I’ve got this plan to broaden my outlook so I thought I’d start with a bus journey. Bus journeys aren’t a new thing, of course, but the ones that I take generally involve past midnight encounters with the night people and a ringside seat for the First Bus freak show. Depending on your viewpoint, it’s either free entertainment or proof that Darwin got something seriously wrong in his theory of evolution.
Despite the glorious sunshine there really wasn’t much to enjoy, absorb or otherwise learn on that bus journey. In fact, the only conclusion reached was that being a bus driver can’t have much in the way of job satisfaction. Driven to drink by the experience, no thought other than the procurement of a medicinal pint of Guinness was in my mind. Walk along the street, turn the corner and down the stairs into Pivo Pivo. She smiles. She pours. She’s the perfect woman.
There’s a band called Gambit playing. New to my ears but not for long as they start off rock into funk and then swerve off into metal territory. Whilst untidy and under rehearsed, they had what a lot of local bands don’t have – a full set of their own songs. Halted from gaining momentum by the long pauses between songs – puts me in mind of the old polar bear joke that started “why the long paws?” – Gambit did well enough to mark them down for further investigation.
Models For The Radio couldn’t ever be classed as under rehearsed and are one the finest examples of indie rock that you are likely to get in this no mean city. Leaving the room neck deep in catchy tunes, sing-along choruses and memorable riffs, their set made you wonder why they aren’t playing stadiums. Stuart Neil’s assured vocals added a bit of class to the proceedings and the end result was undeniably commercial. Destined for bigger things? I wouldn’t be at all surprised.
Time for another Guinness. One for the road, as it were. It’s the last one too as, dead on last orders, the tap runs dry. Time to go. I’ve got my ticket for the last bus and I don’t want to miss the show.