Slackers / Gecko: Jazz Cafe
Posted by jamie on Aug 11, 2010
Gecko, the Slackers
Jazz Café, Camden
10th August, 2010
Jamie
This was my first trip to Camden’s Jazz Café, though not for want of trying. Trying, in fact, to the point where I’d developed a bit of a complex about the place. Why do I never manage to get there? What actually goes on inside. In the end I spent the afternoon daydreaming about some kind of Bugsy Malone-style prohibition era speakeasy, packed with a dense fog of cigar smoke, and old men puffing away like toads. It’s not like that. The closest I saw to a gangster was a poster up saying MOP are playing there soon. Right.
Still, they’re also getting Chaka Demus and Pliers, and the bouncer was really nice. He ID’d us all and then said “thank you. Enjoy the show”. Charming chap – he should get a job over the road at the Odeon. They’re all nice people there.
The rush down meant we missed the start of Gecko’s set. It’s a shame, because they were really up for this show, and had made the effort to dress up especially and look sharp, even sharper than usual. Still, we were in not long after and quickly in to the happily swaying early crowd. As always, Gecko have brought a big posse with them, but they’ve obviously made a few new friends tonight as well: the thoughtful, pleasantly surprised faces on cautiously swaying bodies betrayed a fair few folk discovering and enjoying a great new band. It’s a great feeling, isn’t it, that?
Gecko are on form too, fittingly, and the night’s off to a bang: their idiosyncratic take on uplifting acoustic pop is an ideal choice to open the night tonight, and quickly fills the room with a rich, smooth sound – this is a really top, confident performance, and all the tiniest little details in their sound are really honed. They look and sound confident, still lovably cheeky-chappie, but polished and self-assured at the same time. The Jazz Café are eating out of their hand, and really getting in to it. You can see it most obviously in the Library They’re playing with a bigger PA than I’ve seen them with before and the quality is really good too. The overall effect is just mint.
By the time Falling Down and the new song Camden get an outing the room is bobbing along very happily. I especially like Will’s line “whether you’re a person or a panda”, but that’s for a CD review. Camden, though, gets a big “ahh”, from the growing crowd, because it’s a new song and it’s shy. Clearly, then, it’s all working out for Gecko.
The last two get split up with a pretend encore, with their anthem Guanabana Juice announced as the last song, and the deadpanned “well, this is unprecedented” introducing an encore of Toots and the Maytals’ 54/46 that later becomes Pressure Drop. You can’t help but feel that these guys won a few more hearts tonight.
The Slackers enter to a giant roar and, as you’d expect, milk it for all it’s worth, before setting about turning the heat and the volume up a few levels. They set off with a quickened up Keep It Simple. They’re playing a set, two, actually, that’s made mostly of requests and a few rarities seeing as they were here just a few weeks ago. A quick hunt through their discography, though, reveals jus how many songs they actually have to choose from. I was taking notes, but struggled to keep up (alright, I couldn’t stop dancing) and it seems the set list I managed to nab off of Jay’s amp at the end had long since gone out the window. Fried Chicken was definitely in there, and there was one point where Vic stopped to tell a story about not knowing who he was or where he lived and ended up rambling his way in to the Stones’ Get Off My Cloud and morphing it, without warning or explanation in to the Troggs’ Wild Thing. It’s tough to say for sure, but you’d have to doubt those were requests, even if there is a slightly older crowd here tonight (no offence, guys).
In keeping with the venue and with the theme, the night became more and more like one of the more old-school shows, each of the songs being broken down, and everyone getting a solo. Dave’s doing most of the serious talking while Vic, in his top-hat, keeps it entertaining with his shuffling, rambling speeches. At one point he claims that his true family/genetic background originally came from the swamp. How it Feels and Not Enough to Feed My Girl are next, but it’s all mashing in to one, really. Come Back, Mr Tragedy and Please Decide bring the first half to a close. There’s a fifteen minute interval (that was when I found the MOP poster) and time for London’s most expensive cider.
There’s also time for one of life’s great celeb moments. Glen Pine, my favourite Slacker, came and tickled Chips on the head. It was beautiful. *sigh*
It’s much the same vein as before, but quicker. Run Away and Tool Shed both get an outing before Peculiar becomes a surreal, drawn out, improvised jam thing. It’s very exciting. The party continues, faster and faster, hotter and hotter, and a lot of legs are starting to get sore. From being squashed right up next to the stage you can see the rest of the front row snake all around the room and a few are skanking from memory by now. But in a good way.
Exhausted, we make it to an encore that centres around Propaganda, and some shouted conversation that Vic has had with a girl squashed in just along from us earlier on.
“What’s your name?” “Propaganda!”
“How are you ?” “Propagandaaa!”
“What’s your sign?” “Propagandaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”
That was Vic’s recollection of it anyway. Going on the rest of thenight she might actually have told him she was from the swamp. You never know.
It’s been a long night. Exhilarating, but long, and hot. The Slackers were impossibly good fun. Half stumbling, we pick our way through discarded Red Stripe cans and out in to the aftermath of a rain storm. It’s getting on for midnight, it’s pitch dark and the street’s soaking wet, but it’s still warm outside, and, you can’t help but feel, we’re all still warm on the inside.
Gecko’s next London show is at the Water Rats on Thursday 30th September.
Mike TV: Camden Underworld
Posted by jamie on Aug 10, 2010
Mike TV
Underworld, London
9th July August 2010
Jamie
When Mike TV played the Borderline last month one of Jhon’s various observations was that it was odd to be playing in London and not be in the Underworld.
Here’s hoping it’s reassuring for the band that it’s just as odd in the Underworld when the PA there isn’t playing the Stopgap EP. I’ve pointed out this addiction before, but, basically, they seem to always have it on between bands. Seeing one without the other is sort of weird, but it’s surprising and sort of sweet how they miss each other. Tonight, of course, the Underworld are spinning The Dreadnoughts’ Legends Never Die, because Mike TV were actually on the stage soundchecking and the only thing stranger than having some other music on right now would probably be listening to Mike TV. So far so good, then.
The infectiously cheerful pop-punkers have found their way on to a bill of bigger, scarier, nastier sounding (and looking*) bands, but don’t seem fazed by that and set about entertaining in the only way they know how: by blasting out a short, sharp set of charmingly catchy pop punk and dressing it up with glorious melodies and some genuinely hilarious banter.
It’s after Favourite Foe that the fun really starts, when Domb announces that this is only the second show he’s ever played without socks. From there the guys compare him to a female celebrity (I forget who exactly), and he responds:
“I can be. Basically I could shit myself at any moment.”
Instantly, the band explode in to Dumb Fuck, which is probably for the best, and then Chinwag, Single, Lie Low, Lilo and Paperthin. It’s a shame they’ve not been given more time, really, because they’ve obviously got the songs but they’re also so brilliantly and uniquely entertaining to watch, but a lot of that gets lost when they’re only given half an hour. Undeterred, the banter takes something of a back seat and the guys really make a decent effort to actually play songs. The songs, of course, are excellent too: there are four parts in some of the vocal harmonies, but they nail it every time and the songs are addictively catchy: loaded with hooks and some brilliantly crafted pop guitar riffs and melodies. They probably wouldn’t admit it, but Mike TV can actually play. Scratch that, they’re very good. To make things even better, they’ve had everything turned up extra loud and it really does sound stunning – there’s so much melody in their sound, and so much energy packed in to their songs that they’re impossible not to like.
A slightly nonplussed crowd of ogres and metallers (it’s difficult to tell in the dark sometimes*) shuffles and taps its feet and a few of us form little knots of jumping and dancing in circles at the front and the back where we were hiding out. It’s early, and there’s loads of room, so you can easily chuck your arms and legs around. It’s easy to tell who here has come to see Mike TV.
There’s just time for one more moment that could only really be Mike TV, and this time it’s Jhon, who mumbles something about the band “being on the internet” and then that they’ve got some CDs and t-shirts “but then all the bands say that, so it’s boring. And actually you probably don’t want them because they’re shit, so don’t bother”.
“How was that?”, he says, looking back at Domb. “Yeah, it was fine, mate, I thought that was a good sell. Well done.”
It’s over in a couple of seconds, but that slightly bizarre exchange about sums these guys up: keen to laugh at themselves, and everything else, they have their own special way of poking fun. It’s odd, to say the least, but it definitely works and, with the tunes as well, they’re a joy to watch in concert. There’s just time for two more songs, the gleefully poppy Schizophonic Tornado, a lovely little gem of a song with more perfect harmonies, a cappella for a moment, no less, and finally the excellent When Push Comes to Shove. It was short and sweet, but genuinely uplifting to watch and over all too quickly.
*That was a joke. I didn’t really see any ugly people.
Setlist:
Count-In
Favourite Foe
Dumb Fuck
Chinwag
Single
Lie Low, Lilo
Paperthin
Schizophonic Tornado
When Push Comes to Shove
A quick reminder..
Posted by jamie on Aug 5, 2010
An email arrived today from Suzy of SuzySka Photos. In case you missed first time out, Suzy took these stunning pictures for us on last year’s Rebel Alliance tour. See the whole set, full size, here.
Suzy plays trumpet (and organ now, apparently) for the Copasetics - we’ll be covering their EP soon.
Faintest Idea: Ignorance is This
Posted by jamie on Aug 3, 2010
Faintest Idea
Ignorance is This
TNS Records, 2010
Jamie
Norfolk’s Faintest Idea are of those bands that, despite their consistently excellent songs and performances, seemed to remain disappointingly underrated for much too long. 2010, though, could, at long last, see these guys get the serious recognition they’re so long overdue. As is so often the case in these situations, TNS Records have got involved and released what Sam from the band has called their “biggest album so far”. It’s actually their second album ever, but the ambition is surely still very impressive.
The record opens with a single, sombre klaxon sort of sound (the horn, not the boring indie band), before kicking in and building to a crescendo with guitars, horns and riotous work from Woz on drums. At this point, you don’t really know exactly what you’re going to get, and for anyone new to the band, as I was, the song’s quick climb to a crescendo in its opening moments really builds the anticipation. The vocal, when it arrives, is a deep, throaty, urgent effort, backed by a response of “they’re criminals! They’re criminals!” by the other lads on gang vocals. The song itself, Criminals, it’s called, is a sprint through high-speed street punk rant, with the added bonus of a killer brass part. There’s a sax and a trombone, and their sound could almost be jazz were it not for the context. As it is, it’s straight-up punk rock at its urgent, immediate best: all air punching, chant-along, high speed mayhem. At just over three minutes, this one of the record’s longest tracks, and an immediate favourite. The perfect way to open any record, and, I’ll bet, a fair few of the shows on the European tour that they’re just back from.
Fight for Progress has another fists-up, shout back chorus and a short, sharp little guitar solo that’s a bit of a surprise and instantly addictive. I looped it back three times. The lads on horns get one too, before the tune stops and instantly jumps straight back in, at full volume, to its original chorus and then screeches straight to a halt. Clocking in at less than two and a half minutes, again, it’s adrenaline-fuelled high-speed punk delivered at full throttle.
Too Bad gives a welcome opportunity for a quick breather: it’s an instantly lovable two-tone skank-along, a little like Op Ivy and a lot like something that really should have been on the first Specials album: that rich, deep backing vocal could easily be Neville Staple, and, for one glorious moment, they rhyme “Kings Lynn” with a gang shout, unaccompanied, of “you’re gonna get your fucking head kicked in!” and then kick straight back in to the track, all upstrokes and horns so as your feet can’t stay still. It’s brilliantly good fun, but never loses that gritty punk-rock edge that makes it.
The urgency returns in Broken Record and Rational Pride, a song that, again, evokes so many of the great punk bands. At times, too, it’s almost ska-core, too, and drops out leaving only a snare drum at one point, before sneaking a guitar back in and borrowing, for the second time, from George Orwell’s 1984 and then, inexplicably, a guitar solo that could have come from Thin Lizzy, except it only lasts about ten seconds. Properly punk, that. It’s completely bonkers, but, trust me, it works.
Western World, like so much of the record, is openly political and fuelled by a palpable sense of angst, but it also differs from a lot of the tracks here by starting more gently, and, to an extent, staying there. It starts slowly and builds, but, while it still feels rough and ready, and the vocal is gravelly, and at times the words are almost spat out, it doesn’t take off to the speeds that some parts of the record have reached. It’s the better for that, though. Again the dual vocals and brass are really evident, and again its all put together really well, but it’s less of an all-out assault this time. Bully Boy, almost like Too Bad, is more of a ska song: quick fire vocals and a quicker horn part make this a quicker song, though. It’s a tight little tune, only two minutes long, but packs in a great little horn solo and some thoroughly enjoyable gang vocals to spice up the chorus. Dead Future is next, and a decent little tune, before the surprising, and relatively incongruous, eerie dub intro to This is the System, again a little darker, and again a scurrying, skankable punk/two-tone sprint that celebrates the real joys of this album: its nicely choreographed backing vocals, its short, soaring, horn solos and its catchy little guitar parts. There’s a scream, off mic, that builds to a crescendo at the end of this song and the record’s nearly over. It’s such a gem, this: really enjoyable. 2 Years Conscription wraps the album up: it’s got the lot, this, the fists-in-the-air choruses, the signature horn parts and all the snotty, frustrated, anti-establishment punk rock rage that’s so expertly channelled in to making this song, in particular, really anthemic: think the Grit or the Drop Kick Muphys at their rabble-rousing best, but with horns. The guitar solo is stunning, and the crossfire of question/answer shouted vocals towards the end of the song is great fun. It finishes, and the album with it, with one last blast on the horns. At times Ignorance is This is gritty, and at times it’s frenetic, but it’s actually a little less rough and ready, a little less pure punk certainly than I expected. It’s got two-tone too, and enough great little hooks to make for a catchy thoroughly enjoyable record that’s powered by its incredible adrenaline levels and that goes heavy on the audience participation. It’s packed with hooks, harmonies and riffs. It’s joyous.
Stand out tracks:
Criminals
Too Bad
Western World
This is the System
2 Years Conscription
