It was a Saturday of highs and lows. The highs? Back to back plays of the stunning new album from The Cure, Songs From a Lost World, a record that is going to be top of so many end of year “Album of the Year” lists. The lows? My football team’s unbeaten run ended… well not so much ended as was ripped asunder with a humiliating annihilation at Hampden…
Nothing else for it, who cares about the football anyway? There is music to be enjoyed…
If you missed out because you didn’t heed the recommendations and low ticket warnings, more fool you as you missed a quite extraordinary experience. If I’m being perfectly honest I’m still processing some of what I witnessed on this most bizarre of nights in Glasgow’s Audio. And when I say bizarre, I mean that in the most fabulously outrageous and eccentrically enjoyable way, even if what I saw and heard at various points are still registering…
If you remember the young and relatively short lived punk quartet The Minority Rule, and still miss their presence, you’d have been stoked to witness the first “proper” gig by the Rule’s bass players new band, Corrupt Intentions. Gregor has swapped bass for guitar and vocal duties (which he has being doing for some time now with The Three n Eights, more of which later) his gruff and vociferous delivery matches the frenetic energy of the trio, who also feature Three n Eights bass player, Aaron, the band line up completed by Liam in drums. Add to the mix a couple of carefully chosen covers including a pulverising take on The Crusher, it made for a great start to the night. I picked up the bands CD on the night so a review will follow…
Following that it was the turn of another raucous trio, the almost impossible to describe bewildering perplexity that is The Bleeders. Their brilliantly abstruse set confused as much as it thrilled, a prime lesson in organised chaos. A riddle wrapped up in a mystery inside an enigma or something along those lines as some controversial old cigar smoking bloke once said…no, not that one FFS… Anyway, the face painted trio led by “cock” Daniel McGuigan (you had to be there) were a joy to behold, as much for their stage antics as for the, it has to be said, shit hot tunes. McGuigan ended up in vest and shorts, dragging his breeks along on one leg having failed to pull them over his Doc Marten. It was great to see that Nyall has lost none of his untamed and feverish Keith Moon-esque frantic and highly accomplished drumming, a manic style which also seemed to appeal to the night’s headliners a few of whom spent the bands set transfixed on him pummelling the skins. All I can say is, go and see The Bleeders, it’s an essential part of your gig going experience, and also it’s impossible to try to describe what I witnessed, so you need to see them for yourselves.
Before the night’s headliners, it was the turn of The Three n Eights to take to the stage. At the end of their set I turned to my mate and said, the Three n Eights should play at every gig I go to. I always love their party starting performances mixing their own songs with stonewall classics in their own inimitable rock ‘n’ roll, punk rockabilly ska style. I cannot help but end up with a huge grin on my face watching and listening to this band while bouncing and dancing around like an unhinged maniac. With Ingrid taking the lead vocals on most of the songs, their own tunes like Leopard Print Heart standing strong amongst the well chosen covers. Dougie takes the lead on songs by the likes of Conway Twitty, while Gregor gets to take the mic once again on the songs more suited to his voice… taking on two of the last 3 songs in the set, Rancid’s Timebomb and Flogging Molly’s Drunken Lullabies really raising the energy levels another notch before the band unleashed their explosive take on Monkey Man to close their formidable set.
It was time for The Scare Crew to prepare the stage in readiness for their hessian headed alter egos to lay waste to the by now well oiled and utterly up for it Audio patrons, many of whom were also Scarecrowed up for the night…
As the hour arrived for the enigmatic band, who had mysteriously materialised on the sudden disappearance of Thee Waltons, the atmosphere was not so much electrically charged as verging on the downright dementedly unhinged, the level of which only increased on the furtive five taking to the stage and launching into their very own unique brand of scarecrow psychohillbilly cowpunk… played on a sticker festooned stand up bass, two thunderous drum kits, a moothie, and range of “guitars” the like of which you’ll never see anywhere else. Yes, that was a spade on which was played a cover of the Motorhhead classic.
The madness and mayhem didn’t let up for one second as the furious five proved that heroes don’t wear capes, they wear hessian heeds and dungarees, the harmonica laden twisted country psychobilly and the lure of the wrecking pit finally drew me in and yes, I fucking loved it and I’d do ot again in a minute, despite being in need of an oxygen tank immediately afterwards, it’s all about growing old disgracefully…
The whole night was a manic thrill from start to finish, a total post Halloween scream, kudos to Shrunken Head Promotions for putting in this riotous night, and to Coco for her aficionado performance on duck whistle on Pluck My Duck. And thanks to the four bands, and of course the gathered hordes of amazing people who made this such an amazing night. The wrecking must have taken it out of me, as we slunk off home despite the lure of a DJ set by the legendary Al Gare.
Roll on the return of the masked marauding scarecrows, and if you enjoyed that then you best get your tickets now for 17th of April and the next Shrunken Head extravaganza this time headlined by psychobilly legends Klingonz with Numbskulls and of course party starters the Three n Eights. Miss it, miss out…
