Sonic Boom Six, Moral Dilemma, Mike TV, Gecko

 

Borderline, London

 

16^th July 2010

 

Jamie

 

It’d be rude, I suppose, to look a gift horse in the mouth.  When Craig out of Moral Dilemma paused during their set to thank the Sonic Boom Six for having them play this show, he summed up the mood in the Borderline so succinctly, so eloquently, that he effectively wrote my opening paragraph for me.  That’s a privilege usually reserved for Josh Waters Rudge, but we’ll make an exception for Craig, seeing as he hit the proverbial nail so squarely on the head.

 

I think his exact words were:

 

“It’s great to be here tonight, on a bill where every single band is completely different and somehow representative of tonight’s headliners Sonic Boom Six.. give it up for Sonic Boom Six”

 

It’s difficult to elaborate on that without repeating exactly what he’s said, really, but the sheer quality throughout tonight’s bill is worthy of a mention.  Scratch that, it’s worthy of two minutes’ silence in awe and reverence.  This day has been marked in my diary, literally and figuratively, ever since Barney mentioned it almost as an aside in a note to the SB6 email list.  “oh, and support comes from Gecko, Mike TV and Moral Dilemma.  Should be a good’un.”  Or something.

 

Yes, Barnyard, it should, and no mistake.  I can’t have been the only one counting the days for this one.

 

Gecko opened at 19:15, sparking a mad rush amongst the Bananatown crew.  We’re mad keen on this lot, and would’ve been gutted to miss them.  As it was, we lucked out and legged it down the stairs just as they played the first bars of What You Gonna Do?.

 

The Borderline is another strangely appropriate venue, very Gecko.  I’m sure it’s been done up recently, and, again our pet sophisticates take the stage in front of the apparently customary red velvet curtain.  There’s an easy going, summery vibe in the room early on, and Gecko’s laid back yet uplifting acoustic ska-pop is the perfect sound track to the start of the evening: it’s refreshingly clear and sounds stunning over the big PA.  The band are clearly in confident form and totally slay the early crowd, and it is a crowd, with their unique and innovative tunes and witty, incisive lyrics. 

 

Again it’s noticeable how people discovering them for the first time react to some of the more amusing lines, like “go to the bookshop” in The Library, or “makes me fly like a kestrel” in the bonkers yet ridiculously charming Guanabana Juice.  A quick glance around the room and you’ll always see smiling faces crack in to a surprised laugh at these moments.  I recommend it – it’s always fun to watch that.  Gecko’s cover of OutKast’s Miss Jackson is well received again, and the whole set is a refreshing tonic after a frenetic week and panicked sprint from bus stop to cash point to venue.  Arriving just in time for their set was an absolute highlight, and they’re on stunning form.

 

New Leaf is a treat, and, by the time Gecko play I Got Time and The Library, there’s a floor-wide, shoulders-down, smiling, relaxed skank going on.  The speed can turn up and down, but the mood remains the same: that uplifting, calming happiness that accompanies them everywhere.

 

It’s a while since I’ve had the pleasure of watching Mike TV, but it is still an absolute joy.  The cheeky-chappie pop-punkers amble on to stage and introduce themselves in a brash, confident manner before suddenly confessing to being extremely hung over, admitting they’re at a loss for things to say and deciding they’ll just play songs.  As enjoyable as their tunes are, that would take something away from the charm of watching these lads in concert, but, unsurprisingly, it doesn’t happen: they’re full of chat, and packed with jokes.  There’s the predictable sex banter from Jhon*, which ends up being directed at one young lad in particular and descends, as you’d expect, in to a crossfire of nob-gags between the guys and a fistful of wiseguys at the very front.  It’s entertaining stuff and keeps the evening moving along nicely.  Perhaps the funniest gag, though, goes undetected by many because it’s delivered quickly and totally deadpan.  “thank you to You Me At Six.  They’re nice guys and we haven’t played with them in a while.”  Read it again and see if you notice.  Genius, no?

 

They announce themselves with the thoroughly enjoyable Count-In and Favourite Foe from their self-titled album.  It’s a party-starting, pogo-making pop-punk, all harmonies and chunky guitar riffs.  The sound, for the record, is bigger and stronger since the added Sally Gunnell as an extra guitarist, and she joins in on vocals too, so the harmonies are pimped out with four different voices and they sound properly mint.  Dumbfuck, next, is the song that’s dedicated to the SB6, and Mike TV by now Mike TV are at the chipper, chirpy, entertaining best, bouncing around the stage to the cheering melodies in their joyous, poppiest-of-pop-punk tunes.  Lie Low, Lilo, wryly topical now, of course, is a hit, and, like so many of their, songs, impossible not to love.  Paperthin, one of my favourites, is up next, before the guys wrap up a short, but cheekily sweet set with Toodlepip and the punchy, riff packed When Push Comes to Shove, another perfect little song loaded with instantly lovable harmonies, perfectly executed, and punctuated with punchy little riffs.  It’s even got a brilliantly full on breakdown, just in case there was anyone else not rocking out, and not grinning like a fool.  On this form, it’s impossible to take your eyes off of Mike TV.

 

Moral Dilemma are a very good band, and they’re great at what they do, but they’re not my bag and it was baking downstairs.  I went out for a cider and to hang with my friends.

 

Sufficiently cooled, I was at the top of a new pint when the Sonic Boom Six take the stage, but that cider disappeared pronto (in my mouth, and not on to the floor), as the opener, Arcade Perfect, became Bigger Than Punk Rock.  We all ended up right at the front, actually and it was easy enough, but that must have happened in the nick of time, because, by the time Laila sang “and in the spaces between..” for the first time, there was a pit opening up right behind us: one that got bigger and messier through the course of the evening.

 

Pleasingly, though, just like the last time I saw the guys, it was only really aggressive for a few moments now and then.  Considering the heat and how rammed it was, we coped well. During The Road to Hell is Paved With Good Intentions , to be honest, there’s absolutely no room.  It’s a good job I was with our crew, but we’re stacked as tight as you can get, chest to back and knee to knee, getting bounced up and down by someone out there somewhere and swapping sweat in the process.  You know the thing: where it’s tough to get your hands up in the air and someone’s hair is stuck to your face by someone else’s sweat.  For all that a quick breather and hello from the band were a welcome relief this, all the same, is surely the most fun it’s possible to have.  Bang, bang, bang, bang!** comes next and there’s another pause and a mini-announcement.

 

This was announced beforehand, but, in case you missed it, Jimmy T Boom can play the trombone, and, for good measure, the Boom have borrowed Dave out of Kids Can’t Fly on sax.  One of the most endearing things about these guys, after all, has always been that they invite and pay genuine heed to comments from their own fans.  That Craufurd Arms gig was one of the best I’ve seen, yet still they’ve taken notice of comments telling them two things:

 

1.      The absence of a horn section was a shame.

2.      SB6 fans like hip hop.

 

Throughout, then, Dave is in on tenor sax, and the effect is mint.  I’m scraping the barrel and I think it’s six years since I saw the SB6 play a full show with a saxophonist.  It’s a woodwind instrument, after all, and it’s not the same as adding a trumpet, say, to the trombone.  Well done all.  It’s back to the album Arcade Perfect for Meanwhile, Back in the Real World and Sound of a Revolution, greedily gobbled up by a bonkers crowd.  It was so much fun to chuck my body lengthways back in to that mess and just see where I ended up.  Predictably, I guess, you get sent everywhere, and picked up and spun around and sent back again.  Manic.  The gentler, more skankable Through the Eyes of a Child at last lets some cold air in to our shins and feet, we have a talk, and then it’s time for something that surely noone could have expected.  Barney apologises for having played it on CD over the speakers earlier on and then the Sonic Boom Six play Roots Manuva’s Witness the Fitness.  You want hip hop?  You got hip hop.  To top it off, if anything, Don’t Say I Never Warned Ya was even unlikelier.  The room goes nuts, bouncing, to a man, and then they do Monkey See Monkey Do and Piggy in the Middle.  It was tough down there, I can tell you, but you can only love every second of watching this lot in concert.  It always goes off, and it’s always good.

 

These days it’s kept interesting, of course, by the new faces, guests or permanent fixtures, in the band and the ever changing set list: tonight’s certainly had that, and also by the way they’ve had to select the tunes, adapting them where necessary, to fit a new line-up.  It works really well, though, and is brilliant fun to watch.

 

As if I proof were needed of that versatility, While You Were Sleeping, Northern Skies and then the barmy Strange Transformations are played back to back.  It’s almost over, alas, and there’s a club night here afterwards so we all have to get out (hate it when that happens) so there’s only time for two more.  Puretone’s Addicted to Bass was a massive hit on the last tour, so that comes out as well, before The Rape of Punk to Come finishes off the night and, by the looks of it, half the room.

 

“I always know it’s been a good show”, Laila said later on, “when someone loses their voice.  And you’re about the fourth person I’ve seen tonight who’s lost their voice”.

 

I could only croak in reply to that, standing massaging my neck as she kindly wrote her name on my ticket.  As a unit of measurement, I guess a count of speechless fans is fairly reliable.  Doubtless a few were just left stunned as well, and some of us, battered, soaked in sweat and shouted out of our voices, can vouch for the fitness, we’ve um.  Nah, I can’t, it’s too cheesy.  But you know what I mean.  We’re proof of the incendiary quality of another stunning show and a great night all around.

As an aside, the Borderline is nice and central too, which means it’s easy for just about everyone to get to.  So you get to see these shows with almost all of your friends.  As if it needed improving.

 

 

Footnotes:

 

*I feel it worth mentioning, if not interrupting the serious business of reviewing the show, that Jhon’s twitter is one of the most entertaining things on the internet.

 

**Bang, bang, bang, bang mixes impossibly well with this song by the Vengaboys.  Try it.  Swap the bangs and booms.