Back
to The Fleece for two in two nights, this one promising to be a little different,
though no less raucous... after grizzled alt-rock veterans Buffalo Tom last
night, here's relative pups, Philly's excellent Nothing, back in Bristol a
couple of years after their ear-splitting Start The Bus gig (gig 1,002). This
time sees them promoting new album "Dance On The Blacktop",
apparently a lyrical catharsis for mainman and indie rock student Domenic
Palermo after his (fairly) recent wrongful incarceration, but a collection
which sonically sees them evolve their sound away from the harsh, wall-of-noise
grungy dynamics which occasionally featured on previous effort “Tired Of
Tomorrow” and almost go full-on shoegaze, with layers of shimmering guitars and
submerged, mumbled vocals aplenty. Nothing on it to match the immediacy of the
wonderful "Vertigo Flowers", but repeated listens have as ever been
rewarded with hidden depths, so anticipation was still high!
Off
at 7 for a much dryer drive down, parking up at 8 and hitting the venue, to be
greeted with the odd sight of tables and stools set up midway between stage and
back wall/soundman Rich Munday's mixing desk. Expecting a quiet one then, at
least in terms of attendance...! No time to ponder this though, as support
Suburban Living were on in short order. Another Philly lot, they immediately
impressed with opener "Faded", a dark, gloomy and morose little post-punk
rocker with shimmering and resonant guitar effects. Second number "Once/
Twice" saw them channelling their inner Cure-heads, with a taut and
delightful gallop strongly recalling Smith’s lot’s classic "Just Like Heaven",
and subsequent numbers hit a distinctly 80's vibe, the slower-burn
"Lovely" seemingly soundtracking that moment in a John Hughes movie
where Judd Nelson's just been dumped by some girl...! More textural moments too
to supplement the 80’s Tears For Fears-esque feel, as well as a clattering
jangle-fest in "Fit In", which recalled current faves Rolling
Blackouts Coastal Fever. Overall, absolutely splendid stuff from a very
promising new name indeed...
Good
guys too... chatted with bassist Kyle, who'd handed me his list, and who also
turned out to be the son of original Buzzcocks bassist Steve Garvey! Musical
talent clearly runs in the family, then... Also chatted rock and baseball with
vocalist Wesley Bunch, a knowledgeable and personable chap who was excited for
his band's pending Manchester gig ("all my favourite bands come from
there!"), maybe less so at the prospect of Bryce Harper signing for The
Phillies...
A
surreal moment as I took a quick loo break, just as all of Nothing invaded the
gents, Palermo blaring, "OK where's the cocaine?!" I think it's more
cider here, guys... Back on the barrier as Nothing took a murky, smoke-shrouded
stage just after 9, a haunting, elegiac riff from guitarist Brendan over a
taped radio announcement weaving an eerie atmosphere. "Zero Day"
kicked off the set proper, answering once and for all the eternal question as
to what a shuddering grunge/shoegaze Mamas And Papas would sound like...! Pale
Saints-style textural guitar reverb knitted the early numbers together, swathes
of heavy yet sparkling riffery submerging Domenic's vocals during the grumbling
growl of "B&E" and more driving upbeat "Curse Of The
Sun". Next up, "You Wind Me Up" was an early highlight, the smooth,
dream-pop best number on their new CD, featuring a delicious octave jump for
the final chorus.
"Our
booking agent booked 11 shows in England! Fuck!" a drawling Domenic
(possibly a little worse for wear too?) mock-complained, one of his (few)
remarks tonight that made sense... no matter, the rock made sense for him, from
the "Creep"-like murky and mournful "Us/We/Are", the
thrilling psych-shoegazey rocker of a blistering "Vertigo Flowers",
the brilliant high watermark of their canon,
and the stretched, elegiac "Carpenter's Son". Intriguing,
inventive stuff overall, culminating in a shuddering feedback loop at the end
of lengthy and melancholy final number "Hope".
No
encore, but a list after a lengthy wait (and puzzling chat with the roadie),
then farewells to the affable Suburban Living boys before a much easier (and
earlier!) drive home. Anticipation rewarded, then, after another noisy yet
intriguing Nothing gig... ignore that (splendid) name, they're actually
something!
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