GDFAF13: Astilla, The Twang, An Untitled Music Project

GDFAF #13 was at the Flapper and Firkin for the same new local bands evening as last Thursday. There are at least three tiers of bands on the small gigs circuit. First are the bands on national tours who probably have an album or two out or at least a good following. Next are the local bands who have proven themselves over the years as able to hold their own either headlining or as a solid support for the tourers. And then a the bottom are the “baby bands”, recently formed (frequently from the ashes of other bands) with a set’s worth of songs and a desire to get up there and see if it works. Nights like this at the Flapper (as well as the Jug and Bar Academy) are where they do it, playing for at best a share of the door if they’re lucky. The venues and promotors know that they’ll bring their friends who will pay to get in and buy beer which makes it cost effective, the bands get to hone their live performance and network with other bands (thus sustaining the scene) and occasionally, just occasionally, genius will be revealed.

I was running a bit late tonight having slept in ’til 7.30 so had the strange experience of standing at the bar with a pint of cheap bitter half an hour after breakfast, but such is the life of the serial gig reviewer. Thankfully the night was also running a bit late so I didn’t miss anything, though this wasn’t to prove fortuitous for the final act as we shall see.

An Untitled Musical Project were our first act and before I go any further that is a possibly the best name ever. Even if it gets tiresome (which I can’t imagine it ever doing) it can be abbreviated Carter-style to UMP which is possibly even better. And thankfully they lived up to their nomenclature being unassuming nerds who play fast shouty punk, shouty in that controlled machine-gun vocal style that reminded me of Big Back era Steve Albini (the track Bad Penny to be specific where he goes “I dunno what a liar I am…”) and be aware that I wouldn’t invoke the Albini lightly. There was also something else more British in there but unfortunately the Big Black thing kinda took over my mind. Musically they were very intense, especially the guitarist-singer (the bass player also sang) who’s face was positively elastic and eyes the poppiest I’ve seen for a while. But inbetween the songs (which had titles like “Why Isn’t Paul McCartney Dead Already?”) they showed their humility as if they were surprised at the noise they’d been creating let alone that anyone was actually listening. They’d been having issues with their guitar apparently (though this didn’t affect the performance) and at the end this was ceremoniously tossed across the stage, an act that can seem contrived but felt genuine here, producing a wail of feedback that was oddly segued into the Flaming Lips “In The Morning Of The Magicians” by the sound engineer. As you can tell I liked UMP a lot. They’re doing their own brand of loopy punk seemingly in a bubble with no obvious pretensions to greatness, which means they might actually succeed. One, as they say, to watch.

As with last week this was an evening of contrasts. Earlier on I’d heard one of the bar staff warn her bar staffing colleagues that one of the bands were under age so to check for ID. The Twang (another top name, as it happens) appeared to be that band as a bunch of agitated kids scuttled around the side of the stage. As they came on two of them stood at the front with mics but no instruments. Uh oh, we could be in for some rap here, which would be a first and made me think that in two weeks of semi-random gig going I’ve oddly seen nothing of the Urban genre. Behind these chaps was the usual guitar/bass/drums setup and they kicked into a song which I assume was called “Push It”, partly from the lyrics but also because they musically riffed into the Salt’n'Pepper song of the same name and got away with it. The band settled into a sound that was very reminiscent of U2, though not in a particularly bad way, giving a solid backing for the main singer to do his stuff.

This guy was a cross between Mike Skinner and Shaun Ryder, a skinny, intense chav with an aggression that threatened to spill out of his songs and into real life. The songs were Streets-style heartfelt paeans to the unfairness of modern life but his delivery of them was superb, stomping around the stage givin’ it all dat with his arms. After seeing so many bands who just stand there playing song after song this was most refreshing, especially his foul mouthed banter with the audience. I started creating a (probably inaccurate) story in my head of this young kid who’d been hanging out the gig scene for a few years making trouble while gathering together a bunch of mates to form a band just so he could get up there and lovingly insult everyone who’d been telling him to put his money where his dirty mouth was. They were having a great time but musically they were very together and I came away impressed.

Sadly the evening ended on a low note, one played on a broken piano in a damp basement. Astilla had turned up late and hadn’t been able to sound check plus they were having “equipment issues”. After an extended set-up they suddenly launched into the usual noisy metal which would have been okay except they were pretty much playing to themselves. Yes, the room was emptying (partly because most people appears to have come to see The Twang) but they really were playing to themselves, all turned in towards the drummer creating a huddle. The thing about this sort of basic metal is if you’re going to make it work you’ve got to engage the crowd. It’s the foundation from which you project your attitude and if you ain’t projecting…

They weren’t too bad to begin with but it all started falling apart (literally with the drums) into a shambolic mess and by the end I was starting to feel a little sorry for them, to have gone through the stress of actually getting here for naught. Some bands are shit but have no idea – these guys were fully aware of how badly this was going and presumably they could do much better. As everything ground to a halt the lead singer finally addressed the nearly empty room: “what a shit gig” he confessed. Yeah, a third of it was. Shame about that.

[Two years later Sam from Astilla emails: "I admit this review is a couple years old, but it grabbed my attention, As a member of the band astilla at that point, I think it would be nice for you actually realise the real situation of that night: All the equipment was ours, and the only band who had equipment issues were the twang, who “didn’t realise� that a drummer should bring his own cymbals."]

Tomorrow is the last fucking day! Not only will I Am Zeitgeist, The International Karate Plus, Aquila and StrangeTime be playing at the Actress and Bishop but there’ll be a veritable supergroup of Birmingham bloggers in the audience consisting of Ben Silent Words, Phil Danger High Postage, Andy Pryke and my good self.

The drummer from The Untitled Musical Project came up to me after the gig to ask about photos and we had as good a chat as is possible in my current state so, assuming the URL he wrong on his hand hasn’t rubbed off, hello chaps! Unfortunately the light at the Flapper was darker than usual (and all the bands stood just a little too far back) so this wasn’t a particularly good batch, most annoyingly for the UMP, but I do intend to see them play again so all is not lost. Best venue so far for photogs has to be the Jug, oddly enough, though there is a particularly bright light at the Barfly which performers occasionally stray into.

This series has been nominated as part of Troubled Diva’s post of the week thingy which is nice. I notice thanks to Mike implementing click counting that of the eight nominations mine has had the most clicks at this time, which is also nice. In fact the whole thing is nice. Just like blogging.

You’d think I’d swear off going to a gig for a month or so but unfortunately my scouring of the listings this past fortnight has meant I’ve noticed more gigs I want to attend. Saturday is my sister’s orchestra in Banbury (mentioned here) which will be different but next Monday I’d really like to go see Arab Strap at Bar Academy and then Piney Gir is playing at the Glee Club on Tuesday. Will this nightmare ever end? At least I won’t be obliged to write about them (unless I get guest-listed of course… Hint hint…)