It goes without saying that I am always busy, I have finally accepted that this is how I am and how I will always be - it is all down to passion! So after a run, some birding, household chores, a trip to the footy, tea and a catch up with some computer work I was out again and arriving at this decent gaff for the second Men Behaving Badly Promotional event. Still cold from the football I had a beer and a chat with good old Gaz De Fly of VOR infamy. Good lad and one with the right attitude and trying his best to get a local scene going - keep at it mate. After the gasbagging it was up into the gig room, a few people were already tossing about and after more wagging of the jaw with the first minstrels to hit the stage I watched them plough out a very rewarding set.

Manifest are a trio of terrorising twatfuck hardcorians who have plunged themselves into a sub scene where absorption, commitment and long term know how are a necessity or, come what may, you will get found out. The band started their journey on pretty firm foundations and have gradually, over many gigs, got themselves to a place where the unity and cohesion levels are coming to full fruition and the excessive powerhouse delivery is hammering all the right musical erogenous zones. Today they spilt forth a blinder with that loveable chap Andrew White on bass filling in between songs with spirited, somewhat spontaneous oral hollerings that kept the flow at temperature 'high'. Riffed up, hard rocked, politically irritated Manifest have brutality aplenty and despite their guitar hero being a convicted ringpiece collector (sorry Bartek, best to get these things out in the open) he gets up and throws himself into the stringwork with great effect. Skin work is delivered with crucial aplomb from a long haired deviant who is clued in to many musical styles and obviously is well versed in stick manipulation. The result of these 3 gents combined efforts is a fuckin' good do, and that is what we got tonight - I loved it.

Another beer, last of the night methinks, 2 is enough for a shagged out shit I reckon.

War Party next, 15 minutes or so of pure extreme noise horror with the musical components fuckin' nail gunning away and really coughing up some bone splintering riffage and bang boom strength whilst the long term H/C addict at the fore ruptured his spleen, tore himself a new anal opening and perversely immersed himself in the chosen art form whilst counterbalancing the rhythm and working with and against all acoustic violence. It made for a stunning episode of fury and met my desires as I have always had a fondness for short, aggressive outbursts like this - magnificent mayhem brought under some kind of control by maestros in the zone - love it, and like the set, the review is short and to the point too (I hope). Such a pity this was their last gig but things have gotta move on.

A glug on the ginger (no sexual pun intended), a trifle more maw movement and A Sudden Vengeance Waits came next. Before the set the front dude explained how £400 worth of cymbals had gone AWOL and requested that if anyone found them would they please let them know - gutting or what? The set kicked in and the first 3 songs were marred by a dodgy mike (fuckin' hell, all the way from Wales for luck like this) and after a bit of fuckology things were sorted and the set got flowing. Ooops, stop that thought, it was time for the kick drum pedal to bust, (by heck for goodness sake chaps don't think of having a wank tonight, yer darn todgers will come off in yer hands). Having ridden the multi-faceted storm I have to hold my hands up and say the fuckin' band did themselves proud with a real animated set that saw the band knit themselves up with consistent chordage and devilishly effective tonality whilst the frontman roared outward and wandered here and there with soulful balls bared. The honesty that dripped from the sound was admirable and the way the band smiled, emanated a belief in their produce and really got the ones in attendance enthused was gratifying indeed. I like the style here, it is a first viewing so intricacies are sparse - hey ho, I'll make note to see these buggers again.  (Good news – the cymbals were later located - yeah).

Last up for me on the night were Slug, a pure crustoid anarcho band that had ALF based passion and a real kick arse streak. The gobbage made many acute and pertinent points, in particular the anti-Rebellion outburst which saw a flyer for the said event torn in two whilst the question of being conned was posed. I noted that the crowd had a few festival going punters and wondered if they were rankled by this - I hope so, that is what punk should be about instead of pissing oneself in a bed of complacency. Slug surged along and left a trail of melodic mucus in their wake that glowed with focus, forthrightness and fuck you vulgarity. The front fuck threw himself into proceedings knowing full well that his fellow partners in discordant crime would supply granite foundations on which to orally strut. Slug made an impression, they more than nibbled at my cerebral cabbage leaves and made many a whole in my vegetative resistance - yet another one to track down again.

Well that was me done, time waits for no man, especially a busy one so I leave this review open ended for someone else to finish. Yosser were the headliners and contained a fine gent known as Mike Avery - a man worthy of your time and always good to chat to - pity I had to leave tonight on time, sorry mate, hope it was a stormer and hope some bastard steps up and full stops the nights events. Next time for sure sir. Oh talking of finishing the event...any takers?

review by Fungalpunk/OMD (18 Jan 2015)