God invented the sixth day for a reason. I am not sure of that reason but I reckon it involved partying in some way. In keeping with this logic, I found myself in Ivory Blacks. GG Elvis were the main attraction. That's alright, mama!
Zaun were the first act on. Five young lads playing angst-heavy metal. For a band that must still be waiting to buy their first alcoholic drink, they showed a great deal of maturity throughout their set. Drummer Stuart was particularly impressive chipping in with some solid backing vocals. Expect to see them at the Cathouse in the coming years.
Going by tonight's set, First Step To Failure are four guys with a ridiculously good taste in fashion. You can never go wrong with Hawaiian shirts. That aside, they were rather impressive as a musical unit. Hailing from the punk-rock school of "I can play this song faster than you", the band seemed intent on making every second of their set count. They looked to be having fun onstage and I believe those in attendance enjoyed the set as well. Worth seeing.
Epico took the pace down a few notches. Instead of killing the momentum, Epico managed to engage the audience with a half-hour set of catchy indie-rock. Front man Craig Scott was intent on involving his audience in the show, strutting about the stage with sheer pomp. For as much that they looked strange considering the narrow breadth of genre on the bill, Epico didn't care. They came to play and they did so very well. Keep an eye on them.
Members of a range of US punk acts all dressed as various incarnations of Elvis - this is GG Elvis. The audience were laughing before a single note was sung. Whether you considered it novel or just downright brilliant, the crowd reaction was the same. The band were in great humour - taking great pleasure in embarrassing the youngsters in the front row - and nicely segueing those callouts into their next song. Tearing through the Elvis songbook with sincere GG Allin fury, the band were clearly relishing every minute of the show. And why not? A fantastic concept, delivered with fervour.
Time to go. Shame, shame, shame. Until next time!