People turned out in force for Parquet Courts and The Men last night - The Garage was about 50% busier than I've ever seen it. This could have been due to the bands themselves, but I like to think it's because The Garage has ditched its Carlsberg-or-Tuborg-or-nothing beer selection, probably as a result of HMV's dire straights. Every cloud and all that...
Gig Buddy tells me Parquet Courts got equal billing with The Men for this gig. How can I illustrate how unjustified that would be?
Imagine watching the film of your life story, and finding out the director has given equal amounts of time to the day some guy turned up to read your gas meter, and the day that escort knocked on your door wearing nothing but a trench coat and lingerie, having mistaken your flat for Mr Lawrence's, whose wife was staying with her sister for the weekend. That should give you an idea.
Apparently, The Quietus and Pitchfork were in agreement on how good Parquet Courts' album is. In fairness, so is Gig Buddy, who insisted on giving me one of his download codes. I haven't used it yet, so I can talk about is seeing the band live, which was like watching librarians agreeing to color-code their clipboards and thermoses taupe this year instead of mauve. Not thrilling.
The Men, on the other hand, exploded out of the blocks as if intent on expunging all traces of their predecessors from memory – and, aside from what little I've recounted above, they succeeded.
I can't recall ever having seen a band give it so much for such a sustained period before. It was like they'd just found out they were all to be executed at dawn, and so they'd come out one last time in order to fuck the universe dry before shaking hands with destiny. The impressive buggers.
P.S.
I've just realised The Men were the first band I blogged about, just over a year ago. Aww.
Showing posts with label The Garage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Garage. Show all posts
Wednesday, 20 March 2013
Wednesday, 10 October 2012
Turbowolf, Black Moth, Wet Nuns, Throne @ The Garage
With apologies to Throne, Gig Buddy and I wanted a real beer, so we went to the Hen and Chicken before committing ourselves to the Garage. Just desserts though: the barmaid misheard my order of two Puritys and gave us two Peronis, so we only hurt ourselves.
We did actually arrive at the Garage (which now serves San Miguel, just to put the icing on the cake mistake) in time to hear 2 minutes of Throne, and from what I saw they're a good band. Actually, if you want to linearly extrapolate from what followed - and I'm not saying that's scientifically viable - but if you want to then they must have been pretty damn good...
Because Wet Nuns were fucking aces. In every respect. For two men they make a hell of a lot of noise, and most of it is very pleasing indeed. Plus they're great fun. Crowd interaction (muffled to the point of almost inaudability): check. One man topless the other dipped in country: check. One man bald the other overhaired: check. Variety: check; heaviness: check; attitude: check. Just totally bloody enjoyable. They were the highlight of my night, in fact.
Although Black Moth were the reason GB and I were present. I'd seen their CD and its frankly phenomenal artwork (by one Vania Zouravliov - one to explore further) in Fopp, but recent experience had taught me better than to buy shit randomly, so I went home and Spotified them. And loved them. And looked for tour dates, and bought tickets. And turned up. And yeah, they were good. In fact they had moments of greatness - genuine greatness - like the first and last tracks, but they also had moments that for me got just a little bit lost within themselves, and could use a bit more work. But given that The Killing Jar (which I bought at the gig) is their first album, I am firmly convinced that Black Moth have the potential to more than fill whole sets with utter greatness in an album or two's time, provided they carry on doing what they've been doing...
Which brings us to the headliners, Turbowolf. I intend to write a post soon about blogging about people you've never heard of, but since I haven't written it yet I'm hoping to beg forgiveness yet again. Because, as I've said, I turned up because of Black Moth, and Turbowolf were an added bonus, and they were just a bit too fast and thrashy for my tastes. And tastes mean nothing at all, except that I personally get off on doom, and I can only report my impressions here, and so I apologise to the proper fans who knew what to expect and got it in spades. This is just what I thought...
Some people have charisma. James Dean had it, and Bruce Lee, and Tupac Shakur... Turbowolf's lead has it. He reminded me of Serj Tankian, except when he was speaking, when he sounded more like Robert from next door. Frenetic, energetic, mesmerising, stylish... How can you not admire a man who fronts a band - a headlining band - in a paisley shirt? The dude seeps charisma. And the guitarist could give a young Steve Tyler a run for his money in the could-be-a-model department, but that's neither here nor there...
Turbowolf were damn good at what they do, I suspect. The front 50% of the audience were certainly loving it, fists raised, circles spun, shoves shared... This was the first time I've felt old at a gig, standing at the back and smiling, but not wanting to get battered. The highlight for GB and I was their cover of Somebody to Love, and although I absolutely think bands should cover with abandon, GB was a bit put out that the song of theirs he enjoyed most was a cover. I dunno. Taste only counts for so much. Their final track was a ripper, and overall they whipped shit up, they entertained, they conquered, they topped the bill like champs.
This brings me back to my last post about why I stopped blogging. Taste - who gives one? Turbowolf were whitehot for most people present, Black Moth will be awesome very soon, and for me Wet Nuns already are. That'll do for a Wednesday night. It'll do just fine.
We did actually arrive at the Garage (which now serves San Miguel, just to put the icing on the cake mistake) in time to hear 2 minutes of Throne, and from what I saw they're a good band. Actually, if you want to linearly extrapolate from what followed - and I'm not saying that's scientifically viable - but if you want to then they must have been pretty damn good...
Because Wet Nuns were fucking aces. In every respect. For two men they make a hell of a lot of noise, and most of it is very pleasing indeed. Plus they're great fun. Crowd interaction (muffled to the point of almost inaudability): check. One man topless the other dipped in country: check. One man bald the other overhaired: check. Variety: check; heaviness: check; attitude: check. Just totally bloody enjoyable. They were the highlight of my night, in fact.
Although Black Moth were the reason GB and I were present. I'd seen their CD and its frankly phenomenal artwork (by one Vania Zouravliov - one to explore further) in Fopp, but recent experience had taught me better than to buy shit randomly, so I went home and Spotified them. And loved them. And looked for tour dates, and bought tickets. And turned up. And yeah, they were good. In fact they had moments of greatness - genuine greatness - like the first and last tracks, but they also had moments that for me got just a little bit lost within themselves, and could use a bit more work. But given that The Killing Jar (which I bought at the gig) is their first album, I am firmly convinced that Black Moth have the potential to more than fill whole sets with utter greatness in an album or two's time, provided they carry on doing what they've been doing...
Which brings us to the headliners, Turbowolf. I intend to write a post soon about blogging about people you've never heard of, but since I haven't written it yet I'm hoping to beg forgiveness yet again. Because, as I've said, I turned up because of Black Moth, and Turbowolf were an added bonus, and they were just a bit too fast and thrashy for my tastes. And tastes mean nothing at all, except that I personally get off on doom, and I can only report my impressions here, and so I apologise to the proper fans who knew what to expect and got it in spades. This is just what I thought...
Some people have charisma. James Dean had it, and Bruce Lee, and Tupac Shakur... Turbowolf's lead has it. He reminded me of Serj Tankian, except when he was speaking, when he sounded more like Robert from next door. Frenetic, energetic, mesmerising, stylish... How can you not admire a man who fronts a band - a headlining band - in a paisley shirt? The dude seeps charisma. And the guitarist could give a young Steve Tyler a run for his money in the could-be-a-model department, but that's neither here nor there...
Turbowolf were damn good at what they do, I suspect. The front 50% of the audience were certainly loving it, fists raised, circles spun, shoves shared... This was the first time I've felt old at a gig, standing at the back and smiling, but not wanting to get battered. The highlight for GB and I was their cover of Somebody to Love, and although I absolutely think bands should cover with abandon, GB was a bit put out that the song of theirs he enjoyed most was a cover. I dunno. Taste only counts for so much. Their final track was a ripper, and overall they whipped shit up, they entertained, they conquered, they topped the bill like champs.
This brings me back to my last post about why I stopped blogging. Taste - who gives one? Turbowolf were whitehot for most people present, Black Moth will be awesome very soon, and for me Wet Nuns already are. That'll do for a Wednesday night. It'll do just fine.
Sunday, 8 April 2012
Pelican @ The Garage
This should have been Tacoma Narrows Bridge Disaster, Bo Ningen and Pelican @ The Garage, but we decided to get some Ghanaian food on Holloway road at 7, which was when the doors opened at The Garage, and by the time we arrived at about 8.15 we'd completely missed Tacoma Narrows and we only caught the last one and a half songs of Bo Ningen's set. I had thought I wouldn't be massively disappointed if I didn't get to see Bo Ningen, what with having seen them about a month ago, but when we arrived I remembered that what I'd seen a month ago was not BN's normal lineup, and judging from what little we did catch last night I think we missed something pretty special. My grilled talapia was good, but I think Bo Ningen would've been great. Bugger. Ah well, a man's gotta eat.
I guess it's up to the punter to check what time bands are on and make sure they get there in time for what they want to see, but the variation between venues does annoy me. You buy tickets for something in a place like the Scala, and the headliners don't start til about 10 o'clock. Last night, the last vibration was dying away at 10.30, and the lights coming up told us it was time to get out. 10.30 on a Saturday night. Damn. Also, The Garage is one of those soulless Carlsberg-or-Tuborg-in-a-plastic-cup venues, where the space itself and the band selectors are good but there's nothing else to even talk about, let alone recommend the place. I say again: ah well.
So, Pelican. If you've read any of my previous posts, you won't be surprised to find out that I'd never heard any of Pelican's stuff before. I'd heard they were good but that maybe their drummer wasn't really up to much, so I was intrigued to see what I was in for. Well, for the first few songs, I wasn't all that impressed. Yes there was some nice mid-level heaviness going on, but it was all a bit lacking. The drumming was indeed a bit weak, but so was the stringing, and the simultaneous lack of vocals made for a bit of a damp squib overall. Now, I like instrumental music as much as the next guy, but if you're not kicking it with vocals you've gotta kick it some other how, and Pelican started out like they were missing a foot. They needed a bit of Russian Circles-esque percussion to give them a kick up the arse, or some Down-esque vocals for a bit of grit and character, or something anyway. I hadn't been there very long, I was only on my second or third pint of the evening, I'd missed most of the warm-up, none of the T-shirts appealed, and it was all a bit of a let down.
But, from the fourth song onwards everything was right with the world again. The heaviness amped up a good notch or two, the riffage came on strong, and my neck began to get a solid workout. There was attitude here after all. Perhaps the drumming was more functional than inspired, more there because it had to be than there because it wanted to be, but the point of the band seems to be to simply deliver some very satisfying yet still melodic stringwork, and on that front they deliver in spades. It even occurred to me after a while that Pelican could perhaps form the third corner of a triumverate of not-very-relevant comparators for future ill-thought-out posts: if someone needs a kick up the arse, mention Russian Circles; if they need a bit of grit and balls, mention Down; and if they need some heavy rippage, give Pelican a nod. Maybe. And good news for Pelican fans: perhaps the highlight of the set was one of the tracks from the new EP, which I think was on sale last night for the first time or something. Or perhaps a good place to start for newcomers like myself?
To summarise, the evening had its disappointments, and the music was over far too soon, but the fish was good and the bird was excellent, and a couple of Leffe's across the road in the Library after the gig finished the night off nicely. This morning my head is appropriately swampy, so you can blame the Belgians for this post, OK? OK. Right then, time for the Sunday roast. It's only a chicken, so you can rest easy, Pelican fans.
On the way home I listened to: Electric Wizard; Black Masses
I guess it's up to the punter to check what time bands are on and make sure they get there in time for what they want to see, but the variation between venues does annoy me. You buy tickets for something in a place like the Scala, and the headliners don't start til about 10 o'clock. Last night, the last vibration was dying away at 10.30, and the lights coming up told us it was time to get out. 10.30 on a Saturday night. Damn. Also, The Garage is one of those soulless Carlsberg-or-Tuborg-in-a-plastic-cup venues, where the space itself and the band selectors are good but there's nothing else to even talk about, let alone recommend the place. I say again: ah well.
So, Pelican. If you've read any of my previous posts, you won't be surprised to find out that I'd never heard any of Pelican's stuff before. I'd heard they were good but that maybe their drummer wasn't really up to much, so I was intrigued to see what I was in for. Well, for the first few songs, I wasn't all that impressed. Yes there was some nice mid-level heaviness going on, but it was all a bit lacking. The drumming was indeed a bit weak, but so was the stringing, and the simultaneous lack of vocals made for a bit of a damp squib overall. Now, I like instrumental music as much as the next guy, but if you're not kicking it with vocals you've gotta kick it some other how, and Pelican started out like they were missing a foot. They needed a bit of Russian Circles-esque percussion to give them a kick up the arse, or some Down-esque vocals for a bit of grit and character, or something anyway. I hadn't been there very long, I was only on my second or third pint of the evening, I'd missed most of the warm-up, none of the T-shirts appealed, and it was all a bit of a let down.
But, from the fourth song onwards everything was right with the world again. The heaviness amped up a good notch or two, the riffage came on strong, and my neck began to get a solid workout. There was attitude here after all. Perhaps the drumming was more functional than inspired, more there because it had to be than there because it wanted to be, but the point of the band seems to be to simply deliver some very satisfying yet still melodic stringwork, and on that front they deliver in spades. It even occurred to me after a while that Pelican could perhaps form the third corner of a triumverate of not-very-relevant comparators for future ill-thought-out posts: if someone needs a kick up the arse, mention Russian Circles; if they need a bit of grit and balls, mention Down; and if they need some heavy rippage, give Pelican a nod. Maybe. And good news for Pelican fans: perhaps the highlight of the set was one of the tracks from the new EP, which I think was on sale last night for the first time or something. Or perhaps a good place to start for newcomers like myself?
To summarise, the evening had its disappointments, and the music was over far too soon, but the fish was good and the bird was excellent, and a couple of Leffe's across the road in the Library after the gig finished the night off nicely. This morning my head is appropriately swampy, so you can blame the Belgians for this post, OK? OK. Right then, time for the Sunday roast. It's only a chicken, so you can rest easy, Pelican fans.
On the way home I listened to: Electric Wizard; Black Masses
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