Haven’t really rallied from the lurghi totally but nonetheless ventured out on Tuesday night…
To my mind, The Cathouse is perhaps the worst venue in Glasgow. It's a dank, dark and - despite the Rawk vibe - it's a disco where bands of said variety, at a certain level, are cursed with playing when they come to the city. Making the trek on a driech night and getting there while SohoDolls go through a semblance of a soundcheck was never the idea but really, if they hadn't been playing then I'd have "stayed in the hoose". So eventually, at about 8.30-ish, they come on, do a short, sharp set and depart. I can't figure out if this is a good career move or not but they went down OK. Their marriage of “Empires and Dance” type electrocrunch and glam is sweet in the Eric Cartman sense but how do you get a prospective audience to notice. I spoke briefly to their guitar player Toni who says they're about to concentrate on their next album. Let's hope that offers up the necessary options.
And I like Hanoi Rocks but the sound was absolutely fucking awful. Mike Monroe mentioned something about the bus breaking down and making the best of them not soundchecking but this was beyond the pale. We left to catch a train out of Dodge. On one hand to get away from the racket but also to evade Hot Chip and Editors fans who were also packing into town.
The live music cattle market is someplace I have no desire to be anymore. Save for a few excursions to catch acts that I've supported my entire tenure, I'm exiting stage left from the whole sorry shebang. Sod it, some semblance of spiritual fortitude may even ensue. Then again, probably not, but even I wasn’t the oldest codger in the audience and one or two had gone dressed as their grandmother done up like a burst couch. It's unfortunate that we don't have anything akin to the Dirty Water or Debaser experience anywhere around here but them -as people are so fond of telling us - is the breaks.
And woah, you know that things are screwed when it's deemed newsworthy that The Black Crowes and Nas were the victims of bogus reviews in a lifestyle rag. The world has indeed ended. These bastards should be glad that their names make it into print anymore at all far less bleat about it not being cricket. All publicity these days is simply that, it doesn't work because the very nature of much of it is cut and paste advertorial. There's no soul in it. The further up the flagpole it runs, the less use the information actually is. It’s all bollocks. Everything is overloaded, on tilt. The only important filter is your own ability to smell shite when that particular aroma is wafted in your direction.
Can’t you just taste the desperation as the ever-depleting buck slides into the sea?
If the strategy of directing prospective audiences to the show, or to buy the t-shirt is indeed the future then count me the heck out. Who can read the type on cd booklets anyway? And, as for downloads, the only positive thing I can muster about that malarky is at least it doesn’t create landfill. A round of applause for that chill, inclement wind then...