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| Drongos For Europe The Dead Pets False Idol Burn Subvert Destroy 27TH February 2005 Birmingham, Acadamy £5 ADV, £7 ON THE DOOR. ALL AGES SHOW. After catching a train which seemed to be full of Kosovan’s. I couldn’t find a seat and while climbing over a mountain of luggage nearly fell on one of em who was busy breastfeeding her baby tee hee. I finally arrive in Brum at 6 on a fucking bitter, wind chill Sunday night. I realised the lager prices in the extortionate Academy #2 were gonna be massive. So commiserations go out to Burn Subvert Destroy, who were banging out their opening set as I took a reconnaissance mission down to the gig. When I asked the doorman “how many were in?” and he replied "48!" I had already decided to be bone idol in the more economical confines of the Yard Of Ale bar. At £1.80 a throw, it can't be sniffed at! But my early evening city centre drink was ambushed by the drunken crooners in the corner of the pub, who were determined to give us their best Elvis and Tom Jones routine. And it was a laugh for about 2 songs. But as I ordered my second pint they were rapidly trying my patience and with only golf on the satellite TV, and the sexy blonde barmaid finishing her shift, there wasn’t really a lot else to keep me here. So I thought fuck it, I’ll take my chances down the Academy. I'm sure the singers down there are potentially more contemporary. As I enter the darkness, the numbers have swelled considerable and Stafford's very own False Idol are winding up their arty kinda protest punk set. They are fronted by Adds an over the top vocalist who gives ‘em an almost messianic kind of presence. He stretches out his arms above the crowd, desperately wanting to be a martyr for his art, as he dies a thousand deaths every night before his adorning fans! And I bet he secretly dreams of being in the Darkness too. But this is a reality check, and he quickly wakes up in time to give us one of the most crawling acceptance speeches I’ve ever heard by a band. He was wearing a Drongo’s t-shirt and couldn’t state enough how honoured he was for being invited to perform on tonight’s bill. He was also the first of tonight’s singers to head over the barrier into the clammy young audiences studded arms. But ego aside, this new band were pretty good if you can get over the singers histrionics. They played some slick midpaced punk with probably some very agitated lyrics about the state of the nation and how they are gonna kill your Idols! They look like they know what they want and have an efficient kind of sound and appeal. But the singer who's a cross between Justin Hawkins and Dick Lucas don’t seem to be totally convincing. Maybe If he cut his hair, lost the headband and camouflaged his public school accent, he’d be a lot more capable in his safety pinned leather and stencilled bondage fatigues. But it’s early days and I’m sure False Idol are gonna be kicking up a fuss on a few more local punk bills if tonight’s confident performance is anything to go by. The Academy ain't packed tonight, but there’s a sufficiently good turnout of punks and a smattering of droogs, with more stragglers rolling in as the evening progresses. Considering it’s an all age’s show (the first one I’ve ever been to) it did seem a bit strange as I dodged the kiddie punks, escorted by big brothers and sisters on my way to the bar. Talking of which, they were charging £2.90 a pint…. fer fucks sake!! As the DJ blasted out ‘God Save The Queen‘ putting a bit of edge on the nights proceedings and spoiling the kids party, it was time for some Yorkshire pride. The Dead Pets from Leeds were soon decomposing on stage. I wasn’t really looking forward to their brassy take on punk. And that old adage “where’s there’s muck, there’s brass” sprang to mind. Horns in punk still fills me with dread, unless it's say X-Ray Spex. But to be fair to the Dead Pets, they probably worked the hardest tonight and put on an impressive high energy set, despite the trombones. Good to see the singer Sweeny Todd ripping into the Academy lager prices as he kicked off ‘Working Men’s Club’, but you could tell once he’d jumped into the audience, and tasted his first grubby Brummy floorboard, that was it! He’d found his niche for the rest of the show. Unpredictable front men like this are lacking in the punk scene today, but our larger than life Dead Pet seems to be trying his hardest to put that right. You can see in his eyes he’s doing it with conviction…or he’s one hungry motherfucker considering he once swung a baton! Either that or the “Charlie’s” good in Leeds these days. This was in actual fact the Dead Pets first visit to Birmingham, and they seemed determined it was gonna be a memorable one. One minute our gobby pit poney is on stage and the next minute your tripping over his mic lead as he‘s disappears behind you into the darkness. I liked his loud mouth persona, which was refreshing to hear, coz you were just dieing for him to come a cropper. He’d have been hospitalised for sure had he done this routine down the Cedar Rooms 20 years ago (remember the Rejects anyone?) But the younger elements of the crowd lapped it all up, And certain bands can get away with this kinda confrontation coz after all it’s good solid entertainment. If you can imagine a sweaty, tattooed miner with sideburns and an Elvis affliction, crossed with Speedo outta Rocket From The Crypt, then you ain’t far off. His delivery and vintage mic grip gives the game away, as he fronts a sort of Madness styled vehicle with choreographed brass sections, and big sing-alongs, giving the Pets a somewhat surreal effect. Sweeny is undoubtedly the star of their show, but his ‘great balls of fire’ interpretation of punk ain’t really my cup of tea on record. However on the night in a punk show it all adds up to a bloody good live performance. Just wish he’d stayed on stage slightly longer. Local punk veterans Drongo’s For Europe had an hard act to follow, but they created the biggest cheer of the evening as they tuned up and drew the most enthusiastic response as a packed crowd draped itself around the barriers. I had a real game gaining close enough access to get a decent camera shot as the pit erupted all around me. Maybe playing home turf so frequently could seem like overkill for most punk bands, but the Drongo's always manage to pull it off. So much so they are now an institution in the Birmingham punk scene, almost rivalling GBH for popularity. And their ever present guard duty on the local gig scene be it promoting or supporting gigs, seems to be paying off. Don’t think I’ve ever seen so many kids with Drongo’s shirts and patches out on display tonight. It’s like being at some 'split-breed' convention. It must be good for the band to have a new following as well as the old dogs like big Graham and rest of the original Brummy punk contingent, who were conspicuous by making their presence felt tonight. As king Drongo Tommy prowls the stage with his most pissed off scowl, they continue to deliver their beefy "No frills" punk rock sound to the new barcode generation. And most of the songs off their album (cheers Tom) get delivered with suitable gusto. 'Barcode Generation' which I’m currently appreciating with more plays, gets the lions share of their set tonight. Loads of neat chunky power chords get booted out like on 'MayDay' or the addictive 'Wake Up Call’ that sees the new breed responding with a wall to wall “fat cat world' chant. But it's songs like the slow burning ‘Wasted’ that creates a new era for Drongo anthems. My only disappointment with their set tonight is they don’t play more of their back catalogue, which would give their punk rock attack a more contrasting edge. But never mind coz we witnessed Tom teasing the audience and getting swamped with eager young auditions on the mic during the receptive ’Destroy', safely keeping their local pride intact on an ever increasing strong bill of bands. As tonight’s headliners were waiting in the wings swigging Budweiser and dusting off their bowlers, I go and see the vicar contemplating what was gonna arrive on stage next. I’d been waiting an age to catch these Lower Class Brats outta Texas, having missed my chance in Portland last year, due to being skint! But they say "he who waits...gets!", and I certainly got it tonight!!! Coz the Brats are actually here playing Birmingham, UK on the last gig of their 25 date European tour. So my safety-pinned luck was finally in and these punk rock Droogs did not disappoint!!! Fronted by the unique and anorexic Bones. Whose approx 110 pounds wringing wet!!! This devilish little fucker is a cross between a sneering Johnny Rotten with a jokers grin and a mischievous San Diego Gollum, if ever one could exist. He captures your attention from the moment he stepped on stage jerking around to their clockwork rhythm. Decked out in skin tight black jeans, hanky and boots, plus a leather plastered with badges and the inevitable bowler hat hiding a scrawny blonde mat. He actually looks like the cartoon design he created that adorns their record sleeves. The Lower Class Brats in case you didn’t know (where have you all been?) feature all the best elements of punk and Oi! They create catchy punk melodies and deliver em with a skinhead attitude. These boys have been perfecting their art for over a decade now. They ain’t mugs either, and have enough suss and striking stage presence to go with their primed punk rock background music. I don’t think many bands look like this in the punk scene today, and the music they project is just as distinctive. The crowd looked stumped and couldn’t work out how to react, but they were equally transfixed as the set progressed. And gaining many new fans along the way I suspect, as all their records had sold out at the merchandise stall. Lead guitarist Marty Volume and one of the founding members gave us his chugging Rejects (circa ‘new song‘) axe hero power chords on ‘Safety-Pinned And Sick’. Despite looking like he’s just stepped outta Spinal tap! Bassist Evo epitomises the Clockwork Orange theme that runs through bands character and attitude. While the drummer had to settle for a creepy 9 inch nose attached to his face for the whole set. They give us a sprinkle of panto, and hint of vaudeville and a heavy dose of street anthems that keeps you focused for the duration. Songs like the simplistic but compulsive ‘Addicted To Oi!’ has us all punching the air like nutters. Or the disturbing ’Clockwork Fuse’ which gives em a certain sinister touch to their otherwise 'having a laugh' doctrine. It’s left to the ultra impressive ’Sex And Violence’ (no not the Exploited version) and finally their anthem ’Background Music’ to finally confirm the band as tonight’s bonafide headliners. They eventually lurch in for the kill with ‘Who Writes The Rules’ which should go down as one of the best punk anthems from the 90’s. As Sweeny out the Dead Pets watches in awe from the wings, he might learn a thing or two about stage craft from Bone. The Brats finish the set with a cover of yeah you guessed it... ‘Beat On A Brat’ ending hopefully the first of many encounters with the best punk band outta Texas today. PETER DON’T CARE |
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