DiScover: Kero Kero Bonito
Tommy Mack meets Anglo-Japanese electro-popsters Kero Kero Bonito...»
tmack has written the following articles:
Tommy Mack meets Anglo-Japanese electro-popsters Kero Kero Bonito...»
What’s the best thing about so-called Art Rock? It’s noisy. And the worst thing? Well, it’s often little else; a plodding, opaque racket, sacrificing rhythm and melody for sheer density of sound. And it’s White – an unfunky, machine-like grind, made strictly not for dancing to, separating itself from it’s cockier cousin by eschewing its blues roots. Not so multinational London trio Venom Seeds.»
This summer Stewart Lee returns once again to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival with a new show; 'Stewart Lee – 90s Comedian' before a Soho theatre run and national tour. I caught up with him at his palatial mansion, built on the site of a Hackney orphanage by the displaced occupants, where he poured me a glass of milk and a biscuit*, sat me on his knee and answered a few of my questions…»
Mark E Smith wipes the blood from the huge gash a well-aimed can left on his forehead when it came sailing down from the balcony the second he appeared on stage. A faint smile creeps across his saggy face. Perhaps Mark E Smith doesn’t want you to like him. Or maybe the only way The Fall and their fans can express their love is to wound each other. It would figure.»
With ‘civil unrest’ (a nice euphemism for nutters blowing people up or cutting their heads off with machetes) running rampant across much of the globe, the chemical-choked Earth threatening to belch up the generations of polluted shit it’s been force-fed in an almighty wave of climatic violence and half the population of the world’s only superpower heartily endorsing an agenda of greed, fear and hatred, as long as it’ll stop a few poofs getting married people’s tax breaks – the sick, unholy bastards, it’s time to draw a sharp line in the sand between vapid faux-rebel posturing and real rock’n’roll action – as ready to give a call to arms as it is a ride to the party.»
Manchester scowlrock champs Elbow are to head up the bill at a Tsunami Disaster Appeal benefit gig at the city's Apollo theatre later this month, co-ordinated by Gold Blade head honcho and sometime DiS writer John Robb.»
On this Oi-flavoured terrace anthem, John Robb and sideburned pals turn with disgust to the oil-driven nu-feudalism sweeping unchecked across the world, blood-hungry religious fundamentalism of all stripes and pissed-up, self-destructive thuggery of you, the people!»
Hear Guitar Wolf. Head go mental.»
Too weird for pop, too nice for punk, too smart for rock and too beautiful and beatific to be 'got' by the hurried and inattentive world (he doesn't even have a record deal in the UK). A round, round peg in a square, square world. A perennial outsider despite major label deals and Hollywood film roles. Yet despite dwindling record sales and despite never breaking out of cult status, a winner, not a loser in the struggle for creative and artistic freedom. In short, he is a mass of contradictions. Like all great performers. Like everyone.»
Ocean Colour Scene have announced that bassist Damon Minchella has left the band. Big Deal. The apparent reason is that he would prefer to concentrate on fatherhood.»
“Do you believe in the power of Rock’n’Roll?” For nine years this has been the rallying cry of Goldblade. It has also been the call of many others. But no-one has spoken it as forcefully or as eloquently as John Robb and his mighty army of Teddy Boy guitar slingers and piratical tub-thumpers.»
Denmark St's 12-bar club recalls a bygone era where bushy-eyebrowed Scottish folk singers plucked 12 string guitars and sang with whiskey soaked voices about the deflowering of wenches and the meanness of the English and scowled at the Chelsea booted youngsters outside buying their fancy Hofner electrical guitars. So it's a fitting veenue for All Else Failed to undertake that ultimate test of songwriting prowess; The unplugged gig.»
A piss weak opening act can't spoil the visceral thrills of a punk rock'n'roll double whammy. There's more to 'garage' than getting safety pins in Topshop...»
Brixton's Windmill always feels more like someone's attic than a venue. It's a delightfully intimate venue for the epic rock rebirth of the German Exchange, the irresitable pop ska of the Souls and the, er, competent rock of Rhesus.»
They may not be hungry but they sure are weird: Here in North London Arch-quirksters Ten Benson punch us in the face with their pin-sharp new rawk direction with a gaggle of equally eye-opening support acts in tow...»
Close your eyes and you could be listening to the first Clash album. Open them and four scrawny sweat-drenched Portuguese are getting shirtless, displaying the wan chest hair and scrawny torsos as befits the bearers of the punk rock’n’roll torch. The Parkinsons have not an ounce of originality o»
Canterbury Fayre
Hernhill, Canterbury, Kent
22nd – 24th August 2003
A few miles down the road in Reading, Good Charlotte are getting bottled off, System of a Down are inciting a near riot and Damon Albarn has fallen on his big fat arse. Literally, this time. But I’m spe»
“We both had the same fear, me and Joe Strummer” says Pete Shelley. “In the old days, the punk rock days, cars had big chrome bumpers. We both had the fear of standing on the corner and a car whipping round and catching your kneecap!” It certainly conjures up an odd image – Shelley and Strummer,»
Rumour has it that the Ga Ga’s threw a hissy fit over the state of the PA and flounced off with a hundred quid in pocket. For doing sweet FA! As scams go, it’s hardly in the Malcolm McLaren league, but given that it would take me two and a half weeks of doing nowt to make that on the dole, you’ll forgi»
A fierce snare roll heralds the arrival of this chunky riff-driven slice of Brit-rock. Beefed-up fuzz-tone guitars send this pogo-ing pop metal monster along. There’s a hint of the stoner sneer that informs some of Jack’s Creation’s other stuff, but basically this is a gonzoid slice of moshing fun, like Terro»
Dragster are already playing as we enter Soho’s quaint little Borderline club. A raven-haired punkette clad in boots and mini-skirt, pretty but mean looking, belts out a number over the racket of the band’s distorted rumble. The guitarist looks like a cross between Chopper and Mad Max, like a deranged sheep s»
In deepest, darkest needle-strewn Kings Cross lies the preposterously named Water Rats “Theatre”. I doubt you could fit Punch and Judy in this place, let alone a full blown dramatic troupe – theatregoers rarely have to stand elbow to elbow supping Red Stripe from a plastic beaker and trying to un-stick their feet fr»
2003 has seen Kinesis go from a hotly-tipped local band to a baby rock behemoth with a reputation for incendiary sloganeering and rabble-rousing live performances. Their ‘Billboard Beauty’ video found constant rotation on MTV2 and their relentless touring schedule saw them support the Manics at Br»
There’s a queue a bloody mile long snaking round the downstairs pub bit of Camden’s matchbox-sized Barfly Club. I think about two people paid to get in and the rest are music biz guest-list scum like the Doc and me… first up are The Koreans, whom I'm banned from reviewing, owing to DiS's vested interes»
Special Needs seem to have a vicious contempt for almost everything, according to their promo shtick: Jobs are shit, bands are shit, liking stuff is shit, only the most intense experiences will do. Which is odd, really, as they seem quite a knock-about, tongue in cheek bunch, rather than fi»
This is the first time I’ve caught Sean McLusky’s rabble-rousing noise collective at their new home in Shoreditch’s teeny tiny On The Rocks club. It’s an odd little place with big steps leading up to the stage and the bar reducing the dancefloor to about the size of a postage stamp. Personally I reckon the guys on t»
“Ah, suspenders!” says the American businessman outside Green Park tube, as I drunkenly offer props to his braces. No mate, suspenders are what girls wear (Naughty girls, girls who know they’ve been bad etc etc) These are braces and only the nattiest chaps step out in them. Dr Gonzo & I had been plied w»
There’s a bloody big pole in the middle of the stage. What sort of entertainment was this pub built for? Not scruffy guitar-wielding urchins, I’ll wager… The Creeps are already in full swing when we duck in out of the rain. I didn’t see any pole dancing up there, so I’m gonna have to deduct some points.»