electric.love.affair

Staying in hotel rooms alone is odd. I think this is only the third time I’ve done it, and I’m dead sure the weirdness was entirely worth seeing the whole gig this evening.

This was the last leg of AFIs UK tour for this spring, before they continue across Europe and then through the USA. Support came in the form of The Dear And Departed and then Sick Of It All.

Getting to the gig was a bit of a nightmare. My friend led me to one venue, claiming “Google said it was here!”, with me trailing along behind going ‘Um, the internet told me Masshouse Road…?’ and we turn up at a building that looks distinctly shut. We weren’t the only ones, it seemed, as about eight other people drifted over while we were staring at the gig listing poster in hope of a clue.

We grabbed the pair that claimed not to have a car and quickly found a cab driver who actually knew where the O2 Academy was. Five pounds later, we were home and dry.

I loved the venue. They hadn’t sold tickets for the upstairs, but the floor was already three-quarters packed when we got in. The place was just the right size so that the crowd felt big, but compact enough with a wide stage for the gig to still appear intimate. The Dear And Departed already had people up and dancing which was pretty awesome, and the rest of the audience was happy and responsive – I’ve been to too many gigs where people can’t be bothered to give the first support a chance, or the support is badly suited to the headlining group. Stupidly, we’d spent about an hour being lost, so we only caught the last two songs.

Sick Of It All turned up next. I’m not familiar with this group at all, and usually I’d say I’m not a big hardcore punk fan. But these guys were great live. So much fun. The singer is fierce, fun, yet scary enough to fully grab your attention, and the lead guitarist has enough muscles, tattoos and electric blond mohawk to make you think he fell out of a Mad Max film. The song that stuck most with me was ‘Step Down’ – in particular, the snappy opening bass riff that got everyone jumping. ‘Die Alone’ was performed with some traditional ‘one side of the audience vs the other’ competition, to get us ready to sing and scream for AFI.

AFI opened with flashes of red light synched with a heartbeat bass that came though the speakers so loud I actually felt my ribcage vibrate. Jade swaggered on first, Crash Love logo painted guitar in hand, and seconds later, Davey pelted across the stage in a white tailored jacket over black t-shirt and jeans, and jumped us straight into Medicate.

After tonight, AFI are now down in my mind as one of those bands who surpass the quality of their studio material with an even more amazing live performance. In person, you can see and feel the full range of emotion that Davey puts into everything, and he never stops physically, putting his entire body language into whatever he’s singing. He’s also as unafraid to sing quietly and delicately as he is to snarl wildly into the mic, which makes the romantic aspects of some of their tracks all the more heartfelt.

After the first few songs, including an electric hairs-up-on-the-back-the-neck performance of ‘Leaving Song Part II’, the lead singer from Sick of it All took the stage again to join AFI for ‘Kill Caustic’. If it’s a professional friendship, it sure doesn’t look like one – after introductions, Davey started the song with a casual, smirking “Shall we?” to both his friend and the audience. Both vocalists showed their competitive streak by singing a line in turn, then together, then having a bit of a scream off towards the end.

I then got what I personally came for – a live performance of ‘End Transmission’, and ‘Beautiful Thieves’. The band tore through a five or six song mix of tracks from Sing the Sorrow, Decemberunderground and other snippets from Crash Love, including ‘Dancing Through Sunday’.

‘Miss Murder’ was the trigger for the encore pause, and the band returned with ‘Days of the Phoenix’ (The Art of Drowning) which earned a roar of approval from the older fans in the crowd. The set was finished up with ‘Love Like Winter’, ‘Sliver and Cold’ and a panting Davey grinning like it’s Christmas and thanking us all.

I’ll certainly be keeping an ear to the ground for their next visit to the UK after seeing this performance.

When I’m not asleep, drunk, writing, eating, or hanging about I’m an amature dancer, with my main interest in oriental dance – more commonly known as ‘bellydance’.

And I really should point out that industrial bands are awesome to practice to. They’re just the right mix of tribal drumbeats and interesting effects to play with and emphasize at your own discretion.

I spent today drilling practice moves that will eventually become something called a walking shimmy to the Prodigy’s ‘Thunder’, from Invaders Must Die.

I think it’s actually my favorite track on the album, just because I love the phrase so much:

I hear thunder, but there’s no rain
This type of thunder
Breaks walls and window panes

The song also scores points for having tribal beat awesomeness (okay, that could be applied to the whole album) and having rain as a subject. I tend to have big love for weather related music in general.

Also, anyone noticed at 1.05 that there’s a brief phrase that sounds like part of a Mindless Self Indulgence song? I think it might be Bitches?

My teacher of course already knows about the awesomeness of industrial and rock for oriental dance purposes. She’s started teaching a class called Bellydance Rocks on Mondays, that’s specifically to ‘non-traditional music.’

You can visit her here: Caitlyn
Thunder – The Prodigy: listen here

To keep writing in this damn thing.

And I haven’t been able to travel much recently (snow – for it makes the UK cry) so I figured I’d do a post on the top five tracks I’ve been keeping my housemate awake with recently. Some of this will be painfully cheesy, I warn you.

1. Rip-off Britain – Lionsex (‘Get It’)

I haven’t heard a good protest song for a while, and I’m loving this. It’s a great balance of genuine feeling, Clash-esque finger-up rebellion in its lyrics, and catchy rock’n'roll.

Rip-Off Britain opens with a verse that could be considered a response, or certainly parody of an extract from ‘Jerusalem’/'And did those feet in ancient time’. I was prompted to go hunting for the lyrics the first time I heard this, and its a strong sentiment to be heard: ‘A place of hate/ A place of fear/ Why would you build/ Jerusalem here’.

This song probably has some of the best lyrics on the album, and the breakdown ‘Class C one day/ B the next day’ is both a snappy, to-the-point nod at the tight leash imposed on the UK by Brown’s government, and ridiculously fun to sing along to.

References to Romantic literature, a singer with a great snarl, and drums you can’t help but dance to – it doesn’t get much better than this.

Lionsex’s MySpace, with some tracks to listen to – http://www.myspace.com/lionsexrock

2. Judith – A Perfect Circle (‘Mer De Noms’)

In the spring of 2007, I got driven from the west of England to Eindhoven in the Netherlands to see VNV Nation for the first time. One of the things that kept the driver and I sane for the fifteen hour journey, was the ‘10,000 Days’ album by Tool. I fell wildly in love with Maynard James Keenan’s voice, and promptly sought out his other projects, one of which is A Perfect Circle.

Judith is that wonderful mix of pain, hate, desperate love and hints of revenge that can make some of the best songs. At first, I thought it was a gender-swap on ‘Judas’, as it’s easy to hear many of the Christian references in the lyrics during a casual listen.

Turns out I’m actually very wrong – from what I can dig up it’s theorised to be about Maynard’s mother and his feelings concerning the stroke she suffered during his childhood that left her paralysed – a topic that is also responsible for the title of ‘10,000 Days’.

It’s a driven marching beat, overlaid by Maynard’s melodic lyrics, and some very beautiful airy sharp riffs between verses. There’s the sort of build up in both the instruments and the vocals that makes you wonder if he was a sobbing mess on the studio floor at the end of recording – but this certainly isn’t ‘emo’, it’s masculine and angry and very personal.

Have a listen here: http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Judith/7851627
A Perfect Circle’s website here – http://www.aperfectcircle.com/

3. Bitter Tears – INXS (‘X’)
This is why the cheese warning was present. Every so often, I suffer some kind of regression into listening to bands that were mainly active when I was just born, and I can only think it’s because I have repressed memories of being in the same room as a radio or TOTP when I was like five or something. And it’s still lodged here, I find it again and react to it like a chewed stuffed toy, cuddling it when no one is around to see.

Loving Bitter Tears at the moment. It’s my ‘2am and still trying to be productive, but not yet in a bottle of JD’ music. I read up on Michael Hutchence recently, and it all snapped into place – he was ‘that boyfriend’ of Paula Yates that Dad used to talk about being ‘a weirdo’ and after some research, well – the guy must have *dripped* charisma, with that string of love affairs. His voice has got just enough edge for me to not feel like I’m listening to something a bit like Wham!, and the brass section in the band touches a soft spot that I think must have been left by my first introduction to live music – being dragged to a Madness gig at the age of ten.

Cheese exposure – http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Bitter+Tears/61906
INXS @ Wikipedia – http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/INXS

4. Echoplex – Nine Inch Nails (‘The Slip’)
I know too many people who can’t listen to newer NIN. Seriously, is creative development in a band that’s been going twenty years plus really that awful? It’s not even interesting to see an artist that spoke to you so sincerely when you were younger grow up, like you have?

Maybe I just don’t understand – I’ve gotten into NIN completely backwards. I was generally a bit unsure about Industrial until ‘Year Zero’ turned up, and I was totally captivated by the ARG (Alternate Reality Game) that surrounded the release of this album. Of course, as I had followed the plot of the game so seriously, by the time the music itself was fully released, I understood every track on there, and every set of lyrics had a backstory, even distinct characters. I’m a huge fan of many movie soundtracks, and it was a real novelty to have a ’soundtrack’ to a movie that was entirely in the fans heads, due to the collective material written to promote YZ.

Anyway. ‘The Slip’ is NIN’s most recent album, and whilst I haven’t found it nearly as listenable as some of their previous work, I’m quite enjoying Echoplex. There’s something slightly devious about the opening drum beat and guitar riff, which develops into a distorted solo around 2m 30s, and then blends into some underlying whispering by Reznor. The track is boppy, yet pretty sinister, and I’d guess possibly quite nice to drive to…

Listen here - http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Echoplex/8406489
NIN lurk here – http://www.nin.com/

5. Citizens – The Cult (‘Born Into This’)
The first time I heard the single from this album, Dirty Little Rockstar, I sorta sat there slightly agape at my speakers and then thought ‘Holy crap, Ian grew up. And I *like* it.’

I haven’t listened to this album as thoroughly as I should have done, but Citizens is certainly becoming my favourite track aside from the single. It has a set of beautiful opening arpeggios that make you feel like you’ve just scrambled on to the roof of a tower block as dawn moves in, with that sense of victory that a good night has been had, and you’re going to chill there, surveying the city like a drunken king, until the first coffee shop opens.

We quickly get dropped into some pleasantly dirty guitar chugging and Ian Astbury growling like a wolf over the top…I *love* how that man’s voice has changed over the years. It’s worth it, just for the example of how lucky men are that they usually age well, to grab a copy of Spiritwalker from ‘Dreamtime’ (1984) and play it directly after this. Both are great tracks, but the difference in Astbury’s singing is always the thing that strikes me most. I guess we mustn’t forget that he’s now stepped in as the official Morrison-replacement for what’s left of The Doors, and that requires some notable front.

I’m not actually sure quite what this song is about – the feelings around it seem to be…well, actually maybe it’s just a song made up of snippets of feelings. It’s about the glory of a good night out, it’s about music, it’s about remembering a lover at one point, as well. Maybe Ian wanted to put us on our rooftop at the start, reminisce with us, and then leave us there, as the last few notes are certainly in keeping with the opening.

Listen – http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Citizens/3230420
Lyrics – http://www.darklyrics.com/lyrics/thecult/bornintothis.html#2
The Cult (USA Site) – http://www.thecult.us/

(This is a late article. Apologies.)

It’s starting to become a personal joke with this band that my close friend K never gets to see them with me. I’ve tried to get her to a gig twice or three times now, and something always happens, be it illness, or money, or work. So when the inevitable happened this year as I planned to go to Eindhoven, I rang around and found that a local friend of mine, Gina, had never left the country and was utterly and completely enthusiastic. She’d also never seen a band of this genre.

I’d never left the country with someone who was less experienced than me, so this was a learning curve for both of us.

We redid our eyeliner in the autumn sun whilst lounging in the seating area of the Krispy Kreme in Stanstead.
“These donuts are weird.”
“Do you like them?”
“Hell yes. But I think I can only eat one. Are you going to eat the rest?”
“Yup.”

I gave up pretty fast. We checked in fairly promptly, though I hate the “remove your belt, your shoes, your jewelry, what you can’t remove your piercings, stupid goths” ritual every time. Not because I disagree with customs procedures, but because I’m certain I’m going to lose something every time, and the five minutes it takes to put myself back together once I’m done – well, I’m impatient.

We down a cocktail each in the departure lounge, and endure a crowded Ryanair flight until 19.15, when we arrive in Eindhoven. The bus driver refuses to sell us tickets and points at the machine, and I stare at it dumbly when I realise it only takes coins or a special card, and my Dutch is nonexistant. We lean against the baggage rack, and do a half hearted runner when the bus gets into the central city station.

My dutch friend meets us an hour later in a bar up the road, and I fling myself on him, since it’s been a good six months at least.

This is my third time seeing VNV Nation since 2007. They are a two-man self-described ‘futurepop’ group, with additional lackeys for live performances. The permanent members are Ronan Harris, Irishman and lead singer, and the drummer Mark Jackson – who is English. I listen to a fair amount of industrial and electronic music these days, after a late blooming as a Nine Inch Nails fan who already enjoyed a lot of 80s pop. Our host takes it upon himself to educate Gina in music as best he can – they quicky warm up to each other with a mutal love of older Korn and RATM. We go through Epsilon Minus, Stromkern, Android Lust, Faderhead to name a few, and by the time Friday night comes around, Gina has a fairly good idea of what kind of sound she’s in for.

We spend too much time doing our hair, and missed the first support Ariya, but we did catch the last two songs of the second band – Straftanz. I’ve never seen them before, they appeared to be shouty, German and had attractive girls in short skirts and pigtails waving red flags. The singer was huge and built and crophaired, but smiley and extremely enthusiastic. Even if you wouldn’t listen to a band at home, this always helps when you’re watching them live – watching anyone have a good time has a direct effect on your opinion of what they’re trying to achive, it seems. They’d already got the crowd interested and dancing by the time we got into the Effenaar.

I should mention the Effenaar itself. I love it. It was established in the 70’s, and was apparently named after a piece of machinery that stood in the original building when it was still a cloth factory. The purpose of the club was to serve as a youth centre that catered to political discussion and community projects, but after about the first five years of it’s existance in that state, it began to lean towards being a centre for culture and music. It now mainly serves as a club and gig space, with at least two bars in the main area, and a very, very high ceiling. With metal grilling on the walls and the decoration kept minimalist, it keeps all attention on the stage.

VNV have made good use of the stage space the two times I’ve seen them in Eindhoven. In 2007, they had video visuals for a lot of their songs, including the trademark skycrapers from Futureperfect. They went simpler this time, with light panels made up of indivdual bulbs that could make shape outlines or spell words.

This gig seemed to be more about the dancing rather than the emotional this time. I remember when I first saw the band, I got very involved in a lot of what Ronan was singing about, and listened carefully to his lyrics. I hadn’t listened to a great deal of their music beforehand, and my introduction to them was a song called ‘Forsaken‘. Apparently you rarely hear Ronan sing this live, and it’s incredibly sad. As it was my first impression, I now tend to seek out VNV Nation for something isolated, lonely, emotional, but dignified, and whilst I love their bouncier songs, I’m usually waiting for ‘Beloved’ or ‘Solitary’.

As they’ve just released Of Faith, Power and Glory this year, they played a lot of new material, which was fairly dancy and upbeat in comparison to older songs. My friend muttered to me that he was just waiting for the classic stuff, and I sheepishly agreed. We got our bounce on as soon as they started ‘Chrome’.

This year was quite an eventful gig. We had a token crazy guy, who scrambled on stage suddenly between songs, awkwardly wrestled the mic from Ronan and started blathering about something that might have been political. Ronan watched him for about twenty seconds, and then shooed him away with the help of the bouncer, commenting “Okay, yeah. I’ve had ex-girlfriends like you.” He made for a repeat attempt, but we grabbed him and tore him down. He was a bit miffed, but seemed to spend the rest of the night chatting up some girl, who was obviously impressed by his efforts.

We also had Enthusiastic South African Guys. Ronan paused for a second, looked into the middle distance and shouted:

“‘Look at you! Right there! You’re awesome! I’ve been watching you having your own personal rave there all night! Get down here!”

They obliged, and as he went to shake their hands, the leader of the group presented him with a pair of clogs that he’d apparently been dancing in. They seemed to be Mark’s size, and so were placed ceremoniously in front of the drumkit. By the end of the gig, just as the band were finishing up, everyone seemed to remember at the same time, and started to yell “clogsclogsclogsCLOGSCLOGSCLOGS!!”

Gina managed to expertly capture what happened next:

A fun and interesting gig, and I shall totally be back next year. I’ve never attended a VNV gig that I didn’t enjoy, and Ronan and Mark show no signs of slowing down.

Aryia – http://www.ayria.com/ (damn, that’s a lot of pink.)
Straftanz – http://zk.straftanz.de/
VNV Nation – http://www.vnvnation.com/

The Cult are a ‘late love’ for me. I found them at the end of my university time, when I went back to my cock-rock roots in need of some serious sonic uppers. They hit the spot right between hard, ballsy rock and something romantic and spiritual and just a little bit painful all at the same time. Astbury writes some downright trippy shit at times, but I really love how he sings the stuff with a genuine snarl of sincerity.

Last night, he appeared looking every inch his Jim-Morrison-reincarnate form – chin length, black thick waves, and a semi beard. Billy Duffy was sharp blond spikes and muscles and…well, the thing that always surprises me with the Cult is that Duffy is the power behind Ian’s (sun king) throne. He’s the frontman with a guitar, and Astbury sings to his melody. Before I saw them live for the first time in the Forum, during the release of Born Into This, I assumed that Astbury would be the leader of the pack, and I was surprised to noticed the subtle dynamic on stage. Astbury gives the crowd everything, whilst standing his ground at the same time – at one point, during the Forum gig, the cheering became shouting during his introduction of a song, and he growled ‘HEY. Shut the fuck up, this is *my* gig.’, or something to the tune of. We shut the fuck up. However, Duffy doesn’t speak that much, and it’s like he doesn’t need to, he controls and comands with his body language and the Gibson.

I have never been to the Albert Hall before. My friend summed it up perfectly as we acended to our place in the circle – “God, it’s like a colosseum.’ I spent a few minutes just having a good look at the sheer size of the place, the way it was arranged, and the diffuser discs on the ceiling, which are just damn strange.

My first thought was that they should have tried to put the band more central, but hey, you work with what you’re given. They were placed directly infront of the vast organ, with a screen behind them that played selected visuals for the set. I was totally intrigued to see how the band would sound in such an enviroment, and unfortunately the sound blurred slightly more than usual – possibly due to the hugeness of the space and the height at which I was sat. They could certainly fill the place though, and by the time they worked up to She Sells Sanctuary, we were dancing in our spaces on the highest parts of the circle.

They opened with Nirvana, and as they do, the people in the stalls firmly ignore their formal surrounding and pour out of their seats towards the stage. After two more songs they treat us to Brother Wolf, Sister Moon, which I didn’t expect, but it translated beautifully live. The highlight for me was the obvious Rain, which I’ve danced to so many many times, and also Dirty Little Rockstar, which I loved the minute it came out – but one thing that gets me with the way Ian sings live, is that he sometimes shortens words too much or just misses lyrics. Of course they’re his lyrics to sing, and the whole point of seeing someone live is to see what artistic spin they feel like putting on their work that very night and giving you a unique experience. But at the same time, I want to hear him say the words in reality that he says so very clearly on the recording. Thankfully he didn’t skimp or jam too much on Sun King, which is one of their most romantic songs in my opinion.

Astbury’s stage persona seemed friendlier that when I first saw them in 2007, though still cheeky and fierce. At one point he throws his mic to a fan in the front row crowd to sing the lyrics – and I’m not sure if they even did, as the entire hall was singing with them, but he laughs, yanks back the lead and yells ‘Shit!’ in response – but it’s only a goad to make us dance and sing harder. It’s positive encouragement.

We were treated to a change of band at the end, and also, a significant guitar. Duffy revealed that he was playing the guitar that Love was recorded with, and that it had been sat in storage for a good while – certainly didn’t sound like it. He then introduces Mark Brzezicki and Jamie Stewart, the original drummer and bassist for the recording of Love in 1985, and they play two final songs, naturally ending with She Sells Sanctuary.

I actually reckon the gig next week in Shepard’s Bush will be a better atmosphere, as I love the intimacy of the Empire – however, the chance to experience some British rock royalty in one of London’s most imposing pieces of architecture was an experience worth having. Maybe I’ll actually go see the Proms next year.

My general guilt had a swing in the direction of my knowledge of current events today, and I hurriedly found bbc.co.uk in an effort to staunch the flood of ignorance.

I was rewarded. Look at *this* (picture shamelessly lifted from the BBC website):

It’s been described as ‘a sci-fi bassoon’, and that’s not far off to give you a visual idea of how it looks when played. However, the mouthpiece appears to be optional, as you can interact with it in a whole number of ways to create the right effect. The fat square buttons down below are drums, and each little square is a flexible ‘key’ – strokable, movable, and you can see in the video in the link below that the musican seems to be able to apply a ‘bend’ to the key, similar to how you can push a guitar string to wiggle the note slightly.

The idea seems to be that despite electronic music having come a long long way, people still have a problem making it interesting to watch, or generally very compatible with live perfomances.

John Lambert, the creator, states in the BBC article:

“It’s not just the sonic thing – they are visually compelling, and there’s a reason for that – we’ve got pretty fed up with watching people twiddle knobs on stage.

“It was interesting once when we watched Kraftwerk and Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark do it back in the 70s and 80s, but it’s not fun in 2009.”

He has a point. Several of my favourite musicians these days rely partially on ‘knob-twiddling’, and even though they have guitars to layer over it, or a very charismatic lead singer to charm you, there is still a element of “is that a bloke with a laptop on the left? Well he’s sorta dancing. Hm.”

Because the Eigenharp can be played like a classical instrument, you can fully throw yourself into it, and behave like a traditional performer. If nothing else, I can imagine this must be fantastically exciting for electronic artists on a individual level because finally they get to develop their own lead guitarist style antics – you could quite feasibly play this thing whilst leaping on top of your cab and doing your best Bruce Dickinson impression.

You can read the BBC article here: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/8294355.stm (watching the video is a MUST.)

And you can look at the official website for the Eigenharp here: http://www.eigenlabs.com/

My housemate, a sound artist, is gonna have a heart attack. I can’t wait to show him.

It’s been a while since I’ve had to hurridly enter a gig in a bid to stop being followed by a crazy person, but, Friday night at the Brixton Hootenanny, this seemed to be the order of the night. Sadly it seemed that non ticket holders could enter the beer garden, and so my new friend was quick behind me burbling ‘treat this baby right, uhhuh’ at the bouncer, who seemed to be oblivious that I was desperately trying to flee. A last ditch plan forms in my head, and I make for the two friendliest looking guys on my side of the garden.

“Hi. There’s someone following me. I need you to pretend you know me. Please.” Big eyes.
They look me up and down, look behind me, and instantly get it. Bloody stars, the pair of them.
“Hey, how are you, long time no see, ‘ere, you’re a bit late…”
“Yeah, what kept you?” The dark haired one shuffles closer, grinning, pleased with the game.
I mutter something, and noticed my stalker is closing in, and then stopping and turning on his heel seeing my company. He dissapears off into the group. My relief is obvious.

“Oh my god. Thank you so much.”
“Na, it’s cool. You a fan of Bad Manners then?”
“Actually no, it’s my friends birthday and he told me come. I don’t hardly know anything about punk.”
“Ska.”
“Yes.” Awkward. They’re sweethearts though.

I spot my friends, there are brief introductions, we get inside. The pub is actually damn nice – it’s big and roomy, but dark and cosy all at the same time, and the stage is small enough to be intimate, but high up enough that you can see the band well. They have ‘La Fee’ behind the bar.

Bad Manners come on late. Later than I expected. But the place is packed, and people are super excited by this point. I’ve never seen a proper ska band before, and the frontman Buster is huge, and terrifying, and disgusting and brilliant. He’s wearing a tigerprint suit, but soon loses the trousers to reveal three quarter length shorts underneath. My friend looks at me and yells:

“You know how to skank, right?”

I’ve never been one for mosh pits, but this isn’t really a mosh pit. It feels like one, but people are way more careful, and much sillier. Lots of grinning and jumping. The band are pleased, and egg us on.

I don’t really know any of the songs, but about halfway through, they start on a cover of ‘I Love You Baby’. Buster gets right into the piss-take crooner style, and weirdly suits it. Everyone sways. As soon as he hits the chorus, his right hand guitarist dives in with a hilariously obnoxious ‘DAA DA, DAAA DA, DA DE DADADADA’ and we bounce like idiots. I particulary loved the recurring theme of celebrating Buster’s fatness, and joined in on the screaming of ‘YOU FAT BASTARD’.

The band at the moment have an interesting age range. Buster appears to be the only original member, but at least three others seem to be his age, and the brass are a total mix. There’s a particulary young saxophonist who Buster really enjoyed trying to lick the ear of during his solo. We theorised afterwards this was blatantly a test to see if he was worthy or something – failure by freaking out, twitching too much or fluffing his solo would have probably resulted in comedy humiliaton (if tongue-ear wasn’t good enough already.)

The night was rounded off by an enthusiastic round of the Can-Can, complete with stupid noises from the guitarist and lots of high kicks. Buster appeared with a four pint bottle of milk, and a filthy snarl, and for a second I was ready to duck – but instead he poured half of it down his throat, and then the rest over his suit.

We fell out of the venue and trotted ten minutes down the road to my friend’s mother’s who seemed perfectly happy to recieve us at 1am in the morning, and I promptly fell asleep on her sofa.

I managed to pack a bag with gig suitable clothing at about 7.30am, I’m not quite sure how. However, I was very glad of it when I realised how office-disgusting I felt getting off the train at 6.30pm into Paddington.

Steel Panther were on at nine, even though doors were at seven, so once I had found my companion for this gig, a longhaired, always-grinning actor friend of mine, we did some groundwork. I’ve never been to the Empire in Shepard’s Bush before, but we found it after a short hike round the corner and across the park from the Tube, and were met with an impressively long queue of ‘Panther fans already wanting to get inside.

“That crowd has some good hair…” mutters my friend. “We need food. Or at least booze.”

So we opt for the O’Neils next door, which is pretty comfortable and packed out with fellow gig-goers. They’ve got more than one type of cider on, which I appreciate – but sadly only three barstaff manning a twenty-foot long bar.

Friend discusses Iron Maiden albums and whether Judas Priest will be at Donnington this year whilst I hunt through my handbag for the tickets.

We choose to wait until about 8.30 since there’s no support, just a DJ. But when we get in there, the DJ seems to at least know his crowd – he’s playing Def Leppard, Buckcherry, Thin Lizzy…people are already dancing and having a great time, rather than just milling restlessly and ignoring a support band. There’s a combination of serious metalheads, and comedy wigs.

The band jog on suddenly, announced by a cowboy-hatted MC, and jump around to power chords and screaming from everyone. Michael Starr thanks his mum, Satchel thanks Michael. Lexxi thanks MAC beauty (at least I think that’s what he said…) and the aeroplane, sparking a fight over the fact that the aeroplane is can’t be thanked because, as Satchel points out, ‘it’s an inanimate object’. He’s instantly mocked by Michael for using a long word, in true nothing-matters-but-rock-and-hot-bitches Steel Panther style, before launching into Asian Hooker.

Community Property is one of the next songs up, and I’m really starting to love the opening to it, especially the ‘if you were a guy, I’d be suddenly gayyyy’. Despite their stupidity, these guys can really play, and they get a room dancing – they obviously don’t have to act that they’re having a great time – they really are, and it seeps into the audience.

The Empire is definately one of the better venues for a band that I’ve been to. It’s small enough to be intimate, but has old-fashioned theatre seating above the floor, and a higher level towards the back of the room where the bars are. If you don’t feel like getting mashed in the front row it’s a great view from the top of the stairs, with the side bar in easy reach, so long as you don’t mind people up and down in front of you all night. The sound is great, and you’re never too far away from the stage to miss the smaller details, like the bling on Lexxi’s little hand mirror that he does his hair in every five minutes.

They finished with the comfortable cliche of the walk-off and return, with the crowd briefly pounding out a chanted ‘Steel Pan-ther, Steel Pan-ther.’ Then the lights, and the mass exodus on to the street. We got away pretty sharpish, but it seemed that many people were happy to go straight back to the pub next door, and this is one of the most sociable gigs I’ve been to – the average fan was very talkative and friendly. I shall be back for the next tour.

…you’ve just been refused entry to your strip club of choice (in our case the CandyBar) and you’re looking to be able to bounce back from this tragic rejection with ease, I strongly suggest Decadence.

This lovely little den of cockrock gloriousness is to be found on a Saturday night in the depths of the St. Moritz club on Wardour Street. It was a convenient trot from the comfort of the Crobar, which we decided to move on from when the guy next to us neatly puked in his own pint glass, and the bartender who found it five minutes later regaled us with a little song and dance about the situation.

St. Moritz itself is not the easiest place to notice. Expect a single doorway with a classic restaurant porch, and no clues that there is even a club night on, unless there’s a telltale gaggle around the door. Once you’ve paid your £6 however, and gotten down the stairs, the place opens out into a comfortably lit cellar bar, with convenient brighter lighting near the tables and more appropriate duskyness at the other end where the DJs and stage are.

This is the most unpretentious club night I have been to in a long time. Everyone wanted to dance, everyone wanted to sing like idiots, and there was a good mix of glam, goth, metal, rock and everything in between when you looked at your fellow Decandents. Choice treats was some well chosen Aerosmith (Shut Up And Dance), a couple of Cult songs which usually makes me instantly in approval of most DJs, a great selection of contemporary rock and glam, with the silly sugar coating of Bon Jovi, GnR and a couple of Steel Panther tracks for good measure.

The club itself isn’t pretty, and the facilities (if you can call them that) leave a fair bit to be desired. Don’t let any of the girls tell you ‘there’s another loo upstairs’, cause whilst I’m sure there is, it seems most of them just meant ‘use the men’s’ which, personally I just can’t hack. Old fashioned, yeah. The bar staff are decent, and give generous helpings if you ask for a soft drink – we had quite a few as dancing fuel, though we started off the night on generic mixers. The booze selection is also pretty good given the small size of the bar area.

We didn’t stop dancing for two solid hours. I think I’ll sum up Decadence as ‘fucking good fun!’