I’m four Americanos and a Kit Kat beyond common sense and all thoughts of retiring to the magnolia indignity of a Premier Inn have faded from what is left of my mind. Time once more to roam the alleyways of bonnie Aberdeen – oh, the sarcasm – and see what be happening on the street. Like.
Somewhere under Marks and Spencers – how I miss that meal for two for ten pounds only deal – is The Tunnels and on the stage are Cara Mitchell, Nimmo and the Gauntletts and Molotov Jukebox. It being this close to Christmas, you have to be thinking of a musical equivalent to another holy trilogy. Or maybe one more beer.
So, first out of the manger is Cara Mitchell. She’s local to Aberdeen, so it would appear, and, armed only with an acoustic guitar and the kind of endearing sweet, though not saccharine, stage presence that all good acoustic singer songwriters should have, she romped with purpose through her set. As the man with the greater plan would say, remember her name.
Next to challenge Good king Wenceslas to a fight were Nimmo and the Gauntlets. Driven along by a drummer who clearly had previously worshipped at the altar of funk, this five strong band duly fired things up on all cylinders and set about doing the decent thing and rocking da could be would be power pop but are really too good for that genre house. The sound of applause, quite justifiably, followed them wherever they musically went.
So far so great but the best, barring a crucifixion from the Roman viewpoint, was yet to come. Unleashing a tempo shifting python of hybrid gypsy ska jazz were Molotov Jukebox and they proved themselves the pied pipers of the battle against the walls of Jericho. Natalia Tena’s accordion powered presence easily distracted many a man’s attention from his Xbox but that was, nearly, not the point for you really have to admire a band like this. They don’t do three chords and maximum volume songs. They do songs that have more chords than you can count without dropping your kebab and play them with the kind of steamroller drink you under the table passion that few bands these days possess. It is truly a wondrous thing that they do and it was no surprise then that they got a well deserved encore.
What’s the time, I hear you say? Yes folks, it’s chicken pakora time again!