| FRIDAY NIGHT ON A UNSYMPATHETIC PLANET!!! 3CR Rabies Babies Revenge of the Psycotronic Man The Blunts The Planet,Wolverhampton, 3 QUID Friday 11th February 2005 Wolverhampton was dead tonight (so what’s new?). So I was looking forward to escaping from the Neanderthal ‘straights’ in the Goose and Moon Under Water pubs and finding some rather tempting punk rock relief. First impressions however were pretty dismal with a cold, empty looking Planet and only about 50 punks huddled in dark corners. I don't think this was publicised as much as it shouldve been? And when you see the bartender studying his university coursework, or was it a porn mag?, you know business ain’t brisk. But tonight’s gig does kick off in an energetic mode from local hard working punk rock ‘n’ roll outfit The Blunts. These gigging whores recently supported the Damned and are making the transition from bottom of the bill on bread ‘n’ butter gigs such as this, to bottom of the bill on more salubrious major tour supports. So they must be impressing the patronizing major promoters with their brand of high octane, clean distractions. Whatever your inclination for punk is these days, the Blunts may not be the most hardcore outfit on the block, or even the most memorable band on or in the Planet tonight. But they are good at what they do. In fact they seem way too courteous and polite for gritty punk rock gigs such as this. And considering they’re playing to a piss poor turnout, it does make em appear surprisingly humble. So with audience protocol aside, they’re an extremely operational unit and probably the best band on tonight’s bill, for musical ability and professionalism in the face of adversity. The Blunts are from the Goldblade school of high energy rock ‘n’ roll, and deliver a set that’s supremely slick, but maybe a bit too sanitary for some of our cruder punk tastes. They don’t seem to get much reaction from the spiky fraternity either, some of whom have come from Birmingham, Walsall and other shitholes for the pleasure. But I found the Blunts getting better each time I see em. As the DJ tried to impress us by pumping out dodgy live recordings of Sham 69 and Cocksparrer (where do they get these from when there’s real recordings begging to be played!). We are soon confronted by the next bunch of chancers to get up on stage, who are met with even less interest from tonight’s assembly. The weirdly named Revenge Of The Psycotronic Man gave me dire expectations of some hippy, student troupe. But what we do get is 3 hyperactive geezers from the middle of Manchester wearing football tops. They proceed to take revenge by giveing us a bouncy jump around set of fast and frantic Hardcore rock ‘n’ roll tunes. They have duel vocals and a spring heeled bass player, that looked more suited to being in the gym than on stage in Wolverhampton. They blitzed through a set that was highly enjoyable to watch for about ten minutes, but failed to ignite our imagination for much longer. I think even summersaults from a high wire wouldn’t have got a warmer reaction from the diehard horde. And by the time I got back from my latest excursion to the bar, they had fucked off never to be heard of again. It wasn‘t long before we hit the first wave of tonight’s real audience participation, well at least ten of em maybe. A piercing scream greets us from the stage and signals a lone punk to start jumping around and bump into the inquisitive punters who have secreted themselves around the front of the stage, much to their annoyance. London‘s Rabies Babies are blessed with the best punk name of the night, and come screeching out the cathouse like a rabid catastrophe waiting to happen. They feature two American birds now imported into North London by a strange quirk of fate. And are backed up with a token male drummer providing the backbeat. These Rabid Babies have recently lost their former duel girl singers for various reasons, and are now currently stripped down to a primitive sounding threesome. They are dressed as charity shop fairy’s for tonight’s gig, complete with matching white dresses and antenna. And for the next 45 minutes seemed determined to make a noise in their most ultra riot grrl fashion. I like their attitude, they’re in it for real reasons …FUN! They do attempt and make a good job of their dwindling ranks, but I’m afraid they were superior sound wise and way more pleasing on the eye the last time I saw em in the depths of Birmingham. The stick insect Laura in pigtails and on lead vocals/guitar has a great big, dirty, guitar sound, not too dissimilar to Poison Ivy’s out the Cramps. But it was defeated on the decibel level by her uncompromising banshee wail. Sultry bass player Lorna, who gives this band some alluring rhythm amongst the din, seems to be following Laura’s lead in the ear splitting vocal stakes, which was a shame. Some of their songs do show potential, but inevitably got ruined in the squealing racket. They seem to find immense pleasure in torturing us though, so maybe we deserved it or I’m just too damn sensitive these days? So can someone please do em (and us!) a BIG favour by being their lead singer…and make it fast!!! After Rabies Babies warmed up the crowd sufficiently, tonight’s headliners straddle the stage, and there actually appears to be some sort of interest from most in attendance. But lets not fool ourselves here, coz we are witnessing the pitifully bland named 3 Cornered Rug, who wisely opt for the less embarrassing 3CR. They’re a band of ASBO inclined Manc’s, with names like Boggy, Shaun Shit and Keith Slack Arse, so what do you expect for 3 quid? And for what we are about to receive, I heard it through the zine grapevine that they’re funny in a ‘carry on’ sorta way, obnoxious in a yobbish vein, and lets not forget, kebab connoisseurs of the UK. This Ashton Under Lye 3 piece are led by a bass playing mohican called Boggy, with a ‘Manchester Punks - Thuggery & Shagging’ logo emblazoned on his t-shirt. But lets not hold that against em coz 3CR in case you ain’t read the hype, ain’t really anything rather extreme or nasty to shout about, from tonight’s performance. In fact they‘re basically pretty ordinary hardcore punk from where I was standing. I mean c’mon if your gonna go for the jugular, do it with some intent or originality. I was surprised they got the biggest feedback from the (all of a sudden) seemingly now easily pleased front rows. But stick a mohican on stage in a punk rock confine, and no matter how coked up they are, you suddenly create interest. We are such a fickle bunch these days! Like most of the bands tonight they did make an effort in their most grubbiest fashion to create something controversial. But failed miserably as none of their tunes or delivery stood out, apart from the song titles like ‘Junkie‘, ‘Giro Day‘, and ‘Foot Back Stick The Boot In‘, which did make me smirk. They’re coming from the Peter And The Test Tube Babies / Macc Lads school of philosophy, but are lacking the spark, wit or originality of the former. They do have a merchandise stall, and the only one I spotted all night. So maybe they did mean business in an optimistic kinda way. But I’m sorry to say 3CR are a third rate punk rock distraction in the big scheme of things. And put up against real class like say the Briefs, Sad Society or even Barse who are much funnier, they’d be left for dead. However on an optimistic note, I hope the travelling bands at least made enough petrol money to get back home, where if the truth is known, most of em belong. Peter Don’t Care |
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