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ventaBeen to Whitby for the goth weekend again...
I've sort of failed after the last few Whitbys to write up the bands, with the result that I've now totally forgotten all about them. So...
I wandered in at the start of In Isolation and thought hey, they don't half sound like Emma Conquest. Two nanoseconds later I realised this wasn't surprising, as it's the same singer. Although In Isolation win by having a real drummer, they had neither the bounce or fun of Emma Conquest - I think I'd rank them as the sort of OK band you'd be happy with as second support, but that you'd never go to see. Nice basslines, mind.
I didn't know anything about Deviant UK, but was intrigued by the combination of people on stage. A singer, a bloke with a box o' twiddly knobs, and a real live drummer. Apart from the obvious observation that the singer is a pantomime villain (or, at least, destined one day to play Fagin) I couldn't quite get the hang of them. I liked the combination of twiddly knobs and proper drums, but somehow the singer never quite seemed to fit into the mix. In fairness to him, his prancing and posturing was timed fantastically well with the music, and he was interesting to watch. I wouldn't say he was a bad singer, but his voice really didn't seem to gel with the music. Also: lyrics which were like being hit over the head with a brick.
I should declare blatant editorial bias here: I've been a huge fan of New Model Army since I was a kid. But I thought Justin Sullivan and Dean Martin (NMA's singer and guitarist) were bloody marvellous. I couldn't see how two blokes-with-guitars were going to work without drums, but they did a fabulous, slowed-down acoustic set rather than trying to be NMA-lite, mixing Army songs with Sullivan's solo stuff.
Best of all, as they came onstage, a large number of gentlemen of heft wafted down to the front. All wearing 15 year old tour t-shirts with the sleeves ripped out, they were waiting for a pit to form. They remained undaunted by the slowness and gentleness of the music and formed what we will, for the sake of argument, call an acoustic pit; the resulting moves owed rather more to synchronised swimming than to slamming and made me laugh.
Vendemmian were, let's be honest, utter cack. They would have been an adequate pub four piece, except there were only two of them onstage. The songs droned on, tunelessly, with simple lyrics repeated over and over. I would have left after the statutory three songs, but remained out of masochistic curiosity: I knew I knew a Vendemmian song, but couldn't place it. When it turned up (it was Masquerade) it sounded like the worst kind of pub karaoke, and I escaped gladly back into the foyer.
I also can't remember when I last saw a less charismatic frontperson - Vendemmian's singer made no contact with the audience, said virtually nothing, and just swigged beer between songs.
In fact, they could have learned from Pretentious, Moi? - take one bloke who (in my opinion ;) is not particularly good-looking, pop him on stage with a mic, and... watch him become one of the most attractive people in the room. That is how you do fronting a band. The LHS guitarist's hair was more charismatic than Vendemmian. Pretentious, Moi? are cheerful goth-pop that makes you want to dance. Although they do seem to be a strange zombie entity made up of bits of other bands (Manuskript, Dream Disciples, D.U.S.T...).
I only briefly waggled my ears at Anne-Marie Hurst, and she seemed fairly sensible: proper band, proper tunes, real drummer (why yes, I do have a hatred of drum machines and backing tapes, thanks for asking). So I feel overall I approve of her, but in rather a vague way.
One of the fringe benefits of sharing a flat with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
keris and davefish was that they had an entire wedding's leftovers of cake. And pink champagne. When Davefish went shopping on Thursday afternoon, he bought cake. When my parents came to visit on Saturday, they brought us a cake. By Sunday we realised we had a crippling surfeit of cake, so bade a number of people come and help eat it. Mmmm, cake. A special mention goes to the "sausage buns" (chocolate-dipped Viennese fingers sandwiched together with icing) made by Davefish's mum. I may have eaten, er, one or two. Per hour. All weekend.
Oh, and while we're on the eating front I thoroughly recommend Humble Pie and Mash on the east side - a fine pie, mash, nasty peas and gravy for a fiver. I went with the parents and, because we are very dull, we all ordered the same pie (corned beef and potato). In fairness, I should add that I think all peas are nasty.
My main motivation in going to WGW these days is to catch up with people I usually only see there[*], of whom there are lots. So I hung out, and chatted (and ate cake) and actually for once spent remarkably little time in the pub. I'm not sure I'd necessarily say I'm caught up, as such, owing to a tendency to talk utter shite instead of enquiring what's going on in people's lives. But I saw some old friends, met some new ones, and gave any number of people the benefit of my opinions (whether they wanted them or not).
alien8 very generously spent an hour or so educating me on the care and feeding of cyclists, so I now have a shopping list of things I want (and, usefully, things I needn't bother wanting). In return, I bought him an extraordinarily nasty coffee (at least, mine was nasty - maybe the milk improved his).
Designated Hero of the Week(end) (we haven't had many DHWs in a long time, I should resume them) isblooddoll3 for the brief, but staggeringly effective, backrub she gave me during a game of darts in the Station. It made me considerably less creaky for several days.
Having got thoroughly fed up of the M1 and its roadworks on the way north, I headed back to London down the A1. Which works surprisingly well. A slower road, in places, but somehow driving at 50 in a 50 limit is way less annoying than driving at 50 in motorway roadworks.
And that's that for another six months ;)
[*] Which reminds me...mrph, Elaine, rosenkavalier, dmh I hope you've all got notes from your mums.
I've sort of failed after the last few Whitbys to write up the bands, with the result that I've now totally forgotten all about them. So...
I wandered in at the start of In Isolation and thought hey, they don't half sound like Emma Conquest. Two nanoseconds later I realised this wasn't surprising, as it's the same singer. Although In Isolation win by having a real drummer, they had neither the bounce or fun of Emma Conquest - I think I'd rank them as the sort of OK band you'd be happy with as second support, but that you'd never go to see. Nice basslines, mind.
I didn't know anything about Deviant UK, but was intrigued by the combination of people on stage. A singer, a bloke with a box o' twiddly knobs, and a real live drummer. Apart from the obvious observation that the singer is a pantomime villain (or, at least, destined one day to play Fagin) I couldn't quite get the hang of them. I liked the combination of twiddly knobs and proper drums, but somehow the singer never quite seemed to fit into the mix. In fairness to him, his prancing and posturing was timed fantastically well with the music, and he was interesting to watch. I wouldn't say he was a bad singer, but his voice really didn't seem to gel with the music. Also: lyrics which were like being hit over the head with a brick.
I should declare blatant editorial bias here: I've been a huge fan of New Model Army since I was a kid. But I thought Justin Sullivan and Dean Martin (NMA's singer and guitarist) were bloody marvellous. I couldn't see how two blokes-with-guitars were going to work without drums, but they did a fabulous, slowed-down acoustic set rather than trying to be NMA-lite, mixing Army songs with Sullivan's solo stuff.
Best of all, as they came onstage, a large number of gentlemen of heft wafted down to the front. All wearing 15 year old tour t-shirts with the sleeves ripped out, they were waiting for a pit to form. They remained undaunted by the slowness and gentleness of the music and formed what we will, for the sake of argument, call an acoustic pit; the resulting moves owed rather more to synchronised swimming than to slamming and made me laugh.
Vendemmian were, let's be honest, utter cack. They would have been an adequate pub four piece, except there were only two of them onstage. The songs droned on, tunelessly, with simple lyrics repeated over and over. I would have left after the statutory three songs, but remained out of masochistic curiosity: I knew I knew a Vendemmian song, but couldn't place it. When it turned up (it was Masquerade) it sounded like the worst kind of pub karaoke, and I escaped gladly back into the foyer.
I also can't remember when I last saw a less charismatic frontperson - Vendemmian's singer made no contact with the audience, said virtually nothing, and just swigged beer between songs.
In fact, they could have learned from Pretentious, Moi? - take one bloke who (in my opinion ;) is not particularly good-looking, pop him on stage with a mic, and... watch him become one of the most attractive people in the room. That is how you do fronting a band. The LHS guitarist's hair was more charismatic than Vendemmian. Pretentious, Moi? are cheerful goth-pop that makes you want to dance. Although they do seem to be a strange zombie entity made up of bits of other bands (Manuskript, Dream Disciples, D.U.S.T...).
I only briefly waggled my ears at Anne-Marie Hurst, and she seemed fairly sensible: proper band, proper tunes, real drummer (why yes, I do have a hatred of drum machines and backing tapes, thanks for asking). So I feel overall I approve of her, but in rather a vague way.
One of the fringe benefits of sharing a flat with
keris and davefish was that they had an entire wedding's leftovers of cake. And pink champagne. When Davefish went shopping on Thursday afternoon, he bought cake. When my parents came to visit on Saturday, they brought us a cake. By Sunday we realised we had a crippling surfeit of cake, so bade a number of people come and help eat it. Mmmm, cake. A special mention goes to the "sausage buns" (chocolate-dipped Viennese fingers sandwiched together with icing) made by Davefish's mum. I may have eaten, er, one or two. Per hour. All weekend.Oh, and while we're on the eating front I thoroughly recommend Humble Pie and Mash on the east side - a fine pie, mash, nasty peas and gravy for a fiver. I went with the parents and, because we are very dull, we all ordered the same pie (corned beef and potato). In fairness, I should add that I think all peas are nasty.
My main motivation in going to WGW these days is to catch up with people I usually only see there[*], of whom there are lots. So I hung out, and chatted (and ate cake) and actually for once spent remarkably little time in the pub. I'm not sure I'd necessarily say I'm caught up, as such, owing to a tendency to talk utter shite instead of enquiring what's going on in people's lives. But I saw some old friends, met some new ones, and gave any number of people the benefit of my opinions (whether they wanted them or not).
alien8 very generously spent an hour or so educating me on the care and feeding of cyclists, so I now have a shopping list of things I want (and, usefully, things I needn't bother wanting). In return, I bought him an extraordinarily nasty coffee (at least, mine was nasty - maybe the milk improved his). Designated Hero of the Week(end) (we haven't had many DHWs in a long time, I should resume them) is
blooddoll3 for the brief, but staggeringly effective, backrub she gave me during a game of darts in the Station. It made me considerably less creaky for several days.Having got thoroughly fed up of the M1 and its roadworks on the way north, I headed back to London down the A1. Which works surprisingly well. A slower road, in places, but somehow driving at 50 in a 50 limit is way less annoying than driving at 50 in motorway roadworks.
And that's that for another six months ;)
[*] Which reminds me...
mrph, Elaine, rosenkavalier, dmh I hope you've all got notes from your mums.
