The Flesh Happening

Anyone scared of a little male nudity might want to steer cleer of The Flesh Happening, whose frontman Oliva Spleen was once involved in what is now referred to only as “the sausage incident”. Tonight, he takes to the stage in elbow length surgical gloves and a rather gregarious pair of clear plastic shorts. Yes, there’s cock and balls for everyone to see, and my female companion soon disappears to the politically correct safety of the couches until it’s all over. A pity in some respects, as the harpy-voiced frontman does manage to excite with more than the contents of his pants; otherwordly dirges like ‘Anal Joy Fast’ and ‘Wretched Mutilation’ causing quite a stir.

Headliners, the extremely aptly-monickered The Imbeciles, are led by erstwhile Eighties Matchbox B-Liner Andy Huxley, and also feature an escapee of Neil’s Children. Due to the fact that their concoction of stoner-ish punk/metal squall is rather far removed from their previous ‘work’ (well, one could draw a faint line from The Matchbox’s harshest moments), it’s not a total surprise they felt the need to run their own race.

Kind of like a bunch of cavemen jamming with Melvins, Huxley’s new trio are a grinding paeon to neanderthal rock in its most literal sense. Their songs may be relentless, but there’s a carefully crafted backbone of ideas behind the decibel-heavy attack. Second vocalist Bertie Lean’s tribal drumming pins together the spiralling, caustic guitar and the pounding bass, as a bunch of sweaty kids bash the shit out of each other in the front rows. Our hairy forefathers would have certainly approved.