This is a first draft of the introduction page for the Going Deaf For A Fortnight zine.

A bit of background, then, to put the rest of this zine into some kind of context, just so you know where I’m coming from and that.

A few years ago, circa 1998 or thereabouts, my friend Susi was writing gig reviews for some university newspaper in Birmingham and was getting bored of seeing the same old bands again and again, so to bright a sparkle of light into the proceedings she began dragging me along. For some reason I wasn’t gigging a whole lot so the prospect of seeing four blokes on a stage making an unholy racket with their guitars was pretty novel. I started looking forward to these evenings bathing in waves of distortion as the stresses of the working day were blasted from my inner being and I saw some pretty decent bands along the way. Novak stuck in my mind, playing some solid tunes but adding the flute and toy xylophone to the mix, and Quickspace made a solid impression.

About the same time a guy at work mentioned he was in a band who were playing a gig at the Flapper. We all liked Perry so a bunch of us bimbled along expecting the usual guitar-based rock thing. What were saw were Avrocar and Magnetophone at one of the legendary We Brought Our Friends nights, filling the stage with complicated pieces of electrical equipment which produced beautiful ethereal music like nothing I’d heard before. Most of the audience sat on the floor, which I thought was marvelous, as did Magnetophone during their set. It struck me that the Birmingham music scene was flourishing in obscurity. No-one knew about this stuff and that was what made it work.

After this discovery I moved to London for a few years and attempted to keep the gigging thing going, but it never really came to anything. Finding the good stuff was too much effort (despite Susi also moving down to further her Theremin playing career) and every support band seemed to be wannabes desperate for a record deal. It wasn’t cosy and nice like Birmingham so I stopped gigging.

And then, in 2003, I found myself living in Brum again. Some things had changed (what is this Academy all of a sudden!) but enough was the same and I started putting out feelers amongst my old contacts. Some excellent gigs were attended, notably Misty’s Big Adventure and gigs put on by ColdRice, and all seemed to be well, but I had a nagging feeling I wasn’t seeing enough. I seemed to be just seeing the same bands over and over, only discovering new bands if they happened to be supporting. Then at one gig I had an idea. I turned to my chum Tom and said I was going to go to fourteen gigs in a fortnight and write about them in depth on my blog. He grinned the insane grin of approval and it was set in stone. I even came up with the name of the project that night – Going Deaf For A Fortnight.

And so it came to pass on November 4th 2005 that I went to the Jug of Ale in Moseley to begin the marathon of thirty six acts at fourteen gigs in eight venues. Each report was written that night and posted on my blog along with photos in time for breakfast. The result was a personal overview of the Birmingham small gigs scene from the perspective of a paying punter. All opinions are my own and are as wrong as they might be right, filtered as they are through an increasingly fractured mind. Enjoy.

GDFAF #14, the last in this series of sequential gig going, was at the Actress and Bishop in Birmingham’s Jewelry Quarter. This was my first visit and it’s quite a nice little venue. Above what appears to be a standard biggish city centre pub (I didn’t dawdle) is a small (but not too small) room with a stage slapped in the middle. To the right of the stage is a cluster of sofas with a row of high tables and stools in front of the performers meaning you don’t get that awkward chasm of floor when people don’t want to move forwards. It’s very cosy with a somewhat random assortment of occasional lamps, if a little disorienting when you first come in from the cold and are thrust into the throng, but I liked it a lot. It’s probably the closest I’ve come to going to a gig in someone’s living room.

This was another Unsigned Band Night but it felt different to those held at the Jug, Flapper and Bar Academy because this venue could really only put on unsigned bands. Given the space and the amount of furniture the capacity was probably no more than 100 if that and even though it wasn’t packed tonight it still felt busy and alive. Transplant this gig to Bar Academy and it would have felt empty and dead. That’s not to say this is a lesser venue – the sound was good and the atmosphere no less professional – but the “club house” feel of the place made it perfect for this type of event. As for the crowd, and bearing in mind how woefully inaccurate these assumptions are, it seems a little more hipster-ish than at the other venues. Maybe the cosy nature (and low lights) of the place was bringing out the best in them but people of both genders seemed prettier, and not in an “oh look it’s the fucking beautiful people” way either. Of course I’m feeling somewhat stale after 13 gigs so maybe it was relative, who knows. Anyway, on to the bands.

First up were Strange Time who are what is known in the trade as a “baby band” – relatively freshly formed and finding their feet. They were also the first local band I’d seen all fortnight with women taking the fore (they had a male drummer) which was notable. The Birmingham scene does tend to be very bloke dominated and while I’m sure most other cities are the same this does strike me as a shame. But back to StrangeTime and I immediately found myself thinking of PJ Harvey and Elastica, followed by my thinking how fucking predictable of me that was, but then most new bands are aping someone as they find their own voice so it’s probably fair. The vocals did have that angry PJ feel to them without slipping into moaning for the sake of it and there was a real strength to the whole band with a steady beat rumbling under the slowing songs. My only criticisms would be a lack of movement on stage and that the set, while very competent, didn’t build and seemed to me to keep the same level throughout. But otherwise very promising.

I got over comparing StrangeTime to PJ Harvey as soon as the next band, The International Karate Plus kicked off as they sounded exactly like Dinosaur Jr. And that, in my book, is no bad thing. They produced a controlled cacophony of noise but held it together very tightly with some interesting flourishes along the way. I was particularly taken by how all three of them sung including the drummer who made a valiant attempt to play with his sunglasses on. Apparently they’re from Cardiff and a flyer shoved at me showed a pretty extensive national tour had occurred over the summer which would explain the good stage presence they’ve honed, though it did make me wonder about the economics of traveling to a gig like this. Maybe they were already in the area, who knows. Overall they were good, very competent and enjoyable to watch, and I liked the sounds they made.

Our third, and for me very final, act were I Am Zeitgeist who I suspect were a little drunk. Not that it affected their playing at all but they seemed to be having a little bit too much fun up there. I was most taken when the non-singing guitarist played a series of high pitched notes at the beginning of the first song that sounded like a Nintendo game and there were a few interesting moments like this scattered around the set. Even though there was a distinct touch of the Oasis about the vocals (often a kiss of death for me) I won’t hold it against them too much. They brought it a whole gamut of influences to a pretty funky beat and some nice melodies and at the end trashed their equipment in the most delicate manner I’ve seen, except for the drummer who went for the big kick and scatter.

And it was all over. Fourteen gigs in fourteen fifteen days. Blimey.
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GDFAF #12 was at the Barfly again on what can only be described as an arsingly cold night. I mention this because most venues tend to be somewhat on the warm side and I’ve noticed a few American acts commenting on this, as if venues in the States have radical things like air conditioning. The problem for most Birmingham spaces is they tend to be in residential-ish areas and we have laws against people enjoying themselves at high volume (which on the whole I tend to agree with) so the doors and windows have to remain tightly shut. And they don’t have air conditioning. Stick a couple of hundred excited people in there and the ceilings will sweat. The Barfly, on the other hand, is in Digbeth and to the best of my knowledge there ain’t anyone living there so they can leave the door open. Since the venue is essentially a huge basement said door is near the ceiling and all the heat just rushes straight out. This is terrific on a club night (I remember seeing steam pouring out of that door like a boiling kettle one night) but at a relatively sparsely attended gig it’s rather strange to find yourself dancing in your coat. Must be lovely in the summer though.

Like I said, not a huge turnout for tonight, although this might be more to do with the venue as it is a huge room and there were a good hundred or so people in there by my reckoning. No problems getting in – the bouncers just waved me through with no bag check leading me to suspect my face has been spread around the bouncer network as a non-threat. Either that or I’m starting to give off regular gig-going vibes. Possible tip for people going to the Barfly – when you’re asked which band you’re coming to see say the one at the bottom of the bill and you might get in cheaper. I was meaning to test this only my mind went blank (too many band names whizzing around my head at the moment – I haven’t got a clue who I’m going to see) but give it a go. I’m pretty sure it’ll knock a good 50% off your entry.

On to the bands then. First up was Paisley Riot, the local band supporting the headliners and their touring support. It’s here that I wonder if I’m getting jaded when it comes to guitar bands from the Midlands as while they were very good I find I have nothing really to say about them. They were tight and their hat wearing singer had a nice intensity to him but there was nothing to really make me sit up and take notice. But don’t read too much into my appraisal. I think I’m starting to recognise vocal tics amongst the Brummie / Black Country bands, not in their speech but in their singing which implies I’m getting a little too familiar with the scene. Can’t put my finger on it exactly though. Oh, and this doesn’t just apply to Paisley Riot by any means but bands, when announcing your name and especially when you’re saying your web site address, please speak clearly! I was starting to think this was impossible but Breezer managed to lodge both in my mind last night so it can be done.

Next up were The Rumble Strips and I’m going to stick my neck out here. Of all the bands I’ve seen I think these guys could actually break out and be huge. Firstly they have a look that is unique but quite nostalgic, evoking scruffy 80s bands in a kind of new wave drab way. Secondly their music is a nice mix of styles bringing in keyboards, guitar, saxophone and trumpet in a very enjoyable, dancey way with some key anthemic moments. But most of all the lead singer is a revelation.

He stands there with his drab grey coat and scarf hanging off his sloping shoulders, his hair tussled at the back like he’s just got out of bed and his small guitar seemingly rescued from a charity shop. His huge eyes stare into the room with a permanent squint and he looks both angry and resigned. And yet when he opens his mouth it’s astounding. My immediate reaction was Specials era Terry Hall, but that’s probably the brass pushing that out. There was something else I can’t quite pin down (Billy Bragg maybe?) but the greatest revelation was this guy can actually sing! I don’t just mean he was in tune – his voice had a power that was not assisted by the amps, nor was it mere volume. There was a controlled strength and range that you so seldom see at gigs, his singing primal and raw yet quite quite beautiful.

Backing up this incredible voice was some very competent musicianship that while not afraid to blast it out also knew the value of less. The trumpet and sax players smoothly alternated with keyboard and bass guitar respectively giving them the range of a larger band and the music flew between up-tempo beats and emotional climaxes with ease. They’ve got the whole package and from what I can tell it’s genuine. I really hope to hear more from this band in the next year.

The only downside was a noticeable level of audience chat during their set, to which I can only say shut the fuck up you wankers and recognise genius when you see it.

The headliners, The Young Knives had to compete with this for my affections and all credit to them but they didn’t quite make it. Actually that’s unfair. They were very enjoyable and much better than the audio clips on their site imply. This was mostly to do with their stage banter which pretty much consisted of looking like embarrassing parents and subverting it, playing shouty heavy punk and being quite rude and funny in between. I enjoyed the show a lot – and big joke humour is a tough thing for bands to pull off – but, and this is the big one, after each song I couldn’t for the life of me remember what it sounded like. This was worrying me somewhat as I knew I was going to have to write about them but, nope, nothing stuck. What on earth had a just been bouncing up and down to then? All very odd.
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