OFF! @ Old Blue Last

It’s not often that you get to see a living legend in action and it’s even less often that you get to see them for free.  I must admit that I felt a little star struck when I clocked Keith Morris, of legendary hardcore punk bands Black Flag and Circle Jerks, propping up the bar at The Old Blue Last.  He was there to perform a free gig with his new band OFF!

From the moment I walked into the packed out little room I could feel a surge of the kind of energy that I haven’t felt at a gig for a while.  Excitement, awe, expectation.

I always feel a bit of trepidation before I see someone legendary perform.  Are they going to disappoint me?  Are they going to be past their peak?

Keith Morris is looking a little wizened and there’s a bald patch in his trademark dreadlocks but from the moment he looks out into the crowd I know I have nothing to fear.  He’s got a stage presence that’s enthralling.  He’s got an energy that’s intense.  He’s got thirty years of rocking a hardcore audience under his belt.

Some ungrateful heckler yells,

‘Play a squat party!’  as if playing a free gig isn’t enough.  Morris cuts him down to size pretty sharp.  He’s got the witty in-between song repartee down to an art form.

My pal says to me afterwards,

‘I think he talked a little to much.’

Au contraire, my friend.

He talks just the right amount.  He reminds me of a club DJ.  Building it up and letting it drop.  He knows exactly how to work the crowd.

He’s sporting a Gun Club t-shirt.  He tells a story about boozing with his best friend, the now deceased Gun Club frontman, Jeffrey Lee Pierce and with Nick Cave in Shepherd’s Bush, before launching into the song Jeffrey Lee Pierce. What I love about Morris is his genuine passion and sincerity.  He won’t let his friend’s music die and I’m glad there’s someone out there preachin’ the blues because The Gun Club are the best.

OFF!’s songs are short and sharp and full of power.  Like all the best gigs there’s crowd surfing and sweating and yelling (I wake up the next morning with a bruise on my chin).  There’s also a fuckload of photographers, all probably taking better photos than mine but fuck it, here they are:

 

London Fields Radio: Live Sessions Sarah Johns

http://www.mixcloud.com/londonfieldsradio/london-fields-live-sessions-sarah-johns/

Eula

Looking through my band photos there’s about a hundred guys and maybe four women.  Quite frankly, it pisses me off.   I’m not saying I don’t like the dudes.  I love them.  I just want a balance.

That’s why when I discovered Eula through Twitter I was interested in giving them a closer listen.  Right now, there’s a Riot Grrrl revival brewing and Brookyln based female-fronted three piece, Eula, is making the right kind of sounds for these times.

My favourite track is ‘Dirty Hands’ which sounds like what would happen if My Sharona by The Knack if it was re-written by Le Tigre.

If you want them to come to London and play Buffalo Bar then ‘like’ the article below.  AB

http://godisinthetvzine.co.uk/index.php/2011/07/29/preaching-from-the-pews-eula/

Yes Way

Last night, I ventured far from Dalston.  My quest for musical gratification took me all the way to a mythical place they call South London.

I heard tell of some minstrels converging in Peckham Rye.

‘Peckham Rye? No way!’  I said.

‘Yes Way!’ they replied.

My journey left me fatigued and I spent much of the evening in the courtyard replenishing my energy with a beverage they called ‘Red Stripe’.

Behold!  I bring you some images from the event:

Field Day

There’s nothing like a festival to induce an existential crisis:

1) I’ve spent fifty quid and I’m not even drunk.

2) I’m too old for dubstep.

3) All my friends have pissed off to see bands I don’t want to see.

4) There’s an ageing raver trying to tell me how fucking awesome this is,

‘Look at the rainbow man.  It’s a sign from the gods.’  Whatever.

5) The bands are like tiny specks on the horizon.

6) I can’t hear the vocals.

7) It’s raining.

Then I see Factory Floor.  They blow my mind.  I realise that there is a point and the point is music.  AB

Hype Shmyhp

Last night I went on a quest. Riding towards the gherkin on the search for a ground breaking sound, an energetic riff, a heartbreaking melody, a decent idea, a kissable lyric. An unnamed guide on my quest, informed me my quest would be most heartily fulfilled if I turned up at Camp Basement at a reasonable hour. I did. At 8.53.

First off, Colours took the stage. If there was one thing I found in them, it was energy throughout. You can’t beat energy, it’s essential. The mic had the shoe gaze disease- however without the quiet melody to accompany delicate lyrics. So without naming other bands too heavily, Colours sounded vaguely like Sonic Youth towards the end with a touch of the Longpigs in the middle. With a shoe gaze vocal sound.

The night progressed with some speculative standing around. A lot of standing around, changing weight from one foot to the other.

Then, Fair Ohs. The cover star threesome. A threesome who note Paul Simon as one of their key influences, as well as African stuff and some thrash. An exciting theoretical cocktail. Resisting the urge to play Pantera riffs, embarrass their friends and fuck around on stage, they did finally put something together. It seemed to please someone, a few people in fact. But maybe not me. Essentially Fair Ohs went about stripping it all down. Stripping away the thrilling intricacy of their recent record, with it’s woven layers. Perhaps there was too much energy on application, a little too much chutzpah and not enough space for a girl on a quest to get into anything. Buy the record, my final verdict.

The crowd seemed happy, there were smiles and exchanges of conversation. People met other people, and it seemed to be all ticking along. Then, then someone played Oasis. What would you have done? Option 1. Embrace and throw hands in the air. Option 2. Cover mouth and hide reflex. Option 3. Go outside for a cigarette with disgrace all over your pout.

The headlining act, Warm Brains were ok. I guess maybe I was imagining something more structured for the attention the four piece have been receiving. There were pieces of brilliance, however it was buried in something so formulaic I can’t remember where one song ended and another began. Again, the push was absolutely there, but the dexterity to control it into something marvellous was on vacation.

It leaves me remaining on said quest. The quest to find a garage band who are brave enough to show their true lyrical colours, without the need of vocal effects. A band with an idea. An idea to break that sound, a sound that is fast becoming derivative. Furthermore, a band who can curtail all that punk energy into something truly thrilling.

Send it in, if you think you’ve got it.

BB

Words: BB

Pics: AB