As in previous years, Liz and the team at Undertone/Buffalo/10 Feet Tall tackle a traditionally stagnant New Year period by roping in bands from South Wales and the South West to curate cheap ‘n’ cheerful nights of quality stuff. Undertone starts early with Edinburgh’s the Spook School (5^th), presumably Charles Rennie Mackintosh fans and with a neat line in jangly indiepop hooks and coy brother-sister vocals that crucially values tunes over pose. Immediately elevated over numerous peers, then, and there’s a couple of very promising singles to seek out. A couple more cracking bills of noisy fare, not least the absurdly heavy scream-off on the 30^th featuring Dimensions‘ excellent slovenly Jesus Lizard riffing, slow-creep tempo changes and giddy howling. They’re joined by Hogslayer (Zonderhoof and Shaped By Fate dudes bearing immensely heavy sludge/doom fare), Culver (expansive, widescreen and crushing post-metal) and your boys Brandyman. Awlright. Bristolian pair This Is Wreckage (corroded GvsB noise-rock meets Martinis police-siren guitars and spittle-flecked PiL post-punk) and St Pierre Snake Invasion (sturdy, metallic punk swagger like a loosened-up Bronx with uncannily accurate er, homage to Mclusky Do Dallas era Falco vocals) are the highlights on the 10^th. Over in Buffalo, the sly retro-pop chic of The Lovely Wars is offset perfectly by Jemma Roper‘s sleek futurist thrills (16^th) while Signature host the grime-infused neon-hued dubstep hybrids of Last Japan (17^th). Have a rummage around the sales, you’ll be pleasantly surprised.

FREE FOR ALL FESTIVAL, Moon Club, all January

The Moon Club’s second annual dose of one-upmanship towards events elsewhere, their January schedule again lines up a month of free gigs; faultless as a concept in a month where reserves of willing can be low, it requires a bit of investigative sifting but turns up some decent rewards.  Bristol’s Gouranga (16th) do a nicely spacey take on streamlined Kyuss-esque desert rock and gleeful, sweetened Mudhoney/Nirvana grunge.  Crunchy and tuneful, they’d be justifiable headliners but despite curating the gig they secede to Spider Kitten, launching their monolithic Cougar Club album.  Determinedly independent, in underground obscurity for the better part of a decade, they’ve been (in just the times I’ve seen them) Sabbath/Melvins fuzzed-up classic rock, downtuned Earth doom and sludged-out drone-metal with a drum machine.  Hugely deserving of their seemingly higher profile.  Oppressive volume characterises the other freebie highlights, from the aforementioned Culver (19th, with sludgy ragers Bloodlung) and St Pierre Snake Invasion (23rd, with the now five-piece, Spider Kitten-augmented Brandyman – miss them at your peril).  Fist Of The First Man are marooned on a less than inspired bill (18th) but were astonishingly good at their album launch at Chapter last month – muscular, mercurial and very loud post-rock experimentation that immediately raises expectations for the next album.  It’s free, of course, so duck in and out if you have to.  Or give the rest a chance.  Just don’t complain there’s nothing on in January.

THE SWORD, Fleece, 9^th

ORANGE GOBLIN, Clwb Ifor Bach, 30^th

Two practitioners of unreconstructed classic rock, first-wave heavy metal and fried boogie whose stylistic paths have doubtless crossed but who might well get very different reactions from purists.  Orange Goblin spent the first half of their fifteen-year career as the unlikely London wing of the 90s stoner rock movement, turning out wave after wave of red-eyed, wah-heavy boogie built on skyscraping cosmic riffs and decked out in album covers resembling a 1975 minivan – lysergic artwork, motorbikes, amps and girls.  Somewhere along the line came a subtle turn away from the desert, keeping hold of the ZZ Top covers and but refining their style into a furiously heavy Sabbath/Mötörhead classicism.  Metal for metal lifers.  The Sword, by contrast, met with distrust and criticism for their take on similar material, the Texan quartet pegged as at best copyists lacking their own voice, at worst ironists.  No amount of  Sleep-copping doom, tongue-in-cheek album art or sci-fi concept albums has held them back though, and frankly if Mastodon or Baroness can enjoy themselves lacing sludgy virtuousity with Thin Lizzy swagger, why can’t The Sword?  Warp Riders still sounds hugely fun and kicks like a two-day migraine, and that’ll do for me.

WILL GUTHRIE / DOMINIC LASH / SETH COOKE, Cafe Kino, 9^th

The many tentacles of experimental/improv collective Bang The Bore reach out from further afield than their Southampton home these days; co-founder Seth Cooke is now resident in Bristol, hopefully signalling an increased number of BtB events in the city. This bracing start to 2013 brings Australian percussionist Will Guthrie, backbone of staggeringly fierce ‘terror jazz’ trio The Ames Room and contributor to electro-acoustic free improv/compositional ensemble Thymolphthalein. The Nantes-based Guthrie also cuts looser still on his own, using percussion, electronics and amplification; witness this incredible excerpt from his Sticks, Stones and Breaking Bones EP, described by Guthrie as “cold, brutal, inflexible and unstoppable”. Indeed. Improvising bassist Dominic Lash, also solo here, has his own impressive CV of contributors – Corsano, Parker, Butcher etc – and provides rumbling, dense low-end for sprawling jazz-prog outfit Gannets. Cooke, meanwhile, will perform on “a stainless steel waste disposal sink”, the instrument he’s pledged to use for any and all solo performances in 2013 under a Dogme-style pledge from Bang The Bore regulars. There’s more than enough by-numbers fare kicking about as the year begins; with this, and a few others on this page, there’s another way.

PETE SWANSON / H / CEMENTIMENTAL, Arnolfini, 11^th

Here’s another cracking example. It’s easy for know-nothing dilettantes like me to suggest that Pete Swanson’s recordings since Yellow Swans split in 2008 have been a natural result of the separation; throbbing bass, sense clouds of static and hiss, just less of the cathartic, damaged guitar onslaught that was fellow Swan Gabe Saloman’s area. There, see? It’s more than that though, obviously; Man With Potential and the monolithic, decaying techno stomps on the splendid Pro Style EP refine the coruscating noise into a consistent, dissonant hum of high-pitched synth detritus and burbling FX, alloyed to insistent, driving and hypnotic beats. Single-minded and propulsive but retaining the boundless, erratic noise core of his other projects, it fits snugly amongst labelmates at Blackest Ever Black and Type alike and represents a thrilling suggestion that he can turn in whatever direction he pleases. Support here is drawn from Bristol’s excellent, uncategorisable tape and CD-R label Zamzam; the treacly, oppressive murk of H’s two releases, unfolding icy drones and drawn-out electronic wreckage, and Cementimental’s disorientating blast of circuit-bent noise and gleefully harsh electronic scree. Like scouring the inside of your mind, in an upbeat way. Recommended.

KANDA BONGO MAN, Tunnels, 12^th

Anyone whose musical education was shaped by John Peel’s programmes from the mid-80s onwards will most likely have first heard African music in any form there, principally the infectious, insistent rhythms of Congolese soukous. Kanda Bongo Man, based in Paris, pioneered the faster, danceable kwassa kwassa variant to global acclaim, huge slabs of joyously upbeat party music dominated by chattering syncopated beats and wildly dextrous, pealing guitars. It’s music that packs in so many nods to other cultures it’s imbibed over the decades, from the Cuban rumba it was first based on to the dizzyingly fast take on steel guitar picking, even echo-heavy surf licks. He’s still playing, around 40 years after joining his first group, and this Bristol date (rearranged from November) is a lovely surprise to find amid the year’s first quiet weeks. The Tunnels is right by Temple Meads station apparently. Well worth the trip.

OUR MAN IN THE BRONZE AGE / THE DEATH OF HER MONEY / CHAIN OF FLOWERS / MARS TO STAY, Undertone, 12^th

Split from the Hometown Heroes round-up by virtue of its superior all-round line-up, this is a fine start to 2013 for Kaskie out of TDOHM’s FYB, continuing to put together nicely varied and quality gigs. Proggy Milton Keynes outfit Our Man In The Bronze Age shift offer a more complex take on quiet-loud post-rock, plaintive piano and windy prog interludes giving way to an ecstatic three-guitar racket. A little overly histrionic in places but the good bits click like Crippled Black Phoenix do. Chain Of Flowers, featuring former or current members of crushing Newport doom/punk/metal dudes Crossbreaker and sludgy hardcore types Brutality Will Prevail, only debuted around May last year but by the time I saw them at Swn their pretty immersive, loud and pleasantly murky take on Cure/Joy Division/J&MC moves, sharing much with the Horrors’ strung-out shoegaze updates, was hugely impressive. Mars To Stay are another treat worth getting in early doors for, gorgeously brittle Galaxie 500 sketches and bruised sadcore pop reminiscent of Bristolian bedroom heroes like Flying Saucer Attack or Movietone. Much to look forward to in future releases from all present here, melancholy and texture explored in subtly different ways. You won’t find a stronger quartet this month.

FJORDS / LOCAL SPORTS TEAM / GINDRINKER, Le Pub, 18^th

The first outing for our pal Ben’s new promoting venture Red Medicine, this wins on three fronts. The more people that commit to putting on regular live music events in South Wales in a fairly difficult and indifferent climate, the better, so hats off to him. This first event also utilises Newport’s fine Le Pub, and it also allows me to write about Gindrinker. In existence a remarkable eight years now, that there are still only two singles and a handful of demos to show for their genius, their toil and their 150 or so gigs reflects desperately poorly on the nation as a whole; not least myself, as I released one of those singles. The by now well-familiar musical influences – Big Black, Whitehouse, Throbbing Gristle, Datblygu, etc – are as relevant as ever, but it’s the awkward, unwieldy and insistently catchy Heath Robinson compositions and the undimmed majesty of DC Gates’ blackly comic prose and bilious English wit that see them embraced by all right-thinking patrons. Time for a Kickstarter for that album, yes? Also here, the highly promising Local Sports Team, whose recent Latvia EP goes big on hyper-catchy, drily funny shoutalong indie rock. You should support this, and get there early.

FLAMINGODS / HAMAMAMA / /PLEASE/, Gwdihw, 19^th

The second Shape Function in as many months, which is A VERY GOOD THING. Flamingods fit in nicely with the Shape aesthetic as one might imagine it, a multi-limbed, dense tribal pop with a battery of percussion, fourth-hand derivations on the African guitar styles you’ll see at the Kanda Bongo Man gig and freeform, cooing vocals. Loads of bands doing this stuff, of course, but wading through the multitude at the last couple of Swn festivals has demonstrated that amongst the gap-year kids decked out in Top Shop’s Aztec Bullshit range and fetishising triangles there are plenty doing more than mere retreads. Flamingods are one such, pulling together warped takes on Eastern and African pop, the cracked, giddy experimentation of Sung Tongs-era Animal Collective and the sort of drum circle abandon seen at a Foot Village or, er, Islet show. Plus their excellent new single ‘Quesso’ features Dustin Wong out of Ponytail on added guitar shred, and he’s fucking great. Get his last album or be sorry. Hamamama are, or were, Greetings, who we put on with Queer’d Science recently; I mentioned at the time how there seemed to be numerous bands of the same name about and sure enough they’ve been forced to adopt one of their song titles instead. They’re still an ace gooey noise-pop clatter performed with daft wit and matching outfits though, so that’s OK. /Please/, as irksomely named as it is, is a pretty lovely thing too. Beautifully remote, hermetic sighs of processed vocal and twinkling keyboard patterns with a definite nod to Grouper. This is A VERY GOOD THING too.

1994! / THE CAVES / SOUTHPAW FAKERS / NIETZSCHE TRIGGER FINGER, Croft, 20^th

I originally had this one flagged up as ace Caves/Bedford Falls offshoot duo Personal Best were listed on the bill; sadly their hyper-catchy 90s alt-pop is no longer present here, but it’s still worth your time given the addition of headliners 1994!. (The exclamation mark does lend that more of an enthusiastic air than I intended, but let’s plough on). The Lancaster, PA duo hack out loose, pummelling post-hardcore with gruff-as-fuck vocals and winning, inclusive energy; there’s enough beer-pounding good-time punk attitude, mathy intricacy and 90s emo yearning to win over casual listeners of all stripes, and if you get off on the likes of Japandroids, Fucked Up or Titus Andronics I’d count you among them. Check the FCKYRHED and Thank You Arms And Fingers albums in particular, freewheeling noisy fun which I’d highly recommend. The aforementioned Caves (Bristol version, thankfully) are now main support here, and well worth your time if you’ve not seen them before; brisk, tuneful punk-pop with a pretty great hit-rate.

‘IN SEARCH OF BLIND JOE DEATH’ / NO SOAP RADIO, Cube, 25^th

 An evening dedicated to John Fahey, ‘American Primitive’ guitarist, folklorist, DIY label founder (Takoma in the 50s, archival blues/jazz/folk imprint Revenant in the 90s) and a guiding influence to generations of folk, rock and avant-garde guitarists.  Twelve years after ill health cut short a revived interest in his work, that influence is as widespread as ever, from modern-day solo guitar revivalists to the improve/noise fringes, even reappraisal of outright obscurities that took on Fahey’s template 30 years ago.  James Cullingham’s film In Search Of Blind Joe Death: The Saga Of John Fahey, explores Fahey’s world and music, the blues and early music he drew from, the styles he pioneered, personal problems and his later, experimental and drone-based work.  It’s shown here, for (I think) the first time in the UK, with supporting footage, DJs and live music from No Soap Radio, the hollerin’ ragtime blues solo project of Liam Kirby of Boxcar Aldous Huxley.  Should be a grand old night.

DAVID BAZAN / MARCO Z, Buffalo, 26^th

Throughout his career, David Bazan’s music has tended to be critiqued more diligently than most based on his unabashed Christianity, as though he’s carrying an additional, untrustworthy handicap before the race has begun. Listen to Pedro The Lion’s early records, especially the bruised croon and delicious, languidly-paced alt-rock of 1998′s It’s Hard To Find A Friend – Low, Built To Spill and Evan Dando’s most laid-back, reflective moments delivered with clear-eyed conviction – and the subtleties of Bazan’s faith needn’t even become apparent. Never shy of tackling big-picture issues though, he moved into no less accessible but more earnest territory over time before retiring the ‘group’ name and moving forward solo. Personal struggles and more intimate themes dominate his deftly melodic Curse Your Branches, the first full-length under his own name, and it’s cathartic but uplifting stuff, bringing to mind John Grant’s similarly themed Queen of Denmark and past collaborators Mark Eitzel or the late Vic Chesnutt. Good booking from Gathered In Song and Diverse, this one; should be busy, so worth picking up a ticket in advance.

Someone’s slipped in a DVD of Inglourious Basterds, its opening scenes of terse dialogue and floorboards machine gunned to splinters playing silently behind Plyci‘s opening set. And if you’re thinking there’s going to be some sort of tortuous analogy here between the visuals and the whipsmart electro being pushed from the speakers you’re only half right: while Gerallt Ruggiero’s beat warping has been weirder and more slippery in the past, the luxury bleeping still comes with sharp teeth. Breezing from section to section, this is swish and, ha, cinematic stuff. More high class fare next: Land Of Bingo are disgustingly elegant, all trimmed beards, good looks and scarily expensive looking, casually worn suit jackets. Their music is the direct equivalent – keyboard-heavy electroplush that sounds like the Pet Shop Boys draped in dalmatian furs, or a yacht made out of ivory. One of the keyboard players (white shirt, black tie) does his best to puncture the posh mood though, via a series of gnomic ramblings, and by grinding his hips into his instrument in a slightly sex pest-y way. Good in places, it all goes on a little so…

To a rammed Promised Land, and the first of pie-eyed blog champs Pint Of 45‘s forays into gig organisation. Of all the things to say about Daylight Fireworks (vaguely competent indie rock, guitarist who’s definitely had sex with a mirror), let’s just show the setlist. Yes, they had to remind themselves to say hello and goodbye.

Last year’s (debut?) Milk Race show for Lesson No.1 was patchy and underwhelming; tonight they play like kids who’ve had a sudden growth spurt and are now really good at writing raucous buzzsaw pop. It’s febrile stuff that flourishes best in these sauna conditions, Chris Warlow’s face sweating next to yours, his guitar neck whacking your legs on one of the many ‘meet the audience’ sessions. There’s ex-Martini Henry Rifles and Mo-Ho-Bi-Sho-Pi members involved if you want details, but this is all about proximity, volume, instruments scattered on the floor, and snarling, joyful songbending. Good scenes.

It’s Gindrinker. They are the rot that holds Cardiff together, the damp stain on your wall that looks a bit like Jimmy Tarbuck. If you don’t like them, you are an idiot. So even though this gig is number [insert comedy large figure here] for the guitar/skronk/drum machine/cornet/abuse duo, they still spew out a succession of blackly brilliant moments. Refusing to play ‘Covered In Bugs’, their best song (I forget why; drunk). A random mention of Detroit techno act Drexciya. Opening the venue’s dartboard with precise comic timing during Jim Bowen-fest ‘God Of Darts’. Graf almost falling down the stairs. Post gig, after being accosted by a drunken forty-something man, singer DC will note, half proud, half disappointed, “Gindrinker will never get groupies.” Throw yourself at them.

The one-off collaborative hoedown of John Mouse and Evening Chorus, going under the fairly sensible name of Evening Mouse? Why not – the mix of John’s free-wheeling anti-folk songs/comedy and EC’s damn accomplished country blues should throw up an intriguing gobbet of genre transgression. Maybe onstage fighting too. Well, that’s at Thé Pot Cafe then.

Or maybe the Peski Records night at Buffalo? A showcase for flash youngsters VVolves, dude-from-Jakokoyak’s mysterious new project Land Of Bingo and devastating, definitely-get-there-early bleep mangler Plyci will heal all kinds of ailments.

Then there’s a night organised by great Cardiff booze testing blog Pint Of 45, with need-no-introduction blast of dead air Gindrinker, as well as new blood in the form of serrated rock blasts from The Milk Race and Daylight Fireworks. And that’s The Promised Land. It’s all very confusing (it’s not really).

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EVENING MOUSE & SCOTT RUDD

For one night only, local folksters Evening Chorus join forces with the evergreen John Mouse to form ‘dark country folk bums’ Evening Mouse. Double headlining with the incredible Scott Rudd all the way from the USA.

Advance tickets £4, £5 on the door!

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PESKI RECORDS NIGHT

PESKI RECORDS is an independent record label and music publisher from Wales, armed with global aspirations and a passion for organic music whatever the language, country or genre. Past releases have included CATE LE BON, RADIO LUXEMBOURG (now RACE HORSES), EVILS, DAVID MYSTERIOUS, JAKOKOYAK and TEXAS RADIO BAND.

Now the label are showcasing their newest generation of experimental electronic bands including VVOLVES, LAND OF BINGO (Jakokoyak’s new project) and North Walian PLYCI.

Peski Records MySpace

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Live music at The Promised Land – we’ve got three cracking bands plus a DJ until 1am.

GINDRINKER: “Sabbath-esque riffs, lurching post-punk and a sense of humour you’d politely describe as savage” – Drowned in Sound

THE MILK RACE: “With former members of The Martini Henry Rifles, The IK+ and Mohobishopi, they’re indie royalty” – BBC Radio Wales

DAYLIGHT FIREWORKS: “A pop-rock explosion of razor-sharp guitar and pounding drums” – Suit Yourself Magazine

Tickets are £4 adv from the venue (tel 02920 398 998)/£5 on the door.

Expect rock, roll and booze-induced falling over. What more could you ask for?

http://www.myspace.co.uk/gindrinker

http://www.myspace.co.uk/threatmantics

http://www.myspace.co.uk/lastpartisan

http://www.spillersrecords.co.uk

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Recorded musical highlights of 2010:

allo darlin’ – allo darlin’

the besnard lakes – … are the roaring night

brandyman – adam walton session

les savy fav – root for ruin

race horses – goodbye falkenburg

ratatosk – c’est la vie tragique

sweet baboo – i’m a dancer / songs about sleeping

y niwl – y niwl

live musical highlights of 2010:

little my’s wake / my live audition for threatmantics in ten feet tall.

the victorian english gentlemens club at clwb.

the incongruous circle pits for race horses and los campesinos! at the big weekend.

the school ramones set for headway charity in clwb.

les savy fav (or tim harrington vs the stage manager who hadn’t been pre-warned) at primavera.

brandyman slaying upstairs at clwb on the friday of swn.

john mouse and prince edward island slaying downstairs at ten feet tall the day after (bonus pounts for being during my lunch break!).

the shape records christmas party at clwb.

what else did i enjoy this year?

(chronoligically) moving into my own flat. after the untimely death of little my, whoring myself out and being fortunate enough to be asked to join threatmantics and last partisan. helping to sort through over 60 years worth of priceless/worthless junk and moving an entire record shop. playing my first ever proper outdoor festival gig (it pissed it down, of course). recording and releasing the second gindrinker single with the wonderful people who are joy of sex. the snow (up to a point). being asked to write something for the awesome joy collective. (Ahem – Ed.)

2010 was … changey.

tips and predictions for 2011:

looking forward to the right hand left hand album finally being released (please?!), playing more gigs, releasing more records, having more fun.

Standout names appearing at this mini-Sŵn include the barnstorming full-band folk-rock of Richard James, the hyper-literate baroque pop of Spencer McGarry Season, Threatmantics’ rollocking, fiddle-lashed folk racket and Ratatosk’s bewitching recasting of historical woes to a backdrop of intricate loops and apocalyptic drones.  Want more noise?  There’s the paint-peeling guitars, tetchy drinker’s-eye narrative and unwell cornet of Gindrinker, or a furious post-hardcore one-two from Goodtime Boys and A Thousand Arrows.   Folky goodness comes in many forms, too; try Ceri Frost, Evening Chorus, No Thee No Ess and The Gentle Good for starters.  Huw M, Zwolf and Little Eris rep for eclectic beatmaking.

There’s comedy from equally hilarious and terrifying force of nature Nick Helm, whose last Cardiff appearance in the yurt at Milgi was one of the highlights of my summer.  James Acaster, David Trent, Oxjam co-ordinator Henry Widdicombe and Benjamin Partridge will also be funny.  Throw in Cardiff’s premier loosely themed, cake-awarding monthly multimedia quiz night Quiz Quest and you’ve enough proper value for money to justify a two-day bill and a double-digit entry fee, at the very least.

Last year’s event raised over £5,000 apparently, a pretty fantastic effort.  Make some effort yourself, cadge a lift, volunteer or just turn up and enjoy.  If nothing else, it’ll make those difficult clashes at Sŵn a little easier to solve.

Tickets are £6.00 from WeGotTickets and you’ll get a sturdy wristband in exchange.  Full list of venues and timings below.  Get involved!

Line-up

The Rugby Club
Folk-rock & beautiful melodies…

2.00 – 2.40 Draw Me Stories
3.10 – 3.50 Huw M
4.20 – 5.00 The Gentle Good
5.50 – 6.20 Too Many Stingrays
6.50 – 7.30 Pamela Wyn Shannon
8.00 – 8.40 Threatmantics
9.00 – 9.40 Richard James
10.00 – 10.40 Spencer McGarry Season

The Gremlin
Some indie with your rock…

2.30 – 3.10 Circle of One
3.30 – 4.20 No Thee No Ess
6.40 – 7.10 Hey Tonight
7.40 – 8.20 – Weird Naked Indian
8.40 – 9.20 – All Our Glory
9.40 – 10.30 – Long Knives

Theatr Brycheiniog
Experimental & accoustic folk in the bar :

2.50 – 3.30 Stephen Wheel
3.50 – 4.20 Evening Chorus
4.40 – 5.10 Ratatosk
5.30 – 6.10 Jo Bartlett
6.30 – 7.10 Ceri Frost

The Markets Tavern
Indie, Rock & Blues.

3.00 – 3.40 Derek Genet
4.10 – 4.40 Jac Jones
5.10 – 5.50 Calling Card
6.20 – 7.00 Under the Driftwood Tree
7.30 – 8.00 Moonface
8.20 – 9.00 Gubbins
9.20 – 10.00 Majestic Strays
10.20 – 11.00 Kyshera

The Corries
Punk, Hardcore & Heavy!

3.30 – 4.10 The Goodtime Boys
4.40 – 5.20 Silures
5.50 – 6.20 A Thousand Arrows
6.50 – 7.30 The Undivided
7.50 – 8.30 This is Suffering
8.50 – 9.30 All The Damn Vampires
9.50 – 10.30 Fell on Black Days

The Con Club
Where better than a Conservative club for the visual, alternative and electronic?

6.40 – 7.10 Gindrinker
7.40 – 8.10 Little Eris
8.40 – 9.20 Zwolf
9.50 – 10.30 Glass Diamond

Quiz Quest @ The Gremlin
4.40 – 6.10 Cardiff’s premier multi-media carnival pub quiz. Win prizes of the alcoholic kind!

Comedy @ The Con Club
The best of this year’s Edinburgh Fringe Festival…

3.30 – 4.20 David Trent – Spontaneous Comedian
4.30 – 5.20 James Acaster – Scream if you want to Acaster
5.30 – 6.20 Nick Helm – Keep Gold of the Gold

Brecknock Knock in Theatr B

8.00 – 9:30 Comedy Showcase in the theatre bar featuring the likes of Benjamin Partridge, Gareth Gwynn, Henry Widdicombe and more!

The Aftershow Party

A man once said ‘After the show there’s the after party’ and we will be proving him right. Hair will be let down, rugs will be cut & ties will be loosened.

11.00pm – 1.00am @ The Markets Tavern where Jonny Bull will be spinning the party tunes. £1 entrance fee. Free entry for acts and volunteers.

On the Gindrinker side are two more songs from their stash of pickled character sketches and bleakly funny state of the nation yowls. ‘Bob Grainger: Sexual Pervert’ lurches queasily like the “mucky man” in question, horizontal guitar riff and slow drum machine thud pushing DC Gates’s vocals along, semi-spoken word rambles about a molester of animals, fish and stone walls (“It was mossy / He said”). Like a lot of Gindrinker songs, it reaches some sort of hysterical climax, rising comparisons to fellow explorers and tyrants Amelia Earhart and Enver Hoxha. It’s sleazy, brainy, high quality stuff. ‘Y Chromosome’ ups the tempo and adds some fine guitar from Graf, alternately stabbing and throttling like some bearded murderer. Lyrically, it’s a male of the species layed into for ugliness, uselessness, worsening the world through the misfortune of being born (Best line: “What went wrong with your daddy’s balls?”). The further adventures of Cardiff’s premier publican tag team don’t disappoint.

Joy Of Sex slink further down the alleyway. ‘Hypnic Jerk’ begins jerking between crisp riffing and drums thrown against a wall, before Max’s vocals stride in, agitated and cool. A chorus that rides on three guitar notes slides in, Rosie batting back lines as the whole thing creeps upwards unnervingly. A post punk, Wire-y direct hit. Growling bass runs through ‘Red Rocket’, more male/female voices in your head crawling toward almost-choruses. Joy Of Sex play with silence and clean minimalism like Prinzhorn Dance School or Young Marble Giants, wring dryly melodic twists out of them, and make great, blackened music, of which these two brief songs only give you a keyhole view. Your fictional stranger might think these two bands dark, twisted, obsessed, but they’d have to be impressed too.

Released September 13th. Try Spillers, Rough Trade or I Blame The Parents

http://www.myspace.com/gindrinker

http://www.myspace.com/joyofsex

You can’t see Cardiff from space. All this is is one set in one gig in one venue on a Sunday night when the football’s on. Such is the power of small and perfect ideas though this one set cut to the centre of my stupid psyche and made me way giddier than these old bones should theoretically get. It’s The School! Playing Ramones covers! If you don’t understand it, I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s zen. Terminally boring reasons mean half the bands are over before I get there; the rest fly past my dull face at lightspeed. Goodbye Pagan Wanderer Lu, a blur of genuine intelligence and ace mangle guitar and electronics. See you later Kutosis, riotous doublequick garage greatness and fine company for alleyway World Cup viewing. And there goes Gindrinker, still Cardiff’s finest bilious observational screed merchants. One two three four.

(Should point out here I’m trampling over a charity alldayer organised by and filled with properly decent people. Over £300 raised for Headway. Even the lucky dip was exemplary.)

Course, the Ramones is a pretty logical choice for a Stars In Their Eyes moment in this case. Jonny and the boys always were in thrall to girl group perfection and gold standard pop streamlining; The School’s classic shimmying rests on songwriting so melodically strong that no amount of restyling can worry it. So it’s ‘Rock And Roll High School’ to start with, and half an hour of gently partying brilliance. ‘Sheena Is A Punk Rocker’ and ‘Judy Is A Punk’ tumble past, Liz dropping down the vocal register and somehow getting all the words out while those three chords chug playfully around her. ‘I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend’ coasts and yearns like a heartbreak. These covers get dosed by the School’s inbuilt vulnerability, hugged into sweet new shapes. It runs both ways too – School originals get a drum thump and extra layers of guitar fuzz: ‘All I Wanna Do’ is particularly zippy, all doublespeed guitar lines and toy-like bounce. The mixture of coolness and inclusive partydown, best illustrated by a string section mostly on handclaps and sass, is weirdly cheering: by the time ‘Baby, I Love You’s lap of honour struts out it’s clear how much pleasure can be wrung from simple things. A highlight of the year. Start a polite letter writing campaign to get them to do it again.

Sunday, 11th July 2010

Charity indie alldayer fundraiser for Headway Cardiff

The School (Ramones-style Set!) / Gindrinker / Kutosis / John Mouse / Pagan Wanderer Lu / Houdini Dax / Lucky Delucci / Last Partisan / Ivan Moult

An indie all dayer with South Wales’s best bands in attendance, all for raising money for Headway Cardiff.

4:00pm | £5/£6 | buy tickets

• www.headwaycardiff.org
• www.myspace.com/gindrinker
• www.myspace.com/kutosis
• www.myspace.com/johnmousemusic

Vivers: There must be something wrong with me. Walking up Buffalo’s narrow stairs and hearing the sick thud of a drum machine that something’s died in, aided by gusts of bent cornet, leads to the happy thought “Great, Gindrinker are on”. Cardiff’s battered warriors draw the biggest crowd tonight, thick with wankers who never want bank holidays to end, and they witness a hundredth gig that’s part single launch, part permanent reaffirmation of quality and part ale-soaked exercise video. New songs dribble out, but nothing really changes: bracing anti-music of snarling tinpot guitar and rusted declarations from the Common Sense Party Of Hatred; more fun than poking bees’ nests, healthier than two Guinnesses. As always though: more cornet please.

Keef: A confession:  I’d not seen Joy Of Sex since Matt’s departure and their subsequent five-knuckle reshuffle (get it? Never mind).  It appears there’s been a bit of a revolving door drummer policy since then, with this being ex-Threatmantic Huw’s second gig with the band.  You’d never guess.  They look complete with his addition, to the point where the drum machine seems almost obsolete.  The much busier drumming noticeably changes their sound too, now heavier, less minimal, but with the low-end thump leaving plenty of space for some very nice spidery, cheese-wire guitar lines from Rosie.  She’s the secret weapon here, instantly comfortable in her new role and genuinely startling at the set’s close when taking centre stage for a Lene Lovich-esque vocal turn amidst doomy synths and ‘Metal Box’ bass.  Sign the drummer up full-time, rethink the horrid oar-shaped headless bass (please) and greatness awaits.

Vivers: Extradition Order take a couple of songs to get the genitals going; possibly the dull skinny tie look and false rumour of London origins. Sorry. But a few songs in the realisation dawns that this band are going for the ‘garage autopsy’ approach, a tricky move that involves sounding like Thee Vicars or similar Nuggets-mainliners only slowed down to a treacly pace, 45s played at 33 and stabbed randomly. The generic instruments are strung out and disjointed and at times one band member’s playing seems to have no connection to the next. This is A Good Thing, especially when screaming is added on top. What’s going on? At the frazzled heart of Extradition Order there’s a lot of good stuff, buried like a body.

Keef: Two of Extradition Order, though thankfully not the drummer, return swiftly as part of the David Cronenberg’s Wife live experience.  Tom Mayne does Antifolk the way it should be done; affable and engaging in person, turned out in natty suit, bootlace tie and specs and resembling a less seedy Neil Hamburger, Mayne eschews snottiness or confrontation ensuring his lyrical barbs are all the more effective.

They’re allied to above-average tunes, too, whether drawn-out and dirgey Velvets/garage monologues allowing Mayne’s curdled wit to poke through or snappy, Fall-indebted rockabilly belters like the magnificent ‘I Couldn’t Get Off’.  Then, when you think you’ve got him pegged, he slips in a sweetly sincere acoustic cover of a tune by under-the-radar US Antifolker Phoebe Kreutz.  They wrap up in little more than half an hour, a perfectly judged close to a night of bands whose surface similarities reflect more on shared label I Blame The Parents’s quality control than any musical predictability.