This time around, blessed with an armoury of Gothicke, metallic pop and blessed with a real shit-kicker attitude – that swagger that only provincials have when they feel confident – the band delivered in spades.
The band sound tough, quietly confident onstage and seemingly attuned to being a band in whatever circumstance. In that respect they remind me of seeing the Stone Roses back in 1988-9. And it’s not too much of a risk to say they’re the best live guitar band in Holland at the moment.
Quite how this gig gets off the ground is a mystery to all as some of the members of Gul Night Out don’t seem to be able to plug their instruments in. Jacco has particular problems with a toy microphone, and the keyboard player’s mini casio synth is dwarfed by the table it rests on.
The triumphant return of Minny Pops; with lead supporting role from Rats on Rafts, ably assisted by Jack and the Beanstalks, Womb and Viv Albertine.
for many of the crowd, they are quite literally transported back a quarter of a century.
We simply wish you’d been here to witness it.
Wally, as if performing an act of ablution to rid his soul of the "demons" of 30 years standing, decides to empty a whole bottle of water over himself, visibly scaring his band into believing they’re about to get fried alive.
What else? Oh yes, Voice of Reason was dedicated to the late citizen of Leeds and deejay extraordinaire Jimmy Saville, a tribute that left most Dutch people bemused
Silver Apples’ music has always been very trippy and loose; relying on an organic and pulsating groove. And everything got very snakey indeed after a while at Worm
The Ex are a relentless proposition, and go through a determined set of disciplines and drills that give the feeling of a relentless machine, a buzz saw or a grinder.
Iceage are a machine and a relentless one at that. There’s something very, very exciting and invigorating about them, listening to their metallic, flinty, fiery sound stimulates a feeling of being washed clean in the noise: it’s the only way I can put it.
an unwitting comedy moment was served up when we witnessed the guitarist play a trumpet whilst balancing a fiddle under his chin – to paraphrase Mark & Lard there’s “no need”…
On this showing Rats were tougher, looser and a bit messier than is normal but to be honest it’s good they mess with their sound: they have to avoid being straightjacketed by people’s expectations now they are getting popular.
In fact Dress, (and maybe these unprepossessing Bollenstreekers don’t know this), with their widescreen soundscapes and tales of agro-industrial pyscho/socio dramas sound very trendy indeed:
Then it is home on the last regular train after the usual conversations: “see at the next gig?”, “you bet”… what is a 40 something bloke doing, getting all excited about this young stuff?
I am very well aware that after nightfall people in this region turn into werewolves. So where is the fucking venue?
What the feck does this band do to people?
All I can tell you is that I walked away from the gig wishing I had the ability and the means to follow them to Nijmegen, where they were due to play a second show that evening and then onwards and beyond. This may not have been a great gig but, my word, they’re one hell of a band.
The ringing choruses and beautiful counterpoints that Vox served up on these new tracks had us drooling.
At one point Incendiary turned to John Robb, who was also present, and blurted out “it’s like Margaret Thatcher on vocals”.