Post by markwj on Oct 5, 2007 11:08:56 GMT
No Means No, The Freak Accident
The West Riding, Huddersfield
21/9/07
Possibly the first time the town came to my attention was through the “humorous” “I want to go to Huddersfield” intro to The Exploited’s “Sex and Violence”, but strangely enough that didn’t make me want to go there in the mean time. However when again, late in the day, I cotton on to a UK tour by the Canadian veteran unconventional punks this was the only reasonable possibility of checking them out, what with my hectic social calendar...
An easy enough trip over for a Friday evening, there in good time for the doors, or so I thought. There the bottom almost dropped out of my world when I was informed it was tickets only and sold out! Aggghhh! No amount of pleading distance travelled and the fact it was impossible to contact the venue in advance (no land line there!) seemed to make progress, and I was facing up to the grim frustration of watching the gig through a steamy window from the pavement outside. Trudging off to console myself with some of the finest local cuisine on offer, someone shouted after me, the god of bass smiled down upon me, and the promoter told me someone had just cancelled a reservation. Phew. So while stunned others were also turned away at the doors when they eventually opened my name was down so I was coming in.
The venue was certainly “cosy”, one extended room tucked into the side of a concrete building incorporating a supermarket car park and there was a steady stream entering till jam packed filled at maybe 100 at the most. Just like my last trip to Scotland to see them, it was pleasing to meet other folks that had been drawn from all over the country to see these understated cult heroes, and it can’t be coincidence that the band’s amiability is reflected in the fans. One enterprising soul from the North East had discovered the tourist information centre was on the same street as the venue and had got the woman from there to walk down to the venue to get contact/ticket details etc, classic. There was the good mix of oldsters like me and kids who obviously found it as fresh and exciting as ever and there was the general gleeful anticipation about what we were about to receive.
Just the one support, over from San Francisco, The Freak Accident (nicely ambiguous name I find) are fronted by the guy who used to do the same for Alternative Tentacles stalwarts Victims Family, and that reference point did seem to carry through. Some familiar vibes of manic, angular post Dead Kennedy’s riffs were evident, but the core was a kind of sleazy southern rock’n’roll. There was a lot of humour put into the lyrics, backed up by the drummer’s antics, but their performance was serious in delivering some energetic and heartfelt melodic punk that really set the night off in a good way.
A brief break before cramming back into the cramped “dancefloor” for the headliners. At first Rob Wright is just sitting back, running through some bass twiddles but when they are all up and ready they kick off with a great leveller for the band and all the crowd to sing along with great gusto - “I’m an asshole”. A lot of the subsequent set is naturally showcasing their new album “A is for Ausfahrt” which almost as naturally I’ve only just found out about and haven’t heard. A scan of reviews will largely say something of the likes of “no means no by numbers” but for those already loving their style that’s obviously not a problem. There is the familiar fast speed angry punk of the likes of “Wake up” and the drawn out but driving emotional epics like “heaven is the dust beneath my shoes” but there’s also a whole lot more strange flavours or tangents spun into the mix, whether country anthems, oirish folk or vaguely 50’s surf ballads. Their invention is fantastic, I had only been reading recently how their technicality has seen them acknowledged as distant godfathers to modern math-core mentalists but this three piece retain a great clarity musically and lyrically that can be really appreciated. For as many humourous/silly lyrics they sharply offset them with some really dark and disturbing insights of the human condition, mirroring the swiftly veering changes in musical tempo and structure. Probably the “best” (living, rhespekt to Cliff Burton) bass I know, especially as it is so at the forefront of and driving along what they do. That said every element of the drums, guitar and shared vocals are so well keyed in together and honed through such a long time that they are so much more than the sum of their parts. The highlight for me is a grinding outing of “The Tower” which I screamed for with no avail the last time so was doubly pleased this time. There was literally no escape for the band at the end of their normal set as the only way off stage was to the front so they gave us an encore that squeezed in more new ones before Tom finally ditched his guitar to go give us some jazz dancing for “Big Dick”, before having to force their way through the sweaty throng to get some fresh air. Great stuff, an evening where good vibes triumphed over a potential disaster and seemingly entirely suited to what No Means No are all about.
The West Riding, Huddersfield
21/9/07
Possibly the first time the town came to my attention was through the “humorous” “I want to go to Huddersfield” intro to The Exploited’s “Sex and Violence”, but strangely enough that didn’t make me want to go there in the mean time. However when again, late in the day, I cotton on to a UK tour by the Canadian veteran unconventional punks this was the only reasonable possibility of checking them out, what with my hectic social calendar...
An easy enough trip over for a Friday evening, there in good time for the doors, or so I thought. There the bottom almost dropped out of my world when I was informed it was tickets only and sold out! Aggghhh! No amount of pleading distance travelled and the fact it was impossible to contact the venue in advance (no land line there!) seemed to make progress, and I was facing up to the grim frustration of watching the gig through a steamy window from the pavement outside. Trudging off to console myself with some of the finest local cuisine on offer, someone shouted after me, the god of bass smiled down upon me, and the promoter told me someone had just cancelled a reservation. Phew. So while stunned others were also turned away at the doors when they eventually opened my name was down so I was coming in.
The venue was certainly “cosy”, one extended room tucked into the side of a concrete building incorporating a supermarket car park and there was a steady stream entering till jam packed filled at maybe 100 at the most. Just like my last trip to Scotland to see them, it was pleasing to meet other folks that had been drawn from all over the country to see these understated cult heroes, and it can’t be coincidence that the band’s amiability is reflected in the fans. One enterprising soul from the North East had discovered the tourist information centre was on the same street as the venue and had got the woman from there to walk down to the venue to get contact/ticket details etc, classic. There was the good mix of oldsters like me and kids who obviously found it as fresh and exciting as ever and there was the general gleeful anticipation about what we were about to receive.
Just the one support, over from San Francisco, The Freak Accident (nicely ambiguous name I find) are fronted by the guy who used to do the same for Alternative Tentacles stalwarts Victims Family, and that reference point did seem to carry through. Some familiar vibes of manic, angular post Dead Kennedy’s riffs were evident, but the core was a kind of sleazy southern rock’n’roll. There was a lot of humour put into the lyrics, backed up by the drummer’s antics, but their performance was serious in delivering some energetic and heartfelt melodic punk that really set the night off in a good way.
A brief break before cramming back into the cramped “dancefloor” for the headliners. At first Rob Wright is just sitting back, running through some bass twiddles but when they are all up and ready they kick off with a great leveller for the band and all the crowd to sing along with great gusto - “I’m an asshole”. A lot of the subsequent set is naturally showcasing their new album “A is for Ausfahrt” which almost as naturally I’ve only just found out about and haven’t heard. A scan of reviews will largely say something of the likes of “no means no by numbers” but for those already loving their style that’s obviously not a problem. There is the familiar fast speed angry punk of the likes of “Wake up” and the drawn out but driving emotional epics like “heaven is the dust beneath my shoes” but there’s also a whole lot more strange flavours or tangents spun into the mix, whether country anthems, oirish folk or vaguely 50’s surf ballads. Their invention is fantastic, I had only been reading recently how their technicality has seen them acknowledged as distant godfathers to modern math-core mentalists but this three piece retain a great clarity musically and lyrically that can be really appreciated. For as many humourous/silly lyrics they sharply offset them with some really dark and disturbing insights of the human condition, mirroring the swiftly veering changes in musical tempo and structure. Probably the “best” (living, rhespekt to Cliff Burton) bass I know, especially as it is so at the forefront of and driving along what they do. That said every element of the drums, guitar and shared vocals are so well keyed in together and honed through such a long time that they are so much more than the sum of their parts. The highlight for me is a grinding outing of “The Tower” which I screamed for with no avail the last time so was doubly pleased this time. There was literally no escape for the band at the end of their normal set as the only way off stage was to the front so they gave us an encore that squeezed in more new ones before Tom finally ditched his guitar to go give us some jazz dancing for “Big Dick”, before having to force their way through the sweaty throng to get some fresh air. Great stuff, an evening where good vibes triumphed over a potential disaster and seemingly entirely suited to what No Means No are all about.