Good Shoes + Wild Palms (matinée) - The Stag's Head - 22/01/10

I was fortunate enough to nab myself and Amy - best mate and partner in crime on Wired Radio - a couple of press passes to see Good Shoes celebrate the launch of their new album, No Hope No Future in the third of four evenings at local hackney boozer, The Stag's Head.

They've been a bit quiet after having reached #55 in the UK album charts with the wonderfulThink Before You Speak in 2007. They've had a shuffle in management and, no doubt, the recession is partly to blame somewhere along the line (it nearly always is) but this gig certainly proved that they were still as fresh and fiesty as ever.

The Stag's Head is a venue much underrated. Situated at the back of a cosy public house (complete with fireplace) the place was filled with trendy but down-to-earth punters and the ocassional cheeky local. The room was teeny, but wonderfully intimate rather than cramped or uncomfrotable. Whether this was also true of the night-time performance later that evening is another story. The acoustics of the place were also surprisingly good - very refreshing after last night's prog-metal headache.

Post-punk art-schoolers Wild Palms provided the support for the night, and a mighty fine job they made of it too. They made up for any comparable deficiencies in footwear with their Brick Lane-approved jumpers and dashing good looks. Oh, and their music wasn't bad either. The lead singer had a beautiful set of lungs on him, with the reverb effect adding to the hypnotic feel of their sound. He also managed to simultaneously play the synth/drum machine with great skill to form a jam with the rest of the band who were equally skilled and good looking.



Their debut single release, 'Over...time' was exciting, dark and without a whiff of pretntiousness. It's available for free download here and I highly recommend you do!

With refreshingly little kafuffle, Good Shoes then took to the stage. They looked slightly more frayed at the edges than their 2007 selves, but this was more like a new maturity than being 'past it'. The quality of their shoes certainly did not disappoint me, with the lead guitarist clearly ruling the roost with his impressive hi-top sneakers.



Musically, they were absolutely superb. Their new songs were just as great as their old ones, with Under Control already half way to becoming a major indie hit. The sparkling sounds of the lead guitar bounced off Rhys' strums, the bass and the finely-tuned sounds of the drummer to create a fresh bouncing sound not without a certain level of darkness to keep it interesting.



Full of energy even after their fifth performance in three days, these guys only disappointed in that their set didn't last for long enough!

Good Shoes' new album is available here for the princely sum of £8.99 or at the gig itself. Tickets for tonight's show will be available on the door if you get there early enough!

Mr Ron Jetson & Acquaintances - The Amersham Arms - 21/01/10

The Myspace page of Mr Ron Jetson gives little away. However, the claim that he sounds like 'Chris Martin being fucked up the arse by satan' coupled with rumours that he was a 'hottie' was enough to get me down The Amersham Arms on this chilly evening.

I sadly missed the opportunity to see Mr Ron himself, though those of you familiar with my radio show - Untried and Untested (Tue 7-9pm) - may have managed to catch an earful of him last Tuesday as I played the cheeky ‘Femme Fatale'. It's just the right blend of artschool comedy and actual musical skill.

Arriving just shy of 10pm, the band usually known as Nought had renamed themselves Womblout for the ocassion in order to treat us to an extended experimental jam. The noise they were making certainly demonstrated a certain level of skill, but their amps were up so LOUD. Call me old and past-it if you want,but I really reckon turning down the levels to just below deafening would have allowed me to listen to them properly without feeling like I was self-harming.

As a result, this fairly well-attended room kept well clear of the stage (aside from a few headbanging mad-experimental types round the edges). This might have somewhat explained the band's apparent disregard of their listeners as they entered into an utterly self-indulgent 20-minute act of musical masturbation. Utterly experimental and in all senses ‘free', any music they were producing was sadly covered by a layer of distorted mess.

My fag break signalled a breakpoint, but upon my return DJ Tommy Two Screens had taken to the decks. He provided a refreshing blend of funky ska, mixing classics like The Specials' Ghost Town with some more obscure tunes that nontheless kept the crowd dancing.

Up next was experimental blues/metal duo Dead Days Beyond Help . I feared another headache, but these guys were rather more forgiving. Unlike the previous band, they had the courtesy to make music with a definitive start and end point! I was pretty impressed by how tight they were as they accomplished some great feats of synchronised silence. Alex Ward's guitar riffs somehow managed to groove bluesily through its distorted metal sound, whilst Jem's frantic drumming incorporated ska and even indie-pop elements to create a pretty unique sound. Unfortunately it wasn't quite my scene, but kudos needs to be given to the guys (as well as Tommy Two Screens) for giving the punters a fresh and unusual gig experience.

'Access Denied!' is Dead Days Beyond Help's debut album and is available from Copepod Records, their own indie label

The Fiery Furnaces + Pete Um @ Cargo - 08/10/09

The Fiery Furnaces played their first London gig for two years this evening at Cargo - Shoreditch's prime music hangout.
At 8pm, Cambridge-based electro-poet and all-round decent guy, Pete Um, took to the stage as support.

Having seen the chap perform various times, I expected this tame-looking London crowd to be weirded out by his eccentric and passion-stuffed performance, but they took to him very well! Fortunately this was a crowd that was prepared to listen (and even laugh!) at what Pete had to say, with appreciative head nods during ‘Evil', an old classic, and ‘Understand', one of Pete's new tunes.



The pre-gig nerves wore off quickly and Pete pulled off a great set - a change to previous ‘disaster’ gigs he claimed to have performed at Cargo previously.

The Fiery Furnaces have been kicking around since 2000 and it was quite plain to see that through the battered and crusty-looking male audience they attracted. There certainly were enough of them to completely pack out Cargo, though.



The frontlady, bedecked in double denim and shrouded by a shaggy fringe cut, was quite captivating, with vocals ranging from slow, drawn out phrases to Joni Mitchell-esque speed-speaking. The bass guest-played by Jason Lowenstein (of Sebadoh fame) was growling, slick and eminent of The Stranglers, which was accompanied nicely by the rim-click savvy rhythmic musings of the drummer.

The songs were a far cry from the standard verse-verse-chorus formula we've come to expect, with break-downs, jams, tempo-changes and time-signature explorations commonplace around every corner. Only ocassionally did it seem self-indulgent, as some of their ‘hit’ songs were played with so much that the audience could not follow them.

The sound was intriguing. Their post-punk funky vibe hailed influence from The Banshees, Au Pairs, Joni, Skunk Anansie and The Slits amongst others. However, as they seamlessly rolled their songs into each other I began to find that their music was quite unchanging. Much of their new material sounded very similar, with only ‘Drive to Dallas’ really grabbing my attention.



The band were tight, dynamic and original-sounding, but after about 5 songs I realised their sound proceeded no further. I watched them soldier through 1.5 hours of the same noise, with my nitial excitement at their fresh sound petering steadily into apathy.

Massive Attack - Brixton 02 Academy - 19/09/09

It's been 18 years since the release of Massive Attack's debut LP Blue Lines, and nearly 3 since '100th Window' hit our ears. Now, minus the presence of Andrew 'Mushroom' Vowles, but armed with the promise of a brand new album for 2010, The Wild Bunch performed for the third and final consecutive night at Brixton's 02 Academy.

What struck me first about the venue was how civilised the whole place was. There were a few small and orderly queues for toilets and merchandise, but otherwise the place was uncrowded and completely relaxed. The arena itself offered a unique blend of space and intimacy. The sloped floor leading to Brixton's huge stage meant that a good view could be had from almost any spot in the room, reducing the need for elbow-bargy bitchiness at the barrier (although admittedly that kind of behaviour does have its place in certain gig circles!).

After a few drinks the support act came on. Martina Topley Bird, complete with perm and sparkly outfit, failed to impress me. The songs of this soul-less Goldfrapp, middle-aged La Roux or self-conscious OMD started and stopped without a discernable beginning or end, and no one tune was particuarly distinguishable from the others. The sound engineering for the first couple of songs was pretty awful too, but once this was sorted the band seemed mundane at best. They warm up a little towards the end of the set, with their last two songs taking a rockier, drum-centric edge, but by then they had already lost the interest of the audience. We were simply too eager to see the band we'd paid £30 for.



After a refreshingly short break, Massive Attack finally graced the Academy's titanic stage. There was no repeat of the previous act's sound issues. With two drummers, DJ, synth, bass and cacophony of vocalists amongst the line-up, the band were on top form. Massive Attack got the balance between fresh new sounds and crowd-pleasing classics just right. It was great to see Daddy G back in on the action and engaging in some quality audience interaction - 'This is dedicated to all the starving models in the world' - as well as performing alongside some rather funky guest singers. Disappointingly, Damon Albarn did not make a repeat appearance (he turned up on friday) but the roots-reggae greatness of Horace Andy more than made up for this. I was sceptical of Martina's vocal presence in some of the songs (including the seminal 'Teardrop') but aside from her attention-seeking tottering about the stage she did a pretty good job.



To my delight, the guys played 'Future Proof'. As a 14-year old I used to light incense and meditate to 100th window, and hearing this played granted me a nostalgic epiphany that took me right back to 2004. The absolute climax, however, came during 'Angel', the first track from the phenomenal 'Mezzanine' where I lost myself completely in the shuddering bass and beams of light. MA are undoubtedly still on form, but I doubt if they will ever reach the dizzying musical heights they reached on that album again.

The accompanying lightshow that night was beautiful. Old school stereo-style 'strip' lighting was used on the backdrop, with displays ranging from red and white sparkles to videos of anti-war marches and even live 'trash' news feeds. This was paired with some rather impressive 'beam'-style lighting reminiscent of a sea anemone a la Blue Planet, which granted the songs a visual as well as an aural climax.



The gig was absolutely fantastic, with the boys fiercely defending any suggestion that they're too old for this business. Their new music was exciting and their old classics still held strong. Like 100th Window, new songs from the '5th LP' seem a lot more centred around smooth synth sounds and vocals rather than their previous tendency towards a heavier, more rhythmic approach.

It was a totally inspiring evening. I really wanted to ignore the fact that playing at the 02 Academy was totally hypocritical when set against all the jibing anti-capitalist messages that they spread across their backdrop and more subtly in their tunes. This occurred to me during 'Unfinished Sympathy' and as a result I don't think it will ever have quite the same resonance.

Notting Hill Carnival - 30/08/09

Since moving to Cambridge, I managed to miss the to the whistle-blowing, sweet corn-charring, booty-shaking bass-trembling extravaganza that is Notting Hill Carnival for the last few years. Boarding the 436X bus, whose sole purpose was to transport the South Londoners to the carnival that day, I found myself aboard a single-decker bubbling with excitement. Sunday being family day, the carnival kids were already blowing their whistles in anticipation. Meanwhile, I found myself sandwiched between a group of plum-mouthed sloanes who were unafraid to loudly describe their experience ‘on weed’ and express their awe at ‘how very ethnic’ the bus was. I’m pretty sure I saw those same girls huddled nervously by the piles of polystyrene goat curry leftovers and coconuts later that day.



After the long and uncomfortably warm bus journey, we finally arrived at a place those Chelsea girls termed ‘high street ken’ and the crowds began. A brief walk past the police stop-and-search, whistle touts and hideously expensive houses Hugh Grant would be proud of and I was plunged into the smoke of barbecued jerk chicken and the metallic ting of repetitive soca rhythms. The festival was already in full swing. The first sound system I came across played a variety of black music anthems, ranging from modern R’n’B to Garage, Dancehall to Break beat, with a homage to Michael Jackson thrown in for luck. The crowd was pretty mixed and also a pretty friendly bunch. I inevitably ended up spending a good portion of my dancing dimes there.

The dancehall sound system a bit further down was playing some pretty fresh sounds, but the proportion of attitude-donning rude-boys made it a little less comfortable to dance to. I found a really great sound system playing some drum n bass and funky house, but there were strangely few folk dancing - possibly because the MC had a habit of jumping on and forcibly dancing with anyone who dared nod a head in appreciation. I danced from a distance before moving to a system where I could get closer the bass bins without fear of attack.



By far the most popular system was being run by 1xtra’s ‘Rampage’, who was spinning out all the latest RnB ‘hits’ with a few summer classics thrown in. This crowd in particular made me feel pretty old, and for once I was proud to be, as these lot still seemed too immature to let themselves go and get into the . Attempting to nip down Portabello road, I forgot just how massive the festival was. A tip to check out KCC on Wornington Road was sadly dismissed as moving anywhere with any kind of speed was pretty out the question. It had a top afternoon and emerged completely exhausted and sticky with sugar cane. In hindsight I wish I’d made a note of the Djs spinning the sound systems, but I was too busy dancing!

Labrynth Reunion - Hidden - 08/08/09

Old Skool, Drum n Bass and Jungle have been a staple of my musical upbringing. I remember dancing to the stuff in between playing power rangers and eating carrot sticks and hummous at pre and post-rave parties throughout my childhood as well as listening to North London pirate radio stations and, later on, nicking my parents' mixtapes for my Sony walkman. Labrynth was a household name along with the likes of Raindance, Sunrise and Tribal Gathering since the early 90s, so it felt a little weird to me that, 15 years since the last one, this was my first time.

After some house party madness and a hefty tube ride to kick up the pre-rave excitement, we reached Hidden, situated under Vauxhall's magic arches. The area has a buzzin' nightlife I'd never really known about , although admittedly most seemed the up-market, overpriced cocktail-sipping type that I don't normally go for. After some hassle where the club took a stupid amount of time to acknowledge the guestlist queue, we wangled our way in. The place had only been open for an hour but it was already packed out with the music thumping in every corner. A quick scout round established 3 rooms - jungle/heavy DnB ('Originals') for the hard core, house for the softer core nostalgia ('Loyalists') and old skool classics/hardcore for those somewhere in between ('Legends').


Then: Ravers at 12 Dalston Lane, '93

The rooms were dark, the place was buzzin' and I had to dance to the sickeningly great choons - who cares if we've heard this one already? Our group naturally split as we found our sound of preference, but it didn't really seem to matter. You only had to glance around to find a friendly face. DJs, MCs, Promoters and other big names on the Rave scene were naturally mingled with regular punters - some of whom tried their own hand on the mic or dancing behind (or indeed on top of) the decks. I even had a little banter with Adrian Age and Chalky White myself. The old skool room was especially inclusive, with the DJ booth placed between sets of stairs leading up to the balcony for a real connection between music makers and appreciators. There was no sign of any 'VIP' elitism or cliques and friends were made very easily. By the end of the night I felt I knew everyone - not at all like the usual, slightly hostile or predatory vibe you get at regular, drink-orientated nightclubs: this is even considering that the vast majority of Labrynth attendees were blokes!


Now: Ravers at Hidden, 2009

I can't believe I've gotten this far and not yet properly mentioned the music! My group were pretty split on what room they preferred, but I spent most of my time in the Old Skool room. The House room (in the middle and by the entrance) was a little too crowded and bright for my liking and although I loved the heavy beats in the jungle room, the energy generated in there made it way too hot to stay in for long. All the soundsytems were massive, and the bass was heavy enough to make my hair stand on end. DJ Ellis Dee , Slip Matt and Billy Bunter did it for me especially, as they pumped out classic after classic that got everyone's horns and hands up in appreciation. The trademark deep synth sounds of old skool sent shivers from my ears to my spine and time just flew by. Pretty soon they were playing 4 o'clock (in the Morning). I used the loo, grabbed some water, talked crap to people who were happy to reiprocate whilst cooling down outside and had a little rave. All of sudden Billy Bunter was shouting "One More?!" and it was 7am. One More fortunately became Four More, with legendary Valley of the Shadows and Incredible being among their number.

I left the club at around half seven and stepping into the bright sunlight with basslines and piano licks still ringing in my eardrums was a very surreal experiences. I had sweated, smiled, blew my whistle and danced myself silly and bloody loved it! I didn't yet ache (that was to come later) and spent the rest of the day talking rubbish and reliving the night. Rumour has it there's to be a Christmas 09 special - watch this space!

THE 12TH BIG NIGHT @ CARGO - 16/07/09 - United Vibrations + Nathan 'Flutebox' Lee + Kalakuta + MCs/DJs

The Big Issue , following recent trends set by OXJAM and Bollocks to Poverty, are now in the habit of fundraising in the form of running gigs across the country . With previous lineups in London brimming with impressive household names - The Levellers, The Noisettes, Adrian Sherwood and *shudder* The Alabama 3 being among them - it is a wonder as to why these monthly events aren't more popular.

When this month's event was brought to my attention I was very excited. I'd seen Nathan 'Flutebox' Lee before at WOMAD last year and he blew my mind with his beatastic musical multi-tasking. Adding to the tantalisation, TBI's Facebook page boasted "Afro Beats, Hip-Hop, Inspiring Spoken Word and rib shaking live dance rhythms." so I was all ready to grab my pint and shake my booty...and all in the name of a good cause!

United Vibrations, part of lefty musical collective 12tonewere first to take the stage. As the supposed headliners, this confused me somewhat. I was informed that Cargo-ers tended to go to bed early on weekdays, so it gets busiest at around 9pm. Fortunately I had already been nicely warmed up by the funky hip-hop beats of DJ Snuff (not to mention a rather potent bottle of cider. I was ready to enjoy myself, but nothing was to prepare me for what I heard next.



Operating as Vocals, Drums, Bass, Sax and Trombone, this very attractive band produced an equally amazing sound. The beautiful harmonic bassline worked so well that I only twigged two songs into their set that they had no guitarist. In addition, the drummer was awe-inspiring, bashing out fast-paced funk rhythms with flawless movement between afro-cuban rhythms, varying tempos and even time signature. Saxophonist Wayne talked about his disregard of the need to conform to musical genre restrictions and indeed, it felt like I was listening to Miles Davis, Gil Scott Heron, Jimi Hendrix and Ray Baretto all at the same time. Catchy shouted hooklines like 'I know who I am/Do you know who you are?' gave this tight group of musicians a delicious political edge.


After an unfairly short set (simply because of the massive lineup!) came Nathan 'Flutebox' Lee. Just as I remembered, he put on a great show. The audience loved him and I couldn't move for the number of cameraphones being waved at him. Joined by Skrein to provide some of the bassier, darker tones he got the whole crowd crotch-grabbing and arm waving as best they could. Their version of Knightrider (click link for video) was definitely my favourite of the night!



What followed proved to be a little disappointing. I'm sure Riz MC, shortMAN and Mic Righteous had very profound and creative things to say - Riz has even performed with the likes if Nitin Sawnhey and Plan B! - but with the room slowly emptying it was very difficult to get into it, especially after being so furiously warmed up by the previous two acts. MCs are not neccessarily something you can dance to and the waning crowd just weren't in the mood to listen.

Cargo is a lovely place, but I felt it was a bit mismatched to the music vibe The Big Issue crew were trying to project. Holding an anti-capitalist, revolutionary and politically charged energy was difficult in a venue normally reserved for the Shoreditch prat. It didn't help that the room was also half-empty for the majority of the night. I felt so sorry for the poor MCs performing in front of us and about 10 other people and couldn't help thinking that their message would be more appreciated were they back at previous haunt at Proud.

The Big Issue are making these gigs a monthly venture. They have great acts and a great venue - all they really seem to need are great numbers of people. Get your welly down there next month - it'll be fun and it's for a very worthy cause!

Placebo + General Fiasco @ iTunes music festival, Roundhouse, Camden.

So iTunes have jumped on the music festival bandwagon in their pursuit of world domination with iTunes Live. The concept of free tickets at first seems amazing, but, ever the sceptic, it did leave me wondering what iTunes hoped to get from it.

After pretending to be some bloke called Jasper, who I bought the ticket off for a tenner, I entered the Roundhouse slightly drunk and just in time to position myself nicely for General Fiasco. I was immediately struck by how very corporate everything felt. I guess I should have been unsurprised, it being an iTunes wankfest and all, but the place seemed completely souless and had a very different vibe to the last gig (The Manic Street Preachers) I saw there a few weeks previous. There were professional cameras filming the whole thing, which was being projected on Glastonbury-style screens all around the venue. We were also excitedly reminded over the speakers at least twice that 'OMG UR GONNA BE ON TV GUYS!'.

I quickly realised the first flaw in the iTunes festival idea. With the ticket allocation supposedly random, it meant the audience were much less 'fans' and much more 'I'm only going because it's free'. Clearly this is a clever idea concocted by iTunes to get more people 'into' music and attending gigs, thus lubricating the company machine with a bit more lovejuice. Whilst the gig was free, I'm guessing iTunes hoped it would encourage the everyday person to become regular gig-goers in future. Whilst good for the music industry, it did mean that the audience were much less excitable. I expected to be squished silly from the get-go as people struggled to get close to Molko & co., but found myself positively roomy.

General Fiasco, whose name I'd vaguely heard before and, Placebo being the great crowd pleasers they are, assumed they would be at least somewhat interesting. However, they turned out to be a complete disappointment. They churned out monotonous indie that seems to have no discernable change after stopping one 'song' and apparently starting another. I thought it might just be my age, but none of the neon-and-sunglasses-toting 15-year olds I was surrounded by seemed to be into it either, with even a few heckles and sighs in the quieter bits. I was beginning to worry whether my teen idols were going to live up to my expectations I'd so nostalgically preserved.



Young crowd

After a refreshingly quick changeover between bands, Brian, Stefan and Steve took to the stage looking as attractive as ever. Unlike certain rock band old-timers *cough* Blur *cough* they had matured well, with a smarter vintage look making them more Thin White Duke than Ziggy Stardust. The dark bassy tones of Kitty Litter made the previously numb audience erupt into life.



From that moment on I was sucked in. Placebo played lots of music from new album Battle For The Sun, which I was quite grateful for. Any more hits and I might have squashed the poor 15-year old girls in front of me into disrepair. To my absolute delight they played Special K and Taste in Men, which persuaded me to go in search of the tickets in the first place. I think I showed my age at that point, as I was clearly more familiar with Black Market Music than the younger ones around me. I liked the fact that we were so packed into each other that I had to decide whether I wanted my arms up or down for the duration of the next song as the finished the last one, though some of the more crushable ones seemed less keen!

The show they put on was truly great, maintaining a massive energy through the set. They were musically very tight and clearly had a soundman who knew his stuff. When I wasn't gaping at Brian's awesome stagemanship, Steve's animalistic shakes of bleach blonde hair, Stefan's beautiful arms and the stunning stage visuals (including old footage of a Bollywood star and war scenes) were more than enough to keep me entertained.

The gig ended with everyone wanting more. Placebo gig virgin, I naturally assumed that Nancy Boy would see us on our way, but no. In fact, they didn't play anything from that first album. Given that they've been bashing it out for over 13 years now, I really don't really blame them! If only other bands *cough* Blur *cough* would learn to do the same.

I left the gig sweaty, exhausted and thankful for fresh air. An amazing piece of nostalgia maturely developed into a band that are still producing interesting music.

STILL - THE LEXINGTON - 02/06/2009

After a sweltering day selling bikes and successfully trying to purchase goldfish in Camden town, I was all but ready to embrace the cool musical offerings the Lexington had to offer as part of its new music night – STILL.

Despite being billed as headliners, Spindle & Wit - up-and-coming London post-folk outfit – were unaccountably on first. They were fresh and vibrant with their tightness only occasionally compromised by some slightly dodgy vocal harmonies, thought that was probably more the fault of the soundman than anything else. With a banjo and violin making up 2 of the instruments in this rather young and attractive 5-piece, the band gave an original and passionate performance. Their sound is very much part of the current London music scene – some say the credit crunch, global warming or even the Irish are to blame for resurgence of folk music amongst the middle class yoof of Britain.Jeremy Warmsley,Kill It Kid and the more mainstream likes of Arcade Fire or even Nick Cave are all solid examples of this return to the grassroots approach, complete with rolled-up shirt sleeves and tight –belted trousers. It was early, but the little red room in Angel’s trendiest whiskey bar was busy and not without its fair share of leg wobbles and head nods. Spindle and Wit’s set was teasingly short but left everyone in anticipation of what the rest of the night might bring.

The next act on, however, were so mellow that it undid all the excitement whipped up so well by the previous act.Snowbird, a young American vocalist and her slightly older and balder pianist/drum machine operator were no doubt talented (he performed the entire set with eyes closed and expressions of ecstasy flashing across his face – now that’s multi-tasking!), but seemed much more suited as an opening act rather than sitting awkwardly in the middle of the bill. Stephanie’s voice was hypnotic with resonances of Joni Mitchell and Tori Amos nestled within her sweet warbling sound. Simon (of former Cocteau twins fame) and his entrancing keyboard melodies complimented her sound nicely. She was so good that I was willing to overlook the often nauseating lyrics, but dear god THAT DRUM MACHINE. Viewing the drum machine as one of my natural enemies as I do anyway, the soul-less hissing ringing from Simon’s Macbook sat smugly atop his Yamaha was enough to send the most sympathetic muso loopy (excuse the pun). Fortunately the duo performed half the set unaccompanied, and was all the better for it.

Last to grace the stage were Danny and the Champions of the World. I had assumed that the name was some sort of ironic illusion to the Roald Dahl classic, but as the performance wore on, it seemed to reflect their attitude quite accurately. Lashings of Lute and Flute combined with a charismatic Johnny Cash-type as front-man made the band interesting - and MY LORD could the drummer thwack out a tasty beat. For the first song or two this seemed to work for them quite well. However, the mass amalgamation of egos resulted in all of Danny’s songs finishing in a drawn out, overplayed, sped up then slowed down orgy of sound. The group often made a circle as they furiously tried to outplay each other - in much the same way a public school boy takes part in the ‘soggy biscuit game’ and just as unpleasant to watch. The band played faster and more frantically as the room grew frostier. The air conditioning in there seemed to be working rather too well, it seemed, and unfortunately turned what started off as a really exciting night into something that left me fairly cold.