Thursday 28 June 2012

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

Monday 11 June 2012

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

Friday 8 June 2012

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