Upstairs is the word, she said, and upstairs it was to the room in the sky that plays host to live music when you find yourself at the Old Hairdressers in dear old Glasgow town. There, and fortunately making the evening tax deductible, were Voodoo Mind Control, The Fnords and Saint Sécaire.
The Fnords. Locking themselves to the surf punk beat whilst living on the love of reverb, this three up and staying that way band took purple people eating all the way to the beach with a set of songs each short enough to make you wonder if Dick Dale and attention deficit disorder could, in fact, be found in the same musical sentence. The answer would be a raucous yes.
Saint Sécaire. Purveyors of lackadaisical anarchy, Saint Sécaire transcended any accusation of diffidence with a demonstration of what attitude and style can do when imprisoned in an enclosed space. Think what you will of their wilful, yet decentralised, reinterpretation of the whole life is the journey and death is the destination philosophy but their musical train was undoubtedly a runaway.
Voodoo Mind Control. Nudging themselves well clear of the depression endemic to their Lanarkshire roots, Voodoo Mind Control took the classic Glasgow guitar pop sound and updated it with both 21st century angst and good old fashioned melodies whilst allowing Helen Farrow-Thoms to provide the voice of reason that balanced the power pop energetically supplied by the rest of the band. The song, as always, is where it is at and Voodoo Mind Control truly kept that in mind all the way through their set.
Apparently the best chips are fried three times. That might be relevant or it might just be rambling but the cat’s in the cradle anyway and, once more, I’ve no better place to be.