Psicle: Pick n Mix

Bruce is down in the big smoke under sufferance visiting the Chinese Embassy and I've persuaded him to stay for two nights. So we don't have to brave the tube and as he refuses to go to the White Horse Disco where Ramsay tried to barter with the barman we go for the go to venue with the dog on the roof. The Windmill to those not familiar with son of Roof Dog. We walk up with rain threatening as it was last time we visited with Ramsay and Jo. Simon and Pete are here already looking forward to what I thought was billed as a folk night. First up are a trio of very young looking girls (as in still at school) who kick off with a harmonious vocals only number and then the smallest takes her place behind the drums, she's lost behind them, much our delight as we worried it would be a drum less night, the second shortest picks up her violin bass and the tallest straps on what Bruce thinks is the same guitar as my old cream Jedson. Honey Hahs look like sisters (later research confirms with average age of about 14) and are a very cute looking group slightly shambling and naive having to ask each other what the next song is with a lot of giggling. At one stage mum comes up to the stage with phone for the guitarist to tune up. Even I've got a box that does that! They are not the tightest group and Bruce thinks they've not played many gigs (later research shows they have a deal with Rough Trade) but they deliver a great set. They sing great harmony vocals songs which seem to fit with the current south London zeitgeist of playing nice Carpenters style songs with a gritty edge. The Honeys have a whimsical jangling indie take on this genre which gets the punters jigging and heads nodding. They are like The Raincoats in parts (as an aside why are those legendary and brilliant musicians playing a seated venue as one of their very rare gigs meaning I won't go see them even though last time would've been mid 80s) but with less anarchic fiddling and no shouty vocals. And a little slower. Even than the slow Raincoats songs sounding like those legends on nembutal. Numbs it all. The drummer is low key but essential. Bassist mostly simple rhythms but at times shows off her dexterity on the frets. Guitarist indie scratchy almost reggae chuka chuka (though definitely not as wayward as Umunna) perfectly counterpointing the rhythm section and vocal harmonies. So a great start to and I guess could come under a wide folk banner. After a brief sojourn in the greenery of the garden where two young ladies chatted up us old men, or at least told us a friend of theirs chat up line (milk, skiing and ice dancing) and mocked the fact that I'm named Jim, we come back inside for a full on band with not a sniff of folkiness in the air. Xi (surprising hard to search for on line) have jumpy dancy drums, funky bass, scratchy funky guitar, banging electronic synth beats interspersed with ravey dance culture dropping keyboards. Fronted by a striking singer with a Bowie-esque manner including Low era haircut (which Bruce has noticed on the tube) and style. Music is post rave beats getting everyone bobbing up and down with the odd hands in the air moments. Not anthemic (as in tedious euro rave) but short sharp tunes taking influence from the punk and space rock / acid house flavour of British rave. Maybe that's overselling Xi somewhat but they are excellent and possibly one of the bands I've seen this year at the Windmill most likely to make it big. There again ain't every band the best I've ever seen (nod to Ramsay). If in the moment of Xi that's passed my mind for the last band of the night it's definitely not the case. Kelora are what we feared. Folk without drums. Well, not beardy sandal wearing folk with acoustic guitars but workman black jackets with hi vis stripes and glo stick strings hanging from the ceiling playing electronic synth folk and with a guitar you can't hear. Probably for the best. I often assume that when I don't enjoy a band it's me rather than those who are talented and motivated enough to go on stage to entertain us passive punters but Pete leaves (excuse of getting back to Barking) then Simon (up early) so Bruce and I cut our losses and march back home to sit in the garden drinking tea and musing no the night's entertainment.

Apologies for the photos. Since my phone went back to Vodafone for repair (do not get me started) the camera seems to be even worse than it was...