As
if I hadn’t already felt suitably gutted for missing Swindon’s finest,
Raze*Rebuild’s gig at The Castle last week due to a family weekend in Butlins,
further salt was rubbed into that wound by the late addition of Bristol’s
Martyrials to that bill. I’d been looking out for local Martyrials gigs, since
they swept all before them at the “12 Bands Of Christmas” event last December
(gig 1,066) with an utterly batshit mental swirling maelstrom of crazy,
reinventing “Walk Like An Egyptian” and “Take On Me” with their own bubbling
cauldron recipe of madness. So, when I noticed they were also on the undercard
of a local gig the following weekend, I headed up the hill on a chilly Friday
evening, with plans to hopefully catch their set then pop round to see the headlining
Shudders at the Castle. Ah, the best laid plans of mice and men…
Hit
the venue at 8.45 fully expecting to see the openers in full swing, only to
find a deserted back room venue and news that the openers were due on after 9.
Bah! Got a drink and took a spot down the front, being joined by Andy Fenton
and his mates, before Kid Calico And The Astral Ponies (for, t’was they) kicked
off tonight’s proceedings just after 9. A grouping of local scene veterans,
they eased in with some laid-back 60’s harmonic Byrdsian pop with late period
Teenage Fanclub inflections, second number “Death Of A Salesman” proving a
little more upbeat and featuring some Ray Manzarek-like frantic and fractured
organ licks from the excellent Jon Buckett, also of Gaz Brookfield’s band The
Company Of Thieves. Unfortunately, they lost me thereafter, the set drifting
into a more music-hall and trad country vibe, with occasional early 70’s soft
rock thrown in (I’d probably say Steely Dan if I knew more of their stuff), all
very accomplished and melodic, but bland and anodyne to my ears. Their closer resembled
Procol Harem doing “Norwegian Wood”, and I left honestly most impressed by the
vocalist’s splendidly lurid retro tank top!
Martyrials
vocalist Sammy, black-clad with a wizard’s long black psychedelic-patterned
cloak and sporting the type of lionesque mane Ben Bentley of Sweet Jesus
(remember them?) would have been proud of, had been prowling the venue looking
every inch the maverick rock superstar in waiting. He then set up onstage with
his pair of cohorts, finally standing there as the clock ticked to 10 pm,
distractedly fiddling with his phone. “Oh, shall we begin? Sorry, just texting
my mum… oh, she’s here!” Then straight into the taut, speedy, organ-propelled
mania of “Parachute” and we were away, descending into the maelstrom (can I use
that word twice in one gig review? Hell yeah!) of baroque, crazed druggy pop
that is Martyrials’ oeuvre.
Difficult
to pigeonhole into one genre (and perhaps that’s entirely the point!),
Martyrials’ music is a true melting pot of styles and sounds; the angry,
clipped and embittered delivery of the Sex Pistols and their embryonic anarchic
punk ilk merged with the amphetamine-fast helium Goth of early Placebo,
overlaid with swathes of harsh Krautrock sheet metallic synth and an unhealthy
dose of the acid-fried theatrical psychedelic rock of The Doors. An incredible
amount of oddness to pack into a voice and organ, bass and drum trio, that. And
“live”, Sammy is the true star, a Lizard King for our times, pounding holy shit
out of his battered keyboards when not otherwise occupied confronting and
challenging the audience; “what a beautiful crowd; make some fucking noise!”
and, “thanks for keeping up so far, there’s more of it to come, don’t you
fucking worry!” being two such barbed epithets.
“Aachen”
was a dark, sinister and tempo-changing beast which also saw Sammy briefly wrap
a Union flag around his face (!), then more smack-talking (“anyone from
Swindon? What a bunch of wankers! Mind you, I’m from Swindon and I’m a wanker
too…”) preceded “Serotonin”’s glittery stomp. Finally, Sammy, by now shirtless,
led his charges through a breathless “Are You Having Fun?”, the young crowd
responding with a whirling maelstrom (that word again!) of slam dancing bodies
to the finale’s cascading tumble of drums and staccato vocal hook. Barking mad,
batshit crazy and thoroughly entertaining!
CD
purchase and a quick chat with Sammy, before I dashed around to The Castle,
arriving in time to catch the last number and a half from The Shudders. So much
for my plans! Caught up apologetically with Tim and co and enjoyed a chat with
a passing “Paj” before wearily heading off for a midnight home arrival. At
least the key part of my plan worked out, and I’ll be delving into Martyrials’
mad world more often!
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