At this point in time I have no spare seconds to waste and am fighting on many fronts to stay afloat so, squeezing in a gig review is only adding to the strain and keeping me further buried in a backlog of noise, nature and other areas.  Why do it then I hear you ask?  Well for one, no other fucker will and for two, because I believe it is nice to put something back in without wanting anything in return - quite simple isn't it?  I am not doing it for punk points (you can stick those right up yer stinking shitter) or any thanks (not my style), I do it because these events and the players involved need to be recorded and used as a springboard from which to take pride, take criticism and take music forward.  Well that is the idea and so friends, countrymen, enemies and twats, I bid thee welcome to a brief overview that I hope has something that may resemble accuracy.
 
To the gaff and it seems I forgot my money - hey ho.  Luckily my bag held some lose change and covered the fee so in I went and with another fiver found purchased a brace of beers.  Expelling hot hair with favourable faces was done and a good old hearty chat with the ever amiable Paul Carter was thoroughly enjoyed.  We covered a wide range of subject matter too with the zenith concerning a z-rate wooden actor known as Finetime Fontaine - tis true, tis true.  As 5pm approached Paul nipped upstairs to wire up, tune in and dangle his dick of noise into the onlooker’s earholes with the hope of impregnating a few noggins with his fantastic one man spunkage.  I tottered up and witnessed a fine showing (well I'd expect nowt less) with our six strung strummer being his usual likeable self.  The epitome of punk in one unassuming package and with songs about speed, the nostalgia disease, ladyboys, oddballs and dubious medical practitioners faced with a dirty arsehole this was a set that could only end in applause, applause, applause.    Add to this much light relief with a Pistols cover and the always fun 'Rentaghost' and 'Benny Hill' theme tunes and what could possibly go wrong.  Well despite dropping his oral organ (oooh) and forgetting the title of a song, absolutely nothing!  A cracking set indeed and one that brought many a smile to the mugs of old stalwarts and new converts alike - can't fault it.

Next and Skurvi, a band I had recently put on in Stoke about 3 years ago - now that is fuckin' frightening!  The progression shown since then is equally frightening as this crew in no way resembled the embryonic angst soaked crew I was so absorbed by those few years ago.  Tonight we had power, organisation, tightness, desire to dictate their sound rather than damn it, passion and care for the delivery and...surprise, surprise...soberness.  The bass bobbed and weaved and in fairness had a wealthy degree of weight that gave a chance for the guitar that nobbed and cleaved any resistance the onlookers may have had.  That nasty word 'professionalism' sprung to mind and although I have a complete aversion to such sproutings I couldn't help but gorge on the loud fodder forced into my aural gob.  Some sing-a-long chants were had, some ram-slam-bam jolting was delivered and many a cultured cross-punch was thrown in for good measure.  The band created high stimulus with their outpourings, caught an audience and forced out a rapt response and with various sub-generic hints given, much a swirl about something and a solid confidence displayed I was all agog throughout and walked away...chuffed.

Foreign Legion, long term troopers with a hard gritty noise that has Oi-esque traits and much streetpunk edginess to their sound which tonight did very little for me.  I don't know what it was but I felt out of sync with tonight's noise and had a sensation of a sound too much like many other sounds and an output that never really sparked the inner punk kindling.  The band were tidy, in tune and well drilled and many got into line with the flow and just let the sonic waters drag them along.  There were no highpoints though, no door-kicking, wall smashing, mind blowing expulsions to raise the ante, what we got was one long bout of consistency that kept many absorbed and a few (like me I am afraid) frustrated.  I expected more, wanted more and towards the end almost pleaded for more and yet, despite the niggling discomfort, I could find no acoustic failings or melodic mishaps - how strange!  For this reason alone my verdict stands as neutral and I move on without putting my foot too deeply in the shite.  Hey, I can't like every band I see!

Dirtbox Disco need no introduction, in truth need no fuckin' review but, as I was in the vicinity...well why not wink, wink.  Tonight the maestros of jiggery and swiggery sonic sweetness pulled out another memorable performance with a set loaded with songs that caught the crowd hook, line and sinker and showcased a bomb-blast of classics that are forever tattooed in the brains of the converted.  Tales of many themes pour from the stage with join in and jump the main order of the day.  Tonight, frontman Weabiam had things easy as with each song the crowd were left to fill in the opportunities presented to them and did so with marvellous accuracy.  The whole venue was alive and thriving, the produced puke lapped up by the hungry pigs in the pit.  'My Life Is Shit' is a classic,  'The Art Of Conversation' was a new brew to savour and many old faves were slam-dunked with precision with all components playing a blinder.  This is in no way a one man show, all 5 fruity fuckers deserve note and do their bit to keep this ever-impressive show on the road to rock and roll ruin.  Now and again things happen for no reason other than luck, right time and right place fortune and, just by chance, hitting a musical vein that captures a collective crew - that is the case here with darn hard work also a major factor many, I feel, overlook.  I loved this tonight and despite missing the last two ditties due to needing an Arthur Bliss I am sure the impact and effect remained solid - here's to more DBD days and loads of good wishes to all concerned with the journey.

Enough was enough and I dashed off sharpish after a couple of farewells and got home to contemplate the night's proceedings.  A good do I think you will agree and although usual faces were seen, usual faces were absent I came away unconcerned with reasons why and was just happy with a good night in good company - make's a change from being a pig in the middle (although that makes me happy too) – oink, oink ya cunts!