Friday 12 November - I spend a lot of time listening to cover bands, some of which are very good, and also bands that produce their own material in genres which I'm comfortable in listening to. Sometimes though, it's good to step out of your comfort zone and try new things. Tonight was one of those occasions. Andy and I were in The Basement in York to immerse ourselves in hardcore punk. Before I start I should point out that, throughout the night, I had no idea of song titles, and could barely make out any discernable lyrics whatsoever, so you won't be getting any lists of tracks.
The first band caught us flat-footed as they weren't even on the bill and it was only thanks to a chat with 'Taffy' who turned out to be the guitarist's Dad that we discovered that they were called The Vexed. A York band, they consisted of; Bilo - drums/vocals, Dicko - bass/vocals, and Jim - guitar/backing. Dicko played bass like it was a lead guitar, Bilo beat his drums like a maniac, but Jim, although grinning like a Cheshire cat, seemed slightly out of place. Apparently he had previously played lead in a rather less punk band which meant that he wasn't sporting an outrageous hair-do or black clothes with spikes and studs. The vocals were pretty much just shouting as far as I could make out and I understand that Dicko was later coughing blood in the toilets and that this was perfectly normal. We were located to one side of the speakers and so were saved from the full aural blast. It's not my kind of music but the audience seemed to enjoy them and were singing(!?!) along, so I guess they were ticking somebody's boxes.
The second act was one of two tonight that had crossed the Channel from France to entertain us. Monsieur Marcaille was a one-man outfit with two bass drums at and operated by his feet, and a cello electrified with some hocus-pocus. He started by whipping off his Meatloaf t-shirt and then launched into trash-metal mayhem generating sounds that were never meant to be wrung by such a classical instrument. In between each song he spat on the floor and put a single finger up to his audience, and somewhere in the middle he emptied the contents of one of his nostrils as well. So, France does have talent and Mr Cowell needs to know about this chap, the quintessential French performer.
We never even saw the third act coming. Charogne Stone, tonight's second French act, quietly set up his drum kit and backing track machine in the stairwell up to the bar. All of a sudden the ambience was shattered as he regaled us with sub-two minute screeching and drumming of the most frenetic kind. His drum sticks were a blur to me, I kid you not. Okay, I might not like the music but I had to admire his skills as a drummer. First rate.
All of which led to the final act of the night. Originally bottom of the bill but now thrust into the lime-light came Comply or Die apparently returning from a tour of the UK following the release of their debut album. The band comprises; Smell- vocals, Gottie -guitar/vocals, DD - drums/samples/programming, and Lee - bass. The first two songs were kind of RAtM in style mostly led by Lee's superb bass licks but by song three, Gottie's high slung guitar had really swung into action and the music turned more ska-based. The final song returned to the bass-driven RAtM style but by now Gottie seemed demonically possessed and flung himself and his guitar to the floor in front of the stage where he lay twitching.
Whilst I personally won't be looking out for any of these bands again, I can see that each would appeal to their individual audiences and their performances were very professional within their genres.
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