The
Mighty Titus Andronicus, in a venue about the size of my living room, on the
hottest night of the year? Hoo boy… at the very least, this one’s going to get
seriously sweaty…!
I
picked up on this one on Facebook, and after checking with Cardiff resident
Craig, some barely-believable details emerged, the gig being organised
by a local Titus Andronicus devotee, in a venue which purported to be the size
of a shoebox. Wow! Well, since their 2010 album “The Monitor” had utterly blown
me away with its’ violent collision of vicious stomping punk rock, wordy
literary subject matter referencing the American Civil War and general class
struggles, and anthemic widescreen tuneage, causing me to proclaim it as pretty
much the best album I’d heard all century (yes, I did say century), Titus Andronicus, in various guises, had become a
similarly thrilling and visceral “live” staple of mine. So I wasn’t missing
this potentially landmark manic evening out, booking a ticket quickly.
Craig
managed to sort himself a ticket as well, so a sticky and close afternoon saw
me heading off down the M4 and across the border, meeting up with Craig at his
place just after 6. Long-overdue catching up with my old friend ensued, and
plans were confirmed for an overnight stop, before we headed off into town,
parking up at Professor Gurney’s grandiose work establishment and wandering
through the city centre to this brightly painted and bohemian venue, ironically
across the road from the cavernous Motorpoint Arena. Sure enough, it was minuscule,
the main room actually being similar in size and orientation to my living room,
the stage being more of a corner step to the front left of the boarded front
window. My initially impressions were that you could probably shoehorn about
100 punters in, if they were packed like sardines…!
Sought
open air refuge in the outside yet tarpaulin-covered beer garden, where Craig
pointed out the neighbouring Cardiff Prison (oh lordy…), before we wandered in
for openers Bad Vibes. Kind of wished I hadn’t, as they played an incoherent,
shouty Nu-Metal mess, with screaming vocals delivered by the bastard son of
Hermann Munster and Den Hegarty of 70’s rockers Darts. Decamped in short order
to the beer garden as my ears are too delicate for this ham-fisted, clumsy and
occasionally out of tune malarkey. Good thing their set was short! Esuna, next
up, were a better proposition, albeit a very schizophrenic bunch, often
straddling diametrically opposed musical genres in the space of half a song,
and smothering what started off as either pleasantly meandering indie numbers
or Manics-style anthems with hobnail-booted Sabbath style old school HM
riffery. Still, the (initially) Tranmere Rovers-shirted drummer and clear
bandleader was a hard-hitting and entertaining “live” presence, at least...
After
another sojourn into the beer garden, we squeezed our way back in, Craig
pitching up halfway back as I squeezed my way further forward, initially stage
right, for the entrance of the 4-piece (for tonight) Titus Andronicus just before
10. “This is our first time in Wales – we’ve been dreaming of this moment for
years and now it’s finally here,” quipped the angular, heavily bearded vocalist
Patrick Stickles, tongue firmly in cheek and eliciting a chortle from the assemblage,
Stickles then going on to warn us, “when we kick in with the rocking, just try
and be careful – there’s potential for misadventures!”
Well,
we couldn’t say we weren’t warned… the opening plaintive bars of “No Future
Part Three” then burst into frenzied, roaring life, the pounding militaristic
drum rolls powering the rock, as Stickles brandished his guitar like a
broadsword, his conviction already clear-eyed and scarily intense, and I at
least responded in kind, rocking out from the get-go, and fist-pumping the air
to the all-inclusive and almost ironically joyful repetitive terrace chant hook
outro of, “you will always… be a LOSER!” The eponymous and “White Riot”-alike “Titus
Andronicus” was next up, one anthemic hook replaced with another (this time of,
“your life is OVER!”), and it was clear that we were in for a very special
evening, where audience and band combine into one, singular of purpose, revelling
in the unifying power of rock’n’roll.
Titus
Andronicus were utterly on fire tonight. The strident bluesy strut of “Mr. E
Mann”, the skyscraping hook of “Fired Up”, and the crazed, wide-eyed hurtling
punk rock thrill ride of “Dimed Out”, all prime cuts from the sprawling recent “The
Most Lamentable Tragedy” double CD, were an awe-inspiring mid-set triple whammy.
The band were totally in their stride by now, nary pausing for breath or a
chance for the audience to even applaud before racing into the next, and by
this time I’d wormed my way to front and centre, battering away for all I was
worth (whilst keeping my feet planted and my dodgy knees soft!), leading the
charge, immersed in the moment, completely lost in this magnificent, raw,
ragged, strident, thrilling and utterly euphoric performance from this very
special and unique band of ruffians. Following the Jagger-esque peacock strut
of “Fatal Flaw” the band finally took a breather, Stickles thanking the
promoter for, “inviting us to play here at… I’m not even going to try to
pronounce it! “The Owl!” We’ve got those in America but they’re endangered!”
then announcing a final couple of numbers…
The
menacing jangle of the bilious, dramatic epic “The Battle Of Hampton Roads”
kicked into life and the place went batshit crazy, almost impossibly finding
new levels of frenzy as the song powered through the gears, swooping and tempo changing
throughout its 14 minute plus duration, as I hung on down the front, backing
the crowd up as best I could, lest we all collapse onstage into the band. Then,
as if to demonstrate that even higher levels of magnificence could be achieved,
“A More Perfect Union” threatened to unmoor this tiny café bar from its’
foundations, changing pace from manic careering punk rock to all-inclusive
swayalong (“Rally ‘round the flag,” indeed!). An utterly fitting way to end an
astonishing performance, Titus Andronicus surprising us all by reaching even
higher levels of raw, visceral “live” brilliance, eclipsing even their own high
standards. Holy fuck, what a show!
Suffice
to say, we all needed to pause for breath in the immediate aftermath. I,
drenched (Full Cleo! Yay!) and elated, chatted with Craig, the promoter and
passing bassist RJ Gordon. I then noticed Patrick Stickles head down the road
past his van, and after an appropriate time (at which point his fellow band
members were asking of his whereabouts), I wandered down, discovering him sat
in the corner of the car park opposite, collecting his thoughts after his performance,
which had clearly taken its’ toll, requiring a prodigious level of commitment from
him. We walked back to the venue as he composed himself, the two of us enjoying
a brief chat about Crass and particularly the song “Big”A” Little “A””, before
I took the opportunity for a pic, and Craig and I hit the road back to his
place after an utterly epic night.
Big
breakfast in the pub opposite and a brief shopping excursion in Cardiff before
heading home at lunchtime the next day. This one was truly one of the greats; an
utterly stellar performance from The Mighty Titus Andronicus!
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