Friday night. Basement time again and all in the good cause of live music. It is a holy duty that I undertake…
Ever thought “Damn, I’ve missed the first band”? Well you wouldn’t have thought that if the band was Black Avenue. At least the singer – despite having a sore throat – made the effort but the rest of his cohorts were dull, under rehearsed, unimaginative – the list goes on…gone and soon forgotten.
A lot harder to forget were Cha Cha Heels. In a flurry of feathers (yes, feathers!), this Dundee band rose to task of entertaining an audience and soon slaughtered any thoughts of mediocrity with the kind of sleazed up hairdresser retro pop that was just made for dancing. Whilst the highlights of their set were the theatrical vocals of Miss Marks and the over the top antics of Cragg Stromo, the rest of the band readily proved that they were more than combat fit on each and every song. Strike that pose and enjoy Cha Cha Heel’s blend of camptastic fun!
And along came another good one. Clearly descended from Postcard style Scottish guitar pop (they even threw in an Orange Juice cover), Queen Jane soon showed that they knew how to put together a quality song and the precision of their performance indicated that this was a band to be taken seriously. Guitar pop of this type can easily be seen as wimpish but not this time as this Cumbernauld band could, on a whim, rock it hard and rip up the floorboards. Quality!
But it all had to end. Next up were The Travels who suffered from technical problems, a Libertines fixation and a general awkwardness. As their set crumbled under the weight of audience indifference, I almost felt sorry for them. Almost.
Last on was Feeding Egon. I’m not sure what this band were trying to achieve as they were clearly very competent musicians but each and every song was performed like they had lead in their boots. If I were to describe them in one sentence then they were a band that had dared to be average. No song stood out and likewise no one member of the band stood out. They weren’t exciting, they weren’t memorable. In fact, they were just ordinary and I got far more enjoyment from the train journey home. But that, my friends, is another story…