Having decided to cut back on a few fronts I am carefully picking my gig reviews and doing only the ones I feel motivated by or have enough time to scribble. I am rushing always like an amphetamine injected anal wasp and the rocking rectal honey I have time to partake of is becoming scarcer by the day - ooh these aching and overpushed wings. Nevertheless, down at The Station in Ashton-U-Lyne a four band event occurred that deserves a bit of thought provoking note. Read on, explore my terse textual twattage and maybe get enthused to dabble at one of these pure DIY events.

A morn of birding beneath the fiery lemon orb was had up Brockholes Wildlife Trust before heading home, getting the bonse shaved, throwing down some pasta and heading to the gaff. Salutations on arrival, two glasses of cider and then to the first band with a nice cool lager for company - nice. Opening things today were The Kopek Millionaires, a gathering of minstrels who were in the process of playing their 3rd or 4th gig only (a rough guess I am sure I will be corrected on) and who, like a Frankensteinian all age construct displayed many growing pains and teething problems throughout, the odd dislocated joint and many arthritic moments that just staggered forth. Those were the sub-negative points which, although relevant, were plastered over and put into place by many positive aspects, these primarily being the solid song construction, the abundance of catchy melodies and the general easiness of the vibes to get to grips with. Guitars were dual and, when in tune, added a wealth of meat to the bone whilst bass weaved around a firm tympanic style that avoided flamboyance and held tight and maintained regularity (when remembered). To give you a sense of the way things went today needs me only mention the track that was started three times but was eventually cracked and the finalising number called '1981' which took the band to a delightful height and closed proceedings on a robust full stop. I am sure the band will progress (if they get in the rehearsal rooms) and will get many plaudits and new fans along the way - I hope so and they are one's to watch for sure.

Another beer was in order and a stretch of the boiled eggs outside with numerous faces attended to before Elmo and the Styx jumped into action and delivered a sonic deluge built on intricacies, involvement and savagery. After reviewing a CD this had been a band very much on my 'too see' radar and due to many commitments and just plain old bad luck I had missed them on several occasions when in the local vicinity. Fortunately the devious hands of Lady Luckfuck dropped a clanger today and left me with an opportunity to catch up with this intriguing crew and wallow in the racket - I leapt at the chance. A three-piece hailing from the North-West, these electrifying hard pushing swine’s of sound created outburst after outburst built on nothing more than hot-wired riffage, many grunged and pseudo-experimental tone twats and overloads of tight ass terror borne from restless souls. Maelstroms were plunged into, minefields of angular danger were traversed with an abundance of other perilous situations were had (and escaped from). I thoroughly enjoyed this encounter and as a highlight would pick out the sub-sexual, always threatening assault of 'Milk' as a prime example of the bands finer points - tune in, be impressed or...piss off. Hopefully I'll catch these dudes again and delve into more detail but for now I am happy to give a solid thumbs up in double quick time.

I rush on, you need not know about the details of the conversations had between this band and the next or the finer aspects of lager drinking with fellow inebriates.  Onwards I say and to...

The Vermin Suicides, a classy group who know no boundaries and who, as shown today, stray in and out of various generic orifices and leave an aftermath of pregnant thought that will undoubtedly give birth to many slopped inklings of positivity. The band surged with punked aplomb and then tidily slowed up proceedings to accommodate reggaefied driftings that were marvellously executed. The unit has several parts and all seem quite at home in their roles with much to take in one viewing. They are something of a local favourite here in Ashton and so they should be - a value for money band with much to consider and a flowing impetus that magnetises the soul. 'Banzai' was as good as anything today but I would be hard pushed to find any duffs within the discordance - whoop, whoop.

Lastly and to Scene of Irony, a St Louis, Missouri outfit who play their punkage with a tight compactness that is always under control and without any frayed edges. The lead lout was attired in a leopard skin suit and tie and went through his business with orderly and effective passion whilst his back unit provided a very accurate slab of noise to work upon. The crowd warmed to the outpouring and the very contained power chugging and certain highs were reached with a small pit blossoming when several recognisable songs hit the eager lugs out there. I briefly joined in myself, albeit incognito with a Morrisons plastic bag on me bonse, which I am sure had a few worried ha, ha. The conduct of the cacophony grew in confidence from the first strum and special highs for this peephole pirate were 'Free Merchandise' and 'Tea Baggin', two catchy golden nuggets from a whole satchel of sonic gems. The set ended with people baying for more, it seemed most apt and Scene of Irony can thoroughly take pride in a job well done.

So that was it, a final beer for the road with my old mucka Tez and then off into the night for a Ravioli and chicken supper - ooh yeah. Thanks to Keith for all his efforts at the joint, the Station for supporting the cause and the good people who said hello and contributed to ye olde Fungal Fucker having a nice day out - see ya soon.

review by Fungalpunk/OMD (23 March 2015)