1,352 IST IST, Cucamaras, Bristol Exchange, Thursday 10th October 2024

 

A quick return to the scene of the crime, this… just 2 days after leaving the Exchange early due to the awful sound at the Redd Kross gig, I’m back again, hoping for something better from Mancunian post-punk gloom merchants Ist Ist. As with fellow Mancs and loose contemporaries Slow Reader’s Club, they’re a band for whom I’m very late to the party, just picking up on their current, 4^th (!) album “Light A Bigger Fire” on release a couple of months ago, immediately finding an excellent slab of brooding guitar-led (with odd synth embellishments) tuneage, featuring redolent growling bass and clipped, understated yet authoritative vocals adding appropriate and atmospheric gravitas. Sounds familiar? Well, maybe, but a) as a Manchester band, they’ll inevitably get tagged as “Joy Division-esque”, b) this dark, menacing gothy post-punk itch is one I’m happy to scratch over and over again until I bleed, as long as the vocalist is actually singing rather than hectoring me as if from Speaker’s Corner (yes, Fontaines DC, I’m talking about you…) and c) Tunes? On the evidence of “LABF”, Ist Ist got ‘em, dude. Big towering choral hooks aplenty. What’s not to like?

Set off about 7 and parked up in a free spot directly opposite the venue, in just before 8. Result! Nottingham lot Cucamaras were on in pretty short order, opening up with some speedy, taut and angular guitar based indie punk, with an almost spoken word ranting and gabbling delivery from the tousled vocalist. Just when I was ready to dismiss them as Yard Act’s “B” team, however, they delivered a literal “Clothesline”, said number featuring a buoyant, catchy Vaccines-like tune and an excellent descending choral hook. Nice! Next single “Laughing” was an insistent groove with a slightly harsh C86 jangly vibe, recalling for me my 80’s faves Close Lobsters, and by the glam stomp and big Britpop terrace chant choral hook of closer “Spoken Word” I was on board. Skeptical at first, but they ultimately won me over, and I’d like to catch them again…

Took a loo trip then took a spot near the front, house left, noticing the plethora of Ist Ist tees around me (the Ist Ist massive, like Slow Readers’ fans, seem a seriously devoted lot) and chatting with Paul, a fellow punter taking a night off from his preferred symphonic metal (!) tonight! Ist Ist took the stage at 9, and with the minimum of fuss, launched into the taut, tense gallop of new album opener “Lost My Shadow”, vocalist Adam Houghton’s doomy, resonant vocals and Andy Keating’s undulating, Hooky-like bass already propelling the sound along. Fears of a repeat of Tuesday were immediately dispelled; it sounded great, the building Interpol-esque “The Kiss” and sweeping, brooding oldie “Stamp You Out” following in very short order. Nary a moment to catch breath between numbers; Ist Ist were on a mission tonight, no messin’! 

“There’s fucking loads of you! Thanks for coming down!” exclaimed Andy after the lighter, more haunting and ephemeral “Black”, and that was pretty much it, as far as chat went, for the first half of the set, the black-clad band staying firmly in moody, taciturn character, delivering their material with clipped determination and purpose, although an early highlight was the more buoyant backbeat synth fanfare and contrasting vocal lines of an excellent, White Lies-like “I Can’t Wait For You”. However, the seriocity was well and truly skewered after the tumbling drums of the mid-set “Fools Paradise”; Adam finally addressed us with a deadpan, “are you having a nice time? I am – it doesn’t look like it, I’ve got one of those faces...!”, thereafter announcing Andy’s birthday today and bringing on the roadie with a chocolate caterpillar cake! 

Candles blown out, “Happy Birthday” sung (and, inexplicably, Belinda Carlisle’s “Heaven Is A Place On Earth” turned off the p.a) later, Ist Ist were back to business, with a towering “Repercussions”; a later lighters-aloft anthemic “Dreams Aren’t Enough” recalled the widescreen epic sweep of old 90’s faves Adorable; and “Emily” was an eerie, stripped back gothy beast with an audience-powered singalong hook. They eschewed the pantomime of an encore, instead ploughing through with a rip-snorting “Your Mine” and an elegiac “Ghost”, to top an impressive, surprisingly varied 1¼ hour, 20 song set. Excellent stuff! 

Missed out on a list, as they were snagged by or handed out to the front-row disciples rather than this Johnny-come-lately. Fair enough really! That wasn’t it for me though, as an intended brief chat with bassist and birthday boy Andy outside the venue turned into an entertaining and animated near-half hour discussion on post-punk, band influences, Bowie, Bunnymen and that fine line when a gig becomes a “show”, with a voluble and very knowledgeable young man, completely smashing that taciturn onstage persona in the process. Honestly, I could’ve chatted a whole lot longer, but after a pic with the man and his jovial (offstage at least!) vocalist Adam, I tore myself away for a circuitous and M32 closure-affected drive out of Bristol which eased when I hit the M4, home just before midnight. That was way better than I’d anticipated; it seems I’ve clearly got a bit of catching up to do with Ist Ist, but I’m glad I’m now on board with this talented and highly promising band!

1,351 REDD KROSS, Dale Grover, Bristol Exchange, Tuesday 8th October 2024

 

(not mine - I didn't stick around long enough to make a grab for it...)

This one, sadly, represented the first time I actually voluntarily left before the end of a headliner’s set that I’d actually come to see, since the Drive-By Truckers’ gig in 2011 (gig 815, over 13 years ago!). And it really should have been a triumphant return for Redd Kross, California’s veteran exponents of 60’s psychedelia-tinged, melodic powerpop delivered through an early 90’s grunge filter and with soaring helium harmony overlay, thanks to the main-men MacDonald brothers. Our paths had crossed infrequently down the years, their last time crossing the pond being back in 2007 (a thoroughly entertaining if slightly self-indulgent gig 720), and I’d actually booked for a 2020 RK gig at this very venue, which inevitably was postponed multiple times then cancelled due to the dreaded Covid. So I’d happily booked for this, a subsequent return in support of a sprawling but typically grunge/glam infused and buoyant new self-titled double album release.

A bad day and poor weather almost made me think twice, but I nonetheless set off just before 7, splashing down an utterly awash M4 and finding a parking spot half in, half out of a loading bay up the road from the venue. Doesn’t matter, it’s free now anyway! Quiet early doors (maybe I wasn’t the only one having second thoughts), but the venue filled up as support Dale Grover joined us at 8. A “performance” of 2 parts from the erstwhile drummer of 90’s grunge punkers The Melvins (and subsequently guesting with da Kross on sticks on this tour), the first being an eclectic DJ set of 50’s doo-wop and 60’s surf-psych (Big Bopper’s “Chantilly Lace”, and “The Stripper” by my namesake The David Rose Orchestra being notable selections), before he then delivered a short set of morose proto grunge/ bluesy stuff aided by a battered acoustic. Could’ve been Melvins songs, I dunno! I must say I enjoyed his friendly and deadpan demeanour (“thanks for coming early to see me – not many bands would let the drummer open up the show!”) better than the material, though…

Ran into old Level 3 face Mark Carter, recovering well after recent spinal surgery and already out gigging. Good man! Popped down the front, house left; busier now, but still plenty of room to move around. Redd Kross took the stage prompt at 9, all in matching paint-splattered white suits, kicking into the thunderous strutting glam stomp of opener “Switchblade Sister”, and it was unfortunately immediately apparent that tonight would be quite the test of endurance. The. Sound. Was. Awful!!! “Sister” sounded like an avalanche, the huge guitar noise rumble completely overwhelming the nuances of the material and particularly those helium harmonies, and the subsequent “Stay Away From Downtown”, such a thrilling amphetamine luge ride on CD, sounded as if said luge was being channelled down a steel pipe lined with barbed wire. 

I initially thought that said sound issues may have been due to my being right near the lead guitarist’s monitor, so when the sound hadn’t improved after a couple more numbers, I moved across to a couple of rows back, house right, between vocalist Jeff MacDonald and his bassist brother Steven. T’was little better there, though, and the vocals were still submerged, so I tried right at the back of the venue, only for the sound to be echoey and reverb-heavy there. An airing of my frustrations to the lady on the front desk elicited an offer of foam earplugs, so I tried these out and ventured back into my house right spot. Thus “plugged”, the sound was muffled but at least not overwhelming, and to be fair the band were giving it loads throughout, Steven in particular rabble-rousing between numbers with comments such as, “[Kiss’] Paul Stanley hopes we have a rock’n’roll part-aaaay tonight!” A mid-set “Mess Around” was easily the best sounding number of the night for me, the guitars being turned down in the mix for this one, and my one earplug in, one out arrangement at least enabling me to hear the brothers’ sublime and melancholy harmonies. 

Unfortunately, “Mess Around” was the outlier for tonight; “Jimmy’s Fantasy” was again a guitar-smothered noise-fest, and after my favourite Redd Kross number, the sweeping clarion call of “Lady In The Front Row” was thoroughly roughhoused, I frustratingly called it, back in the car before 10 and splashing home by 11. A real shame, this one; I don’t blame Redd Kross (well not entirely… a further chat on departure with the desk lady revealed that they’d brought their own sound-guy over, and seemingly wanted the volume set to full-on-rock, so I guess they’re not totally blameless), but this was just possibly the worst sounding set I’d endured since that ill-fated Bob Mould set at “Shiiine On” 2019 (gig 1,161), itself another relentless onslaught of noise. I guess I was due a clunker, just didn’t want it to be da Kross after so long… but tonight, in the words of one of their new numbers, was, for me at least, a Candy Coloured Catastrophe…

1,350 OCTOBER DRIFT, Bristol Rough Trade Records, Thursday 3rd October 2024

 

An early evening jaunt down to Bristol’s Rough Trade, this, for another of those in-store CD release thingies from Taunton’s splendid October Drift. If this sounds familiar, it’s because it is… twice before I’ve seen da Drift do CD release in-store gigs at this venue; a full-on electric show – in more ways than one – for debut album “Forever Whatever”, gig 1,172, and a much lower-key, bistro-tastic acoustic affair for the sophomore “I Don’t Belong Anywhere”, gig 1,249, this one in the store itself rather than the excellent back-room venue. So, it seemed churlish not to make it a 3-for-3 for this increasingly special band of shoegaze/ goth/ grungy post-punkers, for their highly promising new album “Blame The Young”. They’d premiered a couple of new tracks at their May Joiner’s gig (gig 1,325), the title track in particular sounding an absolute banger, so this one may well be their best yet. Let’s see…

This one also promised to be a lower-key acoustic showing, so I set off slightly later, a 6.15 departure getting me parked up just after 7 and in time for a chat with occasional gig buddy Adrian, who’d coached it over from Wales on a last-minute tip. Popped into the unfortunately sparsely populated back room just before 7.30, the Drift boys nevertheless wasting no time in promptly taking to the stage and installing themselves on their high barstools. Straight away this promised to be a little more… energetic, let’s say, than these usual acoustic affairs, drummer Chris commenting, “despite not being able to lob ourselves around the stage [on this CD release tour], we’ve been [compensating by] drinking a lot more – so this is going to be full-on energetic acoustic!” And he was true to his word, the hectic and relentless build of excellent opener “Blame The Young” generating more overt energy than most bands’ electric performances, despite being allegedly “unplugged”! The stately, lower-key “Demons” recalled Echo and the Bunnymen or Adorable in its’ widescreen use of space, and the elegiac “Hollow” was preceded by a game of “Guess The Drumbeat”, Adrian (standing next to me) guessing correctly and winning a percussive shaker! 

This was a fun and much-needed performance from October Drift. Lacking the fierce intensity of their usual dynamic plugged-in “live” events, the band instead showed a different dimension, with relaxed and witty urbane banter entertainingly filling the gaps between songs. And the new material, to a song, was absolute bloody quality, no messin’… After the story of “Hollow”’s inception was told (the song apparently coming out of a particularly chaotic Guinness-fuelled recording session), the subsequent more upbeat “Tyrannosaurus Wreck” was preceded by a discussion of the video, which featured vocalist Kiron walking around the town of Chard looking forlorn and wearing a knitted T-Rex suit (“for those of you who’ve been to Chard, [you know] it’s not the type of place to [do that in]!”) “Everybody Breaks” was another excellent newie, a proper lighters-aloft stately stadium ballad featuring some wonderfully textural and resonant guitar effects from Dan, and preceded by Chris’ story of telling his dad, on leaving university, that he’d give the band one year to make it – “that was 15 years ago!” 

“It’s strange to do a tour where you’re not dripping with sweat and there’s been no physical accidents!” joked Chris, before the band took requests from the small but perfectly formed (and very enthusiastic) crowd. An initial “Forever Whatever” was however somewhat haphazard, prompting the band to, “end on something better,” the big singalong chorus of “Waltzer” and the Kiron/ Chris vocal duet of a wonderful singalong “Like The Snow We Fall” doing the trick in that regard. Quick chats and CD signings with an affable band afterwards, Kiron and Chris particularly recognising me from previous gigs and bigging up their forthcoming Thekla gig. Let’s hope I can make that! Home at 10 after another fine showing from a band rapidly becoming one of my favourites of the moment, and a band seemingly at ease in any “live” setting. Acoustic, electric, forever, whatever… October Drift deliver!

1,349 BUFFALO TOM, London Lafayette, Monday 30th September 2024

After a brief pause following my Barcelona adventure, I’m back on the gig trail… and again with a Boston lot, with the return to this side of the pond for 90’s “Hub” post-grunge rock stalwarts Buffalo Tom. Their first time muddying these shores since December 2018 (gig 1,115, although I did catch the first part of a solo show by Tom main-man Bill Janovitz on my own most recent pond hopping trip to the US, at Boston’s Burren in November 2019, gig 1,163), this return is behind a new album “Jump Rope” which, in all honesty and (TBF) on initial listens only, seems to be a mellow, low-key and very trad-rock sounding effort, with nods to their own 60’s heroes The Who and The Rolling Stones. Still, the Tom never disappoint “live”, so tickets were duly booked for myself and fellow Tom devotee Tim for their sole London date, unfortunately at The Lafayette, a venue which was considerably less than impressive during my only previous trip there (for Desperate Journalist, gig 1,211). And, given that I wore a BT “Birdbrain” t-shirt to the Gigolo Aunts Barca gig last time out, it seemed only fair that I rock an Aunts tee tonight for the Tom!

So, duly Aunt-ed up, I drove over to Tim’s to facilitate an early departure, a quick drive to the usual Osterley Car Park getting us on the tube for an intended meeting with London-domiciled friend and Tom fan (and friend of Bill’s) Lisa, for some eats before the gig. Unfortunately, she texted us on the tube to inform us she was running late, so our restaurant bite instead turned out to be Greggs at St. Pancras International! We then wandered over to the venue just after doors and chatted in the bar, before grabbing spots near the front, house left, briefly spotting our late-running friend Lisa as this sold-out venue filled up.

Without much ado, and slightly later than advertised at 20 to 9, the support-less Tom took the stage, Bill announcing, “we’re Buffalo Tom from Boston, Massachusetts,” thereafter easing into the descending riff of opener “Staples”, which segued into herky-jerky old favourite “Sodajerk”. Bill’s furious and purposeful shredding was already the main feature, particularly on “Jerk”’s mid-8 break and vast chunks of the subsequent, proto grunge oldie “Fortune Teller”. “That was an old one,” quipped Bill, “they’re all old!” 

Old the songs may be, but any thoughts that the Tom might treat their material with due care and attention was soon dispensed with; if anything, this was an even rawer, ragged and more elemental performance than usual, from a band who usually defer towards the rougher path “live” anyway. And, despite Bill’s lamentations of not being in peak physical condition (“was I ever?”), he put in a shift worthy of a man half his age, arms regularly whirling in Pete Townsend fashion as he gave both his battered electric guitars a serious workout (in the process also working his guitar tech Buffo hard!). That said, the mix balance of the sound was a little variable, Bill’s shredding regularly dominating the mix, with bassist Chris’ softer, more nuanced voice being lower and less decipherable on his lead vocal duties than Bill’s throaty drainpipe rasp.

An early “Frozen Lake”, with a lyrical nod to Galaxie 500’s “Tugboat”, was a hushed, plaintive outlier; “Dry Land”’s great descending hook was the best – and best sounding – number of the mid set; then the jagged, incendiary “Birdbrain” topped that, the mix balance finally sounding sorted. Bill swigged some water (“gotta be properly hydrated for these ones!”) prior to the usual absorbing excellence of “Larry”; then a breathless “Tangerine” rounded off a ragged yet enjoyable set proper, the Tom reappearing for a 5-song encore featuring a squalling “Torch Singer” and an impromptu cover of the Rolling Stones’ “Under My Thumb”.

A chat with Lisa, before she popped backstage to see Bill and suss out whether we could do so as well. However, before she returned, we were ushered unceremoniously out to the lobby by an overzealous security bloke. Bah! Still, I then chatted at the merch stand with Michael Healey, travelling as tech for the Tom on this tour, away from his day job at Boston’s Q Division! He’d commented on my Aunts tee with, “a proper old Q band!” so tales of mine and Rachel’s early 2000’s “Hub” travels, “Hot Stove” downpours, Gravel Pit tattoos etc. were told to friendly and receptive ears, before I nipped to the loo, intending to return and continue the conversation, only again to find a locked door barring my way. Fucking security again, the officious ass-hats! A quick tube and drive home then saw me dropping Tim off just after 1, contemplating the night. Shit venue, variable sound, absolute wanker security… but a good catch-up with old friend Tim, a nice chat with a Q guy, and a good effort from the raw and ragged Buffalo Tom rescued the evening overall!