Rip This Joint

Jon and Scottie are visiting arriving late Friday so we're up til the wee hours catching up. Saturday sees us squishing around the ridiculously crowded Borough Market then wandering over to the Tate Modern to drink a bottle of Riesling in the members bar overlooking St Pauls and the city and then seeing the Russian Revolution exhibition. For free. Thanks Anna. Then back to Borough for cheap end of the day food and our carnivores getting free sausages. Back home after one of Debbie's lovely curries we're adjusting bike saddles and all four are off to the Windmill for a night branded Rip This Joint. See uninspiring post title.

First up are, I think, are Early Mammal who, I think, should have been headlining. My phone camera wasn't working so with a nod to Eric Morecambe's classic line I am reviewing all the right bands but not necessarily in the right order. The band look and sound great. Bassist with 70s look running up and down the frets like John Entwistle with a heavy thrashy, there will be a theme here, drummer. That's it. Just a duo. Another theme tonight. Trouble is that the bassist seems to have problems and keeps just stopping and muttering and banging his bass around. Seemed to be having a hissie fit. Maybe cos he's meant to be headlining. I dunno. Anyways we get a bit bored with his antics and hot foot out the back for some fresh air. Afterwards, back in the bar, I see the bassist walking out the door with his bass on his back. He's tall and the bass is higher than his head. From the bar I think he's bound to hit it on the top of the door frame. He does. I suspect it puts him in an even worse mood. Ah well. At least our other mates have turned up so there's introductions all round with Pete, Wendy, Todd and Wendy's nephew (I think?). New Zealand heavy we are now. Funnily enough I now realise that one of our bands were too. Pete says the hissie bassist don't know whether he's Lemmy or Jimi Hendrix. I may take notes from him next time I'm jamming with Pete...

Next up is the bloke taking our dosh on the door fronting Dead Arms. He's a sweet bearded guy who's fairly gentle. Til he sings. Hard core four piece. I say thrash metal. Jon says shouty punk. OK a bit of a cross. They are very energetic and we enjoy them immensely. Apart from Debbie. Not her cup of tea really which is a shame as it's what we get all night.

Next up are NZ's finest Hollywoodfun Downstairs. They're a duo dressed in black with a great drummer hitting out relentless and excellent heavy off beats and a guitarist thrashing out relentless and excellent heavy grunge laden riffs. Excellent. As I said.

After another al fresco sojourn and we're back for JOHN, I think, who are another guitarist drummer duo. They're pretty good and some of our party think they're great. A shame that the drummer spends an age sorting out his snare drum before giving up and getting a replacement. I've seen strings being changed on stage but never a tightening up of a snare. He's sporting a "football" T shirt (as in it says "football" on it - not affiliated to any club) so we'll maybe forgive him. Maybe.

And so to the last band. As we missed the opener, who we overheard someone saying outside were very good, it's not quite a quid a band but hey, who's counting. OK, I seem to be. We get our money's worth for the finale with a full four piece as Casual Sect take Windmill the stage by storm. They look the part of a thrash metal shouty punk combo. Drummer hitting out the beats under long dark hair and beard. Heavy maan. Bassist with one of those odd too tall beanie hats atop head looking either spaced out or concentrating intently on the guitarist. Not sure which. Maybe the latter as the guitarist is very good thrashing and a riffing in turns. Short none too tidy hair with seemingly for this band regulatory beard. Casuals they do not look like. 1980s football ones I mean. Apart from the singer who for her size certainly belts out the lyrics in a shouty punk screaming kind of a way. She's sporting a T shirt (if only my camera was working cos I can't remember what was on it) tucked into high waist jeans and baseball boots. So the nearest to "casual" we've seen this evening and rightly so given their name. Not sure about the sect bit. Possibly the drummer or bassist. Or both. Anyways I assume it's cos it's a clever name. I like it. Oh god. Having read that over I seem to have moved from travel and music blogging into fashion. Ignore most of the last paragraph. Now back to what I know...  so yes they are tight and fast and thrashy and shouty and yeah we like them a lot. Despite being subjected to about 4 hours of thrashiness they're keeping our attention. We've had fun tonight with various thoughts on lyrics and after they're off the one that we discuss is whether the girl was really singing / shouting / screaming I Hate Jazz over and over. Jon, in a fit of pique I suspect, gets confirmation from the guitarist that we are right. I like them even more now. A great way to end the night. After being told off outside for being too noisy by the argumentative barman (he was right to tell us off but I'm talking about before when he was arguing with me about drinks and saying that IPA (Indian Pale ale) isn't as pale as Pale Ale after serving me a pint that looked like stout) we say our farewells to the New Zealanders (our mates, not the band) and Welsh boyo (sorry Pete! couldn't resist) and the four of us tootle off back home on our trusty steeds with me leading the way and very sensibly trying to keep a semblance of order in the ranks on the roads (i.e. cycle on the left hand side not meander across the whole road). We arrive home in one piece, well, four pieces but four whole pieces, and settle down to a night cap and musings of the day before turning in.