that they sound like they've only rehearsed about 6 times. Jazzmaster, sequencer, harmonica and vocals thru a cardboard tube. Lo fi experimental and promising.

Then the Night and Day now with the accolade of "The World's Hottest (C*) Club". Youth Movie Soundtrack Strategies are 1st class. Somewhere like Mogwai with Radiohead after a seminar with Fugazi and a whole set of the DC Hardcore lot. More than the sum of their influences, quite a varied set of sounds culminating in a piece with odd time signatures, extreme stop start riffs that totally throw you off and a headrush outro. Brilliant. The best piece of ITC so far.

Then accelerator who offer a little more but not too much over any Iggy Pop copyist. Some wistfully delicate jangles and minimalist drones but here's where it all ends.

Fae Magdalene - Absolute fucking rubbish. Band with 10th rate turgid grunge/metal riffs with purposefully alluring female singer with "searing" vocals. A la Skin Skunk Awankie except 10 times worse.

Then to Akoustik Anarkhy - fun as the priority and certainly fun it is. Jon is lost on Lever St. Mike has lost his car. Then to CHips - flooded toilets , have a go rap. once out can't get back in even to retrieve lost friends caught in conversation. Time for bed.

Dear Dairy.........moooooooo!

I've lived in Manchester all of my life and never had any call to go into the Midland Hotel, apart from in 2000 (I think?) when I joined members of The Flow outside, to generally bemuse delegates as they made their way onto the streets. I was impressed, they seem to have gone one further than the average travelodge which I still think is top grade accomodation at a reasonable price. All rooms £49! What a bargain, I'll take four.

I write this a few hours late, but I saw Houston 500 and Blofeld at The Printworks last night. The nature of the venue left many absolutely baffled not least the bands themselves. Apparently the owners of the complex have deemed proceedings too loud and asked them to turn it down for today. The two bands did a good enough job of it and the panel, including Martyn Walsh and NME's Rob Collins gave some sparkling advice.

Then Super 8's and Street Regal at Gullivers. Both good in their own little ways. Not enough time to give a full analysis now but if you come along to 42nd Street later you can ask me all about it.

Onwards...............

Dear diary II

by the very late night dave himel

met alex@ n&d 9:00. Hooker's Green ok. SOrt of leftfield post rock noise with trombones. not exactly a tune but of reasonable interest. by this time the shoredich/hoxton contingent is arriving. highly distinctive from the regular crowd yet they may not think it yet. Sammy USA are ok but suspiciously similar to Interpol (suits included)- whole kinda early 80s new wave.

Off to Urbis for the lauch party. ha hahahah! bouncers etc seem genuinely excited to see two men holding entry flyers. " the party's in there!" shouts one. entry reveals a pretty empty place attended by (it seems) folk from the printworks across the road and a terrible bathroom elevator samba band.

metro to font bar. a large queue. in reasonably swiftly. nice atmos. "sugar kane" by sonic youth playing from the vinyl. serious congestion even on the staircase for performance. a large number leave immediately after PErformance trailing their £70 pre-torn levis and printed "punk" tees. never mind. won't miss 'em. palo alto on next. sound intially a mess. jay's guitar makes a massive smash and grab for the ear drums tho' not intentionally. band looking a tad uneasy. some pretty reasonable cocteau twins/valentine tunes however.

Not sure whether I was going to enjoy shirokuma yet it was, silly, tapped, fun fun fun and rather personal with only a handfull of folk gathered around an unleashed, wired fella and his argos my first bass player.

Someone in Doublejo(h)ngrey starts djing horrid techno/hardcore and then some more palatable stuff.

Overall a rather lovely night.

Dear Diary

Well, just got back from my first day of In The City shenanigans and reasonably eventful it has been too. Managed to make it to the Midland Hotel and find the room for registering, but was, as ever, sweating like Matthew Kelly's houseboy by the time I got my pass (needless to say, the photograph is exemplary). Must stop getting so stressed in the company of music hacks n whores. 'Anything to avoid talking to people' is my moto. Post-trauma, I surveyed the ITC schedule and realised most stuff kicks off tomorrow, so instead of forcing myself out of a sense of duty to go and listen to some godawful DJs in some no-mark bar in the arse-hole of nowhere, I decided to hook up with Manchestermusic's budding A&R impressario, David Himmelfield.

First we hit the Night and Day for Eyeball Haemorrage. A band called Hooker's Green No. 1 were making an awesome racket by the time we rolled in. They had a lot of people on stage and were making an interesting, if not wholly palatable, noise. Bass-lines that rocked the windows, a trombone, a distict Smith's influence and some dreamy guitar mastering.
Following some rather tawdry films from the Cornerhouse archives, Sammy USA were on. Having just read in The Fly whilst waiting for Dave outside the question 'Why aren't Sammy USA signed yet?!' I was expecting a performance of some note. It was ok, but largely men in suits doing Interpol but, evidently, with slightly more to live for.

After a brief visit to the 'Official ITC launch Party' at Urbis, which consisted of a few gathered punters and entertainment from some 'world music' outfit (the sort of 40 Year old Guardian readers wet dreams, all bongos stretching into the incomprehendable distance and funky flute), we headed for the Valentine's Showcase at Font bar across town.

After navigating the queue (by going to take a piss in the Cornerhouse) we got in and the muthafucka was heaving. Evidently the Hoxton massive had come down early to catch The Face's band of the week Performance (Cockney music exec: 'Excuse me, have Performance been on yet?' Font Bar bouncer: 'There's lots of performances on tonight mate'). Couldn't actually see them on stage (not the type of place that is used to hosting gigs) but it is perhaps a mark of their retro-ness that I didn't realise when they had stopped and the Dj had put on a New Order record. Still, anyone who can get non-committed (as in, 'to an asylum') people to wear polka dot, trilbys and suit jackets with sleeves rolled to the elbows deserves a decent audience. And to think we used to think the Eighties were the decade that style forgot...

Thankfully the sauna cleared out a little post-Performance and we were treated to the delights of Palo Alto. Not a band I have seen before, the singer has a fantasic voice but the songs were fairly incomprehensible due to upstairs disco fever and dodgy downstairs acoustics. The singer, I believe called Elaine, did, however, meet someone from the record label of the American PaloAlto in the Ladies. Whether a writ has been issued remains unconfirmed at the time of writing.

I retired beerless shortly after and, well, here I am.

Til tomorrow then dear reader,

Love Alex.

BRUNO BEAR SIGHTED AT ITC

by AS

The legendary Cheetham Hill rapper Bruno Bear was last spotted offering meals to touring bands (true). The logistics of carrying a large pan of Chilli-Con-Carne down the steps of The Roadhouse however had not been considered and instead he's treating them to a buy-out at Refuel, with its pretty views of unfinished, partly regenerated Ancoats dereliction.

Outraged at the increasing number of "TwatFlats" sprouting up in East Manchester (soon to be renamed "New Islington" - rumour has it that Deansgate area is to be renamed "New Knightsbridge"), the bear will be making some impromptu rapping appearances during this years ITC Unsigned sessions. Already reknowned for jumping up on stage mid set and delivering gangsta rap derivitives of "Pass The Duchie", Bruno is already banned from larger venues such as The Academy. Despite a down market move, BB is ready and fighting and promises at least one stage rap attack per venue over the ITC weekend.

You can't miss the bear and he's in a particularly hairy mood these days.

BRUNO BEAR

Anyone seen him?

DUM DEE DAH!

by JA

Hmmm...The whole ITC thing rumbles on - is there an "air of excitement" - It's been a bit of a depressing day trying to sort out passes and co-ordinate who's doing what. The whole "celebration" aspect can get lost in the clamour for a stage during the four days. A bit like a mad trample. Once the dust settles it's more or less forgotten for another 10 months. Or is it? - Well...yes.

Ex-Pistols Manager MMc has pulled out of ITC - he's off to develop his Chinese version of Tatu (Wild Strawberries or something like that). This all follows in the footsteps of Lydons pull out in previous years - you just can't see these punk godfathers on trial in front of a legion of northerners can you ? - Obviously the anonimity of New York and California are much safer havens, where they can blissfully further licence the legend, unfettered by a "we were there as well" reality check. . You could have had a laugh though, as some Northern scumbag beggers the question to big Malc - "Is it true you're a tw*t?"

If the rain stays off, Sunday could be a stormer with the oudoor gig sponsored by the "We Won't Play Your Records" local (national chain) radio station. Of course what better way to cap the night off than with a super night at The Electric Circus (Roadhouse).

Time to fret again - lots to organise - more things to winge about....it's grim up north.

THE DAMPNESS

PM

It's Wednesday and the weekend looms - ITC is building up nicely with the mailbox piling up with promotional emails. Friday and Saturday are just chukka with fringe events and hopefully the weather will hold off for the rumoured outside stage being sponsored by Key103.

Despite the radio station never playing local (especially grass roots or unsigned) music and shoving the top 30 down our already nauseated throats, Key103 have decided to to put together an already impressive line up which includes : Haven, Longview, Puressence, The Rain Band, Alfie, Kinesis, The Stands - all in Stevenson Square in the Northern Quarter. Should be a blast as long as it doesn't p*ss down.

The panels seem quite good this year, but as yet, there's little information about the bands playing, other than their names - so should be surprising to hear whats been selected. One bone of contention seems to be one of Manchester's own 'unsigned' bands . A London record label rang up raving about the band (who I've not heard, but apparently have "a whole '80's thing going on) - saying it was apparently one half of a Manc Electo Duo, but despite some interest from the 'smoke, one of Manchester's own local labels (with Chart Success under their belt) had already signed them up.....we shall see how this transpires but yet more juicy goss' to consider.

The hot progress of The Darkness last year really caught some people out and surely the quetion must be "who will it be this year?". We can't get a City based guide to each band, so we'll have to wait and see which of this years crop represent where, but we'd hoped that there'd be more recognised / tipped local stuff in the official list. Having said that, the fringe events have proved their worth by getting A&R signatures on acts and have even been been recognised by ITC as ITC successes.

Should be an interesting 2003.........

new ITC microsite up and running

Funnily enough its at :

www.manchestermusic.co.uk/itc

You'll find key links to ITC info plus details of our sponsorship of 5 key ITC fringe gigs.

WHY IN THE CITY IS IMPORTANT

by JA

Whilst the majority of bands crush and shove to ensure that they are on a stage at least for one of the four ITC days, the collective city centre venues rub their hands in anticipation of improved takings, as does half the service industry, ready and willing to serve the collective throng of music movers and shakers.

ITC is a major conference where done deals are confirmed and where Manchester is at last (and at least for part of the year) firmly and deservedly on the industry map. Sometimes even a maverick unknown act captures the imagination and leaps from obscurity to pop fame within less than a half a year.

It's success is synonymous with its 'no crap' vibe, the ambivolence of its helmsmen Mr AHW and partner and the sheer stink of legends, history and true urban inspiration that makes Manchester a compact, unique and creative nerve centre.

Ok - so your band may not get signed - you can do too things - take the piss out of some of the typists, P.A.s and mailroom clerks who are press ganged into becoming weekend "A&R" or you can put together something so complellingly unmissable that you'll catch them all by suprise. The latter is the stuff that Manchester is made of.

Thats why the influx of the music money men is important and exploiting the exploiters is the lingering undercurrent of genius that is, ITC....

UNSIGNED DELIGHTS

The Unsigned schedules look something like this :

more info @
http://www.inthecity.co.uk/itc2003/itc-unsigned2003.shtml


1" Volcano
28 Costumes
Accelerator
The Approach
Archie & the Instincts
Bareface
Baya
Ben
Blue Sky Band
Bushnut
C Jags
Cable Car
Casino
Countess Zapek & the Bourgoisie
Crosbi
Dogs
Drive
Earth The Californian Love Dream
EJ
Escape Pod (MANCHESTER)
Fae Magdalene
First Time Down
The Forgotten North
Future of Junior
The Gems
Grand Transmitter (MANCHESTER)
Hayat
Infrasound
Jae Marsha
Joff Winks
Jonny Lives!
Kennedy
Killa Benz
Kubrick
Kya
La Rocca
Leya
Life After Modelling
Maria Lawson
Meagainstthem
Mellafone
Menlo Park
Metz & trix
October Motorcrash
Priya Thomas
Raw T
The Reflections
Royal McBee
Sara Lowes
Scanners
Spencer Tracy
Suez
Templo Diez
Three Children of Fortune
Tokyo Dragons
Transposer
V7
Vertigo Angels
Wild Evil Entertainment Dept.
Youth Movie Soundtrack Strategies
Zoe Johnston

MM ITC

manchestermusic.co.uk in the city brings you snap decisions, as we see it ramblings and plenty of what we hope are tips and notes from the worlds most important music get together in the worlds most important musical city