A Dry Afternoon

Glasswerk ITC & The Hot Test Bands, Dry Bar, Saturday afternoon

Dry Bar have got a special offer on whereby if you buy a bottle of Reef fruit-based vodka mixer drink, you get a free shot of fruit schnapps with it. I am telling you this for two reasons: one because if you’re headed out there today you may find this information useful, and two because as I first discovered this shortly after 2pm it may explain the increasing vagueness of any reports filed as the day goes on… An impressive set-up of three stages means that from the first note of the first band, you need never spend a second not listening to live music all day – and with some name headliners later the fiver entry compares rather favourably than the £30-£50 one-day tickets for many of the summer’s proper festivals.

Leaf are from Bolton, with their heads somewhere between Washington State and Washington DC, blasting out the kind of power-pop-hardcore that’s enduringly popular, and rather well. Two small scruffy frontmen – one tattooed and the other in classic Kurt blond mop and tatty jumper combo, share vocal duties over a bag of Bleach-era Nirvana and Mudhoney power chords and breakneck speed thrash. The tunes are instant and the sleepy-to-shouty singing spot on; they’re tight, coherent and accomplished and look very young. It’s always frustrating to see a great band in such an early slot when the powers that be are probably still crawling out of their hangovers (the schnapps sorted mine out fine!) but definitely worth catching sometime.

* Cath's tip of the day: http://www.leaf-band.co.uk/

Iris Nova have a far less enjoyable take on post-grunge alt-rock 90s introspection, so it’s off downstairs for Plugs, whose spiky art-punk with balls sounds like Forward Russia crossed with Fugazi. “Rock Over London, Rock On Chicago” has an enticing pop hook even though we’re not quite sure what geographical point they’re trying to make. Deranged high-speed Cardiacs psychedelic-punk guitar lines give way to thrash-outs and ever-shifting time signatures and sometimes there’s too much going on to actually take it all in. Shame someone’s forgotten to put any lights on over the stage, giving the strange feeling you’re watching them in their garage or something. When we emerge back upstairs after their short, intense set, Iris Nova are still onstage and covering Queen’s “Death On Two Legs” (I’m reliably informed that’s what it is anyway!) which may be ironic, post-ironic or post-post-ironic but either way there’s really no need for it.

Over in the back room The Starfighter Pilot comes armed with a laptop, a couple of keyboard-sequencer things (yeah, technology’s not my strong point!) and a lyric that goes “My mother gave me money to make a film / My father gave me money to make a film / Lottery money to make a film / But all of my films were stupid and pointless”. Well I’d be intrigued to see them anyway – instead we can only guess at the contents of his head from his offbeat bedroom electronic pop. A wonderful slice of vaguely orchestral space-beat that sounds like bits of Kraftwerk’s Tour de France played on a Playstation is dedicated to “the broken urinal downstairs” - nice to know it’s not just us girls who have to face something akin to a biohazard in this venue then! His vocals are a bit shambolic in an endearingly wayward way and he sometimes seems to be fighting a losing battle with technology, but there’s a highly individual talent in there anyway.

Back downstairs Salvo are very angry about something. The drummer’s got a CNN T-shirt on and when I can make out lyrics, their edgy punk hardcore is politically and socially aware. They look and sound like the sort of serious young men who prefer their punk rock Black Flag to Buzzcocks and they’re not afraid to hurt your ears. Then back upstairs to catch the last couple of songs of The Hair’s hard punk-funk which ends rather impressively with the entire band having a bash at the drumkit, and remembering I should probably eat at some point I hand over to ST1.

cath aubergine

UNIVERSAL LAWS OF MUSIC - OR THE TW*T IN THE HAT

SATURDAY 1st OCTOBER................


This is my version of events, so I’m sticking to it. For now.

In The City just seems bigger than ever and the crowds seem to be providing more than a match. Ok so it is a Saturday, but hammered out rock gigs at 4.30pm anyone. Now that’s cool.

Having the advantage of a pass and lanyard, you get to see a little bit behind the scenes and ITC seems to have found its stride, with a mega efficient registration process and laid back approach that still provides a nice, slick series of seminars.

The Manchester City Music Network Pop Quiz Night is always popular, but they were about to fasten the thick bolts on the door to the room. Like Ripley’s cryogenic space journey in Alien, it would be a whole three hours before the depressurisation process would allow the entrance to be unsealed. With just one complimentary pint (then as many as you want at £3.50) and all the chips you can eat, it’s the sight of Elliot Eastwick limbering up on his twin turntables, elaborate sound system and club night equipment for a round of pub quiz soundbites, that seems the most bizarre.

A walk with haste is the order of the day, via a man at the exit to the Midland who gives us a stick of rock and what looks like a Teflon mouse mat, neither of which seem be of any use. He’s actually selling Voice Over Internet Services, but after a babble about “£10 a month plus… “ the eyes glaze over. I’m nervously looking around for the Sky TV salesman, who normally hides behind a blue hoarding with The Simpsons on, or an AA man sat under an umbrella in a fluorescent jacket. But we’re lucky.

Destination Dry Bar, where a festival all of its own is in full swing. It’s impressive. Three stages working in synchronisation and a sound that’s often pretty good, but boomy depending on who’s on and who’s fiddled the knobs well enough. The bars a pain in the arse though. After waiting for about quarter of an hour, everyone stood next to me had been served, so it was my turn. Great. I only wanted a coke, but hey, when there’s plenty of oversized 6’2” twenty somethings dressed as Ricky Kaiser, I don’t mind waiting. Tw*ts. (More of that later…).

There’s a couple of things to say about music to day – it seems to fall into a variety of categories, all governed by a series of laws :

Music Is Good
Music Is Mediocre
Music Is Shit.

You can grade things within this scale to accommodate, style ,content, haircut, or anything else that irritates / impresses.

So kicking things off for us so far are THE HAIR. The York outfits gritty slightly funky style is right in the frame of “fresh bright young things who can play scratchy guitar, but quirk it up with some wobbly effects” – All with the odd twist of a sound like The Artic Monkeys but without the hooklines. It’s a variation on a theme we’re going to hear all night.

The URBAN BLUE showed promise with their last demo and they have a real bonus in singer Alison Carner - we said last year : “sweeping, lazy post Acid Jazz, which is the prefect vehicle for the singers curveball melodies and unique tone” . We say today it’s still pretty true and the quest for that killer song is still on but getting there. Ones to watch.

CHERUBS look exactly like Franz Ferdinand, but seeing as they come from London, you can forgive them for that. Songs like “Hey Bunny” provide perfectly relevant bouts of rasping guitars, but it’s “A Man Of No Importance” which causes the most gasps for its sheer Interpol tribute - but Interpol stole that from The Chameleons so - so what ? The muddy sound doesn’t help although Cherubs leave quite a bright impression.

They maybe don’t know it, but KARAOVA are playing in the hometown of Clockwork Orange author Anthony Burgess. In Nadsat you’d steal the lines “Then he opened those amazing "groobers" and through his rattling false "zoobies" gushed a Niagara of portentous, pedantic, autodidactic, multilingual verbiage, with a flotsam of what he termed "duff gen". ….or basically, the music was pretty intense but the vocals were a bit dodgy in the basement room. A mush really.

TRAP 2 bring a different sound from Sheffield. They seem to have improved from their demos, this time, the hair is longer and they’ve gone a bit baggy. Dance moves and effects are bolstered by big, sometimes ethereal guitars, which all work quite well. They also need to get a name that doesn’t conjure up the image of the next to the end cubicle in the ladies toilets.

Oh – this is all still in the Dry Bar too – I haven’t moved much – in fact – I just have to swivel round to see one stage then t’other.
But shaking a leg past the toilet roll littered bogs, there’s the rather excellent 3 piece from Belfast (“It’s lovely…” there apparently – I think he was joking after their latest tourism reels consisted of on-fire police vehicles and Christians beating each other up with large sticks and small arms). THE BÊTES NOIRES are rigidly tight, noisy and ready to explode. And they do too. The vocals lay over a melodic sneer and the whole things churns out of the speakers rather wonderfully.

There’s an ever increasing number of haircuts – in fact it’s like a uniform of conformity. Two guys stand in front of me, dressed in black, hair spiked, make up on. Now that’d be cool if they were down the local boozer on their own, or at work, or shopping at Asda. But here it’s just run of the mill and it’s hard to distinguish anyone’s individuality. Even the music seems to conform and you begin to feel that just one big band dressed as Pulp would do for the whole evening…or would it ?

The MARDOUS are apparently on / going to be on, Poptones. You can see why. More spiky indie nik-nik-nik pop. The three piece are sharp but they do suffer from indifferent vocals and a lack of stage presence. They could end up as just another drop in the ocean of new generation indie pop. But I think on record that this stuff could actually sound rather good. We’ll have to see.

The Second Floor provide the revelation that not all new stuff has to be Interpol / Nik-Nik with a bout of swirling, pulsating shoe gazing and space rock epics. Lamacq’s interested enough to play their demo. So should you.

The rather long-ish walk to hell (Peter Street) begins via a stop off at the Oldham Street Offy, for a winos supply of JD in a hip glass. We coned off a gutter space for our rep (the one dressed as a big game hunter) , but word is that Linen Cupboards in Hotels are a good place to crash (a true story from a well known local rock band member). There’s another pause at “Methadone 24/7” (The Chemist all night Chemist on Oxford St), for EARPLUGS !.

Then there’s a stop at Subway for a member of the crew to get a sandwich – such was the cue that his skeletal remains were barely able to place the order once he got to the front of the queue. Fast food from slow people ?- It’s doesn’t work Mr McDonald…

The Late Room is heaving but no-one seems to be watching the band. Everyone’s just talking VERY LOUDLY. Which is a shame as UNCLE BOB is playing some “Carol King Vs Radiohead” inspired stuff via his outfit of electric and acoustic players and a double bass. It’s a shame, as had this been a FUCKING MUSIC CONFERENCE, everyone would have been listening wouldn’t they ?

Some guys are shouting “Boss Hogg! / Boss Hogg! / Boss Hogg!”. This old guy turns round. He’s dressed in white and looks just like the original Dukes Of Hazzard character. He also looks like Seymour Stein… oops – Welcome To Manchester….

But here comes the revelation – North East trio DARTZ! Are grinding away in the basement of 14 Lloyd Street. They’re amazing, with a concoction of post rock, EMO, XTC, The Blockheads, wiry disco and thumping rock and roll. There’s a mix of everything in here, but they’re genuinely different and I think pretty exciting.

Whoever put the SQUARES venue on the gig list needs their bloody heads testing. The downstairs space is pretty good for music, but given that the regular clientele have a 30 foot drop from which to execute Begby style glass throws it’s maybe not such a good idea. KUBICHEK however play a set that is maybe their best ever since we first brought them to Manchester last May for their debut gig here. They have a real chance to make a lasting impression with singles like “Nightjoy” and Fantastic Plastic sticking out for more records. However haircuts strike again and I’m almost knocked to the floor as three Londoners give each other a “luvvie” hug in the space I’m currently standing in. Fuggin Hell !!!. However all is forgiven when I see one of the fashion victioms shoes. Anyone who wears two tone suede brogues together with a cream Mac is obviously on institutional leave. Arse. Special (Fashion) Victims Squad…now there’s a theme we may well be featuring later..

It’s back to 14 Lloyd Street and the basement is a lockout as ¡FORWARD, RUSSIA! demonstrate that a blistering tour maketh the band. I’ve seen them three times in two months and this is their best. Whiskas has also shaved his beard back after we described him as Captain Birdseye – it’s no matter – they’re absolutely amazing – and more still. They’re definitely going to get something from this.

THE PERMISSIVE SOCIETY are upstairs and they’ve got the A&R contingent hemmed in –it’s just as well as “Fighting Crime,Protecting People” blows the cowboy hat off the guy who looks like he’s in the Kings Of Leon. He’s not – he’s probably the record company mailman, but he looks tall. He also looks like something out of Back To The Future 3. But The Permissives by this time have fired out enough bullets to make people scream for more ear damage. It’s one of the few places to experience pure unadulterated rock and roll…

More to Come…




ST1

Chaos AD

Having not really enjoyed a single band last year that I hadn't seen already I did some proper research this time. And as they say, proper planning prevents piss poor performance and planning did actually pay off. So far so good.

Arrive at Satan's Hollow at about 9:20 to catch Leicester's Team. Satan's is packed with bored looking metal kids clearly awaiting the Linkin Park disco that starts later on. My faith is restored immediately with Team who as Alan Partridge would say are "ruddy, bloody good". All Queens of the Stone Age via Soundgarden via DC hardcore, a bit of post-rock and another dollop of grunge for good measure. Downtuned and thick, stop start rhythms together with harmonised and regimented shouts from a bearded bald bloke bludgeon the sense in the nicest way possible. Team show that you can be heavy as a rhinocerous and note sing a single note but still be catchy as the common cold. A great start.

Punish The Atom we assume are from London all cockney accents and influences together with a pretty cocksure and somewhat cliched attitude. The singer starts with some nonsense like "we're the happy sunshine band and we dedicate this song to Jesus". Musically it sounds like a pretty mashed up version of PIL with jittery bass lines and lots of shouting. Not bad but Dom gets bored so we move on.

Enter the Waldorf and it's A & R central. The place is busier than a bread shop in soviet Russia. Getting a drink would have probably been easier in Gorbachov's times. Nevertheless we content ourselves with occasional glimpses of Polytechnic who are pretty decent, a bit like Yo La Tengo but with droning krautrock guitars. There's a little too much similarity within songs but the singer's voice intriguing high and 'Let Me Down' which concludes the set deserves to be a classic. In fact go to www.wearepolytechnic.com and download it free. I think you'll agree.

We migrate to the Night and Day which is equally busy and catch the end of The Vincent Valmera Show's set which sounds rather Kinks-y, Libertines-y and competent but not massively memorable. Catch the much talked about Omerta and I have to concede that it isn't really my thing. Cath will no doubt shower them with praise in a future blog entry but I'll just be content with staying quiet.

There's no entry into Dry Bar because it's at capacity. V-Man comes outside and says, "how come you're not inside?" I point out that the doorman isn't letting anyone in but V-Man being a kind soul lets us in. Once indeed I narrowly miss being knocked to the floor by the singer of The 80s B-Line Matchbox Disaster who rushes across the floor and leaps onto the bar. Dry Bar is in pandemonium. The place is packed like sardines and there a more spectators on stage than band members. A bouncer comes over and unsuccesfully attempts to coerce people off the stage. Apparently being "unsigned" is the reason for The 80s B-Line Matchbox Disaster's reason for apparence at ITC but with a performance that genuinely deserves the term 'anarchic' another record deal should be in the post. It doesn't matter if you don't hear a single note. The atmosphere in Dry is pretty electric with double stage-diving and more sweat that a sauna for the overweight.

A good night indeed.

Manchester Music ITC Photo Page

Since last year, Cath and Dave have discovered the joys of digital cameras and are currently on the loose around Manchester snapping bands, punters, displays of heroic drunknenness and One Man And His Beard in as many venues as possible. The fruits of this endeavour will be posted here over the next few days:
http://photobucket.com/albums/a215/MMinthecity/

Fandango Lift-Off

Club Fandango Friday 30th September, Night & Day

With the queue for Dry bar stretching out past Night & Day, the proprietors of the latter are busily dishing out flyers and the rain tempts more than a few to give up on 80s Matchbox (as in “are you still here?”) to pop next door instead. Tricky Nixon should have convinced them it was the right decision, with sugar and spike boy-girl vocals and pummelling Pixies bass and drums. And, it has to be said, everything else. Quiet verses and screaming choruses, sleazy Breeders guitar thrash and tasty harmonies, their influences are not so much worn on their sleeve as written all over them, but with tunes you can bounce along to and plenty of energy who cares?


The Children ram their square peg into another round hole next, with their psychedelic bluesy retro rock that’s so far removed from anything that’s meant to be cool that it actually is. There are merry-go-round organs, Doors trips and an utterly bizarre segment of Laughing Policeman “ha-ha-ha”s at one point that has some punters looking slightly scared. I am beyond trying to work out why I like this band so much as there should be no place for this in 2005, but that might well be it. Maybe one day they’ll forgive me for once saying the singer looks like a hobbit…

I've spotted a couple of other MM typs lurking around, so hopefully one of them will give you the low down on 3rd Dan. From where I was (taking advantage of a brief let-up in the rain to get some much needed oxygen!) they sounded tighter and louder than ever...

Vincent Vincent and the Villains have got great shoes. No, stay with me, you can tell a lot about a band by their shoes. Try it some time over the weekend. Smart, 50s retro and a bit pointy with a little scuff and wear, just like the band’s sound. Having once seen this band whilst extremely drunk I was convinced they all had quiffs, when actually they’re more in the Ordinary Boys smart-casual mode, it’s easy to see how I might have imagined it. Choppy guitars, tight simple beats and wandering bass sees them carrying a thread from early Smiths via Sons & Daughters, and whilst it’s tropically hot in here by now there’s plenty of dancing going on.

The place is packed now with Omerta’s growing fanbase crowding the front for one of Manchester’s hottest bands of the moment, and the band are feed off the buzz with an ever increasing confidence. They have every right to – they’ve got a faultless repertoire of Mancunian anthems and a finely developed stage presence. “One Chance” hasn’t even been released yet but already Aaron’s almost drowned out by a mass singalong. But it’s the dancier tracks that really raise the temperature tonight with “Big Blue”’s pulsing electrobeat and the cynical “Learn To Love The System” sending the previously wilting late night crowd into a jumping frenzy. Afterwards they know they’ve done a good one, and with a whole host of delegate passes on show during a thinner-than-usual first night this could have been the most important night of their lives to date. I really hope so.

http://www.trickynixon.co.uk/
http://www.vincentvincentandthevillains.com/
http://www.omerta.co.uk/

cath aubergine, breakfast time

Know when to walk away....

Suffrajets, 7 Second Burn, Fury, Drone at The Roadhouse Thurs 29th September

Sometimes you wish the band would just turn around, switch their amplifiers off and leave the stage.
Not that The Suffrajets’ last song is bad. But the song that preceded it was absolutely epic; half-way through it The ‘Jets took off into space and just kept ascending into chaos. And quite frankly, they shouldn’t have come back down – even if the last song on their setlist is the catchy “next single”. Dueling guitars, singer mashing about wildly in the crowd, fall-on-your-knees stage moves that look really silly when boys do them - this is a proper rock show!

The ladies of The Suffrajets are at the tail end of their tour and it shows in their swagger. Singer Alex doesn’t bat an eye or when a guitar strap breaks and she has to finish the song with her guitar being held up for her by the band’s roadie. Bassplayer Vicky Kingston, on the other hand, bats her eyes frequently as she coyly flirts with her legion of admirers. With songs like “Call the Police”, the odd skanking guitar-line, and an apparent short skirts-only policy, The ‘Jets are three steps ahead of most of their peers. Its nice to see former-babyshambler Gemma Clarke in a band that actually plays shows, as opposed to her wasting her talent as an extra in the tabloids.

And with one last big-rock-ending and obligatory squeal of feedback, its all over. You wanted something new and innovative? You’re in the wrong place, mate. This isn’t rocket science – its the Suffrajets.


Now the problem with loud rocknroll is that the glorious visceral punch of a band at full-throttle completely obliterates any chance of catching what the singer is on about. For all I know, the singer for 7 Second Burn might be the Leonard Cohen of our generation. Oh well – the ladies up the front must know, because they’re singing along to every word. And obviously they like their metal.

With confidence and bounding energy, frontman Daisy has the crowd from the very start. When he tells them to throw their fists in the air, they throw their fists in the air. When he tells them to sit on the floor, they sit on the floor. And when the band slows it down for a sensitive metal ballad, the fellas on either side of me both light one up. But then its right back to business and the riffs are brutal...in the rather-good way. The band is precise and loud, and its obvious they spent their teen years mastering their instruments, probably driving their parents mad.

Any hopes for Leonard Cohen go right out the window as Daisy leads the fans through a chant of “Suck my fuckin’ dick!” He seems to spend very little time on the actual stage, preferring to prowl and bounce along the speakers and into the crowd.


Now there’s something that earlier band Fury might take note of: the big speakers that separate the audience from the stage work really well for crowd control, but when the dancefloor is sparsely populated, the dividers make the stage look a bit like a giant puppet theatre. It can be quite a barrier to get over and Fury takes a long time to warm up the audience. Despite their dark Sabbath growl and intensity, the band themselves seemed quite reserved onstage. Their momentum builds slowly, accelerated by a spiraling Jerry Cantrell-style guitar solo and a heavy-hitting rhythm section. Too bad their set isn’t longer - by the end the band is just hitting their stride. Now if only they could come out of the gates with the same intensity and drive.

I’m told I missed the best band of the night, Drone. Then again, it might have been one of Drone who told me....

- O’Connell.

Here We Go Again...

Here we go again, as David Coverdale once sang in his famously tight leopard sking trousers - there's literally bucketloads of gigs on this year and with key events now firmly established within the limelight of a NME obsessed Britain, guitar music never had it so good...or did it ? Is this the end - or the beginning of the end - after the frantric media fenzy over the Boomtown Rats - oops - I mean Razorlight - "have garage (attached to my semi), will travel (after reverse coming my hair)" is the catchword amongst those ready to leap barefaced bottom outwards, right into the gravy train. Watch out for acts like Matteo Scumaci - you'll see what I mean - desparate ? Keep watching......but amongst all of this there are some real gems coming through - best of all though, the most exciting things at this end are that the most innovative and original bands haven't really been heard of yet - although to give you a clue we've already written about them...the future is bright - but for now lets see what the winter signings bring us...

Final Frontier...

It was a blur wasn't it ? - Friday - Monday seemed like another life - Whilst the NME weren't there ("nothing happens at ITC - who was there - Nobody" - actual quote from 2002 when a review was submitted - the bands appearing included Oceansize, Moco and Fi-Lo Radio... ).

ITC seemed to successfully do what it's bread and butter is - put on world class seminars - the live side was always an aside but this year Manchester had something like 600+ individual band performances over the weekend from Friday to Tuesday. That's something, especially when you consider that the vast majority were local or regional acts. Every bloody venue was full too. There's definitely something going on.

The A&R question still needs adressing in some quarters - Indie label managers were all over the place - dashing with enthusiasm. But on the corprate side some things were quite different. One major label contact I came across got there Sunday afternoon, watched the football, saw some bands but went to bed early and then went back home Tuesday morning. Sort of not worth it.

Which means to you A&R guys, that we want you up here, properly - the usual suspects are giving you all a bad name - and you're missing the real talent - We can also promise that we won't be doing your job for you either - but get up here and we'll let you know where to look - and looking will be one of the conditions.

On a footnote MusicWeek seem to have written about ITC but without going to any of the gigs ?...the NME have written about a House Party (Akoustik Anarkhy's actually) and we can't find Craig - he disappeared during the aA stage invasion on Saturday night and hasn't been seen since.

Finally, if MM gave out VC's then our only one this year would go to champion correspondent Cath A - definitely beyond the call of duty and she wasn't sick once (or so we're told) - read her weblogs below and her reviews on the main site....arise Lady Aubergine...

POWERAGE

Monday 20/9/04
Night & Day - High Voltage

High Voltage dominated the Oldham Street effort on the last live day of ITC with a menu of bands that was comeplelling, if not essential. We had to leave at 8pm, but still caught four quite encouraging acts - bands that are coming through the ranks and who represent the new / no wave of mancunian alt.rock.

THE NEW BLACK have definitely been listening to “Turn On The Bright Lights” and “Unknown Pleasures”. Their wirey guitars and thick, churning bass lines are tuned into the local post industrial landscape (err, now mainly gone and replaced by designer cupboards with coffee tables..). But The New Black are trying to twist things around and make something for themselves. The vocals shout and bark in monotones. I think he’s trying to sing, but there’s little melody - when the music suggests there should be. Which isn’t a problem, but with half an hour gone, it’s definitely far too long with a set full of pretty similar stuff. Early days, but with such a strong bag of ideas and some neatly delivered performances, it’s all pretty impressive.
THE SUZUKI METHOD on reflection, are probably a little further back down the line than The New Black. Great playing and some interesting notions still come very much to the fore, but variety and dynamics are still very much in need. The Suzuki Method do create interesting landscapes and whilst the on-stage personas seem to need more work, they are definitely steering themselves a course to something far bigger.

POLITBURO having executed various personnel changes over the past year, seem to have nailed down the use of sequenced drums. Looking backwards to Factory and forward to a new brand of politico rock and roll, the band have a catalogue of bleak pop songs and blistering anthems. Politburo are never a band to comply, conform or fit into any scene. They have ideas all of their own, that not only places their heart on its sleeve, but probably makes them the only band to be true to the original values of punk. No pretensions here, just THE TRUTH and the blistering sound of razorwire rock, crushing anthems and guitar parts that are as twisted as The Dead Kennedys and as straight as the sound an underground pre/new wave Detroit.

A CULT CALLED KARIANNA are a very interesting prospect. Electro thumps, beats and blips at times sound like Visage and at others like a bizarre Soft Cell on some sort of PCP derivative. Just like the next gen’ of Sheffield knob twiddlers ACCK are sticking their patch leads into all of the right sockets. As the electronic campaigns seem muted by the current guitar explosion. ACCK make you sit and listen and perhaps realise that it’s far from over yet…

Cath's final rambles

...So we sat in the emptying Roadhouse; me, Ged Camera, Kara from Red Vinyl Fur, my other half and some Roadhouse staff. All exhibiting a definite thousand yard stare. The end. I've seen 35 acts at 16 events in 12 venues, from the character-buliding Gullivers to the opulent Town Hall. I've consumed more bottles of fizzy fruity alcohol than the average hen night, and only eaten about three things of any nutritional value. I've almost forgotten what my day job is, never mind how to do it, and my flat looks like someone's done a guerrilla gig in it. Yes, it's been quite a weekend really! My friend from Norway who came over to watch the Durutti Column found himself three days later sitting next to Vini Reilly watching Gabrielle's Wish. Best performance of the weekend? Well aside from the showpiece extravaganzas by The Durutti Column and Puressence, Fear Of Music win my vote hands down. Notable honours too to Gabrielle's Wish, No Arm and The Forest. Of the bands I hadn't seen before it was Finland's Tigerbombs, whom I only watched for something to do before going to the Roadhouse, whose CD I ended up buying - and unlike some post-gig impulse buys it still sounded great this morning. Tonight? I'm off to my local for the pub quiz. Does anyone know what's been in the news this week? Cheers one and all, it's been a great weekend.

Cath Aubergine - over and out.

TV On The Radio, Monday

TV On The Radio + Readyellow + Red Vinyl Fur, Roadhouse 20th september 2004

Not having been involved with manchestermusic at the time, I can say without bias that Chairsmissing was one of the best live showcase nights this city’s seen in recent times, and it’s been interesting to chart the progress of its alumni over the intervening couple of years. Watching Moco play to a considerably less than full Night & Day the other night, and now seeing Red Vinyl Fur opening at the Roadhouse again is all the proof anyone needs that the industry’s built on luck and chance; at the time, these two and the long-gone Monomania seemed the “most likely to”, from where I was standing anyway. And it’s not the greatest of slots, this: United are playing Liverpool and most of Manchester’s on their last legs after In The City – even their intro music’s not having it tonight. But within seconds of Kara striking up a chord, I remember why I love them. It’s that combination of Alison’s sweet, summery vocals with Kara’s don’t-mess guitar parts. Hooks and melodies which stay in your head for days. The way they always look like a gang rather than just some people who play music together. Tonight’s the debut of the gang’s newest recruit Sue who joins on bass, Alison switching four strings for twelve and only occasionally looking nervous for it. Tough, smart, precise post-punk indie rock doesn’t come much better than Red Vinyl Fur, but it’s the slower, pensive “Northern Rain” which is outstanding tonight – the place is starting to fill by this point and it’s well received.

ReadYellow start off promisingly enough with a noisy extended Sonic Youth inspired intro during which singer Evan Kenney’s already thrown himself and his guitar at the drummer and along the top of the front speakers. The guitarist’s thrashing about in a way that’s part maximum rock’n’roll and part medical condition, and the female bassist holding down a driving rhythm with a mildly aloof “oh well, boys will be boys” look on her face. The drummer – in looks and playing style - appears to have been cloned from one of Dave Grohl’s toenail clippings. It’s all going really well until Kenney opens his mouth. I do wish bands would realise that what made Black Francis great was the juxtaposition of pained near-whispers with that blood-curdling scream; just screaming your head off all the time, especially when the vocals are so far down in the mix you may as well be in the next room, has only limited possibilities. Every song sounds like something from the Sub Pop back catalogue, although partial redemption is achieved during the last song whereby Kenney introduces a trumpet – not one of alt-rock’s more widely used instruments it has to be said – which he plays by placing it on the floor and bending his head down to stage level.

TV On The Radio’s first song starts off so ambient it’s not immediately clear they are even onstage until I spot the world’s biggest hair over the crowd. Which incidentally contains a far higher beard count than any population sample outside of the post-rock scene. As long drawn out guitar lines gradually gather volume the “Run! Hippies!” alarm goes off several times, but it soon becomes apparent there is a lot more to them than hits from the bong. A lot more than any other band you can think of, in fact. “Dreams” fuses dub, soul, Mogwai and the Durutti Column, although hear it on a different day and the list could look completely different. Another track sounds like Andre 3000 fronting Hope Of The States, with a big bearded Afro-ed nutter jumping about. Their closest parallels are probably in the post-rock scene but there are grooves you can’t help but dance to. And Tunde Adeyimpe’s stunningly rich voice could do gospel, soul, whatever – it’s put to amazing use here though wandering freely between genres. It’s refreshing to watch a band so completely unbound by such conventions, and to know that the cultural tapestry that is New York has finally produced a band which reflects that.

CA.

www.redvinylfur.com
www.readyellow.com
www.tvontheradio.com

Finn-Tastic! (Sorry...)

Tigerbombs + Boomhauer, Sounds Like Helsinki @ Bar 38, Mon 20th September

Boomhauer are almost definitely named after the King Of The Hill character, and possibly on the grounds that singer Saku Krappala, like said cartoon character, is small, wiry, tanned, vest-wearing and utterly incomprehensible. They play fast punk rock blues and the first track sounds like the White Stripes crossed with The Fall. (NB Despite the impression given by my ITC reporting I do not automatically consider that every second band I see sound a bit like The Fall, only the ones which do…) There’s bits of Nirvava guitar in there too, and a large helping of Jon Spencer. The drummer’s an enormous great big bald bloke whom you most certainly wouldn’t want to upset. But once the novelty of slightly odd looking Scandinavians playing raucous inner city American blues wears off there’s little else to lift them above many other bands operating in this general area. Which is not to say they’re not enjoyable live, and they’ve already toured the UK twice this year already.

If you have never heard a Finnish band soundcheck, put it on your list of things to do before you die. I’m told Tigerbombs’ Kido Retro is actually just counting to five in his native language, but I wish I’d sampled it. Tigerbombs are five mop-topped Finns with a Farfisa organ and silly rock’n’roll names – Retro’s chief partner-in-crime is one Pepe Trouble. Their opening track “Highway” sounds like early garage-psych-punk Inspirals crossed with Killers indie-glam-power-pop and is all about having sex on a motorbike. Two minutes in and I’ve already found several reasons to love this band. Want some more? How about the glorious nonsense that occurs when a band with limited grasp of English write lyrics? For example “Your beast machines throw heart grenades, I got fed up”. This from “Heart Grenades”, a swirling thrash of throwaway three chord fun. “The next one’s about a planet” explains Retro, and then the sound cuts out. When it comes back, the lively frontman muses on the importance of electricity – “we don’t have it in Finland, just polar bears and stuff”. Pretty much every song in the set is a three minute Buzzcocksy pop tune with harmonies on the chorus and a proper middle eight where the organ takes pride of place. The band clearly enjoy playing and bounce about like they’ve had too many brightly coloured sweets. They even know that great pop bands should reprise the last tune after saying their thanks and introducing each band member. They are, in fact, utterly wonderful and the best previously-unknown band I’ve seen all weekend.

Boomhauer: koti.mbnet.fi/b-hauer
Tigerbombs: www.tigerbombs.com

CA - nearly finnished now (sic)

DOES HE UNDERSTAND ENGLISH?

I am mess. Eye bags bigger than refuse sacks. After battling several doors (difficulty computing the 'pull' instruction on the door!) arrive in the Zion centre for Tom and my radio show. The lady that runs the radio is barking instructions at me and it's taking a while to decode them.

"Does he understand English?" she asks Tom who's looking nervous but ready for anything. I eventually deduce that I have to sign a disclaimer in case I swear on the radio. I ask if blasphemy is ok. "Well it's being transmitted from a church in Cheetham Hill." she answers. Right that settles that then.

He's shaking a little and incredibly ready to put himself down a la John Peel but Tom has the show running as smoothly as a Mercedes engine. We play a few choice demos (This Ain't Vegas, I Had An Inkling, The Little Explorer, Lisa Brown etc...) and some quality indie classics (Magnetic Fields, Robyn Hitchcock, Osker etc...) and interview the very affable Red Vinyl Fur, the equally affable Fly journalist Lisa Durant and a rather quiet and not quite so affable Star Crossed Lovers. Roadhouse promoter Kris Reid comes in complaining that the studio smells. It's hotter than a greenhouse and marker pen tattoo of "Jet Are Shit" still emblazoned on my arm reminds me that I've forgotten to shower.

Besides the bands the John, Ged and Cath mention below we also see The Exports who while doing a competent take on The Only Ones/Ramones etc sound exactly like most other 70s punk bands you've ever heard before. They're initially entertaining but their set goes way past it's sensible bed time and we wander off to several other places. Craig is practically in tears because he can't get into the Night and Day to see the Longcut, despite the fact he's seen them 9,000 times before. It's peculiar to see that the queue that stretches almost to Vinyl Exchange is almost entirely filled by people with ITC badges. Funny because I thought the Longcut were signed and the point of ITC from the A & R perspective was to dig up new unsigned talent.

D.H.

IN (AND OUT) OF THE CITY - Other bands not mentioned

FRIDAY

After seeing an ultra sharp but malattended The Forest show at Blowout I race to the Star and Garter to catch Julian Donkey-Boy. It's listed in the ITC guide but the vive couldn't be more anti. There's several large signs out the venue with the note "Degrassi are not playing here tonight". Apparently the Scots saw the carrot and stick of an official ITC place and choose to play that instead - gits! Arrive at the top of the stairs and Sonar Yen's manager is proudly announcing that anyone flashing a delegate pass will be charged double!

Julian Donkey-Boy isn't quite as gripping live as on the record. His drummer doesn't hit nearly as hard as he should but nevertheless the boy John Kirkpatrick is totally iconic in a completely atypical way appearing somewhere between Elliot Smith and Buddy Holly with unkempt hair and milk bottle specs. Delightfully delicate and whimsical songs like "You Make Me Sad" make you just want to give the guy a big hug.

Burn off several hundred calories running back to Dry Bar where the bouncer tells me I have to wear my ITC badge ostentatiously around my neck and that I can't keep it in my pocket. Perhaps he thought I was going to draw a gun. Get in their to witness Flamingo 50 who seem to have gone far more Go-Gos or dare I say Green Day than their previous more hardcore efforts. There's a more direct label interest friendly pop edge to them now but in focusing on that their grittier more individualist edge seems to have faded.

Back to the Star and Garter (this is turning into some kind of athletic event!) for The Sonar Yen. Despite the fact that this is a non-ITC event and the headliners have pulled out the place is rammed. It goes to show what nearly 6 years of hard work can do. They've done things entirely on their own terms and while many bands have been plugging the same sounds for years the Sonar Yen have constantly evolved and established a unrivalled longstanding loyalty. With new bassist Zack Hane's intricate up the neck lines the Yen move up another rung. There's a heap of new even nattier tunes that the faithful haven't previously heard but seem to lap up. And so their profile grows and I find few with a bad word to say about them. I wonder how long it will before the rest of the world starts listening.

I then dash to the Bierkeller for Orkney Tom Waits-o-philes Half Cousin who have also pulled out. Bollocks!

D.H.

Puressence Take The Town Hall (and I'd thought the Bridgewater was a big posh venue...)

After a day spent trawling for interesting sounds in basements and back rooms of pubs, it was strange to be passing tapestries and statues in pursuit of live music. I’ve only ever been in here before to vote in elections but for the second time in four days I’m looking up at organ pipes – I must be going up in the world or something. Not everyone is as lucky: last minute restrictions from the council prevented Puressence selling tickets on the door, with the unwelcome result of some fans being turned away despite the gig being not quite sold out.

You had to feel a little sorry for Change Nothing. Some of Puressence’s fervent fan base are hard enough to drag out of the pub and in to see a support band at the best of times, but when you can’t have a drink or a smoke in the venue there are just a few scattered groups watching when they take to the stage. Musically they’re a pic’n’mix bag of Manchester influences, from a Stone Roses bass to chiming guitars and earnestly soaring vocals, but end up sometimes sounding a bit too much like a shadow of the main act. Sensibly though they save their stronger tracks for the end of the set, and as the place starts to fill up and the tunes get stronger and more danceable there are encouraging noises from many of those present.

Then the lights dim and a strobe flickers across a wall of noise under the watchful eye of Gladstone’s statue. A flash of cinematic guitar, a rumble of rolling bass… only a band completely on top of their game would open such a showpiece event as this with a new, unreleased track. “Baby Moonbeam” is bold, confident and atmospheric, and a sign that despite over ten years in the industry now this band’s best may well be yet to come. Blending seamlessly into the timeless “I Suppose”, this is a band exactly where they should be, on top of their town. “We’ve just found the Lord Mayor’s suspender drawer back there” boasts Jimmy – “that’s why I’m walking funny…”

A brace of crowd pleasers from across the band’s three albums follows along with another brand new soaring anthem, and the odd sneaky can and bottle can be spotted in between the enthusiastically jumping hard core down the front. Students, scallies, scenesters, Madchester survivors, teenagers and 40-somethings, this band strike a chord in many a Mancunian heart in much the way the Roses did in their day. And that voice… Puressence’s influence can be heard week in, week out at new bands nights across the North West, but when Jimmy’s on form there are few in the world who can touch him. The secret weapon however is Lowell Killen, who replaced Neil McDonald a year or so back. A truly outstanding and creative guitarist, he’s managed to retain every bit of the spirit of Puressence whilst adding layers of his own which push the overall sound up another level. Unfortunately his luck is about to run out, and there’s a stark voice and rhythm version of “Every House On Every Street” whilst he tries to get at least one of his guitars to work. An out-take for Puressence, some bands would bang this out as a dance remix…

A shimmering chord finally emerges from the PA and the perennial live favourite single that never was “She’s Gotten Over You” soon has the crowd moving again. Jimmy demands a cigarette from the audience, and nonchalantly smokes it like a kid flicking V’s at a policeman, before ending on a rousing double of the new “Don’t Forget To Remember” and the ever-blistering set-ender “India”. They don’t always do encores, but there’s no way they’ll get out of the building alive without one tonight – and finally the fans who have been shouting for “Mr Brown” all night get their wishes.

It was one hell of an ambitious idea, wasn’t it, to play the Town Hall? Gladstone surveys his mercifully undamaged room and some of the band’s crew look very relieved it’s over and done with, but they pulled it off. The old songs are classics, the new songs are inspired and Puressence in general are as brilliant today as they have ever been.

CA - actually quite relieved to have a couple of hours' enforced abstinence...

A Band (or two) Does Come For Free… Sunday Afternoon Wandering

You know how it is; Sunday afternoon, the cash machine’s telling you you went twice last night (really?) and can’t go again til Monday… time to check out what musical entertainment can be had for nought pence. This is after all ITC and it’s got to be there if you look for it.

First stop’s Dry Bar. Technically this is a payer, although at half one there’s nobody on the door and not many inside, as the first band of the day set up their gear. This is grass roots ITC, a bunch of young hopefuls playing to a handful of mates and early risers. Ethergy are a five-piece from Liverpool and North Wales whose current line-up has been in place only a matter of weeks. Singer Chris Goddard’s got that cheeky up-to-something poise well used by Ian Brown and Jimmy (Puressence) Mudriczki, irresistable to certain elements of their female fanbase, and vocally is aiming for that same soaring quality as the latter. Musically it’s baggy influenced drums, Primal-Scream-circa-Stonesy-era guitar, funk rock bass. They’re competent but seem nervous, which is no surprise really when the drumkit’s wandering forwards across the stage… Ethergy’s innovative solution is to get one of their mates to sit in front of it! They handle it pretty well, and with Kasabian storming the charts right now there’s clearly plenty of interest in working-class post-baggy rock’n’roll, some of which they may be able to pull in their direction.

The Earlies are doing an instore in Piccadilly Records which as got to be worth a look as I keep missing their proper gigs. Although it’s hard to get a feel for a band when it involves craning over a rack of emo-punk CDs. The accordion and keyboards man is placed behind the counter, with other band members out front. From experiences of watching bands I know well at instores, it’s probably a fairly stripped-down Earlies we’re seeing here… the singer, it appears , is from the Texan end of the transatlantic line-up with rich Flaming Lips influenced vocals and there are some lovely uplifting Mercury Rev meets Polyphonic Spree melodies, but there’s also rambly bits where they seem to be hunting around for a tune and not always finding one. This may of course bear absolutely no resemblance to their “normal” live set – remembering how I once watched my beloved indie rockers British Sea Power terrify Edinburgh afternoon record shoppers with a rousing Czech folk song, for reasons best known to themselves…

Next it’s a short stagger up to the Castle (the Manchester one that is), a pub unsullied by any city centre gentrification and all the more entertaining for it – and great to find we’ve fallen on our feet music-wise too. After a few technical difficulties (only one of which involved finding the on-switch) first up is duo R Mutt. The name comes from Marcel Duchamp’s “Fountain” sculpture (the urinal, that is) which has got our small contingent on side before they’ve even struck a note. The female singer has a stunningly rich, emotionally charged voice, venting early PJ Harvey anger whilst beating out equally edgy Fall influenced guitar lines; the drummer, too, takes a cue from spiky post-punk. Recommended. Also recommended and also no strangers to “the wonderful and frightening world of” you know who are No Arm, a trio who impressed me when they opened a High Voltage event in August. Despite having had only four hours’ notice of this gig they’re on form from the off with Wire guitars and powerhouse drumming, and brilliantly caustic vocal delivery. I’m not sure I should be sitting right next to the speaker, but there’s not much space to go round! They play with a passion and fervour that’s making them one of the more exciting unsigned bands in town right now. Shame the only delegate pass in evidence was that of a well known sideburned recording equipment owner… the suits have missed a trick here.

Then it’s over to One Central Street for hotly tipped Glaswegians The Cinematics. Female friend and I discuss how we are always mildly suspicious of men who wear ties when they are not obliged to by the rules of their employment, as Cinematics’ singer does so in a very Franz way. Oh there we go, the F word. Every indie rock band in Glasgow must be sick of lazy comparisons to them – but then if they will play guitars like that… they’re no copyists though, with the sound augmented by Killers-ish pop sensibility and Interpol delivery, and the last song “Wake Up” has a tasty hook that could fast-track them to a ready-made Radio 6Music audience.

By which time it’s time for the main event Puressence at the Town Hall, more on which in a bit, and then a late night date with the ever wonderful Moco, reviewed elsewhere by Jon allowing me to jump about like an idiot down the front as usual in full view of most of the MM team. Oh well. I never claimed to have any dignity...

CA

Hot Night At The Night & Day Night Time Gig Which Wasn't Held During The Day...

Moco
Night & Day
Sun 19/9/04

It's hot again (!?) at N&D - but at least I can admire two very large air-con units glued to the ceiling (they're not plumbed in yet).

With a nice warm beer in hand and more than a few punds missing from my pocket (for the beer and to pay for one of us to get in - We'll add that to our plugging bill !) it was good to see some familiar faces and actually get in (see last nights "I Can't Get In" almost legendary happenings).

With a brace of singles denting the indie charts and an album on the way, Moco have been busily touring and playing in LANDAN(!) which means that there’s a whole new generation of fresh faces who haven’t been educated to the taste of electrified twang and Wigan rock. These days there’s a whole new set on offer, including current single “Baby When You Die” which underlines, the whole fun with music ethos. Steve Jones brings up the second guitar, slicing sharp chords between Rigbys almost metalised rock and roll. Si & Nick are on drums and bass respectively and things lock in almost hypnotically as “Early Liz Hurley” is given a widescreen shakeup – their 3 chord wonder somehow retains its grunt but is now full of interesting shuffles and guitar shivers. Jones does abandon his guitar to slither and shake in the faces of the crowd before an impromptu break dance culminates in a 4 foot spring back onto the stage. There aren’t many bands that can rock and roll. There are even fewer who can do it properly. You’d be just as well to give Moco the credit for inventing it – in Manchester at least.


Album soon....

ARE FRIENDS ELECTRIC ?

Star & Garter
Sunday 19th Sept 04

Despite competing with 600 band performances this weekend, The Electric Circus managed to muster a crowd for our very short but illustrious event - 3 relatively unknowns to the city who should be on everyones radar! So say we - plus they have loads of chorus's. What is it with bands who miss out on (1) either making the best of instrumetal hooklines and/or (2) forgetting to make their song memorable ?!

None of that nonsense here !

THE BANG BANG CLUB fronted by the powerful vocals of Sara Hawley are a tight raucous four piece. The guitars have a shattering jangle that mixes the intersecting hooklines with crunching chords and some song closing feedback. In front of this powerhouse, Hawley is pitch perfect and thrusting a heady performance in our faces - which could all easily spill over into the street below. Undeniably it’s tracks like “Mind Games” that are quite unforgettable. The barbs of the guitar riff jam right into your head and Sara Hawley matches the driving force of the bass / drums with astonishing ease. The future starts here.

DECORATION last two demos have produced seven tracks of sheer delight and it’s easy to appreciate Peels affection and support for the band. “I Tried It , I Liked It, I loved It” could be , absolutely a hit. “Joy Adamson” rings out with true northern gritty style. Narratives set to the shimmers and distortions of guitars that reflect from the sounds that could only have been invented north of Stoke. The Bolton quartet are very much at home with their kitchen sink anthems and at times wonderfully rugged, genuine first generation indie. There’s a lost art here, that allows Decoration to lead the field with atmospheric guitars and the chugging slam of chords and snapshot drums. You don’t just sounds , you get songs with amazing attention to detail and melodies to remember. Perfect.
As are Glass – something’s biting the band as they take to the stage, but what follows is maybe their best gig to date. Everything gets thrashed to within an inch of it’s life. “Sugar” still sounds sweet with melody, but is delivered like a needle in the arm filled with caustic soda. A new track, introduced by the sound of big drum beats makes the hairs on the back of neck rise, but it’s tracks like “What To Do If You Need Money” and “Is There Nothing Left?” which bring out Glass’s new mettle and rawer, but still absolutely intelligent sound. I’d pay good money any day to watch stuff like this.

After trawling around Manchester for two days listening to various acts trying to be the next best thing, I’m smiling, because the only bands I’ve heard who know what a chorus is have just played in front of me. All three of them.

WATERING THE 'GARDEN

The Theory , Parker ,
SoundGarden
Sun 19/9/04

The Soundgarden had a decent p.a. in place for the ITC rundown. Hopefully this sound quality standard is something they can maintain. Most entertaining of all though, is the fact that someone has kicked in the womens bogs. So they made them the Gents – meaning that the Ladies facilities feature a neat row of urinals. Plus modern thinking men can also buy their loved ones sanitory towels whilst "watering the 'garden ". Class!

The Theory may be from the seaside town of Blackpool, but there’s certainly no references to donkeys or promenades. In fact, I remember the Theory when they were a bunch of teenagers starting out with a heady brand of indie. Same line up today, but in come much heavier guitars and enough punches to knock out the senses. What strikes you is the roar of two guitars melded to the rock vocal antics. Sort of like Foos colliding with Stereophionics with a hint of Muse. Clear references I know, but underneath all of tuneful rock sensibilities there’s a gritty authenticity. Promising stuff.

If you revisit the Stone Roses’ second and final album and cut out every exposed Squire riff and paste them all together – then add some indie shuffles underneath it all – then you’re into the realms of Parker. A fantastic guitarists and some very faithful renditions of Mancunian rock and roll are rolled out. Sort of good honest indie played by numbers if not a little verve, but there’s work to be done yet to turn it into something altogether more compelling.

Verdict - Soundgarden seems quite a decent gaff - there's too many booths for my liking, which means it's not a "venue" in the purpose built sense, but it certainly seems to match Life / Late Room, Dry and Jabez in terms of useable, adaptable space. Good effort too for their ITC calender.

Garden of Earthly Delights?!

Garden of Earthly Delights
Soundgarden, Blackfriars St
Saturday 18th Sept

CITIZEN Band rocked the night away at the Soundgarden sounding like the Strokes on speed. The three-piece outfit churned out a variety of energetic, bouncy and jivey songs. Even a glitch with their drummer getting the beats wrong didn’t affect their ultra laid-back attitude.

All bands at the Soundgarden are courtesy of 2CityRecords and is part of the biggest showcases of bands over the In The City weekend – with a band an hour from around 1pm.

Carrying on the night a mixture of blues and reggae infused with funky guitar riffs ensued from three-piece The Cut. Creating a mix between the Chilli Peppers and Kula Shaker with some James Brown funkiness the band managed to pull some of the punters away from their pints of Red Stripe to strut their stuff on the dance floor.

While pulling off some impressive Rock n’Soul pieces an element of 80s stadium rock lurked in some tracks such as “Another One Falls Down”.

Adding to the variety of songs the band zapped the dancefloor punters forward to some hi-energy electro programming in “Four Letter Word” and took it nice a slow with the funky “Pour Your Love”.

The energy and charisma from the singer’s guitar playing could be compared to Muse’s Matt Bellamy (don’t get a big head mate!), and the band would easily slot into a bigger venue.

Some dirty, heavy bass followed from Karma – who are playing both the Saturday and Sunday at the Soundgarden rock exhibition. Warming up with instrumental “Jimmy Comes Home” they were eventually in full swing by their third song.

Karma were another band pumping out some heavy blues bass lines on the Saturday with a dash of motown especially in “Look Away” – the title track of the Manchester band’s latest EP.

The total dirty blues song “Shotgun” proved quite popular with the audience, and was well performed by the confident frontman.

Words: Anthony Murray

Oops

Funniest thing of the night:

The lass on the door at the Bierkeller showing Mike Sov where her "stamp" was. Very nice they were as well

Most Embarrassing Moment

Upon asking someone who a band was "Listen mate, you saw then last night, and you saw them 2 months ago at Jabez" The bloke was the bands manger

Pleasant Surprise (1)

Rebos being used as a venue - great sound, no bar

Pleasant Surprise (2)

Persil. A clean wash Excellent

Polysics Bierkeller Sat 18/9/4

Everything oriental appears to be stylish, hip and ultra cool, today's favourite becoming yesterdays casts off tomorrow. So the Polysics look the part; bedecked in look alike baby-gro err, I mean boiler suits, with "Polysics" labelled on. For who's benefit I'm not sure, for I doubt is and of the band can see much through those outlandish welders type eye wear.

On the back of increasing hype, they are being touted as another sign of the increasing oriental influences that has seen the "5,6,7.8's" play to sell out crowds. The reality is disappointing. They're all action, fast moving figures across the stage. Vocals are screamed as if that alone is sufficient to garner the support of the audience. In reality, far from being originals, they've been watching to many Tarrantino movies for their own good, each song being a copycat of the previous only with a different title.

Next

Ged Camera

Notice: Puressence Town Hall Gig A Booze Free Zone

We've had the following message from a member of the Puressence management team:

Please note that there will be NO ALCOHOL on sale in the venue due to the powers that be within Manchester city council refusing us a bar and denying themselves a few bob at the same time. Please feel free to get bladdered in Corbieres or Mr. Thomas' Chop House instead. Sorry about this, but there is nothing we can do about it.

Well, you heard him! Mine's a Smirnoff black ice by the way - CA.

Blowout - Fear Frenzy

Blowout - Saturday 18th

In a slight schedule change, Slide open the second night of Blowout. Those of you hoping to see Yumi Yumi will apparently have that chance this evening… Slide have got the blues and sound very pissed off about it indeed – swamp delta riffs battered by Fugazi hardcore. That shout has got to hurt. The rest of the band play just as hard, bass and drums hammered. The guirtarist takes over vocals for one verse appears to have smoked even more Bosnian duty free than the mainman… every so often a quieter section pulls them back to pub blues band teritory, then that violent near-scream comes back to get you again. The only thing lacking is any discernable difference between one song and the next.

Working for A Nuclear Free City are much more spaced out than I remember them. A lot more prominent analog synth effects sliding around that loose, driving Primal Scream meets Reni beat. There’s always something going on – at no point is there any need for vocals. Their mic-free nature may raise their profile amongst the post-rock fraternity but this is definitely a beard-free zone. Nuclear Free City make music to dance to, not to stroke one’s chin to, and were on fine form tonight.

Suddenly the Bierkeller is almost full. In front of the stage, almost empty up until this point, at least twelve rows of people. Frankly if you live in Manchester – or have any involvement with the hotly tipped unsigned scene - you’d have had to have been locked in the cellar for the past month not to have hear the name Fear of Music. The buzz in the crowd is – are they really that good?

No, they’re better. This is the third time I’ve seen them and each time they’ve blasted up another level. “Skin and Bone” rips the bones from the Pixies and feeds it back to them with extra spice. Joe’s looking every inch the snake-hipped young starlet these days, bunched hair and that pout – parents of teenage indie girls should get used to it now as in a few months’ time it’s going to be plastered over bedroom walls. Ali stalks the stage like he owns it, thumping out crunching, churning basslines. The speed at which this band is hurtling towards the NME cover is almost frightening. Highlight tonight is “Strange Kind Of Terror”, the song Placebo would have sold their souls for if they’d even known where to look. Fear Of Music exist on that line where panic meets exhilaration, and it just comes naturally to them.

All too soon, Ali is warning (again) of imminent bedtime and demanding the bass be turned up. It is, until it’s shaking the very foundations. “Waltz”, fast becoming one of those throw-in-all-you’ve-got showpiece set-enders that all truly great bands know about, finishes in an ear-bleeding coda of feedback, drums and four young bodies thrashing as if possessed. It’s a few minutes before I can even think, never mind speak. Yet my mates no longer think I have lost the plot, now they’ve seen them. The crowd is rapturous, whistling and shouting for more, and by the side door the lads are practically mobbed.

Cranebuilders' audience is what I believe is politely termed “rather more select”. They’re really quite unremarkable – downbeat moody indie rock, but without any of the lush uplifting keyboards or interesting effects favoured by others in this general area. An upbeat couple of Velvets-ish tracks towards the end are decent enough, but it wasn’t a great slot to have and I think they know it.

It’s been a long day, and faced with the choice between The Fremen and the takeaway, garlic bread wins on the grounds of actually serving some purpose…

CA – Full Of Music!

Teatime On Planet Spacerock

Dry Bar, Saturday 18th, early evening

It is a truth becoming more universally acknowledged, that Spacemen 3 were one of the greatest and most influential bands of the late 80s. And whilst there is negligible hope of any reunion between Sonic “Abstract Electronica Made On Stuff I Got At Car Boot Sales” Boom and Jason “Neo-Classical Arrangements And No Talking In The Front Row Please” Spaceman, this early evening double stint at Dry Bar traces their influence right up to the present day.

The 2nd Floor are descendants of the Sound Of Confusion era 3. Guitar distortion’s turned up as far as it will go – the set starts with a few minutes of white noise and only when ears are on the point of overload do they gradually introduce tune and rhythm – raw, 13th Floor Elevators via Warlocks sonic assault. There’s the odd Kevin Shields moment but mostly it’s uncomplicated yet intense three chord distortion. The best way to enjoy a band like The 2nd Floor is to completely lose yourself in it, let the noise run through you as each track builds to a feedback-blasted ending – a feat easily achieved by a small group of Lycasleep fans from various points of Europe down the front who’ve clearly had some of what they have…

Lycasleep themselves take as their starting point the mellower late period Spacemen, and their immediate descendents in the early 90s shoegazer scene. Their bodies and long hair are string-thin, standing motionless silhouette-like in the red-lit glow. Delay-soaked guitar lines drift in and out on some solar wind, as the singer mouths barely perceptible shamanic whispers. A lot of it, it has to be said, sounds very Gravity Grave era Verve, although thankfully without the “Look I’m Bonkers, Me” posturing – Lycasleep have no need to draw attention to themselves in that way. Their music is their communication, their world a pleasant, chilled escape from the Oldham Street melee a few yards away. The fans, each lost in their own space, are smiling.

CA – tuned in, turned on, but not quite all gigged out…

Overheard In The City #1

...in a possible series...

"I'm not sure if they're getting better or I'm just getting accustomed to them..."

Random punter watching below average sub-grunge-indie band who will remain nameless, Saturday early evening, in back room of pub, on the fringe of the fringe...

- The Spy In The City

A CHORUS LINE

Saturday 18th September 2004

Dry Bar - The Second Floor, Marlin, Lord Bishop
Gullivers - De Rosa
Night & Day - Pioneers / Longcut (not)
Rebos - Figure 5
Piccadilly Gardens Hotel - The Exports
Roadhouse - Groucho, The Children
Bierkeller - The Fremen


Yikes – well the offer of free beer and chips as an incentive for entering the MCMN Pop Quiz is almost too tempting. Unfortunately our potential team will number either only 4 or perhaps 7. A regulation of 5 team members rules us out. As does the fact that said potential team members are all sat in the Town Hall Tavern and not in the ‘Alto’ room at the official ITC hotel.

Dry Bar provides our first splash of entertainment as THE SECOND FLOOR grind out their literally, churning take on Spacemen 3. There’s bits of Spiritualised and BRMC in there too, but each song seems to be just made up of a verse that churns on and on. Their wall of sound is a great idea, but fed back guitars at the end of each number pose a question as to why such great effects weren’t used IN the song. During one number the drummer increases the pressure and things get quite exciting as the pulse and volume begin to get pushed. The Second Floor are good enough and seem well influenced but they need that hook, the flair and the injection of much cleverer ideas to get them where I think they need to be. I hope they get there.

The most amusing part of all of this, is the colllection of four fully badged up A&R types who are sat at tables arrangd against the wall. Unfortunately people who want to watch the bands by standing in front of the stage, are getting in the way. So they actually ask a guy in the audience to move so that they can continue to watch this powerful rock music SITTING down. Just a couple of words spring to mind. "F*ck" and "Off".

MARLIN go through the motions of making loud noises in an indie kind of way – I’m pissed off because I haven’t heard a chorus all afternoon. Marlin do try but there’s nothing outside of their indie rock musings to stick in my head. At least LORD BISHOP has a damn good go at embedding things in peoples skulls. Lord Bishop has been manning the not-very-frequently-visited ‘Bishop’ stand in the main bar, dressed like Bootsie Collins. There’s a huge homemade sign that proclaims that he is the “…God Of Sex Rock”. LORD BISHOP takes to the downstairs stage at Dry and what comes next is an onslaught of blistering American alt.rock. Ignoring the bass players baggy leather trousers and the Bish’s leopard skin Stetson and animal stripe pants, you can’t deny that this is powerful stuff. Mid-West alt.hardcore indie rock, with leftfield intentions - The moves are great but I still haven’t found that chorus yet.

Gullivers (walk past the street fights outside The King and it’s first left and above the Karaoke night) has a fantastic room available. Red velvet curtains hang from tall windows and although snug, the whole place appears to be more than ambitious for its size. On stage is De Rosa. All three guys have short hair and glasses and seem like some sort of triplet ensemble. Their hard charging, sometimes spaced out indie.core is pleasing. Rough sawn chops and blazing sonics come from a band that seem to be doing it all effortlessly. Their post rock, slacker, slingback sounds are often mesmerising, but again I can’t hook into that all important, memorable by-line.

With the best intentions, The Pioneers deserve our support. But we can’t get in. The Night & Day is already full and a queue of at least 50 ITC badges won’t be seeing them or The Longcut this evening. Our entry continues to be denied despite a rear assault, thwarted by some serious type armed with a mobile phone and “Ey! – you can’t come in here…” bellow.

REBOS is a venue in the basement of the Methodist Hall on Dale Street. No bar, but plenty of action as FIGURE 5 take us on a trip back to the world of The Faces and a very early Who. They have the look – except the singer who has to wear the same pants he wears for the office. One guy’s got a really wide ‘60’s’ belt on and some very bright bell bottom chords. But you get the idea. Musically Figure 5 are dead interesting. They do the extreme-retro thing quite well and their songs are half decent – they even had a chorus too (hurrah!). There’s definitely a little bit of The Coral going on there, but they undeniably have bucketloads of energy. Sort of like the Hives playing swinging sixties pop songs. Worth keeping an eye on.

Next it's destination Piccadilly Gardens Hotel. Here we find Akoustik Anarkhy keeping the “scores on the doors” whilst THE EXPORTS play a quite long set. They have an angular semi- punk sound that bounces of the walls, whilst their Green Day structures are broken down and layered with some brilliant bass lines and adequate vocals. The energy levels are great, but again they’re just a nudge short of cracking this tune malarkey. aA though have the whole thing wound up and primed for the best gig conclusion I’ve seen in recent memory.

But first we leave aA to round up, one member of the group who reckons he can “Get Into” Night & Day. So we see him later on Dale Street. THE ROADHOUSE is next. It’s hammered in here too. But the majority of people are chatting amongst themselves whilst GROUCHO corner around 80 of their fans at the front. A friendly but odd atmosphere, where, unless your band is on, no further attention is provided to the nights proceedings. Groucho are still delivering a punishing style of widescreen rock, that mixes ethereal musings with hard charging guitars. An obvious formula perhaps, but this is a band with a few tunes up their sleeves. As are The Children. Their offering of retro styled bluesy rock and roll is entertaining but yearns for a pure ballad or anthem. But for such an embryonic act, they play well above their game and are certainly making all the right moves.

A dash back to aA sees LOOSE CANON complete their set, but more of that and the bist in between from Craig. This means a final assault on The Bierkeller. The location of cool sounds, but a less friendly, atmosphere than the traditional venues, is surely the result of the odd person expecting Umpah bands and large glasses of Bohemian ales. THE FREMEN are on and for the groups of regulars who hang out at Blowout, they are getting what they want. The Fremen don’t always start well, but build up to some brilliant finales. They do it again and when The Fremen get heavy, then they most definitely help push themselves into contention. Getting ready for tomorrow is my priority as those still standing up want to end the night in 'style' at “Smile” - Is that a compatible statement ?
ST1

Acoustic Breakfast

Night & Day Acoustic Showcase
18th September

It’s 1pm and Aron Robinson’s strumming his singer-songwriter stuff to a Night & Day populated by a few bedraggled scene faces, an early rising delegate or two, a handful of shoppers – and one MM reporter who considers chilli cheese fries and Mexican beer a perfectly reasonable breakfast. There’s a folk-influenced clarity to his voice, he’s got a clutch of bittersweet tunes about love and life, in a similar vein to Doves’ quieter “Caught By The River” type moments. They’re well-crafted songs but it’s a crowded market – honest and largely image-free, he’s just going to have to find the right place at the right time…

Little Neemo have one chiming Byrdsian guitar, two voices weaving local-accented harmonies and tunes blending alt-country Americana with bits of Dylan and indie-pop. Lyrics are nothing if not brutally honest - “I know I’m a drunk and a bastard and then some” in the opening “Black Highway”, which melodically adds flashes of Simon and Garfunkel to the mix; or the splendid “The night is young but you aren’t”. Yeah, it’s half one in the afternoon and I’m on my second beer – don’t remind me! Elsewhere “streets run like messy scars” – so they were out down Oldham St last night as well then? This is real city life set to song and well worth checking out.

There’s a bit of a break whilst those ubiquitous Fear Of Music lads have their photo taken with a girl in a kinky nurse’s outfit. Erm, well there’s “the plot” gone already then… Meadow are another duo, whose pretty and jangly tunes have as many roots in old Sarah Records seven inchers as they do the more recent singer-songwriter movements. Last track “Baby I’m Home” heads back towards more generic “new acoustic” territory with a harmonica and harder edged singing.

Isobel Heyworth’s also very much on the sensitive side of the genre, her snowflake-fragile melodies all but lost in the late lunch bustle as Manchester wakes up and pitches into Night & Day. A shy looking girl with an acoustic and a plaintive voice like a quieter Jane Weaver, her delicate almost lullaby tunes sparkle with finger-picked guitar, but sadly it’s probably near inaudible to anyone further back than the bar. She’s playing Matt & Phreds tomorrow (Sunday – onstage 9pm) though where I’m guessing she won’t be competing with sandwich orders so will probably be a lot happier.

Nathan Burton’s up against much the same thing. “I hope you’re talking about me, not the football or something”. It works. In his left-handed grasp a six-string somehow manages to sound like a 12-string, warm and chiming. His songs are in the classic Johnny Dangerously / Bryan Glancy vein – clear and confident, and laced with skilled and perfectly placed harmonica breaks. (This does matter. There’s nothing worse than a harmonica played badly!). A song apparently “about selling your house” is dedicated to the Homes4u online estate agency – well it makes a change from relationship issues, and it’s a brilliantly catchy little tune. He’s versatile, as competent doing the upbeat troubadour thing as he is doing sweet and sensitive, and ends on a beautiful one minute sleepy little tune.

So – five different takes on the Acoustic picture, a strong and high quality bill… shame on you if you were still in bed!

CA – off out again in five minutes…

Time to go home? You've got to be kidding, there are still bands playing........

Zombina And The Skeletones
Club Indigo @ RetroBar, 17th September

It’s approaching midnight and things are taking a turn for the strange. Walking into the Retrobar for the last couple of songs of Velodrome 2000’s thoroughly enjoyable glam punk, it gradually becomes clear there are a reasonable number of people in zombie make-up present along with a sprinkling of young Manics-pretty goths… still with Indie Rock (in the form of The Sonar Yen) stealing their Star & Garter home for the night Retro Bar’s Indigo club night welcomes them in… the DJ spins 80s electro-dirt to a lone dancer in a skull T-shirt… yes, it would appear I have descended into the underworld.

I’m told everyone in Liverpool knows someone who has been in Zombina And The Skeletones at some point; I’m not sure if this is true, but some of the current crop look quite young. Zombina (which is, um, possibly not her real name) sings of undertakers with fake blood dripping down her shoulder, staring out with poppy punk full of shiny confidence and fun, like the youth wing of The Damned on a day trip to the beach – no chance of any po-faced shoe-gazing in here tonight! As with most bands who favour B-movie dress sense there are rockabilly flavours in the mix. One of the bloke Skeletones takes over the mic for a bit for a Crampsy swamp tune, but he lacks Zombina’s charisma and she’s soon back centre stage, warning of the “End Of he World” – some borderline metal riffs sneak in somewhere but you’ve got to hand it to them for the “Everybody’s going to die!” refrain.

It’s a right musical hotpot as they snap suddenly into something that sounds like the a 60s girl group star doing an a capella Beach Boys. A small but highly enthusiastic bunch in front of the tiny stage love it. And they can walk like zombies too, when ordered to for the classic rock’n’roll styled “Zombie Walk”. It’s great fun to watch. You could count the number of delegate passes in here on the fingers of, well, one finger actually – Zombina’s music falls so far from the serious young men so hip right now, although 80s matchbox seem to be doing OK. There’s a clear rapport between the band and the fans, who may well have an obscure collective name (and if not, they should do!) and are loving every second. And that’s got to be the point really, hasn’t it?

CA. (running largely on Red Bull and crisps)

Gabrielles Wish, The Castle (Manchester), 17th September

We never really knew how much we’d miss Gabrielles Wish til they’d gone. Stalwarts of the live scene for a few years now, the return after a couple of years’ break is a low-key fixture. Yet the number of people trying to cram into the back room of an Oldham Street pub is a sign of this band’s enduring appeal. And it certainly makes for an interesting gig, as barely a song goes by without people stumbling right through the makeshift “stage” area. At one point a man clearly the worse for wear manhandles Rob’s mic stand, yet the band don’t miss a beat. Now expanded to include Karen Leatham, formerly of Wonky Alice and The Fall, on keyboards and almost folded into a corner under the dartboard, there’s also the welcome return of powerhouse drummer Bo Walsh after a couple of years in Nylon Pylon. The dark and brooding “Shaking Like A Leaf” with echoes of Killing Joke is almost intimidating with Rob three inches from your face.

But it’s when Karen straps on a bass that things really get interesting. Duelling with regular bassist Darren Moran the new five-piece Gabrielles Wish crank out dirty punk funk that makes the likes of Franz Ferdinand look like the art school band they are; there’s still a Chameleons tinge to the guitar parts and Rob’s Factory ’79 vocals, but it’s astonishing how very “now” this time-served band are sounding tonight. They end on their classic “Clear Blue Skies” and as that unmistakeably perfect bassline rolls out from speakers precariously balanced on tables the narrow doorway to the back room is packed with people just trying to get a look in. The faithful fans at this word-of-mouth gig are impressed. Now it’s time to relaunch to the wider world – a world which musically is very different from two years ago. Post-punk is the order of the day now, and Gabrielles Wish have quite a head start.

Gabrielles Wish make their official comeback with a midnight set at Blowout @ The Bierkeller, Sunday 19th.

CA - and I've got another gig to go before turning in....

Blowout Blows In

The Forest :: Jack Cooper
Blowout @ the Bierkeller, Friday evening

Blowout opened for business amongst the sturdy tables of the Bierkeller with a fine performance by The Forest, already one of manchestermusic’s local favourites. Kicking off with “Any Day Now” the tightness and intensity for which they’re becoming known was apparent from the first battering of Paul Hanley’s drumkit. Jonah Stevenson’s vocals hit you in the face – commanding, urgent and permanently sounding slightly rattled about something. You don’t want to stand too close. There’s a sinister layer lurking not very far beneath the surface, a soundtrack to walking down a street you probably shouldn’t have too late at night. The rumbling Joy Division bass on “I Don’t Know”, too, hints at some unseen menace. Yet they do this without falling into the miserablist trap – there are no regulation black clothes here – instead Jack Doyle’s unmistakeable spherical hair presides over guitar lines which are quite upbeat and poppy. You could certainly dance to it, although it’s early and the Bierkeller dancefloor is that bit too big and well-lit. The passion and intensity suggested by their recent Night & Day show is so undeniable here it’s almost surprising to see them on so early, and you’re left wondering how big they could be by the time next ITC comes around.

Then it’s a trip to another point of Manchester’s musical compass courtesy of Jack Cooper. Where Twisted Nerve keep finding these left-of-centre prodigous talents is beyond me, but it’s great that someone’s giving them a home. Young, floppy haired and what could probably be described as quirky if that hadn’t generally become a slightly negative term, there are obvious parallels with Aidan Smith. The piano’s part Badly Drawn Boy and part traditional pub; lyrics are clearly thought about rather than banged out, although with more of a pop sensibility than in Smith’s off-kilter world. “She Sells Seashells” in particular has a flavour of 80s indie pop and a young Brian Wilson’s summer breeze about it, as befits a man whose promotional materials included buckets of candyfloss (now sadly sold out). He ends with recent single “Turn The Lights Off” whose piano-led intro recalls Madness’ “It Must Be Love” before settling into the kind of warming tune you’d like to end a great night on, passing the whisky round and singing along with your mates. Shame it’s only half nine really…

CA

'Slippery Fish' Showcase, T'mesis Café Bar, Lloyd St - Friday 17th September

A SLIGHT modern twist on folk music from The Deadbeats started the first round of gigs during the In The City weekend at the newly opened T’mesis Café Bar.

The two guitarists, keyboard, cello and trumpet player performed an acoustic session on the first night of In The City. With very little effort was needed from the band to produce the smooth folk-jazz sounds, the group gelled extremely well.

The vocals reached out above the toe-tapping music and wafted its way gently towards ears backed with the strumming guitars, mellow trumpet and precision of the keyboard sounds.

Towards the end of the set a hazy white glow formed around the band – it may have been the bright lights in T’mesis, but it seemed spiritual for almost one second.

To turn the night up a notch Manchester band Barfly started the rest of the night’s rock showcase. After noticing there wasn’t much art on the walls for an art gallery’s bar, the four-piece band quickly diverted attention away from the slight anomaly with their highly guitar-driven set.

Despite only having one guitarist a tight, round sound quickly filled the tiny bar area instantly. Supporting such bands as Snow Patrol and The Ordinary Boys in the past it’s obvious that Barfly can progress this type of mainstream music with an edgier feel.

The band appears totally comfortable on stage, they play great together, all of the songs are good – but they need to pen a special something to get the attention they deserve.

Voicecoil provided a hint of Radiohead in their set. The Cheshire-based band performed a knockout set part of the Slippery Fish Showcase.

The quirky and relaxed singer has the most bizarre facial expressions like he is playing at the Comedy Store singing obscure parodies, but in truth he is backed by a serious uplifting indie/rock band.

While the vocals can be pelted out at a moments notice, a sensitive side to the band shows during one of the band’s main songs, “Shiver”. After working with Howard Gray of Apollo 440 and John Fortis, an influencer of early Razorlight material, Voicecoil has collated a mass of material that will surely have wide appeal.

The fourth band in the Friday night ITC showcase was Echoes. With a frontman comparable to John Squire (in the Cast era) the ear-bashing rock sounds were interlaced with random sound effects.

In one song it strangly recreated the ambience of what seemed like an airport, not a basement café in central Manchester. Yet again though more sound effects interrupt the flow of the music – the band is too small to have large effects like this; it just creates a sense of random chaos.

Old Manchester favourites Northern Uproar came back from the past with a blast and a new, raw set to close the evening.

Now only a three-piece band they are still creating huge sounds with new songs “Come Back to My Dream”, which was a hard rock assault on the captivated audience.

Other short bursts of energy-fuelled songs including “Shout it Out” blasted out of the speakers and finished day one of In The City at T’mesis.

10.25pm Northern Uproar
9.45pm Echoes
9.05pm Voicecoil
8.25pm Barfly
7.45pm The Deadbeats

Words: Anthony Murray

"IN THE CITY - There's A Dozen Things I Want To Say To You "...here's one

ITC - Old Man Weller once sang “the kids know where it’s at” in his Incendiary anthem “In The City”, and quite conveniently the music convention of the same name proves this long tested theory to be correct. Posing the question “What is In The City?” doesn’t have a simple answer, the free party that is laid on for the marauding A&R collective will mean something quite different to them, than a band travelling for hours from Hull in a battered Transit for their shot at fame. With an expense account to be squandered at the hotel bar, the weekend can become an absolute riot, with your band’s career in the balance it can be the nerve jangling focal point of your entire year. What In The City is, is whatever you make of it and the bands and audiences who go out and do it every night regardless of who might be in the audience will hold their memories dearest. Truly, the power to make In The City successful lies with the kids who know where it’s at, shunning the careerism and hype that the weekend inevitably brings and having an absolute ball watching the industry big heads chase their tails. Respect must be due, if not to the industry, then to the In The City organisers for the continued privilege of having the nation’s finest (and not so fine) bands making their way to Manchester so that we can enjoy a years worth of new music in one weekend. We can nit-pick about the credentials of ITC Unsigned as a worthy showcase for new talent (that’s the OFFICIAL line-up), but what revolves around the weekend in random fringe events is a remarkable prospect for any music fan. Amongst the live music nights knuckling down at this years ITC will be Akoustik Anarkhy, Blowout and Electric Circus which should be enough quality music to fill the month, but with Northern Ambition, High Voltage and Club Fandango also preparing special events nobody can avoid the optimistic wave of talented new acts. The last twelve months has seen Manchester become something of a hunting ground for both record labels and the press in the search for tomorrow’s heroes, whether they found any worthy of your attention or not is debatable. But, we have come alive to the fact that our streets are still crowded with musicians, labels and promoters working towards an end to the sterile conveyor belt of one hit wonders and polished pop tarts that our “professional” visitors this weekend will gleefully endorse. They aren’t in it for the right reasons, and thankfully they will return to Hoxton largely unfulfilled having missed the point again. But for those in attendance who will be willing to find out where it’s at, will inevitably take value in sharing this experience with individuals and bands who are doing it because they must.



Taken from Issue 0.1 if "Fuck Music" on ITC Streets Now..

The curtain's raised and the weekend starts here...

Welcome to Manchestermusic's In The City coverage. Where your correspondents, pockets laden with enough flyers to build a replica of the Town Hall, might attempt to break the world record for bands watched in a weekend. The sun's trying to break through and there are people wandering round Piccadilly Gardens already clutching passes and A to Zs, asking each other those al-important questions: Julian Donkey Boy or Revenge Of The Psychotronic Man? Burn the Mona Lisa or Kentucky AFC? And where on earth is Tmesis? (If you're of a certain age, by the way, the answer is "where Devilles used to be".) So starting much as I mean to go on, I joined the early starters in what Twisted Nerve once called "A Big Posh Venue" to welcome home some seasoned local heroes...

The Durutti Column, Bridgewater Hall, 16th September 2004

The Hacienda generation were never going to grow up and get into classical music like our parents did, but if we did it would sound something like this. One of the regular supporting players in The Durutti Column, John Metcalfe takes centre stage for a support slot, with another violinist and drummer. Classical-inspired violin sounds spiral over the top of driving beats like early 808 State infiltrating a string quartet, welling up into great film-score peaks lit in deep violet. From the centre of a still quite thinly populated Bridgewater Hall, looking up at the organ pipes high above the stage, it’s an uplifting and oddly spiritual experience.

By the time Bruce Mitchell appears, rattling fluorescent-tipped drumsticks elegantly across every piece in his kit, the place is packed. Packed with faces recognised vaguely from scores of bands over the years, punters and players from across the local musical infrastructure, a welcome home for the city’s enduring heroes. Vini Reilly, still the strangest looking man in music, spends some time thanking everyone he can think of for coming… “and hopefully we’ll play all the right notes”.

Of course they do. Pulsing beats, samples drifting in and out, "Otis" is nothing short of massive with Vini singing the “Another sleepless night” refrain in that fragile tone and moving effortlessly between guitar and piano which he fingers like the control panel of some spacecraft. “The Missing Boy” builds into a shimmering crescendo, Vini standing almost motionless at the side, his very presence commanding awe. It’s in the instrumentals of course where you know you are watching master craftsmen at work, unsurpassable in their fields, asking yourself “How exactly does he do that?” as another intricately woven melody peals from his strings. And Mitchell, white suit, straggly hair and dark glasses, wrapping beats around beats; in his time-served hands the drumkit is a truly versatile instrument, holding down looping rhythms with his own freeform phrases over the top. The crowd are almost universally enraptured, focussed. An hour has passed in no time at all.

John Metcalfe returns, firing off over the top of it all on his violin, with a female vocalist whose voice, too, is just another instrument. Twisting and looping through prog, jazz and more, taking a piece of beauty from each but with Vini’s humble persona keeping it well on the right side of the pretentious line, it’s all over far too quickly and outside rain has lashed the paving stones. Flyers for anything and everything are thrust into the hands of the leaving crowd, most still wide-eyed from what they’ve just witnessed. A stunning, perfect curtain raiser for In The City 2004. The weekend starts here…………

Cath Aubergine, drinking coffee in a mountain of bits of paper...

In The City 2004

Watch out for the MM ITC04 review team - be nice to them and let them into you gig - give them CDs Demos (maybe even drinks!) -

Bands - demos / cds to

MUSICDASH
P O BOX 1977
MANCHESTER
M26 2YB