Leftover Crack, Mean Fiddler, London
Even though I really wanted to see The Mingers they kicked in only after I’d sat down for a chat with LOC and boy, do they like to talk. THE FREAKS UNION opened the night for me and after hearing so many good things about them I was intrigued as to whether or not they justify the tangible buzz that surrounds them. Encouragingly enough they’re a constant blur of violent energy, combining vicious hardcore with a few well-times bursts of melody that suggest a wealth of potential within this Hull mob, and it shouldn’t be long before they get what’s coming to them – endless touring, temperamental vans and the adoration of the country’s punk scene (8).
Punktastic reviewer in liking Sonic Boom Six shocker. Well, not quite. Tonight’s the first time I’ve seen them as a five-piece in a few months and the old ‘Boom is certainly back, Laila and Ben bouncing off each other like a pair of electrons (there’s one for the GCSE Physics lot) as they command the Mean Fiddler’s stage. When playing to a room full of old-school punks that all look exactly the same it was obvious that they wouldn’t be welcomed with open arms but apart from a few empty cans finding their way to the stage the reception was a lot warmer than expected, with even a few spontaneous outbreaks of dancing. It wasn’t the tightest I’ve seen them, with poor Barney’s bass strap giving him all sorts of grief and Neil dropping a stick at a crucial moment but it was typically good natured and even if SB6 came onstage, played noughts and crosses for fifteen minutes and then buggered off they’d still be much more fun than the vast majority of bands (7).
I’m not sure if they realise this, but CHAOS UK manage something that scientists have been baffled over for years – they make time slow down during their overlong set of relentlessly monotonous hardcore. With no sophistication, hook or personality I struggle to see how this lot nabbed the main support slot, as even they looked bored onstage with the seemingly never-ending repertoire of dull one-fingered riffs squeezed from their amps. I’m not sure if they were bad or simply mediocre but in my opinion one is just as bad as the other, and I swiftly began counting the lights on the rig hanging above their heads, praying for an industrial accident of some kind, like a large girder to swing down and impale me so the noise would stop (2).
But everyone’s here to pay homage to LEFTOVER CRACK, a band that really does inspire devotion. Stza veers between fevered demigod and casual onlooker, never staying constant in his energy throughout, as he looks equally comfortable squatting on the floor as diving headlong into the adoring crowd. The sound is slightly muddy and some of the ‘Crack’s trademark bounce is lost but it doesn’t seem to matter as they rip out the deceptively catchy melodic punk that they are known for, affectionately sloppy at times and when they all start jumping in time you’re not quite sure whether tongue resides in cheek. That’s all part of their appeal, and the fact that the Mean Fiddler is rammed with people that obviously love them goes some way to making the show a success, even if they never really look like they’re trying too hard (7).
Ben
Cheers to Kafren for allowing the blag.
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