God sends signs. Sometimes you understand the signs She sends and sometimes you don’t. Passing the Kelvingrove Museum, a Bluesbunny felt Her displeasure as the rain poured down. And down and down until the incessant dampness brought on thoughts of building an ark. Was I not on a holy mission to write words of adoration on Louise McVey and Cracks in the Concrete and Miss the Occupier? What could have triggered Her displeasure?
The answer is simple. God does not share for She does not like the competition. Yeah and verily, with but the lack of white Maltesers in the confectionary market to trouble the now water logged thoughts of a pen powered knight on his literary crusade, Louise McVey and Cracks in the Concrete duly provided inspiration for the ensuing words. With a crumbling guitar echoing more Edgar Allan Poe than any rock legend driving their songs of cruel obsession to near gothic magnificence while Ms McVey cast her spell. With their reflections captured in a mirror, these creatures of the night must surely be real.
Now allowing the gratuitous use of dichotomy, Miss The Occupier grappled successfully with the sonic tiller and steered things towards a land of post punk styled pop happiness whilst sprinkling their up-tempo jauntiness with nothing less than a pure eighties synth pop sugar coating. With an eyecatching, Glayva drinking singer – what is it about a woman playing bass guitar that so easily captures a man’s attention? – this four piece band punched out the kind of songs that were meant to be hummed, and no doubt karaoked (is that even a word?), by the masses.
It was all over by the time the police arrived. God might well be all powerful but even She sometimes can’t arrange for the timely arrest and imprisonment of Her competition. Oh, and lest we forget, hamsters do not make for good Xmas presents. Or door stops, for that matter.