Live Reviews

  Caragh Nugent, Marshall Chipped, Dougie Greig and the Ghost Boy live at Pivo Pivo in Glasgow

So the barfly says to me, "How do you write?" To tell the truth, I hadn't given the mechanics of writing much consideration. A muse finds you. You pick up a pen and that is pretty much it. She is nearby so I ask her. She says that she doesn't cook. That wasn't what I asked her but, to tell the truth, no man really expects a straight answer from a woman. Then she adds another word. Soup.

It's time to pay attention to the stage. Being an acoustic night (or blight if you don't like that sort of thing), there is one man and a guitar on stage. For a change, he's a dapper chap and goes by the name of Dougie Greig. Despite a dodgy start, he soon finds his footing and makes a convincing showing of his wholesome, love lost songs. If he were a soup, he would be lentil. Everybody likes lentil soup.

Ghost Boy is next. He looks a serious chap and appears to be suffering from over contemplation of his mid-life crisis. He stares at the ceiling as if seeking inspiration for most of his set and then finds it in a Nirvana riff. Turns out he is from Edinburgh. Depression is, of course, a common side effect of a residence in the east coast. If he were a soup, he would be supermarket own brand pea and ham. Unappetising to look at but with chewy pink bits that stick between your teeth.

Also down from Edinburgh is Caragh Nugent. If she were a soup, she would be Thai chicken broth - made of simple ingredients but the result is far from ordinary. It's been a while since Bluesbunny put pen to paper on Ms Nugent and her voice is still a thing of wonder. Her songs brought appreciative silence to the room and all who heard were convinced. Even the cynical barfly had to admit she is something special.

Skipping the whole acoustic vibe was Marshall Chipped. Two guys - one in a backwards hat - loaded up the stage with instruments and commenced making some bouncy laptop powered retro synth sounds to keep their jagged guitars company. Normally effective - at least on a Friday night - but this was Monday and they proved as welcome as a fart in a spacesuit (which is why astronauts don't eat Tuscan bean and spinach soup before undertaking a bit of the old manned space flight).

Maybe there is soup on the moon too? Would the government tell us if there was?

Review Date: January 25 2010