NOFX and Snuff @ Leeds O2 Academy

NOFX are one of those bands that anyone growing up with even the slightest interest in punk music in the 90s and 2000s will have at least a passing acquaintance with. As forerunners of the melodic punk breakthrough which would see many bands become household names they’ve never strayed far from the prunes-through-a-pensioner fast riffs and obnoxious teenage humour which endeared a generation of skateboarders and BMX-ers to their early records. Even a post-Bush turn towards leftist politics, which can seem odd so late in a band’s career, is tempered by a wry acknowledgement of the unlikelihood of this change in theme. Having not seen them since 2004 I decided it was time to catch up and determine whether they still sucked live and so, reeling from smuggled goon and after some ticket loss based drama, we headed down to the Academy in Leeds just in time to catch most of Snuff. Despite missing Abrasive Wheels and Margate, London’s finest did not disappoint; in my opinion there’s no better band within the genre, fast and funny punk rock sprinkled with cover choices both ridiculous and sublime and a line of banter which would be picked up by NOFX revolving around riling up the people of Yorkshire…class. My only bone to pick (and this may be because we turned up late and they opened with it) is that I’ve seen them twice this year, and still not heard ‘Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads’. A small complaint though, generally a stellar fucking performance which got everyone in the room hyped for the night.

   After a short wait, and some general tooth-gritting at the price of a pint NOFX emerged to great uproar, and a frankly hilarious amount of devil horn mosher salutes. I can safely say that this particular hand gesture, when performed by a skinny middle aged man in a brown camo vest, could have had Ian Curtis giggling like a child. However, my judgemental cuntishness is unimportant; your reading this because you want to know if they were any good…and they were. Maybe not as good as my rose tinted nostalgia tells me the 2004 show was – but that’s coming from someone who hasn’t liked much of their output after ‘So Long and Thanks for All the Shoes’.  As such the amount of newish material was a little off putting for me, despite some undeniably good picks from recent years including ‘Dinosaurs Will Die’ and ‘The Separation of Church and Skate’. I was in the minority here however, and am probably just being a dick as everyone else grinned and shouted along to every word. The abuse directed at the crowd was relentless, including Fat Mike’s slightly nervous re-telling of a story about ‘some creepy guy’ offering him half a bag of MDMA, and some undeniable classics such as ‘The Brews’, ‘Leave it Alone’ and ‘Liza and Louise’ were thrown in amongst the more recent material. Another particular highlight was the band’s reggae-style reworking of ‘Radio’ by Rancid, absolute genius. If the rest of the tour was in any way like the Leeds leg, I think that it can safely be considered a success. NOFX may have changed over the years, but are still close enough to their snotty roots to make one of their shows worth a visit, even by a jaded old bastard like me!

4/5

Jono

A poetic interlude

I received this message from a friend earlier, it requires some background knowledge, namely a look at the blog www.whyidontskateboard.tumblr.com. I'm not sure if it was meant to be, but something about the cadence made it sound like poetry to me;

'Saw the most amazing reason why I don't skate board
trilby wearing curly moustache fool dressed in a tweed suit with trilby with feathers in
I nearly shit
the blog is everywhere'.

An accidental poem by David Tyson, explanation by Jono Coote

Random Hand @ The Trashbar, Hackney

Things at the moment are not pleasant in London, with massive unemployment, people more disgruntled than usual, and the oncoming threat of the most overhyped sports day in the history of human existence. Add on top of that a ridiculous ceremony for a rich family headed by an old woman who doesn't give a shit if you die tomorrow and you have a recipe for one angry Kathy. Anyway, I decided to fuck the jubilee so went to a ska punk gig.

After making the mistake of venturing over Tower Bridge which was tourist central, and suffering several nervous breakdowns and anti monarchy rants every time I saw some wanker carrying a union jack, I got my afternoon drink on in some unexpected sunshine before getting the bus up to the Trashbar in Stoke Newington to see some of the UK's finest ska punk bands.

The Trashbar is quite similar to a little place in Hastings called the Crypt. Dark, dingy, sound so loud tinnitus is a given, and ceilings so low that if you're over the height of 5'8" there's a good chance you will unintentionally give yourself concussion. However with £2.50 pints it's not to be dismissed instantly, even if it is in the arse end of nowhere (well, for me it was anyway). We missed the first band, the Bottlenex, but what I heard sounded good. 

Next up were Upbeat Allstars who were pretty good, it was sometimes difficult to hear the vocal in the mix but they got a fair few heads moving, mine included! Then next up was South London band Skets. They were impossible not to take notice of, with a frontman who doesn't look dissimilar to Father Damien of Fucked Up, but also decked out in a vibrant Hawaiian shirt. They played a really good set consisting of fast paced ska that inevitably made your feet move, your beer get spilled and you didn't care. In a similar vein were Popes of Chillitown, a band who I'd sadly never heard of before the gig, but who made me dance in a way that few bands can, which at the time was the best thing ever. Many of their songs have a noticeable Sublime-esq quality to them but other tracks confuse you with a Balkan-like drumming to move your feet to. Anyway, as I said last night this bands seemed like the best thing on the planet, which I would like to think isn't just down to the Red Stripe flowing through my veins at this point. Definitely a band to catch live and I defy you not to dance like an idiot (playing Boomtown, if anyone's getting on it). The drummer was also wearing a Bacon Skateboards tshirt, which, I was reliably informed, makes them the best band of the evening, because no-one has one of those tshirts or really knows who they are. Or something.

Anyway, this wasn't a fashion parade and I don't really give a shit about skating meat-related t-shirts or their companies, so once I'd worked up an adequate sweat to Popes of Chillitown and spilled my beer all down myself, after a short break Random Hand took to the stage. The place was bloody packed out at this point and even if you weren't dancing you were pretty toasty. Nevertheless, nothing can stop me from dancing about to this band, and opening with Tales of Intervention from their latest LP they really didn't disappoint. They played a good mix of tracks from their 3 LPs. Highlights for me were Play Some Ska, Not a Number and Anger Management. I know they played more and I know I loved it all and danced till my feet hurt, but the whole thing was so brilliant as always it's difficult to pick highlights. Seriously, this band never disappoints me live and if you haven't seen them before you don't know what you're missing. One of the finest bands to come out of Yorkshire, always a joy to hear Northern tones in London, and another band that will be playing Boomtown.

Nice hangover today, bruises on my ankles and shins and a jacket that's still a bit damp from sweat. What more could you possibly want?!

5/5

Kathy

Inner Terrestrials - Tales of Terror CD

Some of my first delvings in to punk music were via the punk/ska/dub scene which has always been bubbling just under the surface of the UK’s musical landscape, and which seemed to finally explode in the early years of the millennium when I was just discovering music in any real manner. Often the music we cherish, overplay and inflict on others when we are young palls in later years, but it seems that with bands such as the Filaments, Capdown, Inner Terrestrials etc., the fire stays stoked and withstands repeated listens over the years – and in the case of Inner T at least, the creative spark is still there, with their third full length studio album released in the last month and following hot on the heels of the first release by side project the Firepit Collective. In comparison to the previous records, with the new release the band seemed to have dropped some of their folk influences in favour of a more straightforward ska/punk/hardcore approach. Perhaps this is due to the previously mentioned Firepit Collective acting as an outlet for any folk leanings, but this is a noticeably harder, heavier record. This is not so much a pro or con but rather a mild shift in direction, because this album contains both the musical competency and passionate social anger of any of their other releases. Jay’s rough but tuneful vocals overly a musical landscape which can switch from a wall of metallic guitars and drums to chugging ska in an instant, and the lyrics are heavily focussed on current issues without being hectoring or pessimistic. Highlights include; ‘Just Say Neigh’, a song musing the dangers of the mind altering substances which sometime seem to be more a part of the scene than the music; ‘Run Tings’, which juxtaposes an upbeat ska tune with lyrics focusing on those in power who tread on those underneath them; ‘Heavens Wrath’, an exhortation to fight ‘with creativity’ (which seems to me a pretty good summation of what punk music is about); and ‘Dark Scar’, which is probably the darkest ska music has sounded since a bunch of NY squatters released ‘No Gods, No Managers’. These are just the standouts on my first listen, I can see this being a record in which more stands out with repeated hearings. It heartens me to see this band still going strong – and if you’re reading this, I’m assuming that your musical preferences mean that you should hear this too.

5/5

Punk Rock Hootenanny All Dayer @ The Brudenell Social Club

Working a full day shift on a sun drenched Saturday is never going to be fun, with the phantom smells of cider and BBQ smoke mere hallucinations caused by boredom and a deficiency of vitamin D. Of course, this can only be made worse by the presence of a punk rock all dayer in your local pub; as such, this is a fairly incomplete review of the gig as a whole, organised by Punks Against Prejudice and billed as an ‘All day punk rock hootenanny’. Fortunately I still managed to finish work in time to catch some sun and some bands, arriving at the Brudenell just as Jock Sparra took to the stage and immediately bearing witness to a move from the singer which is known amongst knowledgeable circles as the ‘reverse mangina’…in a kilt and all. As beautiful a sight as this was, the gig room was still sweltering from the UV onslaught outside, so after listening to a couple of Cock Sparrer covers played by Scottish people, which seemed well executed and fun, we headed back out to sit and drink in the car park. Heading back inside as the sun started to dip behind the pubs façade I think we were all fairly hyped to see China Shop Bull, whose schizophrenic musical blender is criminally underrated. Seriously, in what other situation are you likely to hear a ska/punk/hip hop cover of the Dead Kennedys’ ‘Holiday in Cambodia’? They were one of the few bands that I actually saw get the crowd moving during what was a fairly subdued gig crowd-wise, and definitely one of the high points of the evening. After a short break during which I attempted to catch up with the others, who had around 24 hours extra drinking time on me, we saw West Yorkshire favourites Acid Drop. This band get massive kudos in my book for stylistically emulating possibly one of the most unfashionable music genres possible (90s Californian style skate punk), not giving two flying shits, and playing well crafted, memorable tunes in the bargain. Whatever your preconceptions might be, check them out.

      Some last minute line-up changes meant that the place of Leatherface was taken by H.D.Q., whose 80s melodic UKHC sounded tight and fresh. At least, it did from what I heard from the other room – apparently my age is catching up with me, as my eardrums needed a break from the Brudenell’s impressively heavy sound. I recovered in time to head back in to see Neck, despite losing gig companions due to earlier excess while I had been at work. I was still fairly excited to see Neck, a band I hadn’t seen for years but whom I remember being pretty much the definition of the craic, and I was not disappointed. They blasted through a set of select cuts from their records interspersed with frenetic instrumental tracks which had the by know sparse crowd jumping/stumbling around in a drunken approximation of dancing…psycho-fucking-ceilidh indeed! It was impossible to be too disappointed by the lack of Leatherface when they were replaced by a headliner this good, but some people clearly had not considered this – the biggest downside to this gig was the poor turn-out. I’ve always thought that the scene in Leeds was oddly apathetic when it came to turning out to see bands, and unfortunately last Saturday seemed to support my fears. Despite this, it was still a top notch gig, the beer flowed, the sun shone, the music made my ears bleed, it was almost a perfect punk rock fairytale. Here’s to the next hootenanny, fingers crossed that people will pull their fingers out and get to these events; it’s your scene, fucking do something with it!

Snuff @ The Cockpit, Leeds

The omens were not looking good for last Saturday night, where I was seeing Snuff at the Cockpit in Leeds. Despite having wanted to see them play for as long as I can remember but never quite managing it, the stoke was dampened somewhat by the fact that it was at the Cockpit (one of my least favourite venues in the city) with support from two bands whose music was, with the best will in the world, not my cup of emo. Add in an afternoon nightmare trying to sort Megabus changing in my lunch break, impending man flu and spending the time between work and gig being shouted at by pissed up roiders who took umbrage at me having a skateboard, and I was not in the best of the moods by the time I got to the Cockpit. Luckily I only caught the last few minutes of the second support band, and it was warm enough to lurk outside while the DJ played the same Dead Kennedys song about 4 times (in between the Slipknot and Goldfinger, because it was a punk rock show and you have to know your audience as a DJ. Fucking cretin.) The vibes were turning nasty, and I didn’t know why – so thank fuck for Snuff, who took to the stage and gave two fingers to my negative attitude by moulding there frenetic, melodic punk rock into one of the best shows I’ve seen in a long time. When I tried to drum up a crew for this gig, I was met with a baffled reaction far more than I expected to be; the only reason I can think of being that the use of the term ‘pop punk’ from certain quarters puts people off from even trying. These people are mongoloids, as Snuff are now one of my favourite live bands, with the same energy I imagine they had 20 years ago, and an odd kind of shambolic tightness to their set (if that contradiction makes any sense). Highlights included ‘Chocs Away’, ‘Do Nothing’, ‘Now You Don’t Remember’, and their cover of ‘I Think We’re Alone Now’ as performed by the drunkest looking people in the crowd…musical genius. They bought the night to a close with ‘Arsehole’, also with heavy crowd participation. I have a feeling this encore was going to be followed by ‘Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads’, but unfortunately those lovely Cockpit staff decided that one more song would completely ruin the evenings schedule, I’m assuming which mostly included a soul destroying club night full of first year students listening to Blink 182 and trying to cop off with each other. In the words of some philosopher cunt, if you stare too long at the Cockpit, the Cockpit will stare back at you. Reading this back I’ve realised how livid I sound – I would like to point out that I couldn’t be too livid, because Snuff were really, really good. Go see ‘em fools!

4/5

Jono

Slowcoaches - We're So Heavy EP

Living in Leeds seems to be a definite plus for someone reviewing new music, due to what seems to be a constant stream of new musical talent. True, it can seem oddly transient - due to a revolving door of students bringing their musical influences and abilities in, and taking them away just as suddenly - but scratch the surface and there’s a thriving scene of both long time Yorkshire heads, and people who turned up years ago and never left. Slowcoaches form part of this bedrock group of artists who have been lurking around the Hyde Park area for a few years, and their first EP ‘We’re So Heavy’ fuses scuzzy stoner rock with the nervy melodic hardcore of Husker Du. With 6 tracks at just under 15 minutes, it grabs attention from the start with the title tracks slow, booming guitar giving way to fast paced punk rock with a riff that will stick in your head for days. This lays the blueprint for the rest of the record; fuzzy hardcore punk with an oddly pop sensibility when it comes to a tune that makes this one of the most interesting records I’ve heard in a while. Highlights include the title track, ‘Get Ripped’ and ‘Gimme Fuck Ups’. A solid and exciting first release, I’m looking forward to seeing them live!

5/5

Jono