1,245 THE SPIELBERGS, Muttering, Bristol The Lanes, Wednesday 28th September 2022

 The Spielbergs, Oslo’s hairy rabble of grunge slackers and Superchunk acolytes, announced a new album this year in their sophomore effort “Vestli” and a subsequent UK tour, which took in a Bristol gig at The Lanes, a new venue to me but one which I became briefly familiar with earlier this year, due to my grabbing a drink there before June’s Peaness gig at Rough Trade Records opposite (gig 1.232)! I downloaded the album and on early listens it even cranks up the heavy grunge noise, evident on their splendid 2019 debut “This Is Not The End”, a few hundred notches, recalling the likes of “Colour And Shape”-era Foo Fighters and Dinosaur Jr. as well as the previously evident Superchunk comps, particularly in mop-headed vocalist Mads’ helium vocals. Likey to be noisy, then, this one…

 Tix were “Pay What You Want” so I splashed out a fiver (hey, big spender!), deciding to stick with this one despite The Lemonheads announcing a “Shame About Ray” run-through at the O2 Academy across town on the same night; none of my Boston rock pals in Evan’s band this time, and with the excellent Basement Revolver (who’d supported Evan and Co. across Europe this Summer) also absent, I decided against giving Mr. Dando (admittedly a long-time musical icon of mine) another opportunity to disappoint me… So, still suffering the after-effects of my recent flu bug, I hit the road mid-evening for a gentle economy drive down the M4, parking in the previously horrendously expensive Nelson Street NCP (note to self – it’s a quid cheaper than Rupert Street now!) and hitting this evocatively dingy venue just after 8.15, only to find “PAYG” had morphed into “Free Gig”. Bah! Despite this, only a couple of dozen hardy punters were present early doors (possibly the legacy of that Lemonheads gig?) to welcome Brighton/ Peckham trio Muttering onstage at 8.30. Led by an elegantly dishevelled vocalist/ bassist resembling a taller Sebastian Vettel (!), they played some dour and doomy tales of despair and 21^st Century angst (“look at those broken dreams” and “I can feel Armageddon calling me” being 2 typically cheerful couplets) over a dissonant alt-rock/ post grunge guitar attack, some urgent and insistent repetitive riffery and stop/start drum patterns recalling Primus or Sonic Youth, particularly in their faster numbers. “I’ve got a lot on my mind,” the vocalist offered by way of explanation, although he briefly lifted the mood by leading a debate about the merits of bowling! Despite the lyrical gloom, I found this a promising if embryonic set. Not bad at all…

 A few more punters ambled in from the adjacent bowling alleys (The Lanes… geddit?) but attendance was still fairly sparse by the time The Spielbergs took the stage at 9.30, after milling around for a few minutes by my “leaning post” house left spot, at the end of the bar. Squalling feedback and a casual, “hello guys,” from Mads heralded their high-octane opener and “Vestli” track 1 “The New Year’s Resolution”, segueing into the thrashy riffery and backbeat verse of “When They Come For Me”, The Spielbergs’ usual pattern of full-on guitar onslaught and punchy, hooky chorus lines overlaid with Mads’ yearning, Superchunk-like, one-octave-higher-than-comfortable vocal yelps, already well in evidence. “We’re so happy to be back in Bristol – our favourite city ever!” gushed the profusely curly-maned vocalist before announcing, “It’s [keyboardist] Ole’s birthday!” and kicking into slightly slower, Dinosaur Jr.-esque slacker rock oldie “Five On It”, followed by my set highlight “Running All The Way Home”, an undulating and insistent rocker with a huge hook, which would be a stadium anthem in any sane universe. Splendid stuff!

 “We’re trying to educate [our English fans] in Norwegian culture… so “Skol!” means “Cheers!”” announced bassist Stian before a slower, more considered “You Can Be Yourself With Me”, and the extended heavy jam outro of “Familiar”. The Foo Fighters’ “My Hero” companion piece “Me And My Friends” and the amphetamine rollercoaster rocker “We Are All Going To Die” rounded off a 50 minute set of fine grungy rock which, honestly, wasn’t as noisy as I’d anticipated but was still powerful and strident, the boys peeling off one by one and leaving the stage as they’d arrived, with Mads’ guitar firing squalling feedback through the monitors. No list and no encore, so no “Distant Star” tonight (“next time!” Mads reassured me with a pat of his meaty paw on my shoulder) so, flagging a little, I hit the road promptly for another gentle drive home, back just after 11. Despite my lack of energy tonight, I still enjoyed this forceful and propulsive set from this Oslo rabble, and I’m happy I stuck with them rather than heading off to the O2. So, one word for The Spielbergs; Skol!

1,155 THE SPIELBERGS, The Belishas, Bristol Louisiana, Thursday 26th September 2019

Third of 3 in 5 days bucked this recent trend of 80’s favourites with a new band – Oslo, Norway’s The Spielbergs. Another that I owe John Robb’s “Louder Than War” publication for, an interesting review earlier this year led to my checking out some of their stuff on YouTube, then picking up their debut “This Is Not The End” CD, which quickly became one of my favourites this year, replete with powerful grungy guitar, occasional urgent frantic pace and some strained, high pitched Mac-from-Superchunk-alike vocals as it is. As if Seafood or …Trail Of Dead had a raucous knock-down, drag-out fight with Manchester Orchestra or first-album Nothing, perhaps, but either way a splendid noisy listen, and a promising prospect “live” in a small venue like Bristol Louisiana!

So, off I did trot, skirting around the building site that Temple Meads seems to interminably pass for, grabbing the last street parking slot outside the Louie and popping in just after 8. Missed openers Lessons, therefore, but I popped up to the sparsely attended upstairs venue, saying “hey” to the ubiquitous Jeff, then checking out next band up, The Belishas, on at 8.30. Their opener (imaginatively title “Opener” on their set-list!) kicked off like Gaslight Anthem doing a cover of Titus Andronicus’ sprawling epic “The Battle Of Hampton Roads”, all layered and seething anthemic guitar, before diverting into a full-on punk rock assault. Vocalist Ewan, sporting a hideous brown suit a clear 3 sizes too big (!), nonetheless had the style and swagger of a young Pete Doherty, hopefully with more substance and without the drug and reliability issues (!). An early “Dorian Gray” (introduced as, “for your favourite narcissist!”) was a fast-paced 90’s indie rock pop blast redolent of Annie Christian (to these ancient ears, at least) with other numbers mining a similar dissonant and menacing seam to the zeitgeisty Fontaines DC and Murder Capital, and a couple of mid-set ones feeling looser-limbed and harmonically Britpoppy. All in all, however, a cracking set, with the bolshy recent single “Chlorine Maureen” (excellent title!) and next single “Foreign Policy” late highlights. Great openers; Ewan had introduced most numbers with, “this is [Song X], please enjoy…” and I did indeed, no messin’!

Some brief compliments with a moist Ewan afterwards (I always appreciate a man who sweats profusely for his art, me) and a break before the main event. The Spielbergs took the stage to a smattering of curious folk at 9.30, easing into the laze-rock Teenage Fanclub-like groove of opener “Five On It”. Initially following the album’s running order, next up was my favourite cut from said record, the irresistibly hooky “Distant Star”, by which time I was shaking a leg down the front and singing the “we could be… PERFECT!” hook back to the impressively maned vocalist Mads. The sound was initially a little thin on guitar, however, but the hooks and the band’s effervescent attitude still carried them through. “We had a day off in Bristol today,” remarked Mads; “great food, went bowling, got fucked up!”

As a thankfully fuller guitar sound kicked in, the jagged guitar lines and backwards drumming of “Bad Friend” recalled Biffy Clyro, no less, with “NFL” proving this band aren’t one trick ponies with some absorbingly morose, slower burn shoegaze, which then built to a faster crescendo. “4AM” was once again hooky heavy powerpop, making this old guy think of Redd Kross or even El Nino, and a swift 45 minutes set was concluded with a frantic, Seafood-like “We Are All Going To Die”, all angular and drum propelled, with a thrillingly noisy and lengthy climax. Fine stuff indeed!

Doorstepped drummer Christian for a set-list afterwards (they didn’t use one – all in their heads!), thence enjoying a nice chat with the man about the road, where to holiday in Norway (the train from Oslo to Bergan was his recommendation) and Norwegian football, Jan Aage Fjortoft inevitably cropping up in the conversation! Grabbed a mad pic with his bandmates, sat outside, on my way out, then a swift drive home for just after 11, after a fine showing from not 1, but 2 promising bands!