More
Philly boys tonight; following Modern Baseball last time out, this time joining
us from the City of Brotherly Love is the intriguingly named Nothing, another
band I’ve only picked up on recently – from the same freebie mag that
introduced me to their compatriots, in fact! I checked out some rather splendid
little rockers on Youtube, then picked up Nothing’s current, sophomore album
“Tired Of Tomorrow”. Superficially, it’s an intriguing collection of
guitar-heavy, melancholy mood pieces operating in an early 90’s post-grunge/
shoegaze/ slacker rock headspace, with the likes of Ride and Dinosaur Jr.
immediate comparisons, however repeated listens reward perseverance, revealing
other, more esoteric influences, ephemeral hints and hidden depths. A real
grower, then, from a band potentially possessing great substance, totally at
odds with their name! And who says Americans don’t “do” irony…!
Tim
picked us up at 7 for this, a nearby and early-doors date in their rather
intensive European Autumn tour, and we parked up in Trenchard after a
stunningly quick drive down. A lot to catch up on; it’s been too long since
I’ve seen my very good friend Tim! Noise was already emanating from the venue
as we approached at 10 past 8, so after a quick loo stop upstairs, we wandered
through the pub and through the curtains into this corner venue to catch
openers Chain Of Flowers, who’d kicked off at 8. They played a selection of
quickfire, breathless numbers in a definitely post-punk early 80’s haunting
pseudo goth “rockist” style, with chiming resonant guitars embellishing some
moody rockers, and the angular Ian Curtis dancealike vocalist’s occasionally
yelping, Robert Smith-like vocals submerged in the mix. A bit too heavy on the
occasionally suffocating keyboard for my liking, but this stuff was right in my
Bunny/ Joy Division wheelhouse, so I enjoyed their set, the galloping climax of
which saw the vocalist jump offstage into the front rows.
The
place cleared to the bar thereafter, as is its’ custom, and before we took our
spot down the front on the dancefloor we had a brief chat with a passing
Domenic Palermo, Nothing’s vocalist, who seemed to appreciate my Boo Radleys
comparison, which was cool. A quick set-up, then they came onstage in short
order after the place darkened just before 9. A mumbled intro, then straight
into the powerful, palpable crashing riffery of new album opener “Fever Queen”,
a tremendous, towering wall of sound setting the tone for tonight’s
performance. This was going to be a loud one, no messin’… A searing rendition
of the excellent “Vertigo Flowers”, one of my favourite tracks of the year with
its’ fast-paced, laze rock groove overlaid with some shimmering, “Giant Steps”
era Boo Radleys psych-pop melody (hence my mentioning the Boos to Domenic) was
next up, after which the softly spoken Domenic revealed, “it’s my birthday!
9/11! Yeah…!” then regaled us with a story of rocking up in France in the early
hours of this morning in the middle of a police-heavy sting operation, then
eating Pot Noodles at 4 a.m. Phew, rock’n’roll…
The
feeling of space and heavy melancholy of the wallowing, slow-burn “Dead Are
Dumb” recalled a heavier “Heaven Up Here” Bunnymen through a shoegaze filter,
before “Get Well”, a careering riff-fest, the climax featuring some echoing,
resonant guitar work from co-vocalist Brendan over its’ MBV base. Then, the
morose, brooding “Eaten By Worms”, with its’ bleak, stripped back, “it’s
unavoidable, it’s uncontrollable” hookline segued perfectly into the
thrillingly noisy “7/4” via a textural interlude link which recalled the
excellent early Pale Saints. Domenic commented, “Kyle’s cymbal is hitting me in
the back – it’s like getting tazed!” which drew a laugh from the unusually
silent Bristol crowd (attentive? Or simply stunned by the wall of noise?). The backwards
drumbeat and widescreen haunting chorus of “ACD” was titanic, a sonic cathedral
of despair, insular yet strangely epic at once, and probably my highlight of
the night. Then, “Curse Of The Sun”, a possible latter-day twin for Ride’s
classic “Drive Blind”, closed out a superb 45 minutes of rock, delivered with
power, passion and the volume cranked up to 11.
Brendan
kindly grabbed me the sole set-list and I got it signed, grabbing brief chats
with the boys (especially Domenic, clearly a man of excellent musical taste and
a respect for his rock history) and a rather superb t-shirt, before a nice and
early exit for an equally swift drive home, back before 11 to surprise the
missus! Another great gig from the second Philadelphia band in a row – I don’t
know what they’re putting in the water there right now, but I’m a Phan(atic)!
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