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...
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