Band – The Blood Brothers
Support – White Circle Crime Club
Location – London, ULU
Damage – Ã¯Â¿Â½11
Drinks – Lager, bleeeeeehhhhhhh!!!!!
Dear the guy who was windmilling in the moshpit the other night:
I just want you to know that people like you, are worse than Hitler. You’re not being big, or clever, just a prize tosser. It is unnecessary, pointless and you give no thought, care or consideration to the people around you. Grow up; dancing like this is for morons.
As you can see, one person acted like a complete gimp last night, but it didn’t spoil the fun for me and the many other Blood Brothers fans that turned out at the ULU.
First up, White Circle Crime Club (the only support of the night) stepped forward to prove their worth. First impressions? Sketchy to say the least.
There was certainly talent here; if talent was to make supposed exciting music sound incredibly bland. Throughout their 30 minute set, the redeeming features were few and far between.
Three quarters of the way through, they broke into an impressive instrumental number; utilizing a drum machine and some bizarre guitar playing, before slipping back into a plodding familiarity that encompassed most of their music.
I think if I’d have heard them on CD before witnessing them live, I’d have a better understanding and liking for their music, but unfortunately this performance (and the muddy sound) did them no favours.
As someone said to be as the band finished playing ‘all the talent money can’t buy.’ He may well be right.
After being ravaged by illness and still managing to put on a good show back in January, The Blood Brothers emerge from the wings looking like a completely different band from the one that trooped on to the Islington stage all those months ago.
Kicking off with the finest track from 2003’s opus, “Burn, Piano Island, Burn‘ is the way to start a fantastic set. “Cecilia and the Silhouette Saloon‘ vomits from the speakers like a medical student in his first week; the synthesised intro is a squashy, pulsating blast of sheer terror, before co-vocalists Jordan and Johnny let rip with the inevitable â€œMURDER= WHITE OUT!ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã‚Â They turn the ULU on its head, utter bedlam.
Is it possible to beat that opening salvo? Indeed it is. Drawing material predominantly from their last 2 albums (2004’s “Crimes‘ and their latest release, “Young Machetes‘) Seattle’s finest plow through a tidal wave of their finest recordings to date.
“Trash Flavored Trash‘ is art-punk rock at it’s finest; whilst the familiar keyboard intro of “Laser Life’ has everyone shaking their asses as if their lives depend on it
Jordan & Johnny tease and tantalize the crowd; edging ever closer to the point of no return. Their decision to not leap into the crowd is perhaps a wise one, as I feel Johnny’s skin tight trousers wouldn’t last long.
Sound problems play their part, which is a shame as “Beautiful Horses‘ is mangled horribly into un-listenable noise; as is the beginning of “Rats, Rats, Rats and Candy;’ meaning I only work out what the song is halfway through.
However, when you have tracks as good as the raucous “We Ride Skeletal Lightning‘ & the angry dance-punk of “Vital Beach‘ the wavering sound quality is soon forgotten.
Those chanting for “Ambulance Vs. Ambulance‘ are frustrated and suitably ignored; the same with those wanting “USA Nails‘ but with songs of such quality as the sombre-creeping death of “1,2,3,4 Guitars‘ and the indie-guitar-meets-hardcore onslaught of “Huge Gold AK-47‘ you don’t fucking need them.
“Love Rhymes With A Hideous Car Wreck‘ is greeted like an old friend, and provides the biggest sing-a-long of the evening; as does the conversational “Camouflage, Camouflage‘ as Johnny and Jordan trade off lines like insults in a playground.
The inevitable encore features guitarist Cody doing his best Bez impression during “Peacock Skeleton With Crooked Feathers‘ and the surprise set closer in the shape of “The Shame‘ is an unprecedented but welcomed surprise and even the expected discontinue of the song near the end is a sudden shock back to reality. There is no “Giant Swan‘ but with songs like the one that closed the frenzied “Burn, Piano Island, Burn‘ that magnificent bird is made redundant.
Moronic hardcore dancers, idiotic crowd surfers and varied quality in sound don’t stop this from being one of the best shows I’ve been to all year.
Punk rock has never sounded so good.