Starting
to come thick and fast now, with this 7-time (!) rescheduled tour… I confess I’m
a relative latecomer to fiercely independent psychedelic punk veterans The
Lovely Eggs, having taken the plunge early last year and picking up their 6th
(!) album “I Am Moron”, finding a thrillingly ranty clutch of scuzzy and fuzzy
proto-punk numbers from this Lancastrian partner two-piece. Apparently,
vocalist/ guitarist Holly also used to be in Angelica some years back, a band
we saw once (gig 455, over 20 years ago!) and dismissed at the time with a
pithy “the world only needs so many Helen Loves”!
Anyway,
The Lovely Eggs are a considerable step up from them, so I booked tix for their
Bristol SWX gig which was then postponed multiple times due to Covid, then
moved to the Fleece following a fire at SWX, and finally rescheduled for the
same day I’d planned a big day out in Cardiff with my youngest! Luckily, tix
were still available for the Oxford gig the following night, and I had 2 gig
buddies for this one, so I drove over to Stu’s and Nige picked us up from there
for the onward journey, parking in a practically deserted Cowley Road Tesco’s
car park (whaaaat!), and hitting the venue at 7.30 after showing our Covid
passports – first in! Air con was blaring on arrival, so I was glad I hadn’t
joined the boys in wearing shorts – in fact I was dressed up to the nines,
giving my new shiny black shirt and red suede creepers a gig debut!
Openers
AK/DK were on prompt at 8; an odd duo set-up, with a double drumkit separated
by a bank of keyboards and electronica, their modus operandi seemed to be;
settle on a sheet metal synth riff and overplay it to death, overlay it with
minimal and indecipherably distorted vocals, and pound out a monotone, high
tempo beat. This made their set relentlessly one-dimensional, and in all
honesty one to be endured; still, at least I know I’m back to gigging proper
now, having seen my first crap support act! Thick Richard, next up, was a
completely different proposition – a skinny bespectacled poet in a Carter USM
t-shirt (part Jarvis Cocker, part Sue Perkins, as he himself put it), with a
thick Mancunian accent and a 100 mph in your face delivery, he came across like
a more profane John Cooper Clarke (an obvious comparison, but if I hear clip
clops, I’m saying “horse”, right?). The poetry and audience banter blended
together as he (allegedly) couldn’t remember half of his opener, ironically
about being off his face at a music festival! “Temporary Tourettes” (“I’ve not
done this on the tour yet as it’s fucking horrible!”) lived up to its’ rep, a
tumbling thesaurus of scatological insults with a serious message at its core
(“they’re lying to you!” – of course they are mate, they’re tories!) and a later
poem saw him donning a Raoul Moat mask made out of a child’s t-shirt – horribly
poor taste but bloody funny. An uncomfortably entertaining set ended quite fittingly,
with him walking offstage whilst in full fl…
Not
much changeover required, so The Lovely Eggs took the stage in short order, to strobe
searchlights and the undulating synth pulse of Stereolab-like opener “Long Stem
Carnations”. “This Decision”, next up, was however more representative of the
set; certainly more punk than psychedelia, they came across like a female Mark
E Smith fronting a 2-piece Ramones, with pocket dynamo Holly either holding her
guitar aloft or indulging in heads-down no nonsense mindless boogie style
shredding, whilst veering between Poly Styrene little girl lost vocals and
screaming demented harpy rants, and drummer Dave a Marky Ramone clone, both
visually and in the same metronomic economy of drumming style. They’d have
fitted in nicely in mid-70’s NYC Max’s Kansas City or CBGBs, methinks… Some fun
quips (“Oxford! Did you take a punt on this gig?”) and between-song banter too,
about Dave’s e-Bay sales (including – finally! – his Mickey Mouse bar of soap!)
Holly’s e-mail correspondence with a disgruntled fan about Covid passports (revealing
a salient point about getting jabbed and proving it, to ensure live music can
continue), and the relative silence of Southern crowds during a singalong set
highlight “Fuck It Oh Yeah”. “I Wanna” (like so many of their numbers, a
lyrical pop culture list) featured some Breeders-like grungy guitar riffery, “24
Eyes” was a terrific yelping amphetamine rush, and closer “Dickhead” came in
like a glam stomp before taking flight to end a sneering, snarling, primitive
yet totally fun set of fuzzed-up indie punk. Great stuff!
A
surprising set list too before a swift drive back, home at midnight… but then front
door problems necessitated an emergency locksmith call-out (the second one I
tried, after waiting 90 minutes in vain for the first one to call me back!).
Bed at 2.30 then; a bit frazzled but buoyed after the lovely Lovely Eggs!
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