Back in the bar area, there was quite a buzz around Attitude’s info stall, where the organisers agreed that it was indeed a good turnout. At previous Attitude gigs, they have sometimes struggled to get people in, so maybe at last music fans are cottoning onto the eclectic fun of Club Attitude, and obviously, disabled punters can rest assured that it will all be accessible. They even had a sign language interpreter onstage, so deaf and hard of hearing people can understand the lyrics.

The music in the main room beckoned so I wandered in there in time to catch most of Bolt Action Five’s set.

Bolt Action Five are 5 young guys with spiky hair, loud colours and attitudes, and bags of energy. Imagine a punked-up version of Hot Chip meets Blur and you’d be somewhere close to their very original and bold vocal style. Guitar style was punk, with 80’s electro keyboards and lots of cacophonous grunge that somehow works when thrown together. I recommend this lot and think they might just make it big. Forthcoming gig info check www.myspace.com/boltactionfive

Time to hit the bar area, to chat to people, get drinks, and a CD from the stall. I briefly wandered back into the main room, but was not enticed by who was playing. However, the headliners Dead! Dead! Dead! more than made up for that sounding like an indie-rock fusion of the Smiths and the Fall, but with bucketloads of cheerfulness! They had a lively, happy stage presence, poetic vocal delivery and great interaction with the audience.

One more thing I really liked was the projections on the stage – throughout the gig, there was this rolling, changing landscape that worked really well with the music.

For info on the next party go to
www.attitudeiseverything.org.uk
or http://www.myspace.com/attitudemyspace

©Minnie Mouse

There would be Posh Dyke, a Louise Brooks clone who divided her time between working in pottery cafe and drinking tea in her study surrounded by cats. Sporty Dyke, a Thai boxing champion and part-time youth worker. Scary Dyke would be a hefty lass with a heart of gold. Ginger Dyke would be a pre-Raphaelite beauty and probably work as a wallpaper designer. Baby Dyke would be a vegan punk in clashing stripy socks and wearing Birkenstocks.

Imagine the kind of music such an outfit could wreak! It would be a musical year zero with the power and energy of the Ramones, Pistols, and Clash combined with the Slits, ESG, and Rip Rig & Panic. The sonic equivalent of the Bikini Atoll nuclear tests. I was getting quite excited at this point.

So I asked to hear these new contenders. The resultant music can only be described as artrock as played by a mediocre band who've read about it in the paper. The Dykeenies turned out not to be a lesbian supergroup, but a bunch of blokes from Glasgow with names such as Alan.

I'm not discouraged however. In fact, I'm going to take my fervid fantasy and make it real. Do you know any musical lesbians you could put my way?

Rocketnumbernine are a relatively new band, comprising members of sonic heavyweights Rothko. They stand out from most other bands in that their sets are entirely improvised. This can be a recipe for self-indulgent nonsense. But luckily, the crew of the good ship Rocketnumbernine manage to steer clear of such traps.

This is no doubt due to the sheer musicianship of the individuals concerned. Their drummer was so good that I started making a mental list of bands desperate for someone that talented. It isn't easy to play drums at the best of times, but you really test your abillities when you're improvising with two different musicians on synths.

Improvising requires a certain amount of telepathy as you can hardly talk to each other onstage when the gig is in full swing. Two of the members are brothers and they've been performing together for over eight years -- which helps. But the addition of another member doesn't seem to have compromised their bond.

The music itself was a little like travelling in a time machine. There were hints of Can, Kraftwerk, and Adrian Sherwood-like dub coming through. It is a cliche but one that is true: good music really does take you on a journey. A trip on Rocketnumbernine is well worth the fare.

So what if you weren't alive to see Can play Munich in '68? Watching Rocketnumbernine perform is the next best thing.

Unsurprisingly for the Big Chill bar, the music was all on the ambient side. DJ Void, for example, abandoned his usual dark and heavy drum & bass style in favour of a seamless mix of liquid D&B. Also, he had enough tunes in the bag to squeeze in 2 sets that night.

Another good set, this time a live one, came from Jason Dowling. His tunes started out very chilled, with the tempo rising as the night went on, until he finished off getting people up dancing with some extremely funky breakbeat tracks. When he’s not producing and playing out live, he runs an organisation called Creative Union, which encourages and promotes music by disabled people. www.creativeunion.org.uk

Still on the funky vibe was Andy from the Wild Bunch, playing house music. There’s no getting away from helpful people tonight, as the Wild Bunch run a club night for people with learning difficulties.
Next on was an excellent composer called Lyn Levett, Her set ran on two speeds; from uplifting house music to melancholic haunting rock-influenced tracks. When she finished her set, the whole place cheered. I found it particularly inspirational because the people cheering at the back probably didn’t notice that she could not move her arms and hands, and played music by nudging a keyboard with her nose! When I went up and congratulated her, she keyed in the word ‘thank you’.
I remember watching her before she came on; wondering who that person was in the bright tights and skirt, who looked like she was struggling, sitting there shaking. I remember hoping she was OK. Then, after hearing her set, I thought, “I’m also disabled, but if she can get her act together, then I’ve got no excuse!” It was one of those rare “Damascus” moments.

Like the others playing that night, she’s also online, at www.lynlevett.co.uk.
Go there, and you’ll learn that, apart from the music, she’s a dancer and filmmaker, with years of involvement in arts workshops for disabled people. She also happens to be a transsexual.

One thing that really struck me was that, unlike many of their able-bodied counterparts, nearly all the performers were also involved in projects helping other people in some way. Maybe there’s something about being disabled that makes you more aware of other’s suffering.
Actually, there’s a bit of subversion going on here: all Attitude on the Decks and Club Attitude nights involve disabled performers, and have a regular crowd of disabled people going there. Anyone with an open mind is welcome at Attitude nights, so, hopefully, it will become more and more normal for disabled and able-bodied people to socialise together, just as it is now quite normal for gays and straights to drink together, or black people and white people, or even men and women – yes folks, when I was a kid, it was considered strange for a woman to drink alone in a pub, can you believe that!? I do hope I’m not just being hopelessly idealistic – no, I’m not – we’re out there now, and we’re taking over!!!

Minnie, the wheelchair mouse

Valentine's Day is an unusual choice of date for a gig night -- surely lovers everywhere should be tucked up in the warm. But the Mullah's harem is a distant prospect, so Cargo has to make do. Surprisingly there seems to be a large turnout in spite of the bad weather. Those that have braved the elements are rewarded by the energetic spectacle of a Noblesse Oblige performance.

Although the band cite the camp operatics of German singer Klaus Nomi as an influence, it is hard to discern. If anything, I am reminded of Joy Division and not just because lead singer Sebastian bears more than a passing resemblance to Ian Curtis. The sound of Noblesse Oblige is however more pastoral than that of Joy Division -- no doubt a product of not being brought up the industrial wasteland of 1970's Manchester.

The key to Noblesse Oblige's talent is energy. Valerie and Sebastian are driven people, moving around stage, taking turns on vocal duties and changing instruments constantly. They go through endless permutations, but not sacrificing consistency. There are some nice touches such as Valerie drumming live over the artificial sound of drum machine -- which works surprisingly well.

The only bum note of the night perhaps comes when they perform their single track 'Daddy (Don't Touch Me There)' -- which sounds more like a parody of contemporary music than a song in it's own right. It's the sort of thing Chris Morris might have come up with for an episode of the comedy series Nathan Barley. It fails however to puncture the sense of awe and majesty that Noblesse Oblige engender.

After all, privilege does entail responsibility.

It's always interesting when you talk to bands and ask them about their experiences playing in London and elsewhere in the country. Invariably they get very animated when talking about the crowds' reactions when they visit far flung towns. People there aren't as spoilt for choice, so when a touring band appears they throw themselves into having fun.

In London, we are blessed with a wide choice of things to see and do. The unfortunate side effect of this is that London crowds tend to be less enthusiastic. Some people don't come out for the music or to have a good time but just to be seen out.

This is no reflection on the good promoters of Club Motherfucker. I had my first Club Mofo experience in Brighton during the recent Ladyfest, a DIY non-profit event that showcases female musicians. That night had a great atmosphere with a lot of drinking and dancing. So I had high expectations when attending my first Club Mofo in London.

Although the crowd were limpid, the acts on stage were anything but. The night's proceedings kicked off with the Venom Seeds, a garage punk trio with a kimono clad lead singer. Her urgent high-pitched vocals played off wonderfully against the raw sinister guitar. Beauty and the beast rolled into one package.

Speaking of packages, the following act Michael J Coxx boasted some sort of groinal pouch that looked like the kind of thing cricketers wear to protect their fertility. Clad in an ensemble of shirt, tie and tights, he provoked mirth before he'd even opened his mouth. If you can imagine Peaches in the body of Jarvis Cocker, you'd be getting near. Coxx's filthy mouthed white man rap certainly amused.

The next act is a kind of supergroup made up of two London-based acts, Comanechi and Todd. Akiko from Comanechi is normally to be seen behind a set of drums while singing. In her new band Pre, she's up at the font clad only in her t-shirt and knickers. When she comes on, the men at the front start moving in strange angles trying to catch a glimpse of her lingerie.

When she comes on at first, she seems a little vulnerable in her minimal clothing. Then she starts singing and this noise comes out. I would describe Pre's sound as having few redeeming qualities but bloody good fun nonetheless. Raw doesn't quite capture it -- still growing might be a better description.

The night is rounded off by Brixton rapper Marvin The Martian, a last-minute replacement for an act that cancelled. He rises to the occasion marvellously, with his British take on hip-hop eschewing the usual gangsta cliches. It's a mellow and good-hearted way to end proceedings.

Once the live acts end, there are DJs playing records but I can't survive until 3am so end up leaving. As I walk home, I reflect on the gulf between the Brighton and London crowds. People joke that Brighton is now a suburb of London -- they call it Zone 7. But I guess that it's still holding onto it's distinctive nature -- for now anyway.

But as gig nights in London go, Club Mofo had enough fun and originality going on to ensure I'll be making a return visit.

The small venue was filling up with a crowd of predominantly white 30-somethings, with varying degrees of dress-sense and ability to dance. Décor-wise, it was pretty Spartan- there was nothing except a banner behind the DJ decks, and a poster which read ‘Girlfriend in a Coma’, and ‘Hang the DJ’.
All the music was indie-rock with depressing lyrics: I recognised tracks by Kaiser Chiefs, Morrissey, The Smiths, Joy Division, and [the eternally unlistenable] Iron Maiden (yuk!). As well as the DJ, there were also two performances that night: the first was the UK Air Guitar Champions, The Miserablists, mimed to whatever tracks the DJ played.

The guitarists were hilarious, ‘playing’ toy guitars, with highly exaggerated Rock Star guitar poses; the singer had a toy mic, and they even had a cute little toy amplifier. Following the Miserablists, was a dancing Grim Reaper. Unlike yer average Grim Reaper, who’s a bit scrawny, he was actually pretty fit, and did some dirty dancing with a girl from the audience, which wasn’t very death-like! If you need relief from the super-coolness of London clubland, try a dose of Feeling Gloomy. You can also hire out the promoters. Available for weddings, funerals, bar-mitzvahs…If you don’t believe me, go to www.feelinggloomy.com

Minnie Mouse

Feeling Gloomy – every Sat night @ Bar Academy.

The Bull and Gate is a legendary venue. Many of today's well-known acts played early gigs there. Thus it almost seems as if some of their vital spirit remains. Trapped in the fixtures and fittings, a gauntlet lain down to the new pretenders. Except there's not a lot of pretence in the air tonight. The three acts on show tonight can be equally described as unique and raw.

The unenviable first slot goes to a boy-girl duo called Mitten. Their sound is hard to categorise as it is wildly variable. This is good however -- most bands are horribly derivative. Performance-wise, they take a lot of risks. At times, they are not playing their instruments so much as torturing them. But their charm wins through. They are still a little rough around the edges -- a few months of rehearsal should see them blossom into something wonderful.

Next on are the Rude Mechanicals. Full disclosure here, I have booked this band for my own club a couple of times. But I will try to give an honest appraisal. They rocked! Seriously, this was the first London outing for the newly streamlined band. Having had as many as seven players in the past, they are now down to four. This is reflected in a tight, hard sound with more range in their set than most bands manage in a lifetime. They take in myriad influences such as Frank Zappa and Beefheart, with stabs of punk and funk.

Then, at last, Ted Milton of Blurt! takes the stage wearing a long white jacket. Which would be very "jazz" if it wasn't for the mohican that he sports. Without much ado, he tears into the first number, making the saxophone squeal in a way that John Coltrane would have loved. He is accompanied by just two other players, a lead guitarist and drummer. But the three of them conjure up a big sound, which is bold, funky and frenetic. Milton's rasping vocals add an urgency to the mix.

Recently there's been a resurgence in "punk-funk" - as practised by bands from the 70s such as Gang of Four and A Certain Ratio. There are many new bands that are pretenders to this crown. But Blurt! really do fuse punk and funk. The crowd loves it so much that they end up playing two encores. And you can't get much better than that.

Perhaps their reputation helps, as this crew have been putting on live music events in London for a few years -mainly in the Shoreditch area. They specialise in putting on a weird and wonderful selection of live musicians and DJs.

Weird and wonderful is a good description of the first act on -- a curious combo called Kanako & The Numbskulls, playing what they call 'Folk-Punk'.
The absence of an electric guitar made it more Folk than Punk, but the charismatic and enthusiastic Kanako is an energetic frontwoman for the band.

To follow them in the outdoor garden were several classy acts including truly extraordinaire singer and song writer Jo Griffith from Liverpool, soul and RnB duo Anoraklight and mesmerising and stimulating Carl Smith aka Casa Electro Novo described as a spawn of a car crash involving Vegas-era Elvis and artist Marcel Duchamp.

The rest of the line-up for the event conducted in comfortable lodgins inside was similarly eclectic, taking in such genres as Acoustic Folk, Bossa Nova, Jazz, Soul and RnB and Funk. A choice selection of DJs managed to keep the vibe alive between acts -- all in all, a chilled way to enjoy a laidback Sunday.

Mullah

for more photos click here

What ACR lacked in commercial success, they made up for in critical acclaim. They've been cited as one of the most influential acts to come out of the punk years -- moving a luminary like Andrew Weatherall to allegedly describe them as his favourite band of all time.

Their influence can be keenly felt in the output of bands such as The Rapture, LCD Soundsystem, Radio 4 and Franz Ferdinand. The peculiar appeal of ACR is best summed up by Peter York (co-author of the Sloane Ranger Handbook, so he knows a thing or two about trends). His take on ACR is that 'they were just so damn...early'. One instance where being ahead of your time is not necessarily a positive thing.

But the passage of time has vindicated the difficult path that ACR trod for so long. Tonight they are playing their first date in London for over two years and a large crowd of old-timers is joined by some fans who were probably at nursery when ACR started out.

Time has been kind to ACR -- clearly Manchester isn't the worst place in the world to eke out the days. As soon as the band launches into the first number, it's clear that they've still got it. They choose to begin with a medley that leads into one of their strongest ever numbers, their cover of Shack Up by the Banbarras -- a track sampled incessantly, meaning that you'll know it even if you've never heard it in it's entirety.

ACR are joined on stage tonight by Denise Johnson, a legend to those who know -- she provided the soaring vocals on Don't Fight It Feel It by Primal Scream, an anthem for early 90's clubbers. She was vocalist for the latter part of ACR's career, meaning we don't get to hear a lot of the early material. Original vocalist Martha Tilson's style could be charitably described as fey, like a proto-Beth Orton -- obviously ACR decided that it would be hard to make these work with Denise Johnson's powerful soul stylings.

Initially she seems to be slightly nervous -- perhaps with good cause, as the live room at Cargo is full to the rafters. She begins by singing to the band as much as the crowd, seeking some non-verbal reassurance from other band members. But once the initial nerves pass, she realises that she is amongst friends and clearly some of this new found confidence rubs off on the rest of the band.

The band treads a fine line between keeping the crowd happy with old favourites and trying out what sound like new compositions. This recent material seems to combine the two phases of ACR's career: the later and more soulful style they adopted when signed to A&M with occasional flourishes from the Factory era. Their forthcoming download-only album "And You, Forgotten" should afford die-hard fans the opportunity to become more familiar with their new sound.

As their set climaxes, I turn to my companion for the evening and say 'This is just like being back at the Hacienda in the 1980's'. Admittedly I was never there the first time around, so only have the fake nostalgia engendered through watching films like 24 Hour Party People.

But the penny has dropped for me -- I can finally understand where ACR fit into the history of dance music in Britain. They didn't really know what they were doing at the time. It's only now in the fullness of time that their contribution can be fully appreciated.

Not bad for a band that once claimed that they were crap, but weren’t sure why.

Weatherall has been around for as long as there's been something that could be tagged as dance culture in Britain. Like Woody Allen's Zelig, he's been a constant presence in various guises. He's been responsible for some of Primal Scream's finest moments on vinyl, credited as an early mover in the Balearic house scene, as well as pioneering live dance music with Sabres of Paradise.

But his travels in the dance music scene appear to have taken him back to the punk and post-punk sounds that started him off in the first place. Two Lone Swordsmen has grown out of his partnership with studio wizard Keith Tenniswood AKA Radioactive Man. It now comprises a full live band with guitar, bass, drums, live keyboard and Weatherall on lead vocals.

The role of vocalist is something he clearly relishes -- perhaps it's the fulfilment of a long held ambition. Perhaps it's the sensation of staring out at a crowd of appreciative punters. Who knows -- except God and Andrew himself?

It's Saturday night in the main dance tent at the Glade Festival, an outdoor festival specialising in electronic dance music. The Swordsmen have gone on straight after Speedy J, another well known name that's been on the scene for a long time. But the contrast couldn't be any greater.

This is illustrated best by a young dreadlocked woman who's stayed behind after Speedy J and starts off trying to throw shapes to the Swordsmen. Clearly it isn't working for her and after a couple of numbers, she gives up in search of something with a more electronic feel to it.

Those of use brave enough to stay and pogo however are in for a surprise. The first couple of numbers see the Swordsmen attempt something akin to a fusion of dance and rock. It isn't quite happening though.

Just as I'm beginning to lose faith, Weatherall tears into a cover of punk anthem Sex Beat, originally performed by The Gun Club. This is one of the standout tracks from his 2004 album From The Double Gone Chapel. The studio version is laden with gothic doom, but the live version is far punkier with Weatherall putting his all in the vocals.

With the crowd now behind him, he keeps the assault up and abandons the pretence of fusion. The rest of the set is good old fashioned rock and roll with a twist. When he announces that the next number is Tiny Reminders, from the 2000 album of that name, cheers go up from the crowd.

Deservedly so, as the band delivers a live version with gusto. Another highlight is a version of another track from the Double Gone Chapel entitled Faux -- the mordant quality of the lyrics reassuring us that even though he's looking the pop star, he hasn't gone LA and lost his edge.

Long term Weatherall watchers may wonder if he's mellowing as he gets older. Well, anyone that can go to a festival of electronic dance music and blast out punk rock still has a keen sense of irony and humour.

Saturday 4th December 2005

For around two years, Little Princess Orchestra (LPO) have cut a swathe through London's moribund live music circuit. Polarising opinion wherever they go, simultaneously feted as the best band in the world and castigated as the worst.

LPO defy convention as much as possible by never writing songs or rehearsing, but always improvising on the spot. Between a group of musicians who know each other well, improvising can become the worst kind of navel-gazing. LPO have warded off this ennui by having a constantly shifting line-up.

Tonight is the birthday party for LPO instigator Hugo. Lead vocalists Hugo & Carmel vent everything on their minds through their lyrics. There is no rock and roll sophistry here. The soundsystem is too good to allow cheap glossolalia of kind favoured by ex-pat Japanese rock singers, no names mentioned, OK, yes I mean Damo Suzuki.

The only possible word that can describe the interaction between Hugo and Carmel is 'psychodrama'. Modern music is all about release. That element is there in LPO, in all it's life-affirming glory. But they won't allow you this release until they've delivered a large package of tension first.

Standing on stage in front of a rock band, facing an enthusiastic crowd, singing their hearts out - this isn't therapy, this is catharsis. But don't be fooled by all this psychobabble. Remember, this is showbusiness.

Hugo's stage persona puts me in mind of some Greek god floating on a cloud far above the world. Seeing these puny humans, he feels a momentary pang of concer and airily deigns to intervene in the affairs of man.

Carmel is harder to categorise. The first few performances I saw by her were marked by a frenetic style of dancing that makes David Byrne in the video for Once In A Lifetime look calm and composed. At times, I wondered if she was communicating in some secret sign language. Later performances saw a more spritely and puckish sense of humour emerging.

If you haven't caught LPO, you've probably won't. Hugo has stated that his mission to inject some much needed energy into improvisation has been accomplished.

With the imminent demise of LPO, there is no danger of their music become stale or cliched. In the end, it isn't a corpse they leave behind. It is more like a butterfly chrysalis hatching.

Whatever emerges remains to be discovered ...