'Rock Night Satellite 7'
Thurs 2nd February 2006
181 Stoke Newington Church St
Pete And The Pirates
Hands On Heads
First band 8pm prompt - 11pm
Â£4/3 with flyer/Artrocker card
Happy New Year!
Rock Night Satellite returns once again to herald in the best in new music for 06' after a Christmas hiatus that involved bear baiting, torture and a stint in a Turkish prison which later blossomed in to a multi lateral civil partnership.
Fact: PETE AND THE PIRATES are one of the best bands in the UK at the moment. Last time they played this night they did it naked and brandishing hand guns. Fiction: They are made up of five guys from Reading who are equally at home impersonating strange animals as they are generating some of the quirkiest rock and pop the human ear has ever heard. Aged between 2 and 4, they eat badgers for breakfast.
Having played all over the shop (including the stock room), they are one of the tightest bands in the land, so tight that a Yiddish Scotsman was once found complaining that if they were any tighter he's have to hang himself from the Forth Road Bridge by his nuts whilst simultaneously singing Simple Red's 'Brand New,' out of his ass.
When this band rock out, they really rock out, a whole array of sonic flourishes and sounds building into whopping crescendos that can even be seen by the Russian space station MIR from a hanger in Tangiers.
Tonight they will be treating us to tunes fresher than a Carefree panty liner residing in Stockholm's Ice Hotel and doing impressions of the world's greatest ever comedian before he has even been born. They will also be playing some old crap as well.
The next band i booked because they wangled their way into my third night by way of a measly Â£1 and said they enjoyed PATP so much they wanted them to support them. Not one to miss the opportunity of making sure the night these two bands would play together, like little lambs on a Welsh hilltop, was mine, i made them commit to a date and very nice it was too; flowers, chocolates...
Boys and girls i am pleased to announce that the show stealing GEAR will be on hand to entertain you with a blistering punk rock performance that set the likes of Glasto alight last year.
Just out the studio and eager to promote their new sounds, you can be damn sure to expect some ferocious onstage antics by the London based four piece that would put even the late Stanley 'Tookie' Williams to shame as they gun their way through more tracks in thirty minutes than he did 7-Eleven till attendants back in 1979.
Let the onslaught ensue with a barrage of numbers such as Akabutcher and Gaymen that have won them fans in the form of Badly Drawn Boy and Buzzcocks front man, Pete Shelley.
Spiky, energetic and fast, Gear will have you moshing like an epileptic snared on an electric fence.
Next up the mighty EXGIRLFRIENDS, with 2006 set to be their year.
A 4 piece post-punk/garage band conceived in spring of 2005 and hailing from Chicago, Illinois, Dallas, Texas and wherever the hell else they fancy recruiting,
they take their cues from the Pixies, Alice Donut, The Velvet Underground, Faust and that hip swingin', karate kicking, burger munching Elvis, before packing them into a cannon and blasting them off into the next door neighbour's pool where they are left to drown.
This notoriously underground group are the band who put the S in scuzz as they mine downright diamond tracks from the rawest of ore, then hurl them back into the baying crowd, in what can only be described as a devastatingly lucid and lurid performance to rival the Marquis De Sade's coming of age party of 1758.
A bunch of reprobates who'll have you shaking your ass and questioning your conscience in the same heart beat, the furious and frenetic idiosyncrasy that is the Exgirlfriends not only flys in the face of pointless pop trends dictated by image, but, well and truly craps in it with their deliciously dark, witty and captivating lyricism.
In short they are the real rocking rolling deal, fitted out with weirdo singing, harmonies to f@*k hookers with, and the most unhinged chord changes in the world.
Rounding off the night, we have the super swift Upset The Rhythm house band and recent support to Clor, HANDS ON HEADS.
Shorter, sharper and deadlier than a Voctorinox Escort, that's where the similarities end between this riotous quartet and a Swiss Army Knife. They are as far from the daily regiment of the nation that manufactures this tool as a vermillion penis is from a coelacanth.
Jagged guitars, jarring drums and souped up electronics demand the absolute attention of an audience, where no track in their repertoire exceeds much more than a minute and a half in its perfectly wayward form.
Within the blink of an eye the group has gone from singing tunes such as, 'Lasers In The Jungle,' to 'Ritual Of The Cat's Paw,' launching in to another punked up sonic assault to end the lives of a thousand bed ridden pensioners quicker than the sight of the ghost of Harold Shipman leering through the piss filled smog of their bed-sits with a fresh batch of Garibaldis.
Thinning your blood with aspirin before the show is advisable.