This should be an in-depth review but pills and ale don't mix, the mental fog gets thicker and instead of doing the review next day I went birding in Derbyshire instead - (8.5 mile walk with a 2.5 stone rucksack on me back and my good ladies for company, 55 species, glorious weather, a cod from the chippy to finish - right decision methinks).  So you will get what ya get which is more than what most will do - hey, it help keeps things remembered, gives the bands poke and hopefully spreads the word.
 
On the train, off the train, a beer with Jim and Tez outside the station and down to the gaff.  Brandy, more ale, chits, chats with faces, a purchase of a ticket for an upcoming indie pop gig (I don't have fuckin' boundaries) and a look through many transparencies.  Fuck waffle, let us get to the gig in hand.
 
First up and Johnny Acoustic instead of the Electric Shite Orchestra - bah.  One member doing a fill in job after band politics forced a pull out (so I hear).  This was a cover set with many obvious numbers merged and so you can almost hear me crumple my face up and reach for the thumbs down key.  Covers I don't do, acoustic outpourings need life and one’s own touch and of course need a personal political edge or a bundle of comedy.  This had none, I stuck it out and left flat - hey a fair few folk took it for what it was and good luck to em' - I wanted more, I am a greedy pig at times - next time I demand ESO - there ya go. Full marks for doing it though - better than copping out (or copping off with that love bitch Mr Taylor)!
 
Brassick next and despite the chauvinistic biased and blinkered eyes towards the front lass this was far from throwaway nonsense with one obvious dimension.  The band impressed me a few months back at The Station in Ashton, their EP I have reviewed had much strength and tonight they moved up several notches and gave a fine account of themselves.   The main components in this band are utterly well balanced with the lady at the fore scorching away in a passionate fit of lively zest, the slap happy drummer over doing each crack with glorious exhibitionism and the two string guys who make a very applaudable string scuzz with bass providing pressurised foundations and guitar searing the upper surface and stoking the erupting conflagration.  Song after song was battered in brutal style with 'Hitting Home' a personal favourite and one which showcases all the bands potential.  A very convincing set and one you all need to get to grips with.  Brassick will get plenty of gigs, all the band need to do is turn the 'live' power into worthy recordings - fingers crossed - it is a difficult scene out there - perseverance and care are needed.
 
Another ale, I was flagging, I needed picking up - thank fuck for those 2 Sick Monkeys and their vibromatic bananas (which is a private matter between me and the band - ooh me duffel bag).  I have loved this band since the early days when they both looked younger than 70 years of age.  They turn me on, they are DIY to the core, they work hard in a whirlpool of idlers, they are focused and frenetic and...they don't half make a good noise.  The combo of bass, drums and wild gobbage shouldn't work but does, and does so extremely well basically down to a stubborn refusal to let the output fall flat, a spirit that is wired up and pugnacious and a technical ability that is right up there with some of the bigger bands who take too much applause to make the punk rock scene believable.   You get a quality set throughout - The Nirvana Song, Inside/Outside (a fuckin' belter) No Brakes (another crackerjack), Doomy Punk, Never Say Never (the ethos is choice), Zombie Holocaust, There's Something Wrong With You, Nail In The Sky, What D'You Know, We'll Free The Shit Out Of You, Happy Days (Yeah), One More Second and at the end, as is most appropriate, you get told to 'Fuck Off' (well anything less would be just plain rude).  Utter brilliance.

A black out - yeah the pills and beer and complete mental exhaustion sprinkled with powerfully flavoured granules of disillusionment - aaagghhh!

A swift beer, a natter with some fine folk, back up to a full, sweaty room for a band who are on a good promotional push and riding tightly on the wagging tail of a flourishing dog.  I could gripe, there are many fine bands getting little attention, many fine gigs going by the by because certain idiot boxes are not ticked - what is the point in bitching on about it?  Aural blinkers are fashionable - defeat for the enthused is a common taste.  Music is dead, punk is dead, the whole fuckin' shebang is dead - strip it out, swill it out and get back to those nasty basics - long live DIY, long live music, long live purist punk.  Spunk Volcano and the Eruptions are a band of entertaining 'erberts who, by hook, crook, luck have an abundance of quality tunes to easily digest - ask the frontman and it is all down to sheer brilliance and a God given gift - the bastard ha, ha.  This palatable produce is what wins the day and comes over threat, outraged hollering and off kilter experimentation done with passion - that is how it is and in truth why shouldn't it be?  The band played well, the impact made was there for all to see, the consistency in deliveries very sexy indeed with that song about 'Crossfire' a sure fire ball-bearing in the face of the unconvinced.  The niche that they find themselves in is gratifying to the players and listeners alike and even though I am an angular and pig awkward sod out of the two options (get out, destroy or run with it) the latter is the most obvious one to choose.  Success will come, they are already on Rebellion (a punk festival I hear that many have been trying for years to get on) and with toons like they have the fanbase will grow.  This review is barbed, of course it is, it is the only way to get questions answered, to gain transparency and to make a feeble attempt at reality - it is there to be misread, misinterpreted and used against me - but it should not be any other way.  The end question is what of the verdict - well, in truth I don't rate the Spunked machine as generic specific, it is consumable MFP but...you can't help but enjoy the racket for what it is.  PS - excuse me for missing the last 2 songs, things were swimming, the mental goldfish were really going at it.

There ya go, a gig review - first of the year in fact due to the cut backs I think.  Does it capture the point, the flavour, the vibe that is going down in Manc land?  Does it get my personal slant across, does it prickle the punkless piss out there, does it congratulate those on an upward curve and keeping it real?  I don't know - all I can do is rattle em' from the heart and take the flack.  Anyway, it were a good night, some lovely faces in attendance who are a pleasure to natter with and see and all I would like to do is say thank you - thank you to STP for knowing what is what and still doing the right thing (wink, wink), to the good people who like to share a bit of Fungal company and to the ones who know in their hearts that they haven't sold their sonic arse to the devil.  Cheers my lovely dears.

Next please... 

review by OMD (25 February 2014)