Gig Blogged #8

Part Chimp – Nottingham Social, Sunday 3rd April 2005

After passing a van advertising ‘Agile Scaffolding…for a better erection’ and several boy racers (they’re called spoilers for a reason, chaps), ‘twas to ye olde Pitcher and Piano I repaired to relax with a bottle of grog before the evening’s noise. The P&P contains neither pitchers nor pianos, although there are ‘pictures’ on the windows, it being a converted church. The place also contrasts nicely with the Social, being very posh – at least I assume that’s what a bar is when they give you your change on a silver tray. There was, of course, some ambient Moby-esque muzak burbling away – no eighties throwbacks, though.

From thence to Nottingham's scariest pub, where heavily made-up obese women shout "Zoinks!" at each other as they file in for - Goth Speed Dating !!! This marvellous event is due to take place in the Pit & Pendulum quite soon. I really wish I could go, as the concept seems too surreal to be true. They also have an acoustigoth 'open mic' night coming up, the prize for which is tickets to 'a local comedy club' - please let it be in the same pub! Goth comedy!! My mind boggles, I don't know about yours.

The gigging triumvirate was down by one this evening, so it was Ticket Master (and, for this gig, high-quality photographer) George and I who entered the venue (eventually), to find it virtually empty. After a few moments, however, Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac drifted out of the PA and a gaggle of punters began to saunter in.

Support was admirably provided by Lords, who cranked out a wonderfully swampy gumbo of thrashing blues with Beefheart spittings on top. If they get any more southern influences into their music they’ll soon have to call themselves the ‘Lawdy Lawd Lawds’, ha ha. Ahem. The band were tired, apparently, after riding their alligators all the way from Brighton. It’d be great to see them when they weren’t tired, though, as they sounded pretty good. No song titles, just references to what the first few bars sounded like, for example, “Shall we do the one that sounds like The Who? What about the Led Zeppelin one?” This endeared the band to us immediately. As did the marvellous riffs and the ability of the singer to reveal the opening to the Channel Tunnel in his face when he let rip with another inspired roar. Great kit as well – a tele with a strat neck and a cymbal stand which appeared to be made from a cricket stump.

A short break ensued while the frankly scary amps (include one ‘Marsha’) were moved to the back wall in preparation for the ‘chimp’s arrival. Their set began (and indeed ended) with a mountain of noise thrashed out of some seriously venerable instruments. Satisfied that the audience were awake and facing in the right direction, Part Chimp tore into what can only be described as the exhumed remains of the Ramones playing Black Sabbath and Sonic Youth, at Motorhead-melting volume.The singer’s guitar had dispensed with any controls, as these evidently got in the way of the aural assault on the audience. I thought it was loud because George and I were at the front, but looking around I saw a few people leaving with their fingers in their ears, so the whole club was feeling it. There is bad loud and good loud, however, and this was most definitely good loud.The drum sound verged on ‘head in a bucket of wet gravel’ but that may have been my own ears failing. The bass appeared to be leading the charge but it was the drummer who was organising things, crossing songs off his set list after each seismically crashed to a close.

Singer and drummer swapped places towards the end,  a change being as good as a rest evidently, as more shred-worthy mayhem ensued. Second guitarist left the stage after running out of strings, then in turn the band stood down to leave the now-guitared drummer to switch the amps off before they spontaneously combusted.

I passed on the merch myself, which left George to merch-frenzy among the CDs and t-shirts. The Part Chimp EP looked interesting, though. Sample track – Hitlers and Jews. My ears have a couple of weeks to recover before Mr. Spencer cuts his swathe on the 17th.