Weedeater, Conan, Lizzard Gizzard, Grieg

Good vibrations...
Event Reviewed: 

As I ventured out on a chilly Thursday evening, wending my way to the Crowbar, I pondered how in my youth I did so love getting off my chops and getting about town like some bent Raffles type character. Not so much now, I must admit. The obligatory 'challenged person' on the train was mewling and the omens were, on the whole, rather promising.

Opening act Grieg set the place on fire. Quite literally. A small amp conflagration caused a bit of a delay with their set (I would have suggested a drum/bass exploration in place of ten minutes of silence as new amp goodness was located) but when they got back on track it was a case of 'Fuck!' My pint was quite literally bouncing all over the place as the walls shook to Grieg's massive riffing. If this was the sound level for the support how mental would Weedeater be? I got quite obsessed with the slime dripping from a rafter; did the singer just crack an egg on one of the beams? This was no metaphor but it was doomy fun (and it was nice to be out). Lizzard Gizzard gave us some fruity funeral doom - there was so much low-end I thought my heart might pop. The bass drum was as baggy as grandma's tit and the general pace was slow and fat. I was pretty sure that time had started to run backwards but there was a constant whine of feedback that was neither atmospherical or charming - it didn't make any real contribution to the overall experience but was rather painful. Nurse! Make it stop, please...but Lizzard's set got quite violent towards the back-end and I heartily enjoyed it.

Gawd! Conan made me feel the bass in my nasal cavities. I could understand why so many peeps were sitting down as the vibrations were particularly sexy as they slithered up my spine. I could have died happy here with Conan's incredibly balanced sound - and to see so many nut-jobs out on a Thursday night made me very happy But it was getting late and I was itching for Weedeater . And lo! Here they were, baggy as an old tom's puss-puss. It was drugs without drugs (for some). Pure vibration. A serious invocation of hideousness. I was torn between being quite happy and a tad disappointed with the overall looseness of the set. What, in the name of cock-dread, sugar-skull tattoo bullshit, is this? Am I pleased that Weedeater are that comfortable with themselves that they don't mind being a bit saggy, baggy old cloth cat/cap? Sadly I had to trot off about 15 minutes into their set so I can't really formulate an opinion. I'm confused. I think I liked it but can't really be sure - and to top it off my lovely new camera wouldn't export all the splendid photos that I took, hence the above selfie.

Though on the whole, I'm reasonably certain that it was a good night (this was confirmed by the fact that I woke up with my trousers on the right way round and no blood on me)...Wedeater and co, confusing an old man for many a year...