Goldfinger

Tonight the Astoria's triple assemblage of ska-punk-power-rock-misfits has gathered the many varied peoples of the punk rock fraternity to an all encumbering post-exam, pre-Festival mosh fest, in all its glory. The Astoria buzzes, as is usual at many a punk gig, with fuzzed up, ‘cola’ drinking, rizla smoking, teens (some fresh out of the realms of teeny-bopper-land), who rub shoulders with, or at least run into the shoulders of, the authentic and rapidly aging trad-style punkaas. The pic’n’mix assortment of an audience seems to reflect in the ages of tonight’s three bands: Lightyear, who bounce with the energy of a squad of fresh faced newcomers; King Prawn, who appear to be on the verge of limited success having tightened the loose ends of their set; and Goldfinger, with a lead singer planning to celebrating his 45th birthday following this evening’s set.

Storming on stage Lightyear showcase their rapid ska set to a generally accepting audience. Flowing guitars fill the holes and allow a blanket of sound for the shouty vocals and trumpet melodies to dance upon, whilst drum patterns seem to twist and turn throughout each song, changing tempo in what might be considered to be some rather odd places. It all adds an interesting ‘mix’n’match’ quality to the songs and a great deal of confusion in the mosh pit! Lightyear's fantastic brass section steals the crowd's attention with their policy of non-stop motion. They spin with the capacity of a whirling dervish with fire at his feet and pistol shots whizzing past his ears, jumping through imaginary circus hoops before blasting a squealing power brass melody that enables every lightyear song to whistle past your consciousness at the same speed as a 32 stone crowd diver...

In a rather reserved and unassuming fashion, King Prawn take hold of their weapons of sound for the onslaught that will be tonight’s performance. It is ‘ska-punk’ in that it holds the beats and rhythm of the punk variety, but there is definitely something more here, something lurking subtly beneath the surface of the music that if the band picked out and worked upon, would set them abruptly apart from their conventional counterparts. King Prawn’s robe wearing bassist - Babar Luck - plays as much a part as the face of the band as the singer (and occasional guitarist) does, combined vocals and lyrical interchange catching the attention of the obviously impressed hoards in the pit. "This one goes out to the MTV gen-er-a-TION!", "this is for the Papa roach crew!", screams the face of the bass, who renounces his instrument in order to take the helm, shrieking vocals that mix melody with rap. Dancing like the cobra of a middle eastern snake charmer, with hisses and pounces and complete 360 degree revolutions, King Prawn manage to shine in the spotlights, sustaining unadulterated intrigue with their unusual/hilarious onstage antics whilst at all times managing to back their actions up with the superb quality of the music. At times they do seem to take themselves slightly too seriously, perhaps forgetting that in general band terms they certainly are nowhere near the crest of the hierarchy. Then again, King Prawn freely admit they "like to smoke, smoke shit" so maybe its just hard for them to keep a grip on all things at all times..

Goldfinger are anything but revolutionary in their performance, but what they do is perhaps as close to perfect punk in action as you can get. Barring ‘no holes’ (at least at this point in tonight’s performance) Goldfinger launch straight into their fired-up, staunched rock, blow down the walls, give the kids a beat to jump to, style of playing music, and everyone seems to love it. With most of the band at around 45 years in age, Goldfinger bounce and rattle remarkably well, rightfully inciting all those their age and older to enter the pit to jump the night away. Few however respond to their on stage pleas, perhaps all others of an equal age under the roof tonight, aiming to retain at least an ounce of respect, most likely having grown up and found ‘proper jobs’. Blistering through perhaps in excess of thirty songs altogether, with a mass of cover versions including Duran Duran’s ‘Her name is Rio’ (possibly not the original title!) Goldfinger still manage to harbour time for onstage hilarity and stay true to their punk rock nature. Stopping half way through a song to answer the phone in true ‘Trigger Happy’ style, Goldfinger’s front man manages to relish in a chance to openly mock Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears, much to the crowds delight, "Britney, I told you! Don’t ever call me in the middle of a show!" A triple transsexual set of belly dancers make ‘tribute’ to Destiny’s Child whilst towards the end of the gig three fully naked men and three very scantily clad women ‘wiggle’ to the rhythm of Goldfinger. For some this was too much!

Goldfinger are fun, they rock, they get you bouncing, they like to see you crowd surf and they love a bit of humour. It’s a shame that’s all there is too them, but to be honest Goldfinger will never capture the imagination in the same way as other bands have. Its in your face, its loud and they rule… but in the end there’s nothing to take home except the bruises.