Live at The 13th Note

31 January 2012

I'm pretty sure her first name wasn't really Fanny nor her surname Pelmet but, baby, it was cold outside and fringes are always cute so being enticed into the basement of the 13th Note seemed perfectly reasonable. Perfectly understandable too when I reflect on my inherent shallowness. Small fault in a good man and all that.

So with a yeah and verily, Fanny Pelmet and The Bastard Suits demonstrated that they had the love for garage rock and indeed, for British sixties style rhythm and blues reinterpretation too. Not shy with the tasty guitar licks and holding it all together like few Glasgow bands even bother to do, this was a band that makes little sense in these celebrity obsessed days. Substance over style was the name of the game here and Fanny Pelmet and The Bastard Suits played like they should be worshipped. Or at least they would be on a planet that understood what talent actually meant.

On to the Plimptons. A legend in their own Tetley tea break, having sold nearly dozens of albums and being the only band on the planet to have written a meaningful song about Motherwell, this band's anarchic post punk power pop hybrid was almost too much to review. Therefore, I shall instead relate a parable. It is the year 2312 and the human race has been overrun by robotic invaders. Consigned to "awareness camps" for referring to our new fascist masters as "toasters" and asking them "I know you can do pan bread but can you handle a muffin?" all looks bleak. Then one Saturday night, the chromed camp commandant struts into said "awareness camp", hears the party sounds of The Plimptons echoing around the bare barracks and exclaims "Wot is this shit? It is giving me the boke." "Hey, Metal Mickey, do not disrespect the magnificence of The Plimptons" comes the reply from the assembled masses, "for you have gone too far and, shortly, the remains of your mechanised master race will fit inside a frakking crisp bag!" So it was that the revolution began and the human race once again battled amongst the stars for their inevitable freedom. It was, and always will be, down to The Plimptons.

I think I shall have to start writing about barmaids again. Either that or the men in white coats will put me back on the industrial strength medication. Again.

the plimptons

Fanny Pelmet and the Bastard Suits

Reviewer: Handsome Bluesbunny

Live at G2, Glasgow - 8th December, 2011

In what seems to have become a favourable alternative to pantomime, Ginger (of Wildhearts notoriety) brought his festive collective to Glasgow for the third consecutive year. Despite day-long attempts by "Hurricane Bawbag" to throw the gig into crisis, there was no stopping a good number of headstrong Wildhearts fans from having a party.

First up were Exit International. Who needs guitars? Not these guys, who used two bass guitars to make their point. The resulting sound was downright menacing, due in part to the fine-tuned screams of Fudge Wilson. Cardiff is hardly a hotbed for musical ingenuity, but that might be about to change. Conclusion? Noise is cool.

Hawk Eyes were next, and gave Wildhearts fans an idea of how The Wildhearts might've sounded if they invented screamo. In fairness, it was a composed performance from the Leeds-based group. If fans are won through intensity of performance, then Hawk Eyes will do just fine. Ginger and Friends is probably the ideal show for the quintessential Wildhearts fan. Songs from every era of the band's colourful history were played, and Victoria Liedtke provided some welcome backing vocals while also proving to be a treat for the eyes . Rich Jones, Denzil and the evergreen "Random" Jon Poole were also present. Much more than Ginger's wingmen, Wildhearts fans will know each musician from their own projects in British or American rock music.

It would be a rare happening to leave such a show feeling disappointed, and this was no exception. Christmas tours are seen by many as moneyspinners, but such cannot be said of Ginger's tour. In fact, most in attendance will have seen it as an early Christmas present.

Reviewer: Peter McGee, Bluesbunny

Glasgow 12th November. - Bluesbunny.

Night creatures. That's what she says as she cuts limes. She cuts limes with what can only be described as dexterity. The kind of dexterity that suggests that forgetting her birthday might prove fatal. She says that I must write of the night creatures so duly I do.

In the basement of Pivo Pivo, the first creatures of the night and of the shadows are Captain Majestic. There are but two of them to make the drums do the drumming thing and the guitar do the soul searching thing. Blues rock, as you might surmise, is therefore their game but they seem just a bit too clean cut and well behaved to carry it off. The blonde in the pink dress probably disagrees with that judgement but she who cuts limes has those eyes of azure and superior combat experience.

I'm told they hail from Ullapool but that clearly did not make Naked Strangers hillbillies on the lam. Devoid of normal pretensions, they swung the axe of good musical taste towards the expanded head of indie rock and cleaved it into the bastard son of psychedelic rock and Big Country. A slow start to their set perhaps but once that steamroller got moving, all obstacles that were ahead of them was soon crushed.

Also left of centre were the headliners Mummy Short Arms. Their purpose was to promote the launch of their single "Changes" which is, of course, commendable and understandable but tonight they showed a curious restraint. Normally a band of deranged leadership balanced against the kind of solid musicality that your average Scottish band can only dream of, tonight Mummy Short Arms verged on the mellow as if unsure of their previously proven hitting power and their own rambling magnificence.

The night creatures clap. The night creatures sing along. The night creatures sparkle even in the dim red light. The night creatures ask if Noel Edmonds had anything to do with that which they have seen. Why ask me? Ask the Girobabies or ask her for she has a knife and she knows what to do with it.

mummy short arms
naked strangers