The Next Big Thing

It's been a slow week in blog terms then... just got back from a few days in "the london". The original schlepp was planned around a trip to see THE SOLUTION at Dingwalls but said show was duly cancelled due to a lack of taste or honour in the venue department. Not sure which exactly but both are equally heinous. Anyway, armed with train tix - we didn't "pull the gig" and set off on a wee adventure which included The Detroit Cobras(again), The Dirty Water Club and The Boogaloo (or the Buglaoo in Sid and Marty Kroft circles. The Kroft Circles would make a good band name, not bad for this time on a Sunday am, eh?)

Anyways, Wednesday was "travel day" and allowed me to consider what had "gone wrong" at The DC show the night before. Oh yeah, it was Rachel's fault... Thursday was Chiswick day and it's reassuring to find that you still can't get anything much to eat between the hours of 2.30 and 5pm down there if what you had in mind wasn't McDonalds. To the Cobras show then and another valiant attempt by the Sonic Reducer boys to keep the whole thing afloat using beer and some old 45's. Another wholly inappropriate support act, The Duke Spirit laid their emptius cackophonous upon us and, well sucked basically. Joss and Joe later reported that the opening band from Glasgow did a better set at the aftershow club in Glasgow, mighta been a bit of rabbit brought upon by "the drink", maybe not. However, The Glesgae mob, Kain were like a breath of fresh air compared to this, new wave of Hazel O' Connor bollocks. The Detroit Cobras were pretty much the same only louder. I like the Electric Ballroom for a show though. What was it down to this time? Em... oh aye, Rachel.

I don't know what this girl is gonna do when they ban smoking in venues. Just stand there bored? She has a great voice and surely it isn't asking to much for some interaction? Even if she was just more obnoxious and confrontational or something but she's the weak link here. Meanwhile, to her immediate left, Mari - the guitar player - is performing for two or more. Like a little terrier rassling with her instrument, she has to overcompensate for R who will do a little shuffle, roll her eyes and make a funny little move with her neck. Even this is good to raise the ante. The other guys in the band keep their ends up too. Paricularly the drummer Dave (who is on loan from The Sights). What he did to deserve this penance isn't clear but he's being punished for something. Heck of a deposit in the karma bank for you sir... It wouldn't take much to make this band really great, to live up to the press release that Geoff Travis wrote for them. They are capable but the main protaganist needs a good hard kick up the arse. Who might be prepared to do that though is another question entirely...

Friday night, we hit up PJ's famed Dirty Water club and it's a fine venue. With a bit of better planning - we'd have been there to see The Scientists a fortnightish before but got there when Black Moses were on. Good name, tired retro - bordering on Kravitz - boogie. They make me wish The Hellacopters were there running a course on how this sorta thing should be tackled. Detroit man, Jawbone on the other hand is an entirely different proposition. A one man twisted blues-bustin' sensation that sees off the competition without actually straining. He's got the chops and the chutzpah and even a grasp of the dynamics that it takes to hold a crowd's attention. He's clearly doomed but won't be going without a fight and who knows. it may even catch on. Support him, support his cause because verily he rocks! Next up is Swearing At Motorists, which I do a bit of myself. Here's a bit of the blurb to set the scene... "the Motorists pack a punch that’s more rock and roll than Jack White would ever want to be. With drummer Joseph Siwinski coming across as a modern day Cheetah Chrome and Doughman’s manic on-stage Pete Townsend as rock’n’roll preacher persona, they’ve beendubbed “the two-man Who” by some sections of the press. Their! songs, however, are heartbreakingly honest songs about the every day, “the soundtracks to the b-movie of my life” says Doughman, and that means there’s plenty of space for melancholy, bittersweet country interludes invoking the legendary names of Hank Williams and Neil Young in amongst the full-on rock’n’roll of the aforementioned Who, AC/DC, New Bomb Turks, etc."

Bollocks. It was evangelical alright. The curly permed misanthrope that fronts the band made this big dramatic entrance and limped into a vapid strop that sent our small band running for the exit. More charisma free retro pish, this time from Ohio. Just say no thankyou... what poor Cheetah did to get his name in this frame is beyond me. As far as I know, Mr o'Connor never looked like a cross between Pete Townshend and John Walters.

The evening closes with the Sonic Reducer boys dragging those record boxes out again for their regular stint up the road at The Boogaloo. Good music in excellent surroundings with people who seem to appreciate it. Another alien concept. Hurrah then, I'm too auld for all this but can't seem to stop myself. Had to miss Dan Baird last night but "ye cannae dae it a'". I gotta go get gas and hit up Tesco now, that's reality for ya.