Psicle: FlUmmoxed

Wednesday, October 30, 2024

FlUmmoxed

It's hard to resist a night of proper hard core especially if Canadian and with my friend in NZ Zayn telling me I need to go and Olly seeing them in Cardiff I persuade Pete to accompany me so we meet at Oslo and chat about his recent 5 week holiday aka home de-barnacle-ing in a Kent boat yard somewhere down the Thames on the Isle of Grain. Great Expectations for tonight indeed. Although the bar is well staffed and not busy buying drinks isn't easy here especially if you deal in cash. Pete's first attempt was to give the woman behind the bar "the extra 40p in change" so she could give him just notes and pound coins back. She kept on saying that he'd given her too much and he had to explain the reasoning. Not easy in a noisy pub. Next round, after another woman behind the bar had wandered off trying to find Roadie on the pumps which Pete had mistakenly asked for, when Pete waved cash she said "That's 12 point 4 pounds please" which threw Pete somewhat until he understood what she was on about. God knows what she would have said pre-decimalisation. Oh how we giggled when she handed Pete the change and he quipped "thanks for the two point six pounds change". Sorry, as usual I've strayed away from the point of this blog which is to tell you about the music...

The support band are meant to be very good (and indeed Olly said that they were in Wales) but although competent enough they weren't quite what I was expecting as support for the Canadians. The Tubs deliver a fair set but very 80s rock and even the guest singer doesn't make a huge difference. The Scottish drummer think's he's hilarious by insulting all the English in the audience. Why do that? Some sort of machismo thing? As if any of us could be arsed to have a go at him. Maybe some sort of inferiority complex he has. And I do not tar all those north of the border with that brush. Pete is ambivalent of course and tells me I should be too as I'm practically west of the border as is he. The Alarm is Pete's dismissive summary and with that we sidle outside for fresh air.

Back inside the by now packed smallish room (they seem to be playing smaller and smaller venues) Fucked Up take the stage and launch into a brilliant hard core punk set with the main man's guttural shouty vocals well supported by the great rhythm section, that bass is so badass, and the two guitars which give the band their edge over many hard core punk bands by lending a little sophistication dare I say psyche to the proceedings. It's a great set with old faves and new tunes which gets the varied crowd going including a smallish mosh pit and a lone crowd surfer who was carried around on up turned arms in a very orderly manner. Funny that although pretty hard core they're not a massively moshy band. Their last song is a slice of near funky Madchester groovyness which is ended by each musician leaving the stage until just left with drummer and bassist and then just the former for a drum solo. Thankfully the only bit of rock stupidity (they are hardly ever worthwhile). Luckily we are treated to a one song encore. A great gig and Pete is glad I suggested.

Outside having a last pint we chat to an ageing Plymouth punk in a brand new Chelsea T shirt and being a drummer we have a confusing discussion about cymbals (my fault having just read that the Slits didn't like them). On the way into Hackney Central I say thanks in passing the stage door to the bassist who says thanks back. No I didn't offer to help her lug the kit into wherever the van was parked. A crowded train to Highbury and Islington full of inebriated Halloween celebrants. Next day I blow the cobwebs away with a cycle to Richmond Park and then meander through Mitcham and environs which is why there's a lovely photo of deer below.