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inspired by plug-in-and-play merchants The Others. So exciting is it for one onlooker that he throws his shirt on stage.The creepy and rather brilliant ‘Bishop of Southwark’ (which sounds like a good, lost Pete Doherty demo) aside, it’s all as silly as suggested by a bassist who looks like she’s in the Manson Family.Twenty of us, four of them, it could be our ‘Sex Pistols moment’. It’s probably not but either way it’s a lot of fun.
BLK JKS. Photography by ELINOR JONES
Lime headed dog The Monarch, Camden 06.05.2009 By Stuart Stubbs ▼
Super Tennis. Photography by OWEN RICHARDS
HEALTH. Photography by Rebecca Smeyne
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www.loudandquiet.com
Lime Headed Dog is a pottier Michacu.With a cock.Which main man (and ex Good Shoe) Joel Cox wants to “staple to the roof of my mouth”. Or at least that’s what he shrieks over ‘Liverpudlian Cathedral’’s wonky steel drums. Pots and pans aside – struck by Cox’s female aid who also toys with the violin, flute and mandolin throughout tonight’s performance – this experimental three are tonight a two, missing their drummer. Cox has laid down his bass, stepped away from the melodious guitar pop of his old group and now finds himself stood behind a small sampler, manipulating the strangests of woozy sounds and trying his hand at singing. Not a smart move. At times – when a wandering glockenspiel seems to soundtrack a cartoon mouse tip-toeing around a larder – Lime Headed Dog are quite lovely, but it doesn’t last and we soon return to what opened tonight’s set – droning loops, instruments played out of tune, and Cox’s shrill, piercing voice, which is simply not up to the job. Programmed, tropical drum sequences momentarily turn The Monarch into a vibrant Notting Hill Carnival (that’ll be the tabletop steel drums), but largely the uncompromising, structure-less music of Lime Headed Dog makes us question why we bothered stepping in north London’s shittest boozer.
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Super Tennis Puregroove, Farringdon 01.05.2009 By Stuart Stubbs ▼
Playing a Friday evening instore when work has barely kicked out is tantamount to flogging a herd of Mexican pigs to Great Ormond Street – bloody hard work. London trio Super Tennis aren’t about to give anything less than their all though as Pure Groove fills with twee pop lovers. An ‘A’ (or Ace, ha!) is promptly awarded for effort, then, as the band begin yelping the single they’re here to launch, ‘Theme Song’. It’s a three-way harmony-yapping boast that welcomes the beginning of a long weekend – much like the first iced beers currently being supped – in a rather lovely way. Nice. But that seems to be where Super Tennis remain: slightly above boring, far beneath exciting, comfortably average. Sharing more than a few traits with kooky funsters Hot Club de Paris – y’know, there’s three of the them, they all sing, play a bit, ‘woo’, ‘waaa’, play a bit more – this is a band admittedly not quite as nauseating as the Liverpool three, but certainly one that could challenge for the annoyance crown if they dropped tracks like the barking ‘Billy Ocean’, which shakes us from our middle distance stare.The witty inter-song banter aside, Super Tennis are more the steady hand of a band seeded 20 than a Grand Slam champ.
65daysofstatic Lock 17, Camden 26.04.2009 By Holly Emblem ▼
In the year 6565 (ad infinitum)... Sorry, in the year 2009, on a choked Sunday night in Camden, 65daysofstatic, along with Tubelord and Amusement Parks on Fire, manage to disrupt the north London Lock’s power and bring darkness to this already rather seedy end of town. However, before skipping to the end… 65daysofstatic close their small tour (six UK dates in total) with an energetic, raucous and heavy
Dingwalls set, but from the very beginning, their fractured, ravefriendly noises are plagued by disruptions. Undeterred by a tenminute break due to a broken Mac lead, the band slay their way through a varied set list, including ‘Retreat! Retreat!’ and ‘Await Rescue’, and venture on and promised new songs to a ferocious crowd.They manage to offer a few minutes of the brand-new-frenzy that is ‘WK4’ before Camden is soon plunged in to darkness, presumably from 65days’ power to, well, ‘bring the mosh’. Credit to the drummer Rob Jones though, who manages to keep restless fans at bay for a few minutes by treating the crowd to a snare-splitting drum solo. Here’s hoping that when they return to London the National Grid is ready for them.
The xx ICA, London 23.04.2009 By Mandy Drake ▼
You no doubt heard the verdict the second is was made, zapped in via a Twitter-er – tonight,The xx are a drab disappointment. Forty minutes before The Big Pink end their very first UK tour, the ICA is the piping hot ticket of the week and iPhone owners are keen to brag of their whereabouts. “OMG,” they tap, “bored now, lurrrve The Big Pink though”. A crackling PA and the band’s crippling shyness only feed the murmurs, sure, but those with one eye on their wireless device, while the other scans the room for Fred from Ox. Eagle. Lion. Man., aren’t making the best of this dulcet set, and they’re missing out.Too stubborn and/or too bashful to play their crowd-pleasing ‘Teardrops’ cover, the four endearing figures on the front of the stage slowly cruise through a set of emotive, hushed pop. Does it drag like so many feel? Yes, in truth it does, but there’s plenty to get excited about too, like Romy’s gruff, velvet voice, James’ quick fingers that dance over his drum pads and ‘VCR’’s outstanding beauty. By the time ‘Crystalised’ airs, mumbles of “yeah,