It’s a funny one. Always been a real bone of contention that Turn were dropped by Infectious, and the ever-so-bland Wilt were not. Turn had just supported Idlewild on tour, which saw an increase in their album sales, yet got the chop from the label shortly afterwards. Who knows how the minds (and accountants) of record labels work at the best of times… but that’s rock ‘n’ roll for you. Fuck, I’ve had that conversation with so many people now, let’s move on.

We’ll get to them in a minute.

My Red Cell – who knows where this curious lot have suddenly sprung from into our lives – to begin with, are as tight as a gnat’s chuff. It falls apart steadily towards the end, but it’s still a glorious mess. The singer is a young Fran Healy lookalike, the drummer plays shirtless, and the songs are all over the place, verging on comic rock but mainly tinted with Mclusky, Talking Heads (see also: Corrigan) and a big dose of good ol’ Pixies. Quite who’s going to BUY it is another matter, but they’re individual, they have (some) great tunes, and appear to be on a planet of their own. A thumbs up, obviously.

So, back to Turn. This band meant everything to me. Had I ever had any money, I would’ve crossed the land afar to see Turn. As I was living in Aberdeen when they had their deal and UK distribution, it posed only a handful of opportunities to see them. I was a fan. We ‘hung out’ a couple of times. Ian the drummer remembered that I had a £9.99 microphone which I’d bought in Dixons. I still have that, actually.

But this is not some fucking nostalgia trip. That was only a few years ago, and they’ve released two more CDs since then – an EP and a full-length, Irish-only-released album. They appear to be playing in London for no reason whatsoever tonight, with no advertising, no buzz, and a third-full venue.

That’s not the only thing which isn’t right. The lineup has changed, obviously, since the departure of bassist Gavin, who defected to old touring buddies Idlewild. There’s an additional guitarist, and frontman and songsmith Ollie appears to have aged 10 years. Something is amiss. From the moment we shove our way to the front, something feels slightly wrong.

The lack of old songs is not a problem. I don’t really care if they play ‘Beretta’ (which they did. It was bad. Lumpen and flat. No need. It stuck out like a badger in a field of chickens). I just want to connect. I want to feel the same way I did seeing The Frames for the same time. Judging by the reaction of some people, it seems I’m being too much of a hard nut to connect. Why am I moaning? Ollie still has a beautiful voice, some of his songs still make me want to cry, but this is all a bit of a love lost; it’s like meeting someone you fancied years ago, but you’ve now got a new boyfriend/girlfriend… but you still have a bit of a crush. It’s awkward.

This is not, however, the end between you and me, Turn. It’s no wonder bands like you hardly ever play London. I certainly fucking wouldn’t.

Even though there wasn’t one tonight, there WILL be an encore.