A seriously early start for this one - first act at 6.30, so bearing in mind the current traffic chaos, off we set at 3 pm! And of course we had no problems at all, ending up parking at that bloody expensive Hammersmith car park (not so bad split between 4 of us) at 4.30, and having a little time for a trip to Forbidden Planet (haunt of, "nerds and perverts!" according to Ady, who we dragged in kicking and screaming) and a beer in my old haunt "The Tottenham" on Oxford Street! Grabbed a couple of beers to cushion myself for my anticipated participation in the moshpit. Little did I know how things would turn out in that direction...
Got in just after 6, in time for another beer before first "act", Peaches, came on. I was immediately confused as I thought I was at a rock show, only to be confronted by some wailing PVC-clad ropey old slapper from Canada via Berlin, slagging the audience for taking no notice of her whilst "playing" the most god-awful Sigue Sigue Sputnik-esque stilted electronics from her beatbox. It got worse as she ended up divesting herself of the PVC, ending up prancing around in skimpy pink undies. Oh dear Lord. Thankfully this didn't last too long, and she was off by 7!
Took a trip through the already crowded venue, bumping into ...TOD's Neil Busch (again!) who remembered me from previous such meetings and popped back for a chat with my crew. Good of him to take time out, just before his band were due to play to undoubtedly their biggest audience to date! Good also that he described the ritual ...TOD stage trashing as "cathartic", as that's how I've always described it myself!
Next band on, The Strokes, joined us at 7.30. They've been mentioned in the same breath as ...TOD and At The Drive In as being at the vanguard of meaningful US rock as an alternative to this shouty date rape nonsense, so I was expecting something between Sonic Youth and Nirvana. What we were presented with, however, were 5 skinny Noo Yawk boys in skinny ties, drainpipes and too-small suit jackets, and when they kicked off their set they were nothing less than brilliant, immediately recalling a whole host of spiky angular 70's new wave bands, from Joe Jackson to The Embarrassment, from Television to Wire. They had the great pouts and angular streetwise suss of a band that could have walked out of New York's new wave birthplaces Max's Kansas City and CBGBs circa 1977, and in singer Julian Casablancas (!), they had a frontman with the lips of a young Ian McCulloch and the attitude of a younger Iggy Pop, singing about New York cops and street urchins. And just as I was starting to really grin from ear to ear thanks to their spiky effervescence and resemblance to The Figgs, they then played a song which completely appropriated the circular hook from The Sheila Divine's "Automatic Buffalo"! Totally blatant, but I could forgive them for that after a great set.
The place, already full to brimming, seemed to get fuller still, so Ady and I took a wander up the balcony to watch Rocket From The Crypt from a distance. Not really my cup of raucous San Diego gangster punkabilly, but I appreciated the strident dynamics of their performance and also their matching black silk outfits with red trim. Very fetching! Wandered back to the heaving dancefloor after da Crypt had finished, bumping into our fellow travellers Rachel and Thom, and also an old rock hero of mine, namely Tara Milton of Five Thirty! Nice of him to remember me as well, and stop for a brief chat.
Piled into the moshpit for the arrival of ...Trail Of Dead, fully intending to immerse myself in their "cathartic" live experience. For a couple of numbers it went well too; "Mistakes And Regrets" was a strident squalling beast of a song, second number in, and really set the mosh afire. Then it started going wrong for me... Firstly, instead of chucking our bottles or paper cups of water into the crush at the front, some fucking idiot steward thought it'd be a good idea to fire a water gun into the audience. His first salvo caught me straight in the eyes, dislodging a flippin' contact lens in the process! Then, just after I'd checked my eyes out in the gents and revisited the mosh, locating fellow moshers Thom and Rach, I got whacked severely hard in the back of the head by the sturdy thigh of an idiot crowdsurfer, which totally dazed me and left my head throbbing for the rest of the night. A real shame, as ...TOD were on totally top form, justifying their biggest ever gig status tonight, with an incredibly intense and passionate performance. However after my trials I wasn't feeling it, and was further disappointed by their omission of "A Perfect Teenhood" as finale. The instruments were duly trashed in a fit of rock'n'roll catharsis, though, and found their way into the frenzied moshpit, particularly the drumkit which was followed by the drummer Jason! We then followed Jason into the back alley behind the Astoria, where he duly gave the bass drum to a group of moshers to trash into firewood. Phew, rock'n'roll; shame about my head!
Showing posts with label Strokes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Strokes. Show all posts
Wednesday, 26 May 2010
Friday, 7 May 2010
507 THE STROKES, Moldy Peaces, Mull Historical Society, Oxford Zodiac, Tuesday 12 June 2001
The Strokes, The Strokes, The flippin' Strokes...you can't pick up a music paper (particularly the NME) without coming across reams and reams of column inches about them. The kids love The Strokes. NME loves The Strokes. They've even left a pretty favourable impression on this cynical old git to date, with an insistent debut single "The Modern Age" currently sitting atop my 2001 singles list so far. But can they cut it "live" when the spotlight is exclusively on them? Let's see...
Our intended number tonight was reduced by one, when Ady got a whack on the head with an iron bar at work, so was told, unsurprisingly, to rest up. Hence we had to call on Rachel's dad's car once again, getting there in good time to park up, have a quick drink in the Bullingdon Arms, sell our spare ticket to an eager punter outside, and still get into this already-heaving venue before first band, on at 8.30! Said band, on this Rough Trade showcase, was newcomers Mull Historical Society. From write-ups I'd read about this lot, I was expecting some kind of quirky, unorthodox bunch of Scottish folky types, like a Scottish Mercury Rev, or even Hobotalk. However, their set was so trad and derivative it was like watching an Oasis tribute band. Rachel even commented that their first number sounded like Robbie Williams - horrible thought! Rach and I headed back to the bar, surprised also by their arrogance - bottom of the bill and they come on to dry ice and backing music!
Ran into former 5.30 frontman Tara Milton at the bar, chatting again about those hectic 5.30 gigs. Indeed, the stars were out tonight; after Rach and I headed out to a vantage point near the gent's loos, we ran in to Kevin from Seafood (always in the loos, eh?), then whilst standing there before Moldy Peaches' set, Rach's foot was trodden on by Radiohead vocalist Thom Yorke! Freaky!
Anyway, back to the music. Or was it? Moldy Peaches, up next, were a very strange duo dressed in Robin Hood and Cat costumes, who strummed some very weird stuff which I can only describe as Jonathan Richman's goofier moments, with added swear words. Sorry, Kimya Cat-woman, I have no desire to lick your puss-yyy, so Moldy Peaches music went straight over my head. But then I guess I was neither drunk or a teen student, so I wasn't their target audience anyway...
So, 2 crap supports over with, it was finally time for The Strokes. They joined the stage, 5 skinny New York punks in ratty t-shirts and scruffy thrift-shop suits, certainly looking the part. And musically, they fitted the bill too, kicking off with the title track "Is This It?" from their forthcoming debut CD, then bursting into the itchy, insistent garage punk of wonderful first single "The Modern Age". Nice touch - get it over with quickly! This really energised the crowd into a frenzied mosh, and The Strokes took that as a cue, delivering a fine, energetic set. They look like they sound; young, brash, angular, punkish, nervous and agitated but confident in their ability and potential. "Barely Legal", with its' evident nod to Boston rock (the verse sounds like Big Dipper's "Wrong In The Charts", and the chorus is a dead ringer for The Sheila Divine's "Automatic Buffalo") was an early highlight, but also spot-on was forthcoming single "New York City Cops", with a big savage riff-led chorus. That said, the set retained the insistent tinniness and scratchiness of the best New Wave bands from the 70's. Fitting that, in a year that we lost Joey Ramone, that New York spits out a young band with the potential to take over The Ramones' mantle. Excellent stuff from a band not yet worth all the hype, but with oodles of potential.
Nice blokes as well! Pretty much as soon as the lights were up after the show, they were out chatting to fans and signing stuff (including my set-list!). All were very humble and seemingly amazed by their current success. So far, they're making the right moves and doing the right things to ensure they deserve it!
Our intended number tonight was reduced by one, when Ady got a whack on the head with an iron bar at work, so was told, unsurprisingly, to rest up. Hence we had to call on Rachel's dad's car once again, getting there in good time to park up, have a quick drink in the Bullingdon Arms, sell our spare ticket to an eager punter outside, and still get into this already-heaving venue before first band, on at 8.30! Said band, on this Rough Trade showcase, was newcomers Mull Historical Society. From write-ups I'd read about this lot, I was expecting some kind of quirky, unorthodox bunch of Scottish folky types, like a Scottish Mercury Rev, or even Hobotalk. However, their set was so trad and derivative it was like watching an Oasis tribute band. Rachel even commented that their first number sounded like Robbie Williams - horrible thought! Rach and I headed back to the bar, surprised also by their arrogance - bottom of the bill and they come on to dry ice and backing music!
Ran into former 5.30 frontman Tara Milton at the bar, chatting again about those hectic 5.30 gigs. Indeed, the stars were out tonight; after Rach and I headed out to a vantage point near the gent's loos, we ran in to Kevin from Seafood (always in the loos, eh?), then whilst standing there before Moldy Peaches' set, Rach's foot was trodden on by Radiohead vocalist Thom Yorke! Freaky!
Anyway, back to the music. Or was it? Moldy Peaches, up next, were a very strange duo dressed in Robin Hood and Cat costumes, who strummed some very weird stuff which I can only describe as Jonathan Richman's goofier moments, with added swear words. Sorry, Kimya Cat-woman, I have no desire to lick your puss-yyy, so Moldy Peaches music went straight over my head. But then I guess I was neither drunk or a teen student, so I wasn't their target audience anyway...
So, 2 crap supports over with, it was finally time for The Strokes. They joined the stage, 5 skinny New York punks in ratty t-shirts and scruffy thrift-shop suits, certainly looking the part. And musically, they fitted the bill too, kicking off with the title track "Is This It?" from their forthcoming debut CD, then bursting into the itchy, insistent garage punk of wonderful first single "The Modern Age". Nice touch - get it over with quickly! This really energised the crowd into a frenzied mosh, and The Strokes took that as a cue, delivering a fine, energetic set. They look like they sound; young, brash, angular, punkish, nervous and agitated but confident in their ability and potential. "Barely Legal", with its' evident nod to Boston rock (the verse sounds like Big Dipper's "Wrong In The Charts", and the chorus is a dead ringer for The Sheila Divine's "Automatic Buffalo") was an early highlight, but also spot-on was forthcoming single "New York City Cops", with a big savage riff-led chorus. That said, the set retained the insistent tinniness and scratchiness of the best New Wave bands from the 70's. Fitting that, in a year that we lost Joey Ramone, that New York spits out a young band with the potential to take over The Ramones' mantle. Excellent stuff from a band not yet worth all the hype, but with oodles of potential.
Nice blokes as well! Pretty much as soon as the lights were up after the show, they were out chatting to fans and signing stuff (including my set-list!). All were very humble and seemingly amazed by their current success. So far, they're making the right moves and doing the right things to ensure they deserve it!
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