The King Blues
Heading northwards to a packed out Barfly to see XFM favourites Gold Teeth, I find an impromptu rave taking place directly outside the venue. Not wishing to miss the band, I rush upstairs; where the band are in full swing churning out their eclectic mix of pop, afro-beat and electronica. Looking more like a sixth-former than a frontman, Joe Da Costa jokingly accuses his audience of being on drugs before launching into ‘Tasty’, yet these subconscious insecurities musically translate to mixed effect. Perhaps too quirky for some, the insistent lure of an illegal rave outside provides a platform for a more transient audience.
Outside, and VV Brown is dancing with the people (and seizing the photo opportunity with both legs). It’s not long before the police arrive to invoke the Criminal Justice Act, smashing up the free party, killing the carnival vibe. VV disappears faster than you can think the letter ‘s’.
Arriving part way into Blk Jks’ set at the spacious Dingwalls, I am struck by their close linear configuration. The South African foursome rock the building with their monstrously jazzy psychedelic dub numbers, all of which are wonderfully woven together by the intricate and intuitive drumming of Tsepang. Surely post-rock has never sounded or felt this good. They are, without any doubt, the most exciting band I have had the pleasure to see this year.
- Blk Jks
Dizzy from the dramatic climax at Dingwalls, and it’s down to the Purple Turtle to host the final live band of my night: Three Trapped Tigers. This musically muscular trio play the glitch drum n’ bass normally associated with artists like Squarepusher and Aphex Twin – live. Where Blk Jks were free-flowing and organic, TTT are a comparatively taut and confined experience. With two of the band raging behind machines, drummer Adam Betts’ arms flail with absolute purpose as the unit realise each song’s dynamics with adrenalin-fuelled sweat.
Dropping into the Jazz Cafe to collect my thoughts and a final drink, I inadvertently witness Tim “big dawg” Westwood smashing the place to bits with an extravagant DJ set delivered from behind a plexiglass shield (to prevent drive-by shoutings no doubt). I sent him a tweet on Sunday afternoon, blaming him for my sorry state earlier that morning. Amazingly, he replied: “Play it on the alcohol”.
There’s something to be said for that.
