I had a bad feeling about last night's gig for a couple of days beforehand. Some came true some didn't, I think they're more about me than anything else, but hey ho.
Last saw HMHB at the Rescue Rooms last year and was really disappointed that night, because I'd remembered them being so good in Newport in '86 (or maybe '85 [weird Naylor and I may have been in the same gig but not known it]), because it seemed like a mums and dads' night out, loads of "one gig a year" bods and lots of "I know all the words to ALL the songs" things going on. Plus it'd been packed and we could see fuck all, although Mart and I were able to perfect our "least intimidating bouncers in the world" schtick by standing on a step by a fire door and getting nervous glances from passers by as well as people being really polite to us.
Anyhow that kind of added to my uncertainty about last night. It was my first ever proper trip to Derby (been to the train station, on a train [natch]), getting lost around the less than prepossessing town centre, then feeling shitty for keeping George waiting in the pub while we got our bearings, finding the pub full of piss-heads heading to the gig, many in full Dukla Prague regalia and the huge amounts of smoke, ah it all felt bad. And I'm in a shitty mood anyway, so good luck Wirral lads.
The nightclub had signs warning "if you're caught fighting you'll get caved in and banned for life" (ok that's paraphrasing see Mark's picture of the sign here) on all doors on the way in, and muy bounceros looking well larey, bad viiiiiiibbes maan. We got stood near the front (in front of "what did God give us Neil?" care-in-the-community man - location, location, location ) with a good view of the stage despite Skeletal Family-esque dry ice swathes, any road about 10 minutes after getting in HMHB took the stage (hilariously blinded by low eye-level "lightshow"). They played a longish and pretty good set, well received and much better than last year's aural experience. The fibreboard floor felt like it was going to cave in under the weight of flabby wankah pogoing. There was an air of menace and lariness (2) about the whole evening though, the front mosh area looked like a bouncers', squaddies' and twats' convention, blokes (male and female) in their 40s moshing and pogo-ing, but with an air of joyless desperation to it. Plus the python-esque singalonging, word mimicking (sp?), I don't know it's all so fucking sad. I think this has a lot to do with me, but despite that I don't think I'll go see HMHB live again, I'll stick to the albums I've got because the last 2 times've got me down (for different, but similar reasons [goodbye sense]). It all seems to have little relation to the humour and feral intelligence that I like HMHB for.
Naylor vacated soonish, pissed off by twattage, and mebbe other stuff, Mark, Jo and I stayed to the end, but could've skipped the encores really (reasonable Pixies "Here Comes Your Man" included).
Enjoyed the company (really nice chat with Mark and Jo on way home despite work impingement) but not the gig, unfortunately little of that down to the band.
"We've got a bad review, oh no"
Other stuff: Go here and click on the final (i.e. furthest right [in any way you want to take that]) of the Nottingham Rescue Rooms reviews. I was thinking the "it's our club, locals fuck off" thing was just me but this says it all. The other reviews also display a closed cultish blinkered-ness with little actual criticism. Or maybe they enjoyed it I didn't.
I like the singalongs - I prefer it to the heckling, anyway. Read the reviews from last year's Nottingham gig - the last negative one conveys the sort of feeling I had about the crowd last night, i.e. they used to go to gigs but they don't much any more, and have forgotten what they can be like. I disagree with the review's portrayal of the Rescue Rooms as 'a shithouse' (the writer has obviously never been to the Charlotte or the Oxford Venue circa 1993) and the rest was just a rant because she didn't want to push people out of the way.
Posted by: palmer eldritch | February 03, 2006 at 12:02 PM
It's not the singalongs as such, it's the whole, "I know all the words of every song, and you're a part time twat" (which I am) and it's self congratulatory, aaaaaarrrrrrrgggggggghhh. It just annoys me. It creates a safe club feeling for those in but kind of bars the way to anyone not already in. Probably because I'm outside looking in and don't like it, but there's something a bit unnerving and creepy about the whole thing. The band were fine though, but it's unsatisfying to watch them just for the music and show, because I do think they spread themselves thinly sometimes trying to mix genres. He (Nigel Blackwell) is a genius lyricist/pop culture commentator/comedian though. I think thast inspires some 'true folkie' adoration and puritanicism mind so maybe that's the root, I dunno.
Posted by: Gilbert | February 03, 2006 at 12:37 PM
Exclusionist, that's the word I was looking for, and that's what really winds me up about the world at the moment.
Posted by: Gilbert | February 03, 2006 at 12:38 PM
Ah, I see. Well I don't mind being excluded by the Dukla brigade. In fact they can exclude me as far as they like!
Posted by: palmer eldritch | February 03, 2006 at 01:37 PM