Psicle: Falling into the abyss

Double trouble this weekend what with Bruce making a rare trip to the big smoke and Ramsay & Jo down for the usually ill starred east London hipster event that is Field Day. Bruce down in time for lunch on Friday following which I learn the bass part to London Calling and we generally jam to Pretty Vacant and Sanctuary. Then later we and Debbie wander over to the Bedford to meet Rams and Jo for a few drinks and not fancying the disco come back for a few hours in the loft playing my old punk vinyl 45s. Good fun but stay up much too late. Saturday sees most of us struggling to get going but eventually the Field Dayers are off with good lucks and Bruce and I cycle up to Crystal Palace to examine where it actually stood. Unfortunately the back derailleur cable is rusted through and the front chain wheel shifting mech seems to have failed. It's a hard old slog for Bruce up to the dizzy heights of Crystal Palace. Dizzier than CPFC will ever experience in the league. Then it's an easier ride for Bruce downhill to the Imperial War Museum where we meet Debbie and tour the depressing WWI exhibition. Hell on earth. Back in the fresh air we say au revoir to Debs and cycle over Westminster Bridge with a premonition of things to come, round the square and back over to the South Bank to make our way to Battersea Park and home. After a fine meal Bruce and I make our way up to the Windmill for some modern punk 45ness.

It's a benefit gig to fight the regeneration (i.e. knock down and rebuild) of the Central Hill Estate which strangely we'd cycled up earlier today. There's a nice big banner sponsored by Class War with the four main party leaders faces with the words All Fucking Wankers on it. Our first band's guitarist singer says pretty soon on that he doesn't think that Corbyn is a wanker which gets a half hearted heckle but good for him. Adam & Elvis are an energetic five piece who give us a great set of funky indie jangliness. Definitely got something going on and although a little cerebral it sounds good. I thought a cross between Orange Juice and the Fall, which is by no means as odd as when I first thought it. Bruce says Franz Ferdinand influenced and yeah I guess that's Edwyn Collins vs Mark E Smith. Awkward moves by the front man a bit like David Byrne and I guess they are that end of the indie post punk spectrum. To continue the stateside comparison at times they are a bit Iggy Pop during his Bowie phase with anthemic songs and quirky grooving. A great start to the night and beats watching Ronaldo tear apart Juve in Cardiff which the locals are watching on the telly. And for the first time in 4 bands (at least) we have a real life drummer on stage. Which luxury is lacking for the next band but which by no means diminishes the enjoyment as they've got a pretty find drum machine.

Sex Cells are a two piece bloke and woman. They are keyboard botherers setting off drum machines, twiddling synth break beating knobs and twinkling the ivories, or rather plastics which I guess synth keyboards are made of rather than from endangered species. Anyways it's a fine set hitting full on banging beats complete with searing keys and that juddering heart stopping vibratory beats rising and falling in pitch from synth knob tweaking. Great stuff. At times we have drumming (OK, so they have one drum and cymbal up there) and percussion shaking going on. The vocals are impressive too. Male vocals are Mark E Smith shouty like and what with the hard beats they are Fall-ish. Female vocals range from full on screaming to a more musical shoutiness reminiscent of The Slits. Yeah, maybe they were the equivalent of The Fall. And yes, I know The Slits were hardly the Diana Ross of punk but they could hold a note if you listen. So no complaints about a charismatic couple on stage sounding like an electronic Fall with a little bit of Hawkwind psychedelicness thrown in to keep us off our toes. Very good. As I told them when I bumped into them outside which after I walked away sounded sort of limp. Ah well. I'm sure I'm not their target audience as their A&R person would likely say. If they have one.

Next up with a a bloke in a 50s suit and hat singing histrionically and theatrically over garage type backing tracks. Entertaining certainly but not sure why he needed to spend 5 minutes between songs to change the tape - was it on a cassette? Bruce and I spent most of the time uneducatedly discussing whether it was Grime, Garage, UK Garage or some other genre that passed us by. At least in recognising it.

Sebley are up next and greatly anticipated cos we've been told that the guitarist is Saul from Fat White Family. An odd looking bunch although a standard four piece with drums, yay, bass, yay, guitarist, aforementioned, and singer. Latter is lanky and a bit of a showman. To say the least. Entertaining certainly and enjoyable enough. A quirky sound flirting with indie and funk. Instead of rising in energy and reaching new heights they sort of plateau out into funky indie so like Orange Juice but without that mesmerising guitar or a lot of real feeling. After a while they seem to be channelling Kool and the Gang in their more soulful i.e. less funky phase. OK I'm not sure if anyone there would say the same but hey it's my blog and I've a few K&TG albums to compare this lot to. So yeah, yeah.

By this time we're watching the news flashes of the London Bridge terrorist attacks. Very worrying coming so soon after Manchester and Westminster. A very fresh looking kid in a shell suit jacket turns to me to say so. Have a quick chat with him and then see him and similarly fresh looking shell suited top friend outside having a sneaky fag. Or summat. Later inside we're sitting at a table which has two abandoned drinks on it and the two likely lads surreptitiously chat next to the table and next thing we know they've mineswept the half pint. Ah, those were the days having to grab 2nd hand drinks. Next day I find out from Lily-Rose she probably knows them. So they really are that young. Last up are Meatraffle who are preceded all through the long sound check by some bloke on a stub nose trumpet (cornet?) playing doleful notes over and over. Very irritating. The band turn out to be him, a bassist who whilst OK has her volume far too high and it throbs through you which is OK if you're jumping around but not at the end of a long day. Drummer and competent guitarist. Not that great but maybe after the news we just want to be back home chilling out. So, like those football fans who leave with 10 minutes to go risking missing the equaliser Bruce and I duck out risking missing a massively exciting ending to the set. Or at least for him to put that bloody cornet away. A nippy cycle home but at least it's not raining then watch the events of the evening unfold on the news before Rams and Jo eventually arrive back having had to taxi from Mile End. Late night again. Ramsay's crashed and I won't post the pic here but excellent state of crashingness still clasping beer bottle.

Sunday is late up big breakfast and after Bruce flees a walk round the common. A great weekend. Thanks guys X