Easter Bunnies

Having both bottled out of a Thursday night meet up (Goat Girl at ICA being sold out) I peruse the Windmill listings for Saturday and see Surprise Guests with an image of the black midi jump suit so snap up a couple of tickets for myself and Simon. Within a couple of hours it's sold out. Meeting outside Simon is chatting to a kid who's turned up without a ticket so I tell him to check out Reddit as I saw a couple of people selling tickets (face value) and saw that it's Geordie Greep with a new band and sounds. On the door there's a couple desperately trying to persuade the usual door guy to let them in best he offers is come back at 11.15 and see if people haven't turned up. Rabbitfoot are soon on. A 5 piece with drums, Moog synth (supplying great bass lines), guitar, cello (violin replacement apparently which Simon finds out in chatting with the cellist, note smaller than a double bass) and vocals. Firstly, they are a great band with a wide range of musical styles with the singer having a fair bit of chat to us audience which I always like in a band. The vocalist jumps between spoken word, including introducing songs and tells us she's taken her shoes off so the mic is a bit high as she wears docs, singing and near shouting. They're reminiscent of Patti Smith in that regard. Not the shoes and mic bit. Musically, well, where shall I start. Salsa, indie, post punk, art punk, twangy new wave, jazz, funk and a disintegration into extreme syncopation indeed post music worthy of Alternative TV nay the Good Missionaries. That is high praise indeed. They are great. We are exhorted to dance raising our feet off the ground, both together that is which we probably would if we had the same space as our singer, who  has some great moves straight out of the late free festival handbook, but we are all jigging about down the front. Great musicians of course to cover such a range of styles so seamlessly. Some great classic big endings to songs too. Shall I say great again. And they have a theme tune about rabbits and hares which from what I could gather don't have a great time of it. Worth the 7 quid alone. Simon and I retire to the garden to get somewhere to sit and so miss a fair bit of Endless Digital Birthdays set. They seemed popular but from the back of the room, those who know the Windmill will know it's possibly the worst layout for crowded gigs which is another reason it's so fabulous that it's impossibly the best venue, anyways from our position they sound like post heavy metal grunge proggie band with a little bit of quiet gothiness and I'm not totally committed to getting any nearer to them. Maybe another time not straight after an eclectic set. Henry Coke is something else again giving us an atmospheric set with guitars in a James Blake sort of vibe by the way see his views on streaming platforms (Blake not Coke). We stay in our place on the edge of the dancefloor, such as it is, and Geordie Greep goes back and forth past us a few times for some reason before taking the stage. Wondering if he'll depart a lot from the black midi sound I'm not sure he does. It''s a great set which is to be expected. I am hesitant to say they they are too much like bmbmbm as that band seem to jump genres and vibes live at will and frequently so un-pigeon-hole-able anyway. Greep and band deliver a great set a lazy comparison would be black midi. Ha! Greep's main band is obvious but I think this set is jazzier in that post punk jazz funk sort of way with a lot of guitar work. If you are a Frank Zappa fan then go see Greep cos no one else will make ya Sheik Yerbouti like Greep and the Gang. We are treated by a guest appearance by Shag (due to my poor hearing possibly not his name although Geordie did shout out his name a few times to get him on stage and internet searching "shag band london" throws up a fair few suspect sites) to sing a song he wrote. A great night had by all and kudos to Greep for playing his first gig with a new band at the Windmill as I'm sure he could have filled much bigger venues and for getting on the bill three up and coming bands as befits the Windmill. Some you like, some you don't, and often the latter you catch another time and enjoy.

Rabbitfoot

Rabbitfoot standin strings

Rabbitfoot the whole lot, just

EDB, honest

Henry Coke

Geordie

Greep

The Only Living Punk in New Cross

It's a damp cold night and staying in by the fireside seems more attractive than braving the elements but the tickets are bought and the chance to see Fruitbat of Carter Unstoppable Sex Machine fame play in New Cross with the only living boy reference which again referenced by opening chat up line to Debbie so we just have to get out there. So train to New Cross Gate and step down to the New Cross Inn which is at the end of the street where Debbie's dad lived his early years. I thought it would be packed for such a famous guitarist but it's a small crowd which never gets much bigger through the night. First up, for us, I think we've missed the openers, is a strange sort of anarcho punky band who's singer has broken her leg although she makes full use of her crutch to wave around and at us punters. With a name like Sick they sound better than they could have. I think I got their name right. It's a bright enough start with a great rendition of twinkle little star diving into a harsher punkier vibe. Unfortunately the basement lounge bit is closed maybe due to flooding as the urinals are awash. I stupidly wore my DMs with holes in the soles so I'm standing in a weird way on the sides of my feet trying not to let the fluids soak into my sock. I wouldn't normally go into that sort of detail but after a band named Sick seems entirely appropriate. Anyway as the lounge is closed Debbie and I sit at the surprisingly comfy and empty booth seats admiring the GBH flyer. Next up are a very hard core band that lurch between hard core heavy rock and a funkier rock. The former reminds me of those hard core punk bands that decided they were metal bands after all and played fast loud and shouted lyrics like through a cheese grater. They don't take themselves too seriously though and the audience love them. Project Mork is their name. The audience is a strange brew of ageing punks and rockers with a couple of dapper ageing mods although given that hairstyles are so indicative of musical it's difficult to tell what these guys identified with. Apart from the mohican with a bit missing. The rest of the audience are much younger looking like wasters quite possibly from Goldsmiths opposite and strangely like heavy rock fans used to look like back in the 80s. That's not a bad thing, as they say, some of my best friends...  The hard core set is interspersed with funkier numbers that sound like the Red Hot Chilli Peppers mashed with Black Sabbath. If that sounds like heaven on earth well yeah they were an interesting band and they were all great musicians from what I could tell. And so to Abdoujaparov and about time as Les has been keeping time next to the merch desk for quite a while. They play a magnificent set with great verve, musicianship and humility. Rocking guitars with that punky rhythm that made Carter so great get the crowd going and we're all jigging about in our own little ways with enough space to groove although it's hardly a mosh pit unlike those heady days of mayhem at the Brixton Academy back in the day was it really 30 years ago jeez and are these docs the same as I was wearing back then... after the encore I nip downstairs again before we brave the night air to catch the bus to Waterloo and then tube home. No they didn't play that song which nodded to Simon and Simon but even so an excellent gig and well worth catching (Otley in May and Leicester in November) if only to see a legendary guitarist. 

Fruitbat

Sick

Project Mork

The Norfolk hard core scene

Abdou - couldn't be bothered to move from behind the pillar, me not Fruitbat

A diverse but enthusiastic crowd

Never mind the Birstalls

It's a flying visit to Leicester to pick up a lovely bike for Debbie and to deliver a wheel to Bruce having packed my tools to sort out various rear gearing mechanisms. After a meal made by Christine with faux chikn we brave the elements to see what seems to be the only non league football match on in Leicestershire due to waterlogged pitches. So we are standing in the cold drizzle along with 71 other hardy souls watching step whatever team Kirby Muxloe versus West Bridgford. We miss the first goal as chatting but as it's a 6-2 home win we have plenty of entertainment. Not least the gobby home keeper and a visitor running argument with a linesman. Afterwards we visit the muddy local faux castle before getting home to eat and prepare for our big night out. The sweaty pub is thronged with ageing balding punks and we arrive to see The Docs on stage. Mostly older than the punters they are a thrashy unlikely looking band whose singer seems to think that shouting out the C word continuously is the epitome of being punk. He even has a sign with it written on. And the guitarist has a hat covered in it. I guess it's music and some of the crowed are getting over excited. What makes it odder is that the singer has a way of moving exactly like old Shaky himself (or Shakin' Stevens to our younger viewers). Maybe they should form a rock n roll cover act. The Pistols are not the Pistols cover band that Bruce had hoped but we make the most of our evening which was hardly cheap. Tuning up the guitarist has long curly gray hair and looks like Brian May which is apt as the Pistols infamous Grundy interview was as a replacement for Queen. Once he puts his hair in a pony tail and dons a knotted handkerchief Brian is transformed into a passable Steve Jones. Johnny looks fairly like Rotten (as opposed to Lydon) and Sid looks like he may well have done if he hadn't have died. Paul Cook has aged badly. The band play passable Pistols covers and whilst I couldn't have done better Bruce probably could have. We nod away but it's a bit pantomime especially as Rotten carries on the coarse language insulting the crowd. Sid is apparently drunk but in a classic comedy way. The highlight is when Rotten goes to the bar for drinks and Sid takes the mic to sing Something Else. Maybe it's a lot easier to play authentic sounding rock n roll than the Pistols brand of punk. They show their colours by singing the Ronnie Biggs era songs and it's the Rock and Roll Swindle songs that seem to engender the most dancing by the audience I guess emphasising that any self respecting punk would not go and see a dodgy faux Pistols cover band. The encore is the one that Bruce and I are dreading being Friggin in the Riggin. I depart for a piss but can still hear it. Ah well, an entertaining evening to be honest both in watching the bands and in many ways the audience. So much like the Windmill. Albeit 3 times more expensive and without the sartorial elegance of jumble sale attire. We exit quickly and walk the 100 yards to the car to put the heater on full blast. Next morning I fail to sort Bruce's cassettes (bike, not music) and the wheel I brought doesn't fit. After that disappointment we enjoy a lovely walk in the sun to see some seriously interesting steam railway maneuvering (video available) before brunch and a lift to the station to say our goodbyes. A pleasant cycle back home on the Sturmey-Archer 3-speed Raleigh Caprice with my 17" wheel strapped to my haversack. An interesting trip to Birstall, as ever.

Alas poor Yorick - is that Bruce nearly smiling in a photo?

Header action

The castle

The Docs - bunch of see hat for details

Ever get the feeling you've been cheated?

Never mind just stop oil - why aren't they protesting just stop coal