Music Reviews

 Invisible Man – Lester Square

‘Whom The Gods Destroy’ opens Lester’s latest postcard from the outer reaches of guitardom, a soaring, jangling journey into the rarefied air of this, his fifth solo album.

The sci-fi film voices of doom which punctuate opener ‘Disco Bizarro’ are completely in keeping with the nervous, tense guitars that take the passenger on a sinister detour. ‘Shinjuku’ continues the retro-futuristic theme, a crashing drum backing to all manner of theremin warps and waves.

‘Trudi French (slight return) has all the melancholic strums and angry bass it needs, evoking a love affair the narrator can’t give up on. ’The Claws of Tigron’s Flash Gordon dialogue makes a perfect counterpoint to its clashing, metallic guitars and vortex like atmosphere.
‘Destination Space’ has climbing, triumphant synths, high picked guitar and the exuberant narration from classic sci-fi fantasy film. Far more fearful is the totalitarian keyboards of ‘Time Tunnel’, evoking all of the sense of doomed repetition that the classic TV show dared to put on our screens in the late 60’s.

‘Leaf’ takes us into a more unpredictable territory, the metallic guitars giving way to sitars and keyboards in an intriguing, mysterious journey. Finally, ‘COP26’ confronts us with the consequences of our mistreatment of the planet’s ecosystems; a mournful keyboard and messages of doom over the top.

Bonus track ‘Zulu’ leaves behind the cinematic flights of fancy and places us back in the twangy guitar carny, safe from the horrors of the modern world.

Lester’s most varied and best LP for some time; join him on his journey.

Scenester1964
8/2/22

10/11/15  


PiL Paradiso Amsterdam 7/10/15


The band take the stage to an affectionate welcome from the crowd, John in black, baggy trousers and jacket, his multi coloured brogue-like trainers the only concession to colour. Straight into their eco-lament, ‘Don’t Ask Me’, the lyrics are spat out by John with increasing venom. The hard, earth-shaking rock gives way to the Arabic-sounding chords, cymbals and electronic bleeping of the towering ‘This is not a Love Song’, the song a realisation of having to deal with a system you’d rather not. The sheer power of John’s delivery is still a shock to the system, and I feel only envy for some of the younger audience members, for what might be their first live hearing of the unearthly Lydon larynx. As John stands at his lectern, firing off his challenging, sniping lyrics, his fingers held beak-like and stabbing with ferocity at us like some huge bird, it’s obvious that age has certainly not withered or weakened him; it may well be age which is afraid of him.

An ‘Interstellar Overdrive’ style riff winds around, taking us into the trilling guitar riff of ‘Disappointed’, a deceptively beautiful song with a bitter lyric, that provoked much emotion, and not just a passive recognition in the audience.

A sudden burst, a touch of echo on the guitar, and then a very heavy, slow dub that rises beautifully into ‘Flowers of Romance’; a heartfelt break-up song that captures the whole audience, for a second time this evening.

The choppy guitar and hard, rasping vocal of the critical, enigmatic ‘The Body’ comes in, its funky rhythm getting the crowd moving in spite of its apparent pessimistic message. The insistent, hopping beat of ‘Death Disco’ still has considerable power, but goes on too long, ultimately weaving its way into the crazed metal stomp of ‘Religion’. The irony of this searing critique of organised religion being delivered by a bile-filled figure in black, on the stage of a former church is certainly not lost on anyone here.

John’s repeated requests to ‘Turn Up The Bass’ work, and the whole, three tiered room, acoustically ‘quirky’ at the best of times, shook, and the metal columns holding up the roof throbbed with this extended dub workout.

PiL are not so non-conformist as to refuse an encore, and their admission of ‘we are not worthy’ is directed at the crowd, and not the usual direction of such traffic. ‘Rise’s beautiful, anti-psychiatric and ultimately uplifting tale of self-doubt, self-examination and final self-redemption brings the audience to a peak, as John thunders out ‘Anger is an energy’ to tumultuous applause, in this, their professed second home.

The Beat starring Dave Wakeling – Komedia Brighton 15/9/15

First up tonight at Brighton’s Komedia basement venue was local band The Meow Meows, whose beaty ska and band/audience bonhomie capably set the atmosphere for an evening of good natured ranking full stop.

The South Coast’s changeable weather is probably no match for Dave Wakeling’s California home base, but such vagaries didn’t blunt the band’s enthusiasm, or Dave’s clear love of performing his heyday songs, here with his US band members. Aided closely by King Schascha, an irrepressible toaster and boaster from San Diego, for those missing the swagger and shake of Ranking Roger, and the stage is set.  

A suitably bouncy ‘Rough Rider’ has the crowd dancing, Dave toting his Vox Teardrop  guitar and the band flogging the song for all it was worth. Hardly pausing for breath, perennial favourite ‘Tears of a Clown’ came next, in a jaunty run through, eliciting plenty of karaoke-style singing from the crowd of old skins, rude boys, awe struck young ‘uns and those with fond memories of the ska scene of the late 70’s/80’s.


Any looseness in the previous offering was soon tightened up for the classic ‘Twist and Crawl’, with a definite rock beat creeping in there, and hot on its heels, the General Public track ‘I’ll Take You There’. It was time for a slow roller, and ‘Whine & Grine’ proved the best choice, its chunky beat a big favourite here, and leading into the lively politico-ska of ‘Stand Down Margaret’. Some crowd members were too young to remember the subject of this plea, and her demise may have made its message redundant, but when you’ve written a great song, why shouldn’t you sing it?

As the hits kept coming, the air of a nostalgia show just couldn’t be banished from the mind, not that the crowd were complaining, as the band zipped tightly through ‘Too Nice To Talk To’ and ‘Best Friend’, clearly enjoying their workouts, and coming to that great, echoing dead halt.

I admit that my patience was wearing a little thin with such easy listening fodder as ‘Can’t Get Used To Losing You’, but the crowd obviously disagreed with me, if their singalong reaction was anything to go by. Dave charitably suggested that perhaps our parents got it right with their musical taste, maybe forgetting that some of the crowd’s parents were actually fans of The Beat and the Specials, rather than Andy Williams.

‘Sooner or Later’ was received well, which made the too long, too slow, version of ‘Doors of Your Heart’ all the more disappointing, and the hookless ‘Soul Salvation’ did nothing to dispel. It took a full-on, thumping ‘Ranking Full Stop’ to put things right, and straight into the unforgettable, nervy ‘Mirror In The Bathroom’ to truly bring off the gig.

Joe Bonamassa at The Carre, Amsterdam 10/3/15

To the palatial splendour of the Carre Theatre for the first of a four night marathon and anticipation is running high among Dutch blues aficionados. Eschewing both support band and interval, Joe Bonamassa wastes no time in getting down to what he does best; laying it down like a challenge to all within earshot.

To an intro of sinister chords, Joe takes the stage, smart and business like in his blue pinstripe suit, clutching one of the many guitars he will caress, coax and stroke tonight. Clearly leader to his disparate band of retainers, and sat at their 40’s big band style lecterns, their subtle, restrained playing will prove as essential as their leader’s skills.

Joe’s ‘take no prisoners’ approach to live work is apparent from the first number, ‘Oh Beautiful’ a juggernaut of a tune, soaring peaks and crashing troughs leading into the first of many of Joe’s shred fests, punctuated by trick endings. A gentler R’n’B styler follows, and Joe’s treatment of Howlin’ Wolf’s ‘Hidden Charms’ makes for a playful riff, with Joe’s reedy voice taking on the sweet lyrics as he lets his guitar off duty for a moment. After this short interlude, the old devil rock ‘n’ roll is back, with ‘Living on the Moon’, all rich riffs and high, shrieking shreds to light the fires in this chilly country.

 A quick search through his jacket pocket produces a slide iron, and we’re into the murky waters of a lazy swamp blues, ‘Trouble Town’, oozing its way across the stage, transmuting into a downright evil blues by the end. Joe’s lightness of touch makes the guitar appear to play the middle instrumental on its own; the number rises up, bongos thumping, cymbals clashing, conjuring up some dark species of magic in the City of 1000 Bridges.  

Bringing us back to earth with, of all things, a Fats Waller style piano intro, Joe changes to a Les Paul for ‘Double Trouble’, all smooth and beautiful extended notes in this Otis Rush cover. The peace doesn’t last for long, as a slice of hard rock ‘n’ roll comes crashing in, with the classic ‘I Gave up Everything but the Blues’. Great gutsy horns in support and drums thumping through the floor, Joe’s guitar playing more frantic than ever, his face twisted as if in pain. If you’re not into drama, you’re at the wrong gig.

Introducing the band, Joe launches into an insistent 70’s style riff that soon loosens in the middle, piano and drums taking over, the full blooded rock n roll of ‘Don’t Burn down that Bridge’, the organ rolling like an 18 wheeler on thin ice.

Pulling a honey burst Strat around his shoulders, Joe slipped into a distinctly funky beat for ‘Love Ain’t A Love Song’, strong rhythm and a gentle solo showing his long-practised mastery of the fretboard.  On with jazzy stylings alongside a big, ballsy riff, a trick ending and back into the riff, how is this man not exhausted?

‘Sloe Gin’ follows, its self-celebratory riff climbing higher and higher in some mystic ecstasy, ending up, ironically, with a ‘Wild Thing’ style chugger. Others, at this point, might attempt a second dramatic riff and probably fail, but Joe succeeds effortlessly with the classic, fearful ‘The Ballad of John Henry’. Opening with a Gaelic riff, descending into the churning beloved of 70’s metal heads, it’s a monstrous rhythm that leads into a veritable sword fight of lead guitar figures, followed by the evil hiss of slide, and returns to the low rumble of rock before snaking away.



Scenester
14/3/15

The Who at the O2 Arena 22/3/15

The list of bands for which I am prepared to endure an evening in a vast, freezing tent on the banks of the River Thames is a particularly short one, in fact only one name is on the list, and they’re at the top of this page. So it was to the South Greenwich Peninsula (the Isle of Dogs to you) to see the once and future band, The Invincible Who, postponed from December owing to Roger’s illness, but no-one was grumbling.

Once you’ve picked your way through the citadel of insurance men’s pubs, book keeper’s restaurants and rock ‘n’ roll themed sites (don’t ask) your journey takes you through efficient security, up vertiginous escalators and onto your chosen level, in my case, half way to the clouds and then some. I was irresistibly reminded me of ‘Blade Runner’ outside the venue (all you needed was the flying billboards) and ‘Logan’s Run’ in the venue itself, for the ‘Carousel’ sequence, where the young did die before they got old.

After a competent set of early 70’s style meat ‘n’ two veg rock from Slydigs, the 20,000 seater began to fill with all ages of fans of the ‘Orrible ‘Oo. From wheezing oldsters, to kids barely taller than one of Pete’s guitars, they thronged in, and from my eagle’s nest seat, the place soon looked like the seating map on the billboards outside, with ants moving across it.

Then they came on, one by one, and all cold, discomfort, ludicrous drinks prices and comedy mods were forgotten, as Pete belted out those killer riffs like gold coins, struck in a single blow of the hammer. Roger’s voice, maybe not as powerful as of old, but handling those high notes well, a manically ginger Zak Starkey bringing his Beatles genes to the band, Simon Townsend on guitar (what else would Pete’s brother play?), others rounding it out, sounded glorious from my eyrie, even if the rumble of amps had dissipated by the time it had drifted up to the gods.

This being a 50-years –of-hits show, there was no room for side projects, solo LPs or what have you, and all the better for it, as those ringing, pounding tunes came spilling out. The urgent, choppy teenage lament of ‘I Can’t Explain’, the self-loathing of ‘Substitute’, its chiming riffs at complete odds with the confessional lyric, the melancholic harmonies of ‘So Sad About Us’, a beautiful song swept aside in favour of others at the time, ‘See For Miles’, a majestic piece of threatening, howling rage, that inexplicably didn’t provide the band with a well-deserved No. 1 single, they all thundered around the jumped-up scout tent that is the O2.

Imaginative graphics and live coverage of the band on three giant video screens gave off the staid atmosphere of a sports arena, but who cares when you have those beautiful, eternal songs? The irony of playing the swaggering ‘Join Together’, with Pete’s original intention to reduce the distance between performer and audience, to a vast, seated crowd, the band hemmed in by crash barriers, could not have been lost on Pete, and it’s a moot point just how keen his sense of failure is, in his thwarted ‘Lifehouse’ project. The music-hall teen fixation of ‘Pictures of Lily’ was ably illustrated by a picture of the late, Mad Moon in drag, and the immobile, strangely oriental features of mid-70’s John ‘The Ox’ Entwistle made their onscreen appearances, as if this crowd needed reminding of those two departed but irreplaceable characters.

In spite of Pete’s reservations, excerpts from ‘those bloody rock operas’ made an appearance, with a superb rendition of their lechy but likely ‘A Quick One’, and excerpts from ‘Tommy’ and ‘Quadrophenia’,  the soaring guitars of ‘Love Reign Over Me’ and the ever popular ‘See Me Feel Me’ being the inevitable crowd pleasers. A heartfelt ‘Behind Blue Eyes’ and a beaty ‘Slip Kid’ represented late period Who, and the sublime harmonies of  ‘Who Are You?’ did their usual, uplifting job on our heads. The, in my view, underrated ‘Magic Bus’ made a welcome appearance, building to its climax well , even if audience reaction was a little muted.


Scenester
24/3/15    

Federal Charm / Ian Hunter & The Rant Band Concorde 2, Brighton 3/10/14

With just half an hour to show off their chops as support band for the legendary Ian Hunter, Federal Charm didn’t waste a second. Straight into action, their brand of classic 70’s blues/rock was an instant crowd pleaser, the eternal triumvirate of hard, driving rhythm, full throated vocals and biting guitar solos showing why it isn’t ready for retirement yet.

The band’s ages average in the mid-twenties, yet sound far more experienced than their age and their few years together would suggest. ‘Tell Your Friends’ has a  gutsy quality that recalls Bad Company at their most determined, and their expert cover of ‘Reconsider’ has the kind of clear, delicate guitar picking associated with much more seasoned performers.    

‘Lord Have Mercy’s keyboard swell and plaintive guitar provides an emotional backdrop to some throaty, gospel-like vocals, building to a wailing climax and then a beautiful, slow denouement.


Taking the stage with little ceremony, the curly mop and shades that remain unaltered except in colour, since the late 1970’s, Ian Hunter strapped on his faithful six string razor and opened with scuzzy rocker, ‘I’ve got a big mouth’.  The Dylanesque harmonica wheeze was bound to appear sooner or later, and complemented Ian’s rough-as-a-badger’s-back voice perfectly. The gypsified minor chords to ‘I wish I was your mother’ was an early standout, the mandolin playing subdued but clear and plaintive.

‘Now is the time’s sweet intro reminded us that Ian’s range extends far beyond the piano-pounders of his hit single days with Mott the Hoople, and ‘Boy’ builds to a fine swell, Ian’s full-on mockney accent making its first appearance of the evening.  The piano stylings that followed had a late night lounge feel to them, segueing straight into ‘Just another night’s steady rocker.

‘Irene Wilde’, rough and ready and all the better for it, the band then threw themselves headlong into ‘All the way from Memphis’, raising a huge cheer from the crowd, the loudest, I daresay, coming from yours truly. No matter that Ian was hitting every note on the keyboard sharp or flat, the Mott classic sounded glorious in this cavern-like venue.

‘The original mixed-up kid’ had trouble following the full-caffeine version of ‘Memphis’ and petered out towards the end, but it provided Ian with a suitable atmosphere to tell, with obvious affection, the oft repeated story of how old bandmate Ariel Bender got his name, courtesy of the recently passed Lynsey De Paul.  ‘Comfortable’ was delivered with just the right note of lechery, straight into the ever reliable ‘Once bitten twice shy’, with the best accompaniment that far.

Those who prefer their rock as unrefined as possible weren’t disappointed with the band’s rendition of ‘Let me dream’, followed by some distinctly funky guitar, and later, the tense country stylings of ‘Ta Shunka Witco (Crazy Horse)’, with Ian’s gravelly delivery and the band’s surly guitars evoking a menacing atmosphere.


Scenester
7/10/14
An edited version of this review appeared in Blues Magazine 17, November 2014

Pete Molinari  - The Lexington, Angel, London 9/9/14

The spacious top room of this historic North London bar proved the perfect venue to hear Pete Molinari showcasing his latest album, ‘Theosophy’, with some good-time, howling’ country from Texan support, Jess and the Bandits.

Pete, resplendent in striped double breasted suit and belted Italian titfer, his stage persona somewhere between Antony Newley and Chico Marx, took the stage alone initially, easing us into his set with slow rollers, ‘One Rich Man or Woman’ and ‘Your Troubles Are Greater Than Mine'. Leading into an assuredly sweet version of standard ‘The Tennessee Waltz’, his band joined him and ‘Evangeline’ kick started it all. A great, rich vocal winding itself around a good, hard rocker of a song, it was immediately apparent that Pete and the band live far exceed the recorded experience.


Pete’s matey banter is turned on at intervals, chiefly to deal with some half-hearted heckling, but never detracts from the music. ‘Dear Marie (You Made a Fool of Me)’, is well realised here, the tinkling Gin House piano – appropriately, for this Victorian pile – provides just the right shade of wistful nostalgia for this affectionate remembrance of lost love.   ‘Minus Me’, a lot more regretful in its message, with a snatch back rhythm that floors you, and an affecting lyric with a subtle Beatle-y feel that must surely be a single sometime soon.

Classic descending chords pin down ‘I Don’t Like the Man I Am’, as if further proof were needed that sad songs are as good, if not better, than contented ones. The maudlin tones of ‘Easy Street’, accompanied by warmly fuzzy guitar, wrenching every drop of emotion out of this doomy piece, may err on the side of sentiment, but is none the worse for it.

The band know how to end a set, and ‘Hang My Head In Shame’ must take the prize for the evening, with more than  a hint of Dr. Winston O’ Boogie, it’s one of ‘Theosophy’s best tracks, and once again, leaves the recording standing. The inclusion of a George Jones cover goes down well with the traditionalists, with some even shaking their boots to its swinging rhythm.

New single ‘Mighty Son of Abraham’s steady rocking beat pleased, its hard hook tempered by the gentle sway of ‘What I Am I Am’, ‘Sweet Louise’s fine, creeping vocal and sad, wheezing blues harp, and the deft acapella in ‘Workin’ For The Man’ kept up the pace, and ‘Walk A Mile in My Shoes’ served as encore, the whole band plus three backup female vocalists on the now too-small stage, bringing a terrific evening to a close.


Scenester
10/9/14


A varied and stellar line up of musicians gathered on what would have been Bert’s 70th birthday in a venue he played, most famously as a member of Pentangle, to celebrate his life and legacy. Martin Simpson proved a diligent but respectful MC, moving onto, off and about the stage without dominating the proceedings. The huge stage of the RFH was covered in carpets, criss-crossed by wires, a variety of bedsit lampshades suspended overhead, and in one corner, the basement of Les Cousins mocked up, with the famous cartwheel completing the illusion.

Ralph McTell treated us to a beautifully clear rendition of ‘Angie’, the excellent fingerstyle work something of a specialty of Bert’s, and therefore highly fitting it should be first on the bill. Jacqui McShee’s bell-like voice rang out in ‘I’ve got a feeling’, from Pentangle’s 1968 LP ‘Sweet Child’, with all the authority an original band member brings.

Donovan’s ‘Deed I Do’ and ‘House of Jansch’ sounded a little hesitant, obligatory even, although enlivened by his fond memories of Bert in poem form, from whom he ‘learned all his licks’, and although ‘No looker, he got all the chicks.’ It set me wondering how many of the ladies in the audience still care to be described as such.

An unexpected and slightly surreal tribute came in the form of film of Neil Young and Jack White, who had presumably tossed a silver dollar to see who got to go into the beautiful art deco moderne record booth, and cut a version of ‘Needle of Death’. Accompanied only by his acoustic guitar, and resplendent in battered hat and checked dimestore shirt, Neil put out a heart-rending version of this sympathetic song, while the machine whirred on, Jack no doubt cursing his luck outside.

Two fine voices blended for a poignant version of ‘It don’t bother me’, in relative newcomers Mara Carlisle and Lisa Knapp, the latter of whom would later return as backup and page turner.  A favourite, but decidedly non-Jansch composition, ‘Heartbreak Hotel’ was powerfully put over by Davy Thompson and Martin Simpson with the most minimal of backing. ‘Goodbye Pork Pie Hat’ followed, eventually leading into some rare footage of Pentangle on their 1969 US tour, fooling about in the pool or on board the tour bus, in a technicolour landscape of drive-ins, motels and eternal freeways, then unthinkable in Britain.

The second helping proved even more animated, opening with film of Bert in the studio laying down ‘Travelling Man’, leading into Beverley Martin’s powerhouse vocals with a little justified fuzz guitar This was followed by Martin Carthy’s reading of the poignant lament ‘Blackwater Side’, but the admittedly complicated ‘Rosemary Lane’ seemed to defeat him. I took this as an unconscious tribute to Bert’s masterly take on the song, however Martin explained it away as having originally learnt a different set of lyrics to the song. He was helped by Lisa Knapp holding his trusty electronic book of lyrics to finish the wretched tune. Robert Plant’s croaky telling of ‘Go Your Way My Love’, provided him with the perfect excuse to mention the inevitably absent Annie Briggs.


Scenester
8/12/13  

This review also appeared in the January 2014 edition of 'Blues Magazine'

Cauldronated at The Finsbury 21/11/13

A welcome blast of superheated noise from the stage of this vast Manor House pub on one of the year’s coldest nights, Cauldronated lived up to my every expectation. Hard to believe that it takes just two people to make this brimming, bone shaking sound, the beat provided by Dave Barbarossa, veteran of such chart-bruising acts like Adam and the Ants, Bow Wow Wow and Republica, the voice and yet more drum work courtesy of the mysterious Eva Menon, she of the dark locks, tattoos, and more than a nod to the classic female rock stars of the much missed late 1970’s. With just a hint of synth to flesh out the sound, this heady brew showed its strength from the word go.

Playing the ice maiden with considerable relish, a huge 80’s cut jacket thrown over her slight shoulders,  Eva glares, struts and swerves in front of her mike, coldly intoning the bullet-point vituperative lyrics, as synths wail and scream, Dave pounding out a thunderous beat that will tolerate no dissent. Difficult to characterise in one heading, Cauldronated seem to inhabit a world of their own making, somewhere in the wastes between rock, synth pop and trance, but without getting enmired in any of them.

Every young woman who ever picked up a microphone in anger seems to be embodied in Eva, her Siouxsie/ Ronny persona showing

up most of today’s so-called cougars for the compliant puppets they really are. Dave’s enviable drum pedigree ensured a solid wall of rhythm for every song, with their electronic friend’s unobtrusive wailing a perfect backup.


Scenester
26/11/13

Eight Rounds Rapid: Writeabout / Steve (Podrophenia Records)

‘Writeabout’ hits the ground running somewhere on the Thames Delta, with the driving guitars of The Stooges and a Mark Perry-like larynx spitting out a fast talkin’ hot fizzin’ ever givin’ coruscating critique of the nation’s low-end celebrity-obsessed culture. Not for years has complaint rock sounded this mean, this exciting, brimming over with anger, the guitars cutting like buzz-saws and the amps turned up to ‘stun’, its target squarely in the line of fire.

This vinyl only release has two ‘A‘ Sides, the second being ‘Steve’, an urgent yelp of desperation over forbidding descending chords, biting guitar and a neat turn around that will have you playing both sides until the grooves grow old. A perfect storm.

Scenester
12/8/13
 


Surya Bar King's Cross 20/2/13

Torn between watching the Brit Awards on the idiot box, and a night at Surya with The Chapman Family, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out which one I chose.

 Kings Cross’ dubious reputation has still not entirely been killed off by the appearance of health clubs, glass mini-skyscrapers and smart bars like this one, and the cramped basement with the tiny stage proved to be the perfect venue to hear Stockton’s finest.

I hesitate to describe music in terms which would have sounded oafish even a few years ago, but there’s no denying the film soundtrack quality to their work. This time, it’s more a measure of the versatility, rather than the disconnectedness of the music, as the response from this small but energised crowd proved.

With their rhythms held down just below eruption’s point, and Kingsley’s pugnacious presence delivering heartfelt, angry lyrics about the wretched state out country is in, they recall the heady, politicised days of the 80’s, with even more to be furious about.  

In an age when most bands are settling for the second-best of familiar rock riffing or quirkiness for its own worthless sake, it makes a welcome change to hear a tight, torrid set of rock anthems, atmospheric soundscapes and vocals that went from low whispers to full throated howls, all performed new minted and bristling with rage.
23/2/13
Seeing a grab-bag of new bands in the basement of the Sex Pistols’ former Soho locals was a good way to end a frustrating week at the coal face. The anonymous first-up, Long Black Coats, whose problems were largely of a technical nature, offered little this writer hadn’t heard before, and the gaggle of school-agers, Casual Panic who followed, proved less entertaining than their similarly youthful fans.

A welcome note of nervous tension was injected into the proceedings by Eight Rounds Rapid. With Feelgood genes in the band as well as the music, the unstoppable guitars, no-nonsense drumming and snot-nosed whining vocals gave the audience barely time to draw breath in their short, sharp set. Did you say ‘faster?’
We Can Elude Control
Your friend Scenester’s favourite music is a long way from this computer generated sound, and I admit to finding little to enjoy in the seemingly endless sets of pounding, buzzing electronic noise, accompanied by fuzzy, spidery visuals, reminiscent of dragging a magnet across a computer monitor. My opinion wasn’t shared by the skaters, shine heads and post Goths who made up the majority of the audience. They clapped, and some even danced, to the passages of white noise, stereo ping pong matches and symphonies for power drills that passed for music here.

  http://eyeplug.net/magazine/?p=3303