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It’s a Drowned in Sound day so the venue is awash with students. I say awash, it’s far from full. This is a FREE gig so you’d think our job dodging wonky barneted generation would be out in force for something that doesn’t require sucking off Mr Double-breasted Suit at the HSBC just to get through the door. And the lager, at only £2.10 is actually ok for a change; no crushed Mongolian hops for us today, this is good stuff from that renowned beer nation, er, Greece. A quick look around the audience… Hmmm…. there seems to be a fashion for wearing oversized glasses. Or undersized heads. It’s like a Brains from Thunderbirds convention. Adam Ant may have said “Ridicule is nothing to be afraid of” but look what happened to him, he went nuts and thought it was ok to stir your tea with a pistol. These pea headed buffoons are taking nerddom to a whole new level. I’m surprised they can lift their bonces off the ground, weighed down with facial furniture that big. Get contacts before you need a neck brace, fashion victims!
Amazingly none of the four bands on the bill are post rock. I check the banner, it still says Drowned in Sound. Amazing. No wah wah wankery today. Huzzah! Unfortunately there is still a disappointment to be faced. Sky Larkin have not turned up. Are they saving themselves for tomorrow’s Dirty Leeds play-off cheatfest? A band who have shown up are the Circuits. And most resplendent they look too in their all black clobber. Shame there’s nothing interesting about the sounds they emit. It’s the same old dreary XFM friendly indie. Zzzzzzzzzzzzz. Three minutes in and I’m bored so I return for more Mediteranean fizz at the bar.
Far more exciting are scampish three piece, Let’s Wrestle. They sound wonky, deliberately out of tune and their front man has vocals so flat, it’s like a hippo with John Prescott on its back has sat on them. Like Dirty Leeds they clearly have a disregard for rulebooks. But in this instance it’s very welcome as they bash out glorious clumsy discordant post punk. The Fall are a possible influence but minus the rockabilly rumble. The highlights are the tracks from the brilliant In Loving Memory Of EP which is like a mini best of. The slackers finish with an eponymous effort which gets points for dropping Mick McManus into the lyrics but loses more for being sweary and a bit rubbish. Shame. I hang around a short while for the headliners but spot one of the geeks with the ludicrous specs on the stage and decide an egg is an egg (un oeuf est un oeuf, geddit?... does nobody say that any more?). Besides the amazing Olympians are on first at the Metro so I’m outtahere.
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