Reviews

Annie Gardiner and Lee Stone did a hell of a thing with their ex-art-student, Lightning-Bolt-loving band The Hysterical Injury: having only recently lost their fab guitarist Rob to a house/career move out of the area, the two bucked up and decided theyd carry on as a duo. When I say ‘recently', I mean this has JUST happened and in the course of a week they have done their first practices in this lineup, and fulfilled this gig commitment. As one of the most-talked-about bands in the area - and for good reason, as there is no one doing what they're doing, and they're one of the best bands around, for sure - making this leap took balls, as far as Im concerned. And in the end, they didn't lose their nerve, and Annie and Lee were fabulous. Indeed, it did drive home the fundamental fact that it's been Annies bass and vocal melody lines that have been the key song-writing elements, as in some ways they didn't sound all that different. They even ventured to play some new songs, on which they were perhaps less solid-sounding, but this isnt the sort of thing that I am ever bothered by. Adds to it, really. And while I sense that there may be further fiddling working out splits, effects and amps, the initial new configuration for Annie's bass, allowing it to do double-duty in the gap left by the guitar, was effective and convincing. There's a new dynamic for their music with this arrangement that can be used to great effect, when there's a switch from a straight bass line/melodic vocal carrying a quieter portion - and raising the vocal prominence - to a fuzzed-out, chords-and-high-notes, heavy-duty bass drive, amping the energy of the song more markedly than often happens with straighter guitar + bass performance. Lee was right up front, big Nordic fellow with a slow smile but fast sticks, and it was great to watch the stage dynamic between the two performers. Annies long rocking-out segments worked incredibly well - better than I'd anticipated, I think - and had the crowd going a little bonkers for their post-rock/art-metal hysteria...

It didn't calm down from there. It's been a year since I've seen the Untitled Musical project, and theyve had a line-up change, too. I was sad about missing James Peacocks limitless charm and drumming savvy, but new drummer Greg Shingler was both totally convincing and also nice. There were loads of songs I hadn't heard, and while I don't know if you can really say this about bands with this sort of sound, they sounded a little bit, I dunno, like they'd matured a little. Not in an old and lame way, but in a louder and more intense way - more right into guitar assault and really not fucking around about taking prisoners, or whatever metaphor you want to mix. They still sound a lot like McClusky, I guess, in a great way. As in the past, I loved Andrew Barry Graham's massive distorted bass perhaps most of all, and was very pleased this time to see that he's sharing more of the shouting. Front-man Kieran Duffy's mike slipped way down at the end and he was playing all bent over in half, singing and strumming, and he looked cute, as if a stylist had put him there on purpose. They played one song that was not, in the end, Pretty Woman, but Ill be damned if I didn't wonder if it was going to be a speed-freak version of the Orbison classic at first. If it were theft, then it was theft in a good, fresh, no doubt fairly subconscious, totally punk way. People got very excited, and Tim Purr raised his hands in prayerful deference as Kieran launched into the last number.

The fun increased with the arrival to the stage of Fight Like Apes, a charming and Irish band with a lot of hairstyles, as well as mannequin head-with-curly-wig-on-a-crutch. MayKay, Pockets, Joe and Adrian made believers of the crowd, with MayKays fabulous performance and singing spearheading a magnetic show - hard to turn away from if, say, you needed the loo or a pint... I sat there thinking, who is she reminding me of, huh? Then it came to me: Joan Cusack, but about 25 years younger, and prettier, and not really. But it was in a good way, as in, ‘That singer was super cute and she was very funny, too, and sometimes reminded me of Joan Cusack when she laughed in certain ways, which is good, since I think Joan Cusack [was once] a very funny woman. After making a beverage-fountain out of her mouth, up into the air, MayKay got to singing. Her singing was a lot like a lot of things, but my favourite of the reference points that sprang to mind was Kim Wilde... the kind of singing that creates little bubble-gum-popping teenage hoodlum punk-ass converts. I mean, spontaneously. You sing like that, and they appear. Awesome. Anyway, they had some songs that reminded me a lot of several other bands around these days in one specific way, which was a certain melodic sensibility, but instead of being twee in instrumentation (and with two keys/synths and no guitar, another band might just be on the Casioshit bandwagon in an interesting-for-two-seconds way, but not these guys), they carried it off with waves of good vibration. And there was a lot of range in type of song, too, even including something that was, as the bass player warned us, a waltz, if you were actually counting the signature (but the real point is it had a folk/roots whiff to it that was just right, just what the song needed, not at all strained, and refreshing). Their McClusky cover - and subsequent 5-second-long McClusky tribute song - was really, REALLY great, and early on they galvanized the crowd with their ‘Fired' song, whatever it is entitled. The lowlight for me was that about half the songs are sillier than Id wish, with lyrics a little reminiscent of schoolyard rhymes (though, as said, I loved the Fired song, actual nursery-rhyme snippets and all), which I GET is all hip and a bit ueber-cool, but maybe thats why Im not so into it. And that said, even the parts that didn't grab me as much still entertained me, and I thought they were a fun band, a smart band, a funny band and an interesting band.

Could be said for all the bands of the evening, really. Two very enthusiastic thumbs up, Ted, I'd see ‘em all again, and I'll definitely be at the next Purr night.

A mouth-watering prospect tonight with the promise of harmonious, classy musicianship and plenty of rousing good-time feeling from the three acts. I'd never seen openers The Appletree Boys before but heard positive things. Two guys, two acoustic guitars, two voices, good tunes. There's plenty of humour in the banter and in the songs themselves although it never masks that they are very serious about what they play. The song ‘Even If...' is introduced as a political song, ‘if you want to see it that way' and proceeds to do all it can to prevent the guys ever getting a megabucks deal from Sony, complaining (in an upbeat way) against the mind drain of the games console and other multi-media. It's far from being earnest folk/singer-songwriter stuff (they're not fans of Jack Johnson), the guys often beating rhythm on their guitars and even doing a mellow cover of Bob Marley's ‘Don't Worry, Be Happy'. A gently uplifting start to the night.

The Rusticles shift the tempo up several gears while keeping the emphasis on superb artistry. I remember seeing them in last year's Battle of the Bands final and being impressed, particularly when I found out they'd only just started playing together. Already the band had a presence, cohesiveness and some damn fine tunes. A double bass and a steel guitar give the band a different look and sound to the average. Will's steel guitar in particular gives the music a lightening flash. His fringe flops down permanently over his face as he hunches over, feverishly plucking and sliding the strings with sweet intensity. Adam's bass ensures the music keeps swinging. The line-up is completed by acoustic rhythm guitar from vocalist Joe Chowles and Jake on drums. Joe gives the sound a rockier, aggressive edge and the different elements combine beautifully - rock, swing, blues all spices in the brew. The punchy rhythm with bluesy twang is slightly Beefheart but more swing and melody than jerky discord. Maintaining the one cover a set ratio they do The Doors' (via Weill and Brecht) ‘Alabama Song' giving a different lurch as the old drunk whirls like a dervish in his stupor. Driving energy and dizzying playing are an intoxicating mix.

A mix that equally applies to headliners The Doubtful Guest, Moles favourites of course and always providers of good times. As the opening chords of ‘Business' fire up it's difficult not to get bodily involved. Tonight, though, I think they produce one of the best sets I've ever heard by them. They're on fire from beginning to end - even a couple of prolonged breaks between songs when Andy breaks a string are covered by almost jazzy jams from the other three guys. Nice. Even the Guest's interludes are better than most band's proper sets! They storm through a version of Johnny Cash's ‘Folsom Prison Blues' when that train seems like it's going to steam right off the tracks. It's music for mind and body that picks the crowd up and flings them passionately around the floor. Everything builds to a magnificent climax with the awesome ‘What I've Done Wrong' - my personal favourite from the Guest's fine repertoire. The version on the album Volume Two with ex-member Ben on electric guitar is hard to beat but it was great to hear it now live with Chris on piano. It's a song which brings out all the flavours of the Guest's own special brew - Andy's soulful voice soars, the lyrics are classic bad boy rock/blues lament and the epic music would be a perfect example of what Gram Parsons christened ‘cosmic American music' were it not for the band hailing from our own shores. Just when you think the magic is drawing to a close they pick up the pace again with another riff, not wanting to leave the stage, wringing the last drops of sweat from the night.

Fair dos to Franz Ferdinand, with the completion of that difficult third album, they could have resumed the arduous process of promotion by stepping straight back into the enormodome circuit but have instead plumped for a short tour of cosier venues, which is why Moles is gratefully packed to the rafters. ‘Wow! You feel so close,' marvels Alex Kapranos, eyeball to eyeball with grinning fans, ‘but I like it!' He clearly does. Venue's last encounter with Franz Ferdinand was in New York City's vast Madison Square Gardens complex while they were still doggedly touring the debut album; it's no secret that the bigger the venue, the further away the music seems to get.

This is also a chance to iron out any creases in as-yet-untested new songs. Difficult births, by all accounts, including abandoned sessions with the Girls Aloud production team. There's been do dramatic reinvention, it's fair to say. It's still music that girls love to dance to, with brittle, bone-dry guitars and tub-thumping bass and drums. A discreet electro edge has been added, suggesting someone has been listening intently to the first Peaches album. There's also a slight whiff of Russian collective farm about the new material, songs from a utilitarian alternative future where pop is regulated pleasure, parsimoniously parcelled out by Calvinist Scots. Harmonies soar, but only in the choruses. There's also some one-finger synth that stirs uneasy memories of Spandau Ballet's ‘To Cut A Long Story Sort'. The crowd go mental for ‘Take Me Out', frantic pogo-ing prompting an unexpected shower of sticky beer. They encore with a triumphant ‘This Fire' and are immediately straight back out to sign autographs and pose for camera pictures. It looks like the ‘Ferd have heard the word, nasty rumours that, in these uncertain times, the kids might have fallen out of love with pop. Their solution? Reconnect. If any band has the intelligence to weather the current storm of an industry in turmoil, it's this one. Three days later they are the unbilled surprise guests at Emily Eavis's park stage at Glastonbury playing the same set to thousands.