Fuck U Is My NameEdit this event
Cold-like symptoms are lifting; Michael has Oyster, will travel to party. Tottenham? Just a bus ride away? You’re shitting me…
Apparently not: Fuck U Is My Name bring the party and some with a set of cheap key-riddled stop-start punkisms and beat-tastic breakdowns. They’re German, sound American, and have got the English dancing ‘til they get the beer sweats – a picture-perfect ménage à trois. Beyond that, I know nothing about them, but their set impressed to such an extent that I bought their four-track 7”. That’s right, bought. With proper money and everything. That’s some recommendation. As is this: given a decent deal these guys would be up there with Q And Not U and Les Savy Fav in terms of commercial and critical success. Investigate.
The two bands sandwiched by our review subjects are fairly poor, so certain attendees retire to the pub proper. (For those that have never been to the Swan, gigs are held in the back room, by the kitchen. Proper DIY.) Tonight, the locals are enjoying a reggae DJ; we do too, and the juxtaposition of searing punk and chilled reggae is immensely enjoyable.
Act II (well, IV to be fair)
Transistor Transistor have problems – no proper PA means that more often than not bands playing the Swan are presented with an assortment of antique equipment and unsuitable amplification. Tonight, the New Hampshire quartet’s vocalist hollers through a knackered guitar amp; thus, we barely hear a discernible word. But such technicalities matter not: tonight’s set is one of accomplished hardcore musicanship and powerful, chest-pounding riffs. Their recently released full-length, Erase All Name Or Likeness, is a must-buy for anyone previously choked by the chaotic splendour of Since By Man’s We Sing The Body Electric or, going back a few more years, Planes Mistaken For Stars’ Fuck With Fire. You won’t hear better contemporary hardcore songs than ‘Black Cat’ and ‘Power Chord Academy’ this year: fact. ‘Cause of the technical fuck ups, we’re granted only five songs to placate us until next these men arrive on our shores; with luck and a following wind that won’t be too long from now. Muffled voices have breached the barricades that held them back through sheer strength and self-belief; Michael buses home with ringing ears and brand-new heroes.