Monday - Fiction & Wombats

Looking back on In The City (yep I know it’s still on), there're three things that stick out as being the best – the promoters / venues that put a bit of life and soul into a complete calendar of musical talent, science, magic and belief – and the winners are (in no particular order I may add) – Akoustik Anarkhy, Fiction Non Fiction and Night & Day (Ben T & Matt TCB) – amazingly consistently celebratory stuff and in the words of aA themselves, rather quiet seminal.

It’s at the middle event (FnF), that I find myself this Monday teatime. A few eclectic city workers shuffle through, but already the melting pot of the ubercool and the spaced out is beginning to bubble inside the confines of TIGER LOUNGE. This is one of the best bars and maybe the best venues in Manchester and Fiction Non Fiction never ceases to amaze or impress. I just wish all places and temples for music were like this.

The evening’s proceedings begin with DUTY NOW who assemble their equipment and then just launch straight into the set. Things are running late apparently. If they ever run on time here it’d probably destroy the atmosphere, or cause a trans-dimensional rift – ask Dr Who – he probably comes in here too . Duty Now utilise their sketchy vocals and set it amongst a ramshackle sea of brittle guitars and there are echoes of the finesse and angular invention of alt.rock pioneers The Sonar Yen. Duty Now work best with their instrumental pieces, where their deservedly big ideas are crafted on an industrial treadmill and cast free into the jagged horizon of tough guitar landscapes.

DRESDEN (or iDresden as their flyer proclaims) are next – you should be aware that the bands flyers consist of the torn out pages of books, with name, date and venue boldly painted on in red marker pen. Dresden specialise in crashing rock and roll, bolstered by the spirit of punk and the deepest darkest soul of Nirvana. They’re unassuming, with a big noise agenda cut, long and deep into a potential that’s almost as wide as the Atlantic. The set is too long, but it gives time to pick out more than a handful of songs that secure the future of this explosive and intense three piece.

Over at The Late Room (Life Café) it’s the Japanese Showcase and Cath will tell you about the rather special acts that appeared before us . When we get there it’s the fantastically named THE RODEO CARBURETTOR, with their brash rock and roll that seems to be firing off in all directions.

Time for some Official Unsigned action at One Central and sadly I’ve just missed the enigmatic Gideon Conn, but the place is buzzing with plenty of industry types. FROM MARS are up next and they begin their set as most of the badges stay in the back bar. The result is a venue that has about as much atmosphere as errr..Mars? - But From Mars tackle this bravely with their very commercially minded and slightly sterile brand of modern heavy rock. Bits of Biffy' and very basic shades of Math rock emerge and their sound isn’t coming through that well either via the p.a. - it’s not until the last couple of songs that they find their stride and when they do it’s actually quite impressive.

By a stroke of luck I’m stood next to a redundant p.a. cab and it’s about five feet high. Myself and ST2 decide to jump on top of them and all of a sudden we a have a perfect, unblocked view of THE WOMBATS. It’s just as well as the place is now rammed – all in the space of about ten minutes.

The Merseyside trio got a MM single of the week a while ago and this turns out to be the best band we’ve seen during ITC. Starting off with an A cappella Doo-Wop the Marsupial loving Liverpudlians soon launch into a catalogue of bouncing, exciting tunes in a heavy set driven by wit, energy and brilliant melodies. Each song is a mini-epic of sorts jostling pop, harmonies and storybook lyrics with neatly constructed instrumental breaks. “Dr Suzanne Mattox…” is almost bizarre as a concept but glows with a brilliant sense of joy. “Backfire At The Disco” shares a little bit of this tongue in cheek outlook, but fuses in elements of Nada Surf with a love for “Woo Woo’s” and the best bass guitar lines in Britain. Before you know it, this band are almost executing a greatest hits package. Former B-Side “Patricia The Stripper” has a busload of fans singing along, whilst “Lost In The Post” and “Moving To New York“ (another 'Nada' moment) are dynamic, perfectly constructed examples of new wave pop - and are just completely compelling reasons as to why this band are going to be absolutely massive. Bloody Massive.

(St1)

Monday - Walkabout and FictionNonFiction

Into Walkabout next, which affords the rather splendid opportunity to catch the end of the City match on TV whilst being musically entertained by Fell City Girl. To be honest they're not all that to look at anyway - cute singer in black shirt and red skinny tie combo with regulation indie-boy-in-black bandmates. Great voice on him though; high-pitched and strong, a little bit Puressence and a little bit JJ72. Musically they seem a bit all over the place; Placebo alt-rock on one track slipping into a more Interpol-ish post-punk on the next, and by the end of the set they're in big Hope Of The States atmospheric chords territory, but the singer lifts them a little above the average. Three points for City as well, this being perhaps my only contact with the real world outside ITC all weekend.

Pull Tiger Tail are another of the weekend's semi-official Top Tips, and the youthful trio manage to sound like Pavement, the Cure, Pixies and disco-punk variously thoughout their set, and often all at once. Further points for being one of the least scenestery looking bands ever, despite a London base and links with the likes of NME faves Klaxons (housemates, apparently). They've got some great pop tunes in the making and co-frontman Davo's switching between guitar and keyboard as required allows them more diversity of sound than three people can usually attain, although he might like to invest in a bass as well as the absence of one renders the sound a bit tinny at times - but maybe that's how they like it. The only concern is that they do at times sound like a band still in the development stages - not surprisingly, given that they've only been together a matter of months - and that with all the press attention they've been getting may well crash and burn before they've even had chance to find their feet.

Last stop of the evening is FictionNonFiction at Tiger Lounge, a good three hours later than we'd planned to be there, and we've missed all the bands we wanted to see. Luckily another wing of Team MM managed to catch some of them.

Hard Luck Child play the blues, gloriously woozy swampy angry Archie Bronson Outfit meets Soledad Brothers blues, hard on the drums and even harder on the blisteringly loud guitar. Singer/guitarist Andrew Sheffield has a powerfully gritty sore-throat howl on him whilst the rhythm section are relentless and the overall sound could probably be used to blow up derelict buildings. The set ends with Andrew standing up on his amp, his fingers and bottleneck whipping up and down the fretboard so fast you can hardly see them. This is music straight from their soul to yours, and bloody excellent.

There's a long wait whilst a drumkit is set up at the front of the space which passes for a stage, and a luridly tacky light-up sign is stuck up behind heralding the name of the next band - Comanechi - as if anyone's going to forget them in a hurry. Simon is tall, lanky and thrashes at his guitar as if he's fallen out with it whilst splaying his legs like a spare Ramone; Akiko is Japanese and tiny, plays drums like the Muppets' Animal and sings in a helium-voiced shriek - in a sun-visor, T-shirt and knickers. They are ridiculous, crackers and have enough energy to revitalise a room full of people who've all been out for 12 hours or more three days running. They play high-octane speed-punk so fast and intense it's bordering on thrash-metal. Every song is over in under two minutes, like a Yeah Yeah Yeahs 45 played at 78, and with a massive helping of don't-give-a-fuck attitude. Well worth staying up for. A later glimpse at their Myspace page reveals it's not just Akiko who's given to wandering round in just pants.

Yep, forget the shiny official showcases in Deansgate bars music fans wouldn't normally set foot in - once again FictionNonFiction seems like the only place to be - and what's more they do this week in, week out. Last night The Answering Machine packed a high-profile showcase full of salivating industry types, but it was here in our favourite trashy basement on some random Tuesday night that we saw them for the first time. If you're still stuck for what to do on this the last night of ITC, we'll see you down there sometime around midnight...

- Cath.

Monday - Late Room Japanese Showcase

The last Japanese bands showcase I went to featured the expected array of J-Pop stereotypes; day-glo bubblegum punk-pop courtesy of women (half)dressed as paedo-friendly schoolgirls and rubbish grunge from boys with badly bleached hair. Tonight however is about redressing the balance, about showcasing the wide range of music being made in what's after all a pretty large country.

First up are Kouzui whose description in the listings as a hip-hop act actually does them a great disservice. The five-piece band produce rich funk grooves straight out of a 70s Blaxploitation flick, with frontman Coyass (dressed in retro B-boy chic and with a thunderous physique implying it's not just his musical diet that's American influenced) variously rapping, air-guitaring along to his bandmates' solos and getting the crowd going in old-school MC style. They're tight as anything with the bassist's upfront fluid funk riffs causing feet to tap even on the most exhausted looking weekend survivors (and I don't just mean us). And it really doesn't matter at all that the British half of the crowd (so rare are the opportunities to catch Japanese bands in this country, especially outside of London, that it seems half of Manchester's Japanese population have turned out for the evening) have no idea what the breathless MC is rapping about. It's just great to hear some live-band hip-hop where the music isn't the regulation funk-metal.

Siberian Newspaper boast one of the best names of the weekend, and as the musicians gather onstage (a couple of seated women with acoustic guitars, a drummer, violin, double bass, keyboards and a lad sat cross-legged at the side of the stage with a colourful digeridoo-type-thing) there's no way of knowing what they might sound like. The answer, when we finally manage to collect our thoughts after half an hour of quite the most stunning music of the weekend, is - everything. All instrumental and with arrangements of orchestral complexity, they sound - if this doesn't appear too much of a ridiculous exaggeration - like all the music on Earth. The hot rhythms of a North African souk blended with medieval English folk; Spanish guitars and the Aboriginal drone of the didgeridoo; the widescreen post-rock of Godspeed and their Canadian contemporaries, the glacial Arctic soundwaves of Sigur Ros and the classical-hued pop of The Durutti Column. Some tracks are wildly danceable, others brooding landscapes. And yet the result is consistent, well-rounded and resolutely unpretentious - the seven surprisingly young musicians smile at each other between bouts of necessary concentration, and towards the end address the almost universally speechless crowd in shy, faltering English: "It is an honour to come here and play our music." No mate, it's an honour to have you here playing it. The large pile of CDs for sale is gone in minutes; everyone I know who was there came away with one and all agree they were the revelation of the weekend.

After that the garagey rock of The Rodeo Carburettor (Why can't English bands be as creative with their own language when dreaming up names?) seems rather ordinary, although it has to be said they do it well. The skinny, shaggy-haired and leather-trousered singer has all the right rock'n'roll moves and a mean line in speedy fuzz-guitar; the drummer (sunglasses, no shirt) is a little powerhouse and the bassist cool and muscular; they make a great big noise for a trio and bring the MC5-Velvets-Creation lineage screaming into the 21st century not unlike our own Movement, only faster. According to the blurbs they've already played SXSW and are hotly tipped to be Japan's next big alternative stars, but whilst Japanese music remains a bit of a niche market in the UK (largely the preserve of ex-pats and kitsch-cool types) we're unlikely to see them on a stage much bigger than this over here.

- Cath

So, a triple bill of Japanese music and not a flash of schoolgirl-chic knickers in sight - nope, we'll have to wait until FictionNonFicion for that (yes, really...), and we've another gig to squeeze in first...

Acoustic Breakfast 2 - Monday at Night & Day

Night & Day's early-doors showcases are always a favourite fixture on the ITC calendar, showcasing the best of the city's acoustic and semi-acoustic talent alongside the biggest fried breakfasts in town. And with the cancellation of today's official acoustic brunch event at 235, tables are in short supply even as the first act starts. Emma Black is accompanied by her own skilfully played guitar and a grey-haired man called Tom on his. She's got a rich, powerful voice that works perfectly across her wide range of influences, from folky acoustic pop to stark, spacious but emotionally charged solo 12-bar blues.

Unfortunately Rachael Kichenside coincides with (a) the arrival of said breakfast and (b) some pass-wielding pillock on a nearby table telling his mates in a braying Estuary accent he had some "rough gak" last night, but after a few songs of her set we're sufficiently impressed to up sticks to nearer the stage. In between songs shoe chats in a nervous babble, but when the music starts - today she is accompanied by a guitarist and double-bassist; another day it could well be a full band - this lovely voice emerges, pure and full of depth. Her songs generally tend towards the upbeat, soulful jazz, but this is no chin-stroking muso fodder - in fact there's a commercial almost pop edge to it and the odd touch of friendly indie-pop. Independent enough to impress fans of the quality adult singer-songwriter genre but polished enough to sell by the truckload.

We're not sure about Paperwives at first, or rather singer Hannah from Paperwives, performing without her band today and just an electric piano for company. She's hard to pin down to any particular style or genre, but then her quite outstanding vocal capabilities draw you in. Sweeping effortlessly across several octaves (the highest notes of the weekend for sure!) the tunes take in everything from near-medieval folk to jazzy pop, with unexpected twists and turns. There are also some pretty excellent lyrics too - "CIS" (about her decision to quit the world of corporate drudgery) is particularly good and we're quite sure included the word "fuckers", wonderfully incongruous in her angelic tones. By the end we're chilled out as hell and seriously impressed.

Ryna do straightforward guitar-pop with indie-rock leanings, as one might expect from a band containing an ex-member of local Britpop also-rans Marion. The fact that the trio onstage are three quarters of a regular band doing an acoustic stint, as opposed to today's other performers who exist largely in this kind of environment, shows. The tunes are pleasant enough and singer Caroline certainly capable, even if she does look rather uncomfortable sitting on a stool when she's more used to rocking out a bit, but it's all rather average.

Suddenly, round about mid afternoon, the place is filling up. Standing room only in the bar bit, and passes and bags abound. They're all here to see one of the hottest names on the ITC schedule - and hardest working, too, this must be about her 27th gig of the weekend; that sweet little girl who was sat on the next table until five minutes ago, sucking on a lollipop. Lucy And The Caterpillar is winning new fans with every performance. There's a clear Joni Mitchell influence in her bittersweet indie-folk tunes, and she engages the crowd both with her friendly slightly self-deprecating banter and with words you can immediately relate to; on "Red Wine" she waits in for an elusive call whilst writing her lyrics as the bottle runs dry; then there's the late night self analysis of "Alcoholic Dreams"... are we spotting a theme here? Frankly she looks barely old enough to get served. It's a short set, and we hope some Influential Types enjoyed it as much as we did.

- Cath.

Hopefully Helen Jones will be covering the last couple of acts, as the weekend suddenly decides now would be a good time to take its toll and I stumble home to bed for a couple of hours before the evening stuff begins...

SUNDAY BLOODY SUNDAY

Ok officially it’s official. Today – Sunday – is the first official day of In The City. Why the dates have been compressed we’re not so sure, but to most of us we’re already three days in and gorged on the decibel heavy feast of nights, music and celebration.

In the corner of your eye you can already see the glitter of Carnaby Street fashions as the London Crew decamp – stylised hair, the rich kid look – you know the neat cropped overcoat, scarf, winkle picker shoes or white pumps – the ‘Ping’ identikit (that’s Peaches Geldorf’s boyfriend). If anyone has seen Imran Ahmed’s article (that's where the Ping ref came from..) in the Guardian Guide it just seems to capture the whole spirit of well heeled youth’s bandwagonism (cue Hollyoaks / Cheshire set / ‘Goldplated’ etc..) – he’s calling for a revolution of sorts and maybe it is about time to root out what is “for real”. The moneys down south, but the music’s up here and further north – let’s keep the search for new music and new art firmly on the agenda.

Also today’s a little quieter on the streets – less bustle and this carries on into the evening. But it’s still difficult to create a cohesive feel to day – the unsigned stuff is jammed into venues on Peter Street, but an equal amount of action is happening all around the Northern Quarter – the year they had the unsigned stuff up Oldham Street still ranks as one of the best, followed closely by the time Charles Street was used as the live focus.

Anyhow – to the day today and it’s my turn to consign myself to Dry Bar. A self contained festival all of its own. Despite its former Factory heritage, staying in here too long does become a bit overbearing – It’s narrow, with no visible windows and it feels like a prison ship after a few hours. But there aren’t many places where you can see about thirty bands in one night for one cover charge. The major downside is the stupid bar tariffs and a venue speciality in an overpriced Coke and Ice (mainly ice I might add) with the flavour of what I could only imagine is weak piss.

To the music folks – you didn’t come here to read about my pseudo-urine drinking experiences did you ?

The first band playing are SPEED CIRCUS. A scurrying sound from the rather overpopulated ensemble is mixed in ska, bits of Reggae and of course this years dominant theme – sounding like the Arctic Monkeys (last year it was ‘sounding like Franz Ferdinand’). To be fair though, this lot had more in common with The Coral and their exciting and really tight set is just searching for a hit song. It all feels like a lot of hard work has gone into their material and I hope it pays off. Notable weird issues include the fact that the singer looked like the Ex-Con character out of Coronation Street who dated Eileen Grimshaw until she found out he’d killed Emily Bishop’s Ernie several decades earlier..Yep – I had time to think about that during one of the songs. The second issue I had was that the band had a guy dressed up as a clown dancing in front of stage for the entire set. On his own. A bit freakish. I don’t like Clowns..

HEY GRAVITY are on the smaller upstairs stage and this plays out in a very bizarre fashion. This band are a tight four piece. Girl singer, two seasoned guys on bass and guitars and a crackshot drummer. First tune however is a complete rip-off of ELO’s “Mr Blue Sky” lifting the melody, structure and chords of the verse – even the guitar break - and sellotaping on some weirdo new wave chorus. The second track borrows an introduction from a TV show (kids I think) theme tune. The lady singer looks rather striking. She seems quite mature but in fine fettle, but she has this rather weird white jump suit on. An all in one 1980’s style get up. The trouser legs seem a bit wide and they’ve been shoved into her boots but balloon out of the side like small parachutes. The boots look like the kind of thing Evel Knievel’s girlfriend would have worn on the back of his motorbike. Anyhow, the set grinds on and to her credit the singer jumps onto the floor and faces up to the audience. The effect is hampered slightly by the fact that this area is busy with traffic from the last band leaving and the next band arriving, each carrying their gear in front of the stage. A tight, neat performance if not a little odd.

Downstairs former Playmates and LesFlames! Outfit THE INTERNATIONAL TRUST begin to set the place on fire. Stomping basement riffs and firecracker guitars are illuminated with piercing synth sounds and the acerbic wit of singer Neil Hanson. Acrobatic, domineering social comment and scene debasing rhetoric flows out as the lyrics fly so close to the danger zone that the very wings of this vehicle could catch fire. Scruffy, intelligent underground noise.

THE RIVER get on stage quite quickly and this is a band who engage in respectful, uneventful indie pop. Slow moving, sanguine, but emotionally moody jangles and keyboards from the quintet point more towards the bedroom musings of a Coldplay / Snow Patrol themes, but without the stadium bit or the songs. Quite generic, middle of the road stuff.

Back upstairs and the band who were interrupting the Hazel O’Conner / Chrissie Hynde lookalike begin a set that you could easily write off as another Sheffield sounding act. Stick around though. It gets better. GO FASTER are Scousers and they sing a bit Mockney, but all hell lets loose as they lever in crescendos and epic conclusions – It’s sort of like an indie version of Oceansize. No pop songs, but plenty of skyscraping guitars mixing new rock with retro indie in a very palatable way. Exciting stuff and perhaps the most varied use of influences I’ll see today.

There’s just time for a quick jaunt through the building before we go. CHAMPION KICKBOXER are on downstairs and they seem so different to how I remember them. More reserved but still packing the same kind of thoughtfulness. The tunes I caught were more reflective and injected with more complexity yet still set with a simple wandering voice.

On the way out THE ROMANCE are on and this time the Frankenstein musical style is based around the brains and guitar co-ordination of the Arctic Monkeys inserted into the body of Razorlight. It’s not a pleasant view or sound.

Time for a break anyway and gasps of fresh air plus a bag of chips are obtained along the fifteen minute route to the ITC Unsigned part of the City. There’s stuff going on at M2. Tom Ravenscroft (Peely’s son) is DJ’ing and hosting a live night for Channel Four Radio, which will be part of a transmission that returns the TUBE brand to the internet. 65daysofstatic (awesome!) will be on later but we’ll miss them in the name of listening to new talent !

Walking down Peter Street, a road lined with the bald heads and the long black overcoats of an army of bouncers covering the doors that mark the corridor of brand name pubs, the first stop off is Bedlam, where on stage PAUL NAPIER strums out some rather lovely acoustic songs. He’s a striking slender figure, jet black Jack White style hair with a hat and commanding sense of style matched by his useful play of chords and infectious musings.

The Late Room, below Life Café, is quite an accommodating place but still ridiculously priced. Hrrrmph ! On stage though are THE PONY COLLABORATION who joyfully bustle out their country jangled indie folk and wrap it up with a few avant-garde twists. MAKING EYES AT ELVIS are an interesting concept with a solid bass played by one girl and some big drums. It’s in aid of backing the singer who also plays a piano in a Dresden Dolls style, ie. piano ALL the way through. There’s a lack of dynamics and any real sense of tune so the real benefit of all of this begins to get cumbersome after about five songs. THE LOST LEVELS use plenty of spacey synthesisers and sound a bit like Buggles, a video game and your favourite indie guitar churns. Good stuff.

Luckily I manage to get to Baby Grand just in time to see THE ANSWERING MACHINE. The door staff clearly have no idea what the capacity of this place should be and it’s so overcrowded that people can’t get down the stairs. Luckily I manage to jib in near Seymour Stein who’s found a place near the mixing desk. After I traded tips with the record boss ( I made that up), The Answering Machine play a blinding set. Their drum machine perfectly programmed and punching the right moves and breaks as the bands guitars crisply lock in and the bass pins it all down. It’s the vocals though that finish it all off – slightly broken, struggling, but searching and just grasping each note. It shouldn’t work, but it does and the suggested fragility and breezy guitar chords are a lot more solid than even The Answering Machine would let you believe. An A&R feeding frenzy no doubt did or will follow..

Another essential gig NOT to miss is the HIGH VOLTAGE event at The Roadhouse and it’s another hammered date - REDCARSGOFASTER are bouncing every note and every sound off the stone walls. It’s a beautiful noise that culminates in the band fragmenting apart like a natural explosion at the end. Guitarists leave the stage but the volume is still ringing in our ears. Whilst other HV acts are getting some serious attention, redcarsgofaster are one band who are yet to be massive. They will be.

SNOWFIGHT IN THE CITY CENTER begin their set with the mighty single “Listen” and less than two weeks after their last triumphant gig here they soar just as high although not as clearly as the sound seems a little muddy. But there’s enough of a recovery to enjoy and escape through the ethereal genius of their own title track “Snowfight In The City Centre”.

Final round goes to the DRY Bar again. This time HAVEN make a triumphant re-appearance on the main stage. After the personal woes and difficulties with labels, it’s good to see them get back in the saddle. The only thing is, it’s still the sound of 2000 and they just look a lot older. Their original A&R baiting sets, really just had two hit songs in them (more than double the average band count I'd hasten to add) but here in 2006 it sounds like the same syndrome. Haven do have fans but it’s not very exciting and they’re struggling to write tunes that demand attention. It’s a little disappointing for both them and me .

Finally, POLITBURO have their own party going on in the basement. After hosting an almost legendary all night ‘secret gig’ on Saturday that saw the doors jammed up at 2.00am, Police chases down the street and a throat shredding private performance, I didn’t think they’d pull this off. But it’s the tightest,most cohesive set I’ve seem them play. Nick Kenyon keeps his vocal to a low level growl and suddenly the songs are more menacing and also more melodic. The guitar, bass and drums are all locked in like Top Gun wingmen and the whole brutal assault unfolds. It seems only fitting that the clock is just striking midnight on a Sunday.

FASHIONABLY LATE - THE SATURDAY SOJOURN IN FULL

One fixture you CANNOT miss this weekend are all four shows at Fiction Non Fiction (www.myspace.com/fictionnonfiction) This is THE place and the line ups are a proper display of the true Mancunian Underground – everything else is mainstream. It’s a good chance to catch with Movement (http://www.myspace.com/movementhq) - who seem stronger and more powerful than ever. It’s not jus the confines of the venue – the sound is bursting with bubbling distortion and wired beats - Karl Astbury winds and winds his voice up from powerful gothic calls to arms, to screaming tales of impending doom – it’s magical as well as exciting, atom shattering stuff.

At a first glance The Exorsisters (http://www.myspace.com/theexorsisters) are maybe the saviours of rock and roll – Why aren’t they signed you almost murmur on song one, but after they’ve done a cover of “Sheena Is A Punk Rocker” and “20th Century Boy” they’ve pissed on what was a large portion of potentially tasty chips. You see Exorsisters have the punk-glam of The Heartbreakers or a blacked out New York Dolls. They have the pulse and energy of Moco, the sounds of G’N’R, The Damned and The Ramones and the finest guitar licks I’ve heard this year – they really are splendid – but they seem stuck in a pub circuit world that requires an obligatory cover and maybe they look and sound a little bit too much like The Towers Of London. I for one think they could be massive – get rid of the shit northern gig syndrome, play the decent venues and get the tunes honed into something buyable – there’s something in there but it’s bloody good fun to watch all the same.

The Green Room is renowned for its artistic support and has hosted many an acoustic session. For ITC they have decided to use the mezzanine / loft space which has a few disadvantages. Firstly it’s a million degrees as all the heat collects up there. Secondly, all the chatter from the ground floor means you can’t generate that ‘pin-drop’ ambience. And lastly and more irritatingly a bunch of about half a dozen arseholes decide that upstairs in the acoustic area is a good place to sit down drink beer in the middle of the audience and talk all the way through people’s sets. Some people are just plain stupid.

That aside, Stuart Avery soldiers on past broken guitar strings and the scorching heat to cook up more of his jazzy, indie songsmithing. Avery tends to hammer his strings quiet a bit – he’s a busking style with a yearning indie smile. It’s not folk and it’s not pop and whilst his set is a little long, he manages to get a few tales of mournful joy out , with the odd bit of entertaining noodling.

Isobel Heyworth (http://www.isobelheyworth.com/) on the other hand, manages to create a unique set for every performance. New songs abound and her beautiful vocal style and guitar playing make her one of the leading female song writers in the City. That’s the important thing too – alongside Heyworth’s finger picking virtuosity are just reams and reams of wonderful songs - captivating, wholesome, emotional and infectious. “This song’s for Cherry Ghost, but he doesn’t know it …” says Isobel as she sheepishly introduces the next song. The strands of folk and modern melodies is always compelling and bigger stages and larger releases of records like “Close Your Eyes” can only be a good thing in this world.

Our final session is with Ian Britt (http://www.myspace.com/ianbritt) who still mixes his songs on record with loops and atmospheric sparkles of acoustic guitar and effects. When stripped back to just a guitar and acoustic support Ian is another performer who can play his guitar and enchanting it is too, as his post 1960’s voice somehow subverts a folk sensibility with something much grittier and tougher hidden well beneath it all.

Satan’s Hollow is always a larf! – melted faces are built into the pillars and the chillout area is a mock dungeon. The most attractive thing about the venue is that the band play in the round and the sound is surprisingly well managed. Reverend Coyote (http://www.thereverendcoyote.co.uk/) are a fabulous proposition. There’s a R’N’B revival on in Manchester with at least six bands influenced by the blues, the pre-New Wave pub rock scene and the use of electrified guitar buzzes. Reverend Coyote. With a twang and a whammy the band flit from Sci-Fi fifties head shakes to full on guitar rasps and when the trumpet is added the songs just jump into another pre-mod dimension. “Our bass player is leaving – it’s his last gig..” – says the singer “We’re not going anywhere though..” he informs us …”Quiet literally…” quips someone else in the band. It’s an unfair self-judgement as Reverend Coyote are accomplished and entertaining as well as dedicated to their craft – tracks like “A House Of Cards” are peppered with brilliance and the harmonica fuelled Papillon are set on fore by the animated guitar playing. It’s mighty fine stuff !

Night & Day (http://www.nightnday.org/ ) are already busy and it’s one in, one out and a queue is already forming. Luckily we get in to catch the end of OUR FOLD who begin the first of three ITC weekend appearances (!) – The Westhoughton band seemed tipped, not least by themselves for bigger things with their driving powerful indie pop. Unlike the choppy musings of their peers, Our Fold reach for the sky with something more aligned to The View, but with more ambitious vocals. It’s a bold plan, but it might just work as they seem pretty damn good.

The much anticipated WINTERKIDS (http://www.myspace.com/winterkids ) are next and after a couple of truly marvellous records it’s disappointing to hear such an inconsistent vocal performance. At the best point, James Snider has the anchored strength of The Chameleon’s Mark Burgess but breaks up anytime he needs to climb above the positive tenor zone. The back vocals are awful and are just shouts or plain out of tune, which sits uneasily with the great backing sound. They also all look like they’ve been blasted through the stockroom of TopShop/Man and straight onto stage – I still like them but seem a little disheartened by a lost opportunity – they could be so much better.

ITC isn’t ITC without visiting the Akoustik Anarkhy (http://www.akoustikanarkhy.co.uk/) shindig at some point – it NEVER disappoints at all and this year we stumble across a very dear and old friend Mr JULIAN GASKELL (& HIS RAGGED TROUSERED PHILAN-THROPISTS) – See album review on MM from earlier this year. Julian, he off Loafer and Icons Of Poundland (all products a quid !) now lives down south in some remote field somewhere but his Balkans influenced neo-Folk is laced with his post-punk sensibility and sense of underlying artistry. With a wonderful moustache to boot it’s great to see him back shantying up our nightclub scenes and soiling out streets with the soul of hard crafted, earnest songs. MORTON VALLENCE are a FUCKING ACE outfit – maybe the best thing a I saw today – I’m going to let Cath cover them, but this international ensemble buzz with electronica, big bass guitars and superb, hypnotic, exciting songs – they will be HUUUUGE!!! Another one for aA!

Also playing the aA seminal bunker are The Nightingales (http://www.myspace.com/nightingalesmusic) - former members of Birmingham's original punk group The Prefects – a band much lauded by Mancunian photography legend Kevin Cummings. They’re back and based around lyricist/singer Robert Lloyd, with original Prefects guitarist Alan Apperley, ex Pram drummer Daren Garratt, teenage guitar sensation Matt Wood and bass player, Ste Lowe. After three albums and many radio sessions for John Peel the band now buzz with the angst of Johnny Cash, the rough and tumble of The Fall and the crazed poetry of Lloyd – they sound more Manc than Midlands and it’s all from the crazy period of post-punk growth that carved out the first splutterings of modern indie. Matt Wood is something else – Hair like a hedge, glasses like the bottoms of jam jars and a thousand year stare – you couldn’t make this up and to close the night the carpet literally seems on fire.

At a secret location somewhere, there’s a private gig in small room. You can just about make out the roof of Night And Day but inside here there’s something to challenge even the Noisettes much trumpeted gig before their tour with Muse. EVER SINCE THE LAKE CAUGHT FIRE (http://www.myspace.com/lakecaughtfire) are a North East act (Whitley Bay) who look barely old enough to own a bank card. Their incendiary mash of post rock, stuttering mathematical rock is powerful, sharp and inspiring – the singer has a DARTZ! T-Shirt on and it’s easy to associate the two brainy, aggressive acts – they have an uncompromising wall of noise, cut up with hair trigger timings and subtle, air slicing instrumental breaks. They’ve already garnered some press and it’s all good – This is a band that I’ll see again unsigned or signed but preferably the latter.



JA (ST1)

Escaping Trains - Sunday Club Fandango @ Night & Day.

Over to Night & Day, where Club Fandango is already several hours in - and the place is not as full as we'd expected, which given the particularly strong line-up today (we've only gone and missed the Clerks again - I knew I shouldn't have wasted valuable gigging time having tea!) is an indication of the wide range of choice available to the music fan about town on this, ITC's most jam-packed day. We land just in time for Brinkman. The trio have a nice 60s pop feel about them, all jangling and harmonies; but the problem is this is nothing new - it's not even nearly new - and if you're going to do this type of thing the key is to have absolutely fantastic tunes... which they don't.

You start to wonder if you're reaching saturation point. Or I do, anyway. Are these bands really all the same or are you just too gigged-out to respond any more? And then someone comes along like Make Good Your Escape. Not the greatest of names, granted, and they're pretty ordinary to look at... but when they start playing... What do you want from a band? Passion? Tons of it. Singer Mike is throwing his heart into every word like his life depends on it. Tunes? Every one a stormer. Think early teenage U2 fire, Chameleons soaring, echoes of 25 years ago, yeah, but shot through with 21st century spirit. Even a bit of Secret Machines power in there too. Energy? They're playing like they're in some rock'n'roll version of "Speed". And talent. Mike can swoop to a Smithsian falsetto and back in seconds. The guitars soar and dive. But most remarkable of all is drummer Steve. Yeah, I realise I've just spent over half a band's set watching the drummer. Crashing strength, complex fills, relentless pace, fuck, I'm no expert but this lad is extraordinary. Just to make sure, I mention this to a drummer I know who's stood near me and he agrees. I can't remember what any of their songs were called, but they've an album out in the next couple of weeks. When they finish I want to shake their hands. It wasn't me after all, I just needed to see a fucking good band. Where are you from then, I ask Steve later. Brighton. The last time a band from Brighton blew my head off in Night & Day was four years ago and these days I spendd quite a bit of time down there; I'll certainly be looking out for this lot.

According to the listings The Hot Puppies were described by some Guardian journalist as "the new Pulp". Well, inasmuch as they've got a keyboard player in a swirly-coloured dress playing in an ever-so-slightly kitsch way, er, yeah. And they've certainly been at the Britpop juice. Singer Becky's pretty powerful and engaging and there are a couple of good tunes in the set, but the next big thing? Nah.

Seafood are without their bassist and as such have decided to do it acoustic style. Which I'm sure is fine for those who know their songs - something different for the fans, certainly - but to the random observer it's a bit of a chore to sit through to be honest. Nothing wrong with the tunes but it's 10pm in Night & Day and they're all but drowned out by the bar chatter, especially when the girl takes lead vocals. They'd have been better dropping down a slot or two to an afternoon set where this may have worked better. Whether it's the loss of momentum or simply today's extensive calendar I don't know, but there's not really many people left in by this point. Certainly for me the choice between two of my favourite bands playing their last gigs for some time as they take time out to work on their respective forthcoming albums, on opposite sides of town, was made entirely on the basis that I like Night & Day, whereas MTwo (where 65daysofstatic will be going instage round about now) is a complete dump with Satan's own PA and the atmosphere of the Moon.

iLiKETRAiNS divide opinion amongst my music loving friends. One 40-something post-punker who's barely listened to a new band in years was so blown away by his first hearing of their "Progress:Reform" mini-album that he texted us increasingly over-the-top updates of his enjoyment track by track; another friend I met through shared music taste considers them derivative, monotonous and too dependent on image. It's a great image though, if you're going to have one. The uniforms of 1970s British rail staff paired with the beards of the British Antarctic Survey, and a cornet player who doubles as art director, flicking up yellowing slides to complement the lyrics. The lyrics, too, are somewhat further reaching than your average girlfriends-and-feelings indie band. Opening track "Spencer Perceval", for instance - the eponymous subject having been the only British Prime Minister to have been assassinated in office. The song starts quietly, with waves of floating guitar effects (there are no less than four delay pedals on the footboard); building into a great post-post-rock crescendo with singer Dave intoning "I am murdered, I am murdered" in a voice as deep and textured as Kurt (Lambchop) Wagner's. It seems to last about ten minutes - in a good way, that is - and as yet unreleased could well be one of the best songs the Leeds-based band have come up with to date.

Frequently accused of miserablism, there's a dark humour underlying the whole iLiKETRAiNS experience as tales of accidental poisonings, sinister stalkers and unseemly goings on in general are told over sweeping, widescreen walls of effects; projectionist Ash picking up his cornet towards the climax of any given track to build it even bigger. There may be some empty space further back, and the mutterings of people stupidly more concerned with what they're drinking sometimes intrudes on the quieter parts of songs, but this is a band you can get lost in; forget In The City and delegates yapping on mobiles and the fact that in the real world it's late on a Sunday night; every track is equally engaging if you let yourself into their world. The set peaks with "Terra Nova", an outstanding piece of music with lyrics drawn from the diaries of Scott's ill-fated Antarctic expedition, and as it reaches its climax with Ash projecting simple slides commemorating each of the fallen heroes the fact that I've seen this band about 12 times this year and never previously had much interest in polar exploration doesn't stop me being close to tears. As it ends, he picks the slides from the projector and tosses them into the crowd, and departs the stage leaving his four bandmates to play the chilling "Stainless Steel" without him. It's intense nonetheless, with Dave and guitarist Guy crashing into each other as they throw their instruments around and finall sink to the floor to work the effects boards with their hands, louder, higher... and then we slowly rejoin the real world.

A few minutes later the five affable young chaps are laughing and chatting with fans; the dark psychotic misery packed away in a flight case alongside their equipment.

I've been out for twelve hours and I don't want to watch anyone else after that anyway. Three days down, two to go...

- Cath Aubergine. Now heading straight back to Night & Day for an acoustic fry-up, or something...

Sunday afternoon - loud guitars in a quiet pub

The Garrett is one of those places I never, ever go - despite being probably the closest licensed premises to my flat. I think it's the "Official pre-5th-Avenue Drinking Hole" status that's offputting. Today, however, it's in the capable hands of BUSK who we're told put on sporadic gigs here all year round - must pay more attention. It's also as off the beaten track as you can get in the city centre during ITC. there is no free bar. It's £2 in, pass or not. And on a makeshift stage between a sofa and a window, a grey-heired man is blasting out a full-on rock'n'roll riot that would shame most of the fresh faces playing this weekend. This is George Borowski, living legend, worshipped by musicians from Doves' Jimi Goodwin ("one of the reasons I became a musician") to Dire Straits (I presumed everyone knew Borowski was the "Guitar George" namechecked in "Sultans Of Swing", it's just one of those random pop facts that's been in my head for as long as I can remember - but some of my companions were unaware of this). He does indeed appear to "know all the chords", including a fair few he's probably invented - and plays them all at once or thereabouts with the fire of a punk rocker and the dexterity of a lifelong bluesman, shouting into his mic whilst his somewhat younger bandmates try to keep up. We only catch the last two songs, but it's amongst the best ten minutes of the whole day.

The Green Tree Riot have that organic cafe look about them - violin, double bass and a bearded singer with an acoustic guitar, theirs is a blend of traditional and "nu" folk that's pleasantly soothing, like Devendra Banhart without the inherent "I'm mad, me!" slapability. It's not all trees and flowers mind; by the end of their set it's getting darker outside the window and inside too, as the songs take a turn almost into Nick Cave territory and the strings suddently sound more sinister...

A van pulls up outside, a revolting pink and advertising furniture restoration and house clearances with a Glasgow number - and a bunch of black-clad young lads jump out and through the side door of the pub, hastily whip out some guitars and catch their breath for a second. Tough journey down then? "We are Hip Parade, sorry we're a bit late... do you like our van backdrop?" The almost DelBoy-like vehicle is visible behind them through the pub window. As guitars and drums crank up to full pelt, the young singer holds up placards introducing the band. They have that Franz-and-more Glasgow disco-punk beat stuffed with hi-hats, but this is no skinny-tie art band - there's about 10 times more energy for a start and the guitars are straight out of punk without the funk. In fact they rock almost as hard as that pensioner over in the corner.

- Cath (now sporting an impressive array of handstamps)

At this point your correspondent decided to go against the general rule of ITC and go and have some tea. Rock'n'roll behaviour will resume shortly.

Spearhead ITC North East Showcase, Sunday

Walking up Peter Street there are two fire engines and an ambulance outside the Midland Hotel. Note to suits - do not freebase in your suite! Not when there's a free bar on the go at LateRoom, anyway... Inside it's encouraging to see how many of the crowd don't have passes dangling around their necks, but then a chance to see a selection of up-and-coming bands from the North East completely free of charge and be out of there before most of the other events have even started is an opportunity not to be missed for the roving music fan about town.

Ever Since The Lake Caught Fire have a name that makes you pay attention, and also makes you expect some sort of impenetrable post-rock. And whilst there are distinct parallels with 65daysofstatic, Youthmovies and our own Day For Airstrikes in the crashes of thrash-out guitar and twisting, throwing-themselves-into-it stage manner, there are also echoey Interpol guitar sounds floating over the top of it all and driving Fugazi rhythms underneath. Pick of the tunes is "Alex in Danger" where the guitars actually sound like they are melting. And they barely look old enough to be on licensed premises. First MM tip of the day - next NW appearance is at Bolton Soundhouse on Saturday 4th November.

Minotaurs sound like The Arcade Fire if they came from a Northern English nowhere town - South Shields in this case. Uplifting Big pop tunes with a Flaming Lips sense of melody and gorgeous boy-girl harmonies, this is classic indie-pop with the sound of a summer turning cold. On the radar.

Freerunner don't appear to have a bassist, although I'm sure I can hear one from time to time so there must be some clever effects going on. Little else to recommend here though - decent enough indie veering from Franz funky guitars to Editors power rock but rather unmemorable. Indigo Colony promise "exhilarating guitar riffs" but for the most part they're those same old early 80s lines that have lost something after being photocopied for the umpteenth time. Single "Even A Little" is a pretty good piece of rousing post-punk-pop but it's all a bit 2003 does 1983. And finally Catweasels have got loads or energy, but they choose to expend it thrashing out chunky powerchords in a really obvious order like a Geordie Blink182. Did you need a Geordie Blink182 in your life? No, me neither. Right, where next...

Not, it seems, 65daysofstatic at M2 as the official guide is in this case wrong; the Transit event is not a convenient 1 til 6pm but a clashes-with-everything-else-we-want-to-go-to 8pm. Damn. Where else is there then? And no, I refuse to set foot in Teasers. I don't care who's playing there. If they wanted coverage here they shouldn't have accepted a gig there, basically.

- cath (again...)

Loving The System - Omerta Instore, Sunday

Sunday midday, in the grip of ITC madness... do I have time to post up all yesterday's reviews and have some breakfast before the day's events start? What time's the first thing I'm going to? 1pm? Shit... I wish there was an extra hour in the day... and then I remember there is. It's not midday at all is it, the clocks went back... When this year's ITC dates were announced my initial reaction was "No, wrong." ITC to me has always been about dashing from one gig to the next on sunny September evenings, not dark rainy nights. But no, it was me that was wrong. Thank you for the extra hour. I needed it...

Following their veritable storming of the Bierkeller on Friday night Omerta have been to Glasgow for a gig, and tonight they're playing in Sunderland. No wonder Aaron Starkie and Nick "Marlon" Moylan are looking rather tired as they survey the hanging display of their "One More Minute" single sleeves in Piccadilly Records... the single is officially out on Monday but they've made the rather large detour home to launch it with a rare acoustic performance, and a good few of their loyal local fans have dragged themselves out of bed to watch alongside a few passing Sunday record-shoppers.

The five song set starts with early track "Stop Wasting My Time" and current B-side "Follow Me Down", both quite slow and reflective tunes even in their usual form - although this up close and personal appearance is an open window on their talent. Onstage through the Bierkeller (or wherever)'s PA and a lively crowd you can afford to make mistakes, to miss that note - not here. And they don't. Aaron's fine voice was never in doubt and here he swoops high and low, but it's Marlon who's quite outstanding here - providing perfect vocal harmonies and beautiful acoustic guitar arrangements. More surprising is the inclusion of a couple of tracks from the more upbeat, pop end of the band's armoury - "Synchronise Your Smiles" and "Learn To Love The System". The former, always one of the set highlights and rather missed on Friday, in its acoustic form is genuinely one of the most amazing songs of the weekend - by anyone. It's a clear demonstration of how good this band are that they can do pissed-up Friday nights and gentle reflective Sunday mornings equally well. They finish of course with the single they're here to promote, and then I guess it's back into the van to continue spreading the word across the nation - and just over two years after an early version of "Synchronise Your Smiles" caught our attention here at Manchestermusic, we wish them all the best.

- Cath Aubergine

Don't forget, pictures from most of the gigs we've been to can be found here:
http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a215/MMinthecity/

VIEW FROM A HILL - CHAIRS PRESENT

Break In The City / One-One Musical Chairs

Being part of the ManchesterMusic web machine may be good for getting you into gigs (even if you do have to burn the midnight oil tapping in all your notes whilst staring into the glowing backlight of a computer monitor) – but every once in a while someone thinks that you might actually know something about music - worst of all they want you to dish out advice to enthusiastic artists and promoters.

Humbly, I accepted an invite from Break In The City, who are brilliantly targeting the grass roots sector (ie. Musicians and independent music industry wannabes who can’t afford £500+ for a pass). It works too and it’s free.

Myself and ST2 ambled along to the Cathedral sized Bridgewater Hall and immediately came across a mini-forum about digital media and marketing. Great stuff as only a few years ago ITC itself set it’s conference agenda around the fact that the “Death Of The Record Industry” was imminent, as digital downloads were undermining their profits. In general most people find that to be “bollocks” – artists are getting a generous “5p a download” from the quid a pop tracks and everyone’s happy (err- aren't they ? - irony !). The real reason for down turning sales (ie. absolute shite music by label manufactured and marketed bands) has also been reversed by the onslaught of indie-guitars. Finally there’s at least a balance too, where instead of buying an album that’s 60% filler, downloaders are also now only buying the good tracks .

The debate was good but a little disturbing with talk of MySpace and “units”, “data” and “numbers”. Essential I'm sure but very sad that its use as a creative platform and means to pick up new and innovate music was a little lost on the panel. Also the inadequacies of MySpace seemed lost in a glassy glaze of find appreciation – Have you ever tried to use the search facility or send out an event invite ? It’s a powerful, global but limited tool and is now truly enormous in size and content. In it’s purchase , Murdoch has created overnight, one of the largest record labels / portals in the world and he’s about to start charge you all for distributing music…If I was in the record industry I’d be worried – they may just have handed power over to a media mogul who can take over their business.

So anyway – a bloody good debate and one that stimulates as much as any superstar ITC line up – and so to the Musical Chairs !!

“You’ve heard of speed dating, well now you can speed network: for three hours, Music Mart’s Musical Chairs will see us host a mammoth one on one questions and answers session so you, the band, can pick the brains of an array of music industry insiders…Here’s the deal: we fill a room with music industry experts from A&R to live sound know-it-alls to media maestros to cunning management to production whizzes and much more besides, each of whom has their own mini-stand from which to solve your queries, while the DJ pumps out the finest new music in the background. ….!”

Music Industry experts !- well I hope we helped someone – over a couple of hours we met would be A&R people, promoters, a few unsigned bands and someone who said we gave them a bad review – oops - you’ll find all the ITC demos we’ve got reviewed later….Hopefully we were of some use, but we enjoyed meeting these folk – some local and some from the sticks..

Time to go and see some bands but not before stumbling into the “Demo In A Limo” – we caught up with one band who got pissed in the back of it – the deal was some “A&R Expert” reviews your demo in the limo and you get four cans of beer en-route – Genius - We think it’s the kind of thing we should get funding for ! – We’ll run it every Friday and Saturday night – fill those forms in for us now !

As we pass the Midland Hotel there’s a white builder’s van with lettering all over it advertising a gig by INTERNATIONAL ONE. Their CD is blasting out over the vehicles sound system (folky / indie musings ) and they’ve also stuck a banner on the railings of the hotel itself – none of the staff have noticed and they become this years ITC blaggers by default !

Dry Bar In Space - Saturday evening

Two years ago during In the City we spent a lost afternoon in the back space at Dry Bar, blissed out to the sounds of Barnsley dreamsters Lycasleep and fresh faces on the local scene The Second Floor, and predicting the long overdue return of effects-heavy space-pop. And with bands such as The Early Years and The Morning After Girls making great waves, it seems the time has come. Lycasleep fell by the wayside after two quite stunning singles on Genepool Records, and from their ashes came Exit Calm. On a stage lit by strings of little white lights they start up that trademark ethereal guitar delay, like floating in space, and then a heavy rolling dub bassline, crashes of drums, building up into massive great waves like the spaced-out child of Doves "Cedar Room"... and every track is that good. Just five tracks make up their set, twisting into each other; and in front of the stage a girl dances wildly. "Have you had a tablet?" asks the singer, clearly a little surprised - it is, after all, only just after 6pm. Later she tells them they sound like Radiohead. They don't...

Next up The Bellarosa Connection have a rubbish name and turn out to be another one of those third-rate ska-punk-US-style bands V-Man frequently stuffs the spare slots of bills with. But scary things are afoot in the back room... very fucking scary.

Left, a large man with a larger Afro and a clerical collar. Centre, a chap behind a keyboard in a naval officer's uniform. Right, a lanky long haired chap with a bare chest full of tacky medallions. Lyons And Tigers are not a band you'll forget in a hurry. Over the next half hour they delight in being extremely, gloriously Wrong. Sample opening lines? "You don't have to fuck your mother / To be a motherfucker / You don't have to suck dick / To be a cocksucker" Oh, that's from "The Lord's Prayer" by the way. No, not that Lord's Prayer. Obviously. Elsewhere they extol the virtues of shagging pensioners ("Give me some OAP love / If you're 64 you're not old enough" over a Grandmaster Flash retro funk-hip-hop beat); being a monkey (of course...) and locking people in the cellar. Afro Vicar strips down to his glistening skin (top half only, thank God) and sailor boy done an Elton John wig/glasses combo. The sound? Well, vocally Frank Zappa meets Har Mar Superstar; musically funky lounge jazz. Crap funky lounge jazz. Who cares? You wouldn't really need to see them more than once, but you should see them. Before they get banged up.

After that the regulation rock-punk-indie thrash of Dead Dead Dead seems slightly conventional and irrelevant; downstairs The Lucida Console's post-rock-math-rock seems to have got a bit heavier, more emo and less interesting than I recall but they're going down well with the asymmetrically hair-coloured teens. The Dodgems have Strokes haircuts and do a glammy take on punk but it's nowhere near as much fun as The Exorsisters. And finally... to the other band from that 2004 afternoon The Second Floor. Smoke machines are started up, the strobe flickers and the four dark shadows turn up the noise. "Rightfully Mine" soars and dives like dirty-spec Spiritualized on much cheaper stimulants, and people are drawn in from the bar. For some reason the venue has decided to project old Mr.Men videos onto screens, and the incongruity of watching string-thin rock-god bassist Crosby framed by a lurid picture of Mr Greedy is bordering on the deeply surreal. The sound is maybe not as massive as at some of their own gigs, but that's probably not their fault - the front stage is not an ideal venue with people coming in and out all the time, but The Second Floor still make the sort of sound you can lose yourself in. Regular set favourites "Tremolo Heart" and "Black Noise" build towers of sound, and with the coloured lights and smoke this feels like rock'n'roll should. Blissful.

And with that we leave Dry Bar and head off to Akoustik Anarkhy, but that report'll have to wait... it's midday now, and I've got more bands to see...

- Cath Aubergine

Saturday afternoon - Green Room, Dry Bar, FictionNonFiction

Nothing soothes a morning head fuzz quite like a bit of quality acoustica, so what better "breakfast" than a chilled orange juice in the Green Room and the sweet, reflective sound of Nomad Jones? He might look like an indie-kid scruff with his just-got-out-of-bed hair and jumper, but Jones has a gorgeous, pure, rich voice and a talent for lovely peals of intricately plucked guitar chords. The solo singer-songwriter genre must be the toughest of areas in which to be noticed, but he's got the voice and the bittersweet dreamy songs; he'll just need to be in the right place at the right time. Luckily for him he'll next be soothing heads at the official Live235 venue around 11.30 Monday morning - let's hope someone's awake enough to notice.

Jenny McCormick is already establishing herself as one of the brightest talents of contemporary folk, but her delicate English rose voice and lightly strummed guitar have more than a few shades of the traditional - she's even got a song about her true life experience of going out with a sailor! With her sound now filled out by a banjo player she's nothing short of sparkling. Definitely a name to look out for.

Over in Dry Bar, Deodates are kicking up a frantic two-man racket on the back stage. They comprise Gary Hope's melodic Northern Soul-influenced vocals and Jam guitar battering and the relentlessly crashing drums of Tom Pickford and they sound as tough and working-class as their Salford home. "This is for all the Industry types who are drinking in the bars at the Midland Hotel instead of doing their job" sneers Gary, "...nice work if you can get it" before launching into the dirty power-pop of "S.R.S.S.".

Afterview, downstairs, have one Clash T-shirt actually on view (the drummer) but there are probably a few more back home - they play a fairly workaday meat-and-potatoes rock reminiscent of The Clash only in their "let's file off the rough edges for the American market" era. Unique selling point: very small female keyboard player with the world's biggest keyboards. Yeah, not much to go on, I know.

Dirty rock'n'roll is calling me and there's only one place to go for it; with no idea of FictionNonFiction's running order (you try getting some sense out of them!) I walk into Tiger Lounge just as Movement are starting and all the rest of Team MM are in there too - must have been "the force"...

Effectively a warm-up for ther higher profile appearance on Sunday (10.15pm, Dry Bar Vault) Movement are dressed entirely in black and sounding as tight as their drainpipe jeans. From the scuzzy pop of "Winter Girl" they get faster and dirtier as the set progresses, Karl slinking his skinny frame round the mic stand like a rocksexgod and the guitars screaming from garage-punk heaven. The set ends in a shouting, sprawling mess of feedback and explosive drums. One of the best live bands in Manchester right now.

The Exorsisters have also been drinking from the fountain of eternal rock'n'roll - and even more so. "HELLO MAN-CHES-TERR!" howls leather-and-silk glam-slut-boy singer Kurt Dirt (No, I am not making this up). The new New York Dolls? Actually they're from... Blackburn. A place where you'd have to be pretty fucking hard to walk round looking like that. Taking their cue from the Ramones ethos of playing everything as fast as is physically possible, crunching chords, car crash drums and high-octane lunatic guitar solos speed past - the latter courtesy of one Angus Fearfull. Ace. Dirt invades the crowd, crashing into tables and singing close into peoples' faces. "This song's called Sick City Boy, you dirty mancs!" Gloriously unreconstructed, and fucking great.

And it's still (just about) light outside...

- Cath Aubergine

Blowout Blow-Up: Omerta, Gabrielle's Wish & The Tides storm the Bierkeller

Blowout in “running to time” shocker! Don’t get me wrong, we love our Friday night piss-up on the wobbly benches of the Bierkeller, we’re just not used to much happening before 10pm. To My Boy open the packed four day schedule with some shots of enthusiastic electro-fuzz-pop. The duo, from Liverpool via Durham apparently, consist of Sam White, Jack Snape, two guitars, a keyboard and a laptop and at first seem a little scrappy and formless, like they’re not too sure of themselves. Soon they seem to find some confidence however and the last three songs of the set, including limited single “The Grid”, are gloriously bouncy electro power-pop tunes.

The rest of the evening is handed over to the good people of North Manchester. The Tides, Gabrielle’s Wish and Omerta have a lot of fans and friends in common – members of Puressence, Kni9hts, Behind Green Lights and The Children are among the rather well-oiled crowd, and by the time The Tides take to the stage it already feels more like a party than a gig. One fan has even travelled from London just for the evening. It’s testament to the popularity of this still unsigned band that almost every word from the angel-voiced Liam Pennington is sung back at him, and the raised arms and pints confirm that “Lights” is the first real anthem of the weekend. There are new songs in the set too, strong and powerful to the last.

Then Gabrielle’s Wish come along and things go up yet another gear. Frequently referred to as one of Manchester’s best kept secrets. The spitting fury of singer Rob. The duelling basses of Darren and Karen. The driving, twisting, intricate but nuclear-powered drumming of the stunning Bo Walsh. The flickering projections of motorways and industry. This is apocalyptic post-punk disco at its most intense, it’s like being beaten about the head with breezeblocks whilst on loopy rave-drugs. Rob is quite possibly the only singer on earth who could make the line “I will always love you” sound like a threat of mild violence. Down in the crowd, a caped and masked ambassador from the rave of Beelzebub hands out copies of the band’s album to everyone who’s dancing – canny promotion or just so they know the next morning what hit them? That was extreme. Friday becomes Saturday. And there’s still another band to go…

Midway through their first national headline tour and with healthy pre-orders for their imminent single, Omerta take to the stage with an assuredness that says this band is ready for the next step up. Cranking up the dance beats behind their classic North Manchester atmospheric pop they ensure the singing and dancing doesn’t let up for a second and somehow they just don’t look like that bunch of lads from the pub any more, they look like rock stars. The towering “One Chance” sees tough shorn-headed men fkinging stocky arms around each other and the electro-throbbing “Big Blue” turns the sweaty mosh into a dancefloor. New Rave? Bollocks, you can stick your glowsticks up your fashion supplements! The slower, haunting “Follow Me Down” comes as something of a relief as everyone gets their breath back. People are crowded around the stagefront now as “One More Minute” gets the sort of reception normally reserved for “the big hit single” at far bigger venues than this – a glimpse into the not too distant future perhaps? As the sequencer kickstarts perennial fans’ favourite “Learn To Love The System” singer Aaron backons the hordes towards him. One lad’s on the stage now, then another, and then everyone – and the set ends in a glorious mass of jumping mayhem – in which the band remarkably barely miss a note. Blowout promoter Graham is grinning and pointing a video camera somewhere into the middle of the gleeful mess, he knows it’s been one of the best nights the Bierkeller has seen in a while – perhaps since that Longcut gig a couple of years ago when they, too, were on the verge of breaking out. The London suits probably aren’t even in town yet – or if they are, they’ll be sat in some hotel bar, waiting to be told where to go. But that’s OK, tonight wasn’t about the Industry, it wasn’t even really about In The City – it’s been a celebration of Manchester itself. They missed some pretty hot prospects though…

- Cath Aubergine

Photos of all the bands from Blowout and Dry Bar - as well as our 2005 archive and everything else we can poke a camera at this weekend - can be viewed here:
http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a215/MMinthecity/

There's a chance to see Omerta in a rather quieter mode as they launch the "One More Minute" single with an acoustic instore at Piccadilly Records tomorrow (Sunday) at 1pm. the Tides play The Attic on Sunday and Revolution bar (Deansgate locks) Monday.

Right, time to go out and see some more music I think!

Everything Starts With A V (Dry Bar, Friday early doors)

The official events don’t start until Saturday, but at 7.30pm on Friday night V-Man Events are kicking off their mission to put on as many bands as is physically possible across the five day weekend. The two upstairs stages will alternate to supply a constant live soundtrack, with a third stage in the basement if nothing up there takes your fancy. Ambitious? You bet. But if anyone can, then the V-man can…

Opening the batting for thos event and therefore the weekend as a whole are Decoration. And it seems the first band of ITC06 have landed straight out of (C)86 – with their classic indie-pop, trebly guitars and dry but heartfelt vocals they sound like a young Wedding Present – and look lik one, too. Or maybe not so young… The singer has a nice matey manner similar to those of Liam Fray or the Sheffield scene and there are some great tunes in the set, but little original going on. Maybe it doesn’t matter. The Wedding Present are a shadow of their young selves these days and Decoration remind me of when they weren’t.

More trebly guitars downstairs, this time courtesy of Norton, although they don’t seem too sure where to pitch themselves. A couple of songs have that rumbling widescreen Editors sound, but in the next one there’s a borderline Chili Peppers funk-rock sound drifting in from somewhere. And a squiggly guitar solo. Oh no. Further points off for having a song about work, too – “Monday to Friday / every day the same…” – yeah, that’s just what people want to hear at the start of the weekend, isn’t it? Nope, back upstairs then… the front stage is empty though, with the billed Marvin The Martian providing the weekend’s first no-show (or at least no-show-on-time, which is much the same thing with schedules like Dry Bar’s) …sitting at a table with a stash of lager I spot Leeds grimesters Yes Boss who are playing here later although I’ll unfortunately be long gone by then, I’ve got a three-way clash of interests round about 11pm and it’s only the first night! But as the sound of Norton echoes up the stairs I can’t help thinking of one of their indie-band-berating lyrics – “You’re having a laugh / you’ll never get signed / Go get a job / put it out of your mind…” I’m quite certain this will not be the last time over the weekend that couplet pops into my head.

Downstairs again and Eleven do a lively if rather unoriginal ska-punk thing – that’s ska-punk 1990s American spec, think No Doubt with a bloke singing. You’d rather not? They do wobble their legs in a really funny way though.

Bookstore have got more energy than all the bands so far put together. A thrashy US-hardcore-influenced punk band, the bouncy wired bassist and shirtless powerhouse drummer don’t look like they’d have got past the ID checks if they were punters. They’re led by a wild-haired blonde girl with tattoos, a cigarette permanently on the go and one fucker of a pair of lungs on her. Her ripped Black Flag T-shirt gives a clue where they’re coming from and it’s great to see a band who are actually performing as opposed to just playing. First “could be going somewhere” tip of the weekend, anyway.

Back downstairs (much more of this and I’m going to start getting fit!) Twentysixfeet have a laptop and lots of hair. After several false starts (technology can be a bugger) some glitchy beats phase in shortly followed by a crash of impenetrably time-signatured math-rock; it’s like a metal 65daysofstatic with vocals. Wavering emo-metal vocals – interspersed with all-out screamo roars from the guitarist. Another one to watch; it’s just getting interesting in here but the cock strikes Blowout and it’s time to move on…

Cath Aubergine. Having breakfast.

Good Morning Manchester And The World!

Well here we are again. It's 10.30 Saturday morning and doubtless the trains up from London are packed with industry types all hoping to catch the next big thing (preferably playing to 20 people in a toilet). This of course is business as usual for ManchesterMusic.

The official events may not start til this afternoon, but already ITC06 has seen a quite outstanding gig in the form of last night's Blowout. As you can see in the picture, Omerta's set ended with half the crowd on the stage sometime around 1am... I'm not even sure how I am awake at this point in time, but reviews to follow shortly. Just thought I'd check this thing was working first... see you later... Cath.