Part Chimp

Being put on a bill like this is a mixed blessing for a band like Wet Paint. On one hand it's great exposure and kudos. On the other, no matter how good they are, a straightforward, basically unknown indie pop band is going to look, well, dull next to Part Chimp's crushing sludge and chrome hoof's cosmic overdrive. That's not to say that they're in any way bad - with a general base of Pavement with some nice Strokes (circa Room On Fire) spidery lead lines, as well as some slightly questionable Bluetones-y country shuffling, it comes as no shock that they're an Absentee side project. If they plug at it and build up a bit of a fan base and get onto the radio, communal good times and some recognised songs might make their live shows something to look forward to, but for now we're left with little desire to see them again.

Since I last saw them, Part Chimp have jettisoned their four-string player. For a band whose songs are as much constructed out of a molten, sludgy, bass heavy sound as the actual notes played, this seemed like a near suicidal move. Somehow though, they still sound as utterly destructive as ever, but with a slightly looser feel, befitting of the carnal bursts of noise coming from lead chimp Tim Cedar's guitar. His open tuned drones and utterly heroic lead line squeals are accompanied by Iain's more conventional riffing and Drumm Chimp's massive, wide-open drums. It's all utterly epic without ever seeming pompous or melancholic. It's the type of continually primal rock that makes you wonder why so many other bands can’t just be this good.

Chromehoof are a Discworld Disco, Terry Pratchett's sci-fi universe made musical, but better than that suggests. Their sound is a mash up of fantastical prog and metal - the traditional musiques aux choix for the D'n'D set - with retro futurist electro disco. If that sounds like a mess, that's because it is - a colossal, contagious mess spilling out over the stage and pillaging the audience's imaginations. As if the music wasn't enough to be getting on with, the 13 people onstage are quite the visual spectacle. Book-ended by two immaculately choreographed go-go dancers, everyone is bedecked in clothing seemingly made out of glitter balls and, variously, hotpants, face paint and Viking helmets. With three singers, it all has a big soul revue feel to it, albeit a soul revue in which one of the singers only takes over for the sludge-metal breakdowns.

The Experience reaches its peak in a track with such an ingeniously poised polyrhythm that half of the audience is stomping to one beat and the other half jiving to another entirely - no mean feat. Sometimes it does go on a little long, and sometimes the strings and horns do get a little drowned out and forced into subservience, but with a show this ambitious, joining the dots between The Mars Volta and Ebony Bones, it’s never going to be quite perfect. But God bless them for trying.

Photo: Chris Hynd