The Windmill is my local venue. In fact, it's the most local venue I've ever had, being about 3 minutes away from my flat. Despite that though, in 10 months I've only been there once - to see Dub Trio back in about October/November. I thought when I first discovered it that I would be there every other week or so, such is its inviting dive-y atmosphere and enticingly packed programme, but events have conspired against. Except on this occasion, fortunately, when I arrived just in time to order a pint and set my stance right before the music started.
Teta Mona began playing while half of the band were still in the audience. I'd been thinking to myself that, cool as the two tall girls right at the front seemed, they were going to ruin the view somewhat when, a few seconds after the lonely couple on stage shyly started up, the girls went and joined them, as bassist and singer + second guitar. Bonus for the experience, bonus for the view. The band played a fairly brief set, as I think things were running a little behind, but they coped well with the added pressure for the most part. Melodically and rhythmically their tunes were pretty simple, and both bassist and lead had very wallflowery tendencies, but cunningly this only served to highlight the vocals - and oh boy, what vocals! They were eerie and beguiling, the singer reminding me somewhat of a cross between Grace Slick and Karen Elson. If the opinion of a know-nothing nobody like me counts for anything, this girl could go places. Plus, lead guitar man did actually have some mad skills when he felt like displaying them. The final track got a bit bolloxed up and had to be started over a time or two, but the audience were appreciative enough that no-one minded. A pretty fine opening.
By Christ though, how Sekaiteki Na Band stepped it up! Actually, their lead and bass retained the wallflower-like presence of the openers, but their drummer was an absolute supremo. Not only was he the skinniest human being I've ever clapped eyes on, but he was both drumming and singing, and he was drumming like a man possessed, such that at times I found myself breaking out into a massive grin at some particularly audacious example of speed and control. The other members of the band faded into the background for me to a large extent, as I think I developed a bit of man-love for Mr Drummer, such was his blurry and mesmerising ability. The room was loving it too: what had been an appreciative audience for Teta Mona were whooping it up for Sekaiteki Na Band. This was pure quality performance, and I'll definitely be keeping an eye on this band.
Bo Ningen had been described to me as 'Japanese noise or something' by the barman. There was a Japanese theme to the night in fact, with all but Teta Mona's singer getting on board (I think she was Italian). Any one of Bo Ningen's three musicians could easily have filled in for that scary girl who crawls from the TV in the Japanese horror film Ring, with luscious rock-god hair in full effect. Why am I talking about the band's hair? Well to be honest with you, I have no idea what most of them were playing. The drummer had not only his kit but also two beer kegs (Full? Empty? I don't know) and a gas canister (Full? Empty? I don't know). The dude who I thought of as lead guitar had not a guitar but a shiny little two-deck keyboardy thing, with what looked like a gear stick at one end. And the other dude had not a bass but a couple of pedals and a load of buttons, and once the band got going I at first thought that he was also Vulcan death gripping his own throat as part of the performance, or else auto-asphyxiating for our entertainment, but I later realised that he was throat singing. Throat singing! Anyway, fortunately the gas canister didn't explode (unfortunately neither did the beer kegs), and Bo Ningen did indeed make some Japanese noise. Their first track I can only describe as like a haunted house having a stereo-off with a heavy metal band, and the set only got more enjoyable from there. At one point the guy with the keyboardy thing started hitting it with a drum stick, baffling me still further, and he then got out and started similarly whacking a series of bells dangling from the end of length of wood, reminding me wierdly of the two tin cans that my work mate has attached to her pair of scissors with a length of string, so that nobody can steal them without making an awful racket. Anyway, Bo Ningen made some excellent noise right up until the drummer slung his gas canister into one of his beer kegs for effect, but accidently dominoed the second keg into the amp, bringing things to a premature end. Oh well, no permanent harm done presumably, and it was time to go home anyway.
Before I go, have I mentioned that all of this was free? I don't know how the Windmill decides what will be free and what won't - generally things cost a few quid there - but the fact that all of this quality music was ours without costing us so much as a penny was nothing short of amazing. I would happily pay a tenner to see Sekaiteki Na Band again, so a big thank you to the Windmill for helping me find them.
What a Tuesday night.
Tuesday 28 February 2012
Friday 24 February 2012
The Men, Fanzine, and No @ The Camp Basement
Neither my Gig Buddy nor I had ever heard of The Camp Basement before. In fact I could go one better than that: I'd never heard of any of the bands before either, this being GB's tipoff. In double fact, when GB sent me the link I sort-of misread it, and thought that we were seeing Haxan Cloak (who I didn't actually like when I checked them out, but why let that stand in the way of seeing them live?).
Anyway, I wasn't much impressed with the venue when we arrived (quite early: the first band didn't even start for about 15 minutes). I haven't visited its website, so don't know the ethos behind it or how long it's been in action, but it's basically just a small, empty concrete room with only exposed ventilation tubing by way of decor. Don't get me wrong, I like a dive bar as much as the next guy, but I also like a bit of character: some graffiti, maybe a few murals, perhaps a poster or two... Bare concrete wasn't really doing it for me.
But once it had filled up a little more, and the concrete had been softened with a scattering of 100% pure granny-knitted beany hats and the odd unruly beard, it all started to make sense. I'm assuming whoever runs the place simply prefers the no-frills approach - maybe to keep costs down, I don't know - since the security was as low-key as the place itself, the bar staff were friendly and relaxed, and there was a kind-of DIY vibe about the whole thing. Another example of this would perhaps be the fact that there was no beer on tap - only bottles - which was actually a bit of a negative, but only a little one. It was a place I'd happily go to again even without (again) knowing the bands at all...
So, about the bands.
No got things off to a very promising start with their energetic set of short, fast, - and only a mite samey - punk offerings. Their drummer was particularly impressive, knocking out track after track at a breakneck speed with barely a pause in between. And the frontman (sorry: I'm just not going to bother with names) was decent too: somewhat affected, in that he kept trying to pull off a rather unconvincing sneer, but confident enough for a bit of crowd interaction and just generally effective at livening things up after what were presumably technical problems caused a bit of a delay.
Next up were Fanzine, who valiantly tried to undo all of Nos good work. They looked the part - or at least half of them did: the drummer mostly looked bored, and at times half-dead, while the bassist looked like a last-minute fill-in from another band - but they had about as much grit as your typical council transport department when the snow hits (hint: not much). GB complained that they were far too 90s, but for me they were just too sanitised for what they were following and what they were sandwiched between - in fairness not a fault of their own, but of whoever stuck them on the bill.
And then the headliners: The Men. I must admit, I did wonder what I was letting myself in for, going to see a band called The Men in a place called The Camp Basement, but being an adventurous sort (ha) I wasn't going to let that stop me. Anyway, I'd read a very promising review of The Men's latest album in pitchfork earlier in the day, and I wasn't disappointed. My first thought was that they sounded quite a lot like Boris, with a fair dollop of their thoroughly enjoyable chaos and distortion. (Actually, my first thought was that it was a bit strange to have a female bassist in a band called The Men, but that's by the by.) And although that thought did fade away a little as the set went on and I concentrated on just enjoying the music rather than trying to pin it down, it's still the best description I can come up with. One thing you'll notice if you stick with these posts, and of course if I continue to write them, is that I don't actually know much at all about music. I figure that's fine, as long as I don't pretend otherwise. So we'll stick with saying that I found The Men a bit Boris-esque, and that's all right by me 100% of the time. Good work guys (and gal).
Final thought: because of the delays, it was 11.30 when the gig ended. That's fine - these things happen - but what's not fine is the shocking inadequacy of London's public transport network, as Old Street tube station was already closed by that point. That meant that I had to hike over to Liverpool Street to catch the night bus back to Brixton, and because buses hate me I didn't end up getting home until gone half midnight. This is one of the world's capital cities, and its underground closes before half eleven on a Thursday night. WTF, as the kids say?
But overall the night was grand. Cheers to No, cheers to The Men, cheers to The Camp Basement, and cheers to GB for tipping me off. And cheers to you for reading: maybe I'll see you again some time...
Anyway, I wasn't much impressed with the venue when we arrived (quite early: the first band didn't even start for about 15 minutes). I haven't visited its website, so don't know the ethos behind it or how long it's been in action, but it's basically just a small, empty concrete room with only exposed ventilation tubing by way of decor. Don't get me wrong, I like a dive bar as much as the next guy, but I also like a bit of character: some graffiti, maybe a few murals, perhaps a poster or two... Bare concrete wasn't really doing it for me.
But once it had filled up a little more, and the concrete had been softened with a scattering of 100% pure granny-knitted beany hats and the odd unruly beard, it all started to make sense. I'm assuming whoever runs the place simply prefers the no-frills approach - maybe to keep costs down, I don't know - since the security was as low-key as the place itself, the bar staff were friendly and relaxed, and there was a kind-of DIY vibe about the whole thing. Another example of this would perhaps be the fact that there was no beer on tap - only bottles - which was actually a bit of a negative, but only a little one. It was a place I'd happily go to again even without (again) knowing the bands at all...
So, about the bands.
No got things off to a very promising start with their energetic set of short, fast, - and only a mite samey - punk offerings. Their drummer was particularly impressive, knocking out track after track at a breakneck speed with barely a pause in between. And the frontman (sorry: I'm just not going to bother with names) was decent too: somewhat affected, in that he kept trying to pull off a rather unconvincing sneer, but confident enough for a bit of crowd interaction and just generally effective at livening things up after what were presumably technical problems caused a bit of a delay.
Next up were Fanzine, who valiantly tried to undo all of Nos good work. They looked the part - or at least half of them did: the drummer mostly looked bored, and at times half-dead, while the bassist looked like a last-minute fill-in from another band - but they had about as much grit as your typical council transport department when the snow hits (hint: not much). GB complained that they were far too 90s, but for me they were just too sanitised for what they were following and what they were sandwiched between - in fairness not a fault of their own, but of whoever stuck them on the bill.
And then the headliners: The Men. I must admit, I did wonder what I was letting myself in for, going to see a band called The Men in a place called The Camp Basement, but being an adventurous sort (ha) I wasn't going to let that stop me. Anyway, I'd read a very promising review of The Men's latest album in pitchfork earlier in the day, and I wasn't disappointed. My first thought was that they sounded quite a lot like Boris, with a fair dollop of their thoroughly enjoyable chaos and distortion. (Actually, my first thought was that it was a bit strange to have a female bassist in a band called The Men, but that's by the by.) And although that thought did fade away a little as the set went on and I concentrated on just enjoying the music rather than trying to pin it down, it's still the best description I can come up with. One thing you'll notice if you stick with these posts, and of course if I continue to write them, is that I don't actually know much at all about music. I figure that's fine, as long as I don't pretend otherwise. So we'll stick with saying that I found The Men a bit Boris-esque, and that's all right by me 100% of the time. Good work guys (and gal).
Final thought: because of the delays, it was 11.30 when the gig ended. That's fine - these things happen - but what's not fine is the shocking inadequacy of London's public transport network, as Old Street tube station was already closed by that point. That meant that I had to hike over to Liverpool Street to catch the night bus back to Brixton, and because buses hate me I didn't end up getting home until gone half midnight. This is one of the world's capital cities, and its underground closes before half eleven on a Thursday night. WTF, as the kids say?
But overall the night was grand. Cheers to No, cheers to The Men, cheers to The Camp Basement, and cheers to GB for tipping me off. And cheers to you for reading: maybe I'll see you again some time...
First post: setting the scene
Hello. In this blog I will be... not so much reviewing all of the gigs I go to, more just describing them, probably in a fairly clumsy fashion, and largely for my own benefit. We'll see how long it lasts...
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