Five Knuckle, Camden Underworld
It’s a Household Name party at the Underworld so it must be Christmas. After a year which saw two of the best loved bands on the label either split up or depart it was touch and go whether or not the bash would be a success. But I’m happy to report that it was a blinder.
THE PEACOCKS opened proceedings with their Swiss rockabilly stylings. They’ll inevitably be compared to The Living End due to the upright bass shenanigans but they do have a lot musically in common with the Aussie punkers. I had no idea what to expect from them but they managed to combine a traditional punk rock n’ roll sound with an energetic performance that won over the crowd. I think they need a bit more exposure over here before they find their niche but find it they will, because they’re a talented bunch (6).
I’ve been singing the praises of YE WILES for ages and tonight they put in a low key performance that dwelt on their more atmospheric material. With tracks like ‘The Canvas That Hums’ and the divine ‘In Appreciation…’ they treated Camden to Ed stumbling around the stage looking like…well, a dreadlocked madman in a balaclava, Ginge in some weird mask, Gabe in the best hat and coat ever and Shlauff…half naked. Bargains, especially when the off-beat, fiddle-flavoured version of ska that they play is so infectious and yet so complex at the same time. Tonight (as ever) they’re impressively tight, dealing with strange structures and time signatures with ease and proving beyond doubt that HHN is richer for having them on their roster (8).
I missed all of John Holmes’ set because I was trying to sort out the Captain Everything interview I’d…erm…missed earlier, but I was treated to what can only be described as ‘hefty’ music, big riffs and bigger men playing them. I’d have liked to have heard them, but what can you do when your time-keeping is shit? That meant THE FILAMENTS were the next band to fully entertain me and boy, they rocked. Bursting with energy they ripped through a set of aggressively melodic punk rock numbers – I don’t know any of their stuff, but I suppose it’s a compliment to them to say that I thought they were impressive. Cross-pollinating the genres of street, ska, hardcore, oi and straight-up punk with imagination, The Filaments certainly know how to put on a show. Various members continuously fall over each other while still managing to rip out the odd solo or two, and the stage is a beautifully chaotic mess for half an hour (8).
I guess it’s pretty obvious to everyone who reads Punktastic that I fucking adore CAPTAIN EVERYTHING! because they’re the perfect antidote to the pretentious wank that floods my ears on a daily basis. When they play as fast as they do on ‘Petrol Fumes’ or as tight on ‘My Girlfriend’s Dad Owns A Sweatshop’ they’re unbeatable. It’s hard to find fault in their performance tonight but then I’m a fan – I love the huge hooks and bubblegum melodies that permeate C*E’s music. What’s more, they’ve got a sense of humour and don’t take themselves seriously which works wonders when it comes to interacting with the crowd. It’s not just that they have good songs; they play them superbly in a live setting and have the ability to make even the most-unbelieving head nod just a few times. 2004 deserves to be their year (9).
How the hell do you follow up C*E? With the funky crew known to the world as the mighty ADEQUATE 7, that’s how. I’ve got into trouble before for trying to slip Ad7 into one particular genre, and seeing as they play a funk bassline here, a hardcore breakdown there and a continuous sprinkling of punk melody I’ll just settle for “Excellentcore.” It’s hard to describe the Ad7 live show in words – every member of the crowd having a bit of a dance (some more energetically than others), a crowded stage and a multitude of raised fists pumping in time to the incendiary music. Tom is a strong frontman, since his obvious love for his music floods into the crowd and the entire band is musically adept enough to throw themselves around without missing a beat. If you haven’t seen them before your life is worthless until you do so: if you have, content yourself until you see them again with memories of how damn good they are. Tonight is no exception, and the (9) that they’re getting is only inches from a perfect ten.
FIVE KNUCKLE have been around for ages, yet they’ve only released one album. Shocking, I know, but don’t let that put you off – their old stuff is like a rock in the face, and the sheer power of openers ‘Sleep Easy’ and ‘Not Like That’ is incredible. Dan has always been a confident and competent vocalist and tonight he bounds around the stage like his life depends on it. 5K are tight as hell, even if JoJo is sporting a few plasters due to a nasty gash sustained by…trying to jump over the merch stand (punk as fuck). They’re brutal when they need to be, like newie ‘Circles’ which whips up the dance floor into something resembling a spin dryer filled with lots and lots of punks and the most exciting thing about tonight’s performance is how well the new material compliments the old stuff. It’s not the best time that I’ve seen them, because they miss a few beats here and there, but that shouldn’t detract from a great headline set and a strong performance from a hardworking band (8).
One more thing I think needs mentioning – the atmosphere tonight was fantastic. Less like an exclusive scene, more like a strong community. All the bands were friendly (even the ones who weren’t playing) and everyone was in the mood to have a good time in the name of punk rock. I was even educated on the plight of Norwich City FC by a certain member of punknews.org.uk – you don’t get that at a Busted gig, now do you? My point is that at the end of 2003, when so many excellent bands have decided to call it a day, the vibe in the Underworld tonight was that of strength in unity, if that’s not romanticising it too much. Thanks have to go to Lil, Al and Kafren for sorting the evening out and, in more general terms, for bringing some of the best bands in the UK to our attention and making sure egos are checked at the door.
Ben
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