Tag Archives: Punk

05.04.21
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Ali Bla Bla – Island

Despite its very obvious natural beauty, I’m not much of a fan of living in England. I’ve posted before that the small-minded ‘islander’ mentality of at least 52% of the population disgusts me and I’d rather be elsewhere. In many ways, Covid-19 has been a dream for the politicians and policy makers who survive on a diet of anti-immigration rhetoric. Because now ‘we’ can close our borders to refugees, asylum seekers and people who can help to strengthen ‘our’ cultural identity by bringing new creative ideas. This is England and I’d rather be back in Spain.

 

The fabulous Ali Bla Bla tells me that he has found temporary respite in Kyiv, Ukraine with his wife and new born baby. He left England last summer and will be coming back in the next few months. “Life has been different here than in the UK, a lot more free.“, says Ali. “Being away has allowed me to have a fresh perspective on whats important in life, as well as time to create. We are coming back in the summer and i’m excited to start rock n rolling a bit more again, even if its with a mask on!”

I could ramble on and on about the glorious week that I spent in Kyiv back in 2017. It really is an impressive city and I’d love to get back to see more. But I won’t. It’s not really the point of this post.

The travel and perspective gained from being abroad seems to have invigorated and freshly inspired Ali. Not that he needs much new inspiration based upon the evidence from recent release, ‘Island’. Here, we find Ali rapping over a punkish backing. He tells all about his experience growing up as an immigrant in England. It’s a vital and vibrant listen; urgent, informative and politically astute. 

At the song’s core, Ali is still crying about the state of affairs. This is a man who has recognised that “home aint were the heart is, so I’m trying to find the part where i care“. I get that. I’m sure all of us who struggle with the ‘island’ mentality do. It’s a point that Ali touches upon when we exchange E-mails.

“I believe we are all victims of mental oppression in many different ways, and all of us have to find ourselves through the confusion.”, he wisely says.

I hope you all had great bank holiday weekends and the week ahead holds unforeseen pleasure. 

03.22.21
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YNES – Better Job

As soon as he said it, the furious backtracking began. The slippery Rishi Sunak, Chancellor of the Exchequer, maintained that he hadn’t actually meant to be so dismissive to the whole of the creative industry when he mentioned that they should all get better jobs. He even tried to justify his position by saying that, every once in a while, he listened to music. His colleagues in the Tory party chuckled amongst themselves whilst they looked forward to another trip to the ballet. He’d only said what most of them felt after all. These artistic types were a scourge on society; layabouts and wasters, the world would be a better place without their moans and grumbles. Get them working in ‘better jobs’ and they might be less critical of us, they all thought.

It’s typical of the party that doesn’t really understand huge swathes of the creative industry. Friends of mine were upset by Sunak’s comments but not entirely surprised. For years, these friends have struggled to make ends meet as they dedicatedly pursue their artistic dreams. They hold down second and third jobs that most wouldn’t want just so that they can get the occasional chance to release their art. Hats off to them – I’m pretty sure that countries where creative spirit is suppressed are not the sort of places I want to be.

 

It’s fair to say that Sunak’s dismissive approach to the arts got YNES’ goat. The post-punk artist from Coventry (“City of culture 2021 – talk about timing“) was angered enough to write a vitriolic, witty, tongue-in-cheek gem about the whole sorry state of affairs. You’ve got to love a tune that slams down its lyrical position right from the off and then doesn’t let up throughout. 

 “Maybe I should get a better job – one where I can wear a tie to work. Actually I’m a woman, it’ll have to be a mini skirt“, sings YNES at the beginning of the song. 

 “Retrain me, Teach me how to be fucking boring, Show me conformity, Please.“, she offers at the end.

YNES is a modern-day Toyah Wilcox, a sneering and pouting Hazel O’ Connor. She’s got stuff to say and is able to say it well. I don’t want her to become a banker or an accountant. That would be a waste of her talent. For now, she’s getting on with things and waiting for this whole nightmare to end. 

“It’s given me time to sit at home and use what I have around me so I suppose it’s given me more creativity.”, says YNES. “I’ll be back in the charity shops when lockdowns lifted – pretty much the only thing I miss is scouring through second-hand clothes (so cliche).”

Monday morning beckons the start of another week for most of us. Keep on doing what you’re doing. 

03.10.21
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Loose T. – Brexit

Brexit supporters must be thanking their lucky stars that Covid-19 happened when it did. The economic fall-out as a result of the shit storm can now be hidden away within the much larger negative pandemic impact. “Oh, that’s a direct consequence of Covid“, the politicians can say about our poverty for years to come when questioned why the nurses are only seeing paltry pay rises and the NHS doesn’t seem to be £350m better off. 

I’ve no doubt begun to sound like a broken record on these pages. But friends who run small businesses are either no longer exporting into EU countries or cutting into their thin margins to do so; friends who live in an EU country are reporting that the shelves are bare of things like Marmite and UK based cheddar cheese. Transferring funds from the UK into the EU now costs silly money every transaction. And I’m not even going to start on the time limits that we can now all spend in EU countries. 

Brexit supporters, tongues in the arses of others, lick away whilst mumbling incoherently about beating those pesky Europeans to vaccinations as if it’s a competitive sport. It all makes me want to scream. 

But, arguably, I’m still not screaming as loud about Brexit as Loose T.. Jim, from her record label, Pear O’Legs, tells me what Loose T. will be doing when the pandemic is done. ” She’ll probably just go and shout somewhere“, he says – “it really is her thing.Ideally in a crowd with a lot of sweaty strangers.”

 

Loose T.’s track ‘Brexit’ is a wonderfully angry punk piece, a fingers up to Brexit and British politics from a French cellist, writer and activist who has spent the last 8 years living in London and Edinburgh. Who can not be drawn to a track that quickly and immediately gets to the very heart of what’s wrong with it all?

“On the next day, My boss came In a Hawaiian shirt Cause he felt so smug.” screams Loose T. at one point early in the song nailing the divisions that were reinforced overnight in 2016 and have still to go away. 

“Sadly I think lots of people have had enough of Brexit and have just accepted the ongoing shambles.“, says Jim from the record label, on behalf of Loose T. who doesn’t do social media. I suspect that Jim is broadly right. 

Sonic Breakfast will never accept it though. 

01.31.21
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Slut Magic – Trauma Queen

My days of computer gaming are long gone. My best friend here in Spain, James, spends a fair bit of his lockdown time existing in alternative worlds as he attempts to complete his latest adventure. Sometimes, he’ll tell me about the mission he’s on and, whilst I try not to be rude, I can feel my eyes glaze over and my brain go to mush as I find out about the most recent ‘boss’ encounter. Fortunately, James has lots of other interests and we’re now more likely to chat about those.

But I did play computer games in younger days. It’s a mark of how much things have progressed that my first console (a cheap version of an Atari) basically allowed me to play what has become a retro bat and ball classic. In later years, I progressed to a ZX Spectrum and then when Ollie, my son, was growing up, I dabbled a bit in Wii’s and early PlayStation’s in an attempt to seem like a cool Dad. I failed badly.

I do however know what a sidescrolling game is. And so when Slut Magic’s press release for ‘Trauma Queen’ popped into my mail box with talk of their love of ‘hitting “Continue” even when it’s time to sleep’, I wasn’t completely disconnected. Besides, who could avoid being enticed by the character of the Trauma Queen—”the summonable patron saint of vengeance against rapists, abusers, and cowards of all kinds” – as they get invoked to “beat the boss and move on to the next level. Forever.”

 

Trauma Queen is the opening track and title of Slut Magic’s album that was released towards the end of 2020. It’s worth giving the Brooklyn based band a full listen should you get the chance; their political punk credentials come to the fore in a glorious scuzzy swathe of radical, off-kilter, anger (and humour).But, definitely do make time for Trauma Queen this morning. It has a tone of dark cabaret, like something that Amanda Palmer would be involved in. 

I ask Slut Magic what plans they have for 2021 and get the best of responses back in return. “Sooooooo, we’re gonna be careful with this question.”, they say. “On November 6, 2019, Patch Philly asked us what our plans were for 2020. We literally said, “We think we’re one of the four bands of the apocalypse. So maybe the apocalypse is in 2020?”  With that in mind: Our plans for 2021 are to be the finale music of capitalism, and the prelude to a just, anti-racist, eco-centric social order where the constructs of gender, the existence of prisons, and the need for nuclear weapons are as passé as Smash Mouth. Also we’re gonna do some 90s covers. We have a sludgy cover of Spice Girls’ “Say You’ll Be There” coming on Valentine’s weekend, perfect for brooding with your cat, or worshipping your vibrator.”

I’ve had a sneak-preview listen to that cover version and I’m happy to confirm that it works (when perhaps it shouldn’t). 

And I’ll continue to listen whilst elsewhere around the World the computer games keep on scrolling. 

 

01.14.21
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Circus Of Bones – Simone

Cast your mind back a couple of months and I was singing the praises of Circus Of Bones (here). Their single, ‘A Big No Body’, had really got under my skin and, for a few weeks, I was playing it to whoever would care to listen. It’s fair to say that the response it elicited was mixed with some sharing my enthusiasm but many finding little to love within the punky swagger of the tune. They are not my friends anymore.

Circus Of Bones has been in touch to tell me that a second song and video is now up for release. Simone comes sonically from a similar place to A Big No Body and for that reason I love it. In bursts of spoken word, we learn snippets about Simone. She works at the Weatherspoons on Holloway Road and has a layabout partner at home who can never quite get around to reading the collected works of TS Eliot. She takes the bull by the horns and runs off into the sunset alone.

The simple, lockdown-friendly video amplifies the sense of despair felt by our protagonist. Here we have a chap that’s going stir-crazy on his settee. In muffled and grainy image, we see him put his head in his hands wishing that a bit of Netflix and Chill could again be an option. 

At its heart, Simone is a blues song about a break-up. A partner languishes at home bemoaning the fact that he should have been a bit more dynamic and adventurous when he had the chance. Simone is the one that got away and now he only has the sofa and his PlayStation for company. It’s a song that we can all relate to. 

If you can’t, I suggest that you’re very lucky and very kind and perhaps just a bit too saintly to be reading Sonic Breakfast.

(I jest of course – all are welcome here). 

 

 

 

12.28.20
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Sonic Breakfast’s Act Of The Year – 2020

It’s been the strangest of years – of that there is no doubt. Who knows how 2020 will ultimately be recorded in the history books but few would bet against it being seen as the year that it all changed. Very few of us are going back to what we once had. 

At the beginning of the year, Sonic Breakfast had completed the transition from a blog that wrote about acts I liked to a blog that wrote about gigs I liked. So happy was I with the change that I considered retiring the whole blog when the initial lockdown came. A writers block came over me and I wrote very little until August. By then, I’d made my way to Spain. The space and warmth chilled my lethargy and I tentatively began dipping my toe in the ‘band water’ again. Turns out I’ve enjoyed the routine it’s provided – finding new art to write about in 2020 has been a joy and there’s so much of it around. 

I’m still livid about what’s happening back home. Brexit is so clearly the stuff of nonsense. And to do something as negatively game-changing whilst a mutating pandemic rages is nothing short of supreme idiocy. But there are a few who will benefit and so they make up lies in the state-controlled media to encourage others to believe. Mostly the lies stick by attaching blame for what’s been going wrong on others; those dirty immigrants or those foul foreigners. It makes me sick.

They say that good art can come from such dire circumstance. And whilst I’m not sensing a mass movement of revolutionaries quite yet, there has been some positive shoots. Bladderwrack is a no-brainer for Sonic Breakfast’s act of 2020 as they’ve been on the money with a series of singles, many (but not all) taken from their raging album, Good Mourning Britain. That album, recorded in a session of one-hour, sets the tone for what’s to come.

Sonic Breakfast first wrote about Bladderwrack a little over a month ago when they released their single ‘Gammon’. Readers can top up on my anger by revisiting that post (here). As 2020 draws to a close, Bladderwrack have been at it again with their Christmas release, Please Sir, We Want Some More. The Dickensian Punks draw upon the spirit of Oliver Twist to highlight the plight of many who are starving and dying whilst others benefit from the systems and apps they’ve (not) created. 

It’s a brilliant rant, not for the faint-hearted, as it shows in mocking satire what Britain has become. Bladderwrack are worthy winners of Sonic Breakfast’s act of 2020. The medals are in the post. 

 

11.27.20
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Bladderwrack – Gammon

We need to talk about Brexit. I’m not going to mince my words here so if you have any sympathy for the clusterfuck that is the UK’s leaving of the European Union, you’d best stop reading now. Yes, that’s it, bounce off on your trotters. You are not welcome here. 

(Oh, that felt good). 

Insanely, you still bump into some supporters of Brexit here in Spain. There is just over a month to go until the transition period is over and we have left. Blind as bats, these advocates still drive cars with British number plates. They tell me that it’s not going to be so bad when it all comes into force. “the Spanish can’t live without me”, says the  Brit at the bar who seems to have no discernible purpose at all.

Can you tell that I’m angry? Just in case you can’t I’ll reinforce it by saying that I’m fucking angry. Over and over again until it hurts. Brexit messes up my ability to be here in Spain for any real length of time. It messes up my son’s ability to work here for any real length of time. For fucks sake, the basic foods are going to be in short supply, of shit quality and more expensive back home. “Ah, you’re just scaremongering – no pain, no gain”, says the man at the bar, proud of his invention in making up a little rhyme to emphasise his fuckwittery. 

Nobody has ever been able to give me one good reason  for Brexit.I feel that I have much more in common with the people here than I do with the arduous oiks back home who grunt at me monosyllabically when I suggest this is going to be a disaster of the highest order.

And today’s tune from Bladderwrack is on my side. It’s a perfect accompaniment to letting off steam. This two piece from Penge have delivered a gnarly piece of punk taking aim at the ‘Gammon’ across the British Isles. In a press release that made me laugh out loud, they mention that the notion of ‘Gammon’ has been around since the time of Dickens before calling on the Urban Dictionary for a definition. 

“A term used to describe a particular type of Brexit-supporting, Europhobic voter whose meat-faced complexion suggests they are perilously close to a stroke”, they say and you can’t say fairer than that.

Yes, it’s not placatory; it’s not unifying and it would probably help if we all just sat around a giant table and ironed out our differences. But, for now let me delight in a song that opens with the line –

I am on holiday, The Costa Del Sol, It used to be nice here, Until the Spanish took control.

I promise to post pop music tomorrow. 

11.25.19
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Sløtface – The Old Queens Head – November 20th 2019

If 2019 has taught me anything, it’s to jump when Georgie, the fab PR person from Propeller Records, sends a recommendation about anything. She promotes a fab range of music, largely from Norway. It’s never failed me yet in terms of quality.

I was going to have a Wednesday in but then got the notice that Sløtface (still pronounced Slutface) were doing a special event at The Old Queens Head. It’s a pub just down the road on the Essex Road, a little over five minutes walk away. Always looking appealing from the outside, now was my chance to see the interior.

There’s a Wednesday celebration going on downstairs at the Old Queens Head. I guess that somebody has just got married. “I said to you in the first year of uni that by the third year I’d be sucking your cock”, screams one drunken casualty. It’s 8PM and I quickly head upstairs, following the printed instruction. 

It’s quite a venue – faux square music hall with an edge of punk spirit. On Wednesday’s The Old Queens Head does cocktails for a fiver. Sadly, it takes a good fiver minutes to make each drink. That leads to queues of nonsense length at the bars. It’s a good job that it’s a midweek session. 

Sløtface are here to excitedly proclaim that their new and second album, Sorry For The Late Reply, is about to launch. The set-up for tonight is announced. We’re going to get a band Q&A with a journalist from the NME before a first listen to the new disc. To round things off, Sløtface will play a short set. The serious fans here whoosh in unified excitement.

It’s hard not to warm to Sløtface. The NME fanboy gets his notebook out and asks his prepared questions. Discussions like this are rarely fun. But, at least he steers clear of questions about the recording process. There’s little more dull than discovering about how an album was engineered. 

We learn that for Sløtface, releasing records is anti-climatic, akin to those birthdays that nobody remembers. The staunchly feminist band rally against missed merch mistakes before revealing that this new record is political but personal not preachy. It still might be categorised as indie pop punk but Sløtface show that their influences range wider; Weaves, Phoebe Bridges and Julien Baker all get nods of acknowledgement. Specific tracks are mentioned. The NME scribe believes that ‘Crying In Amsterdam’ is the album’s centrepiece but the band are less sure. All of Sløtface like ‘Stuff’ because they didn’t much like Haley’s boyfriend who it’s about. “I wanted to call it ‘anti-consumerist love song‘”, says Haley, ever so jubilantly. 

The album does sound ace. Many here must have already heard it because they get up and mingle, talking over the top. I like what I hear. There’s every indication that 2020 could be a major year for Sløtface as their difficult second record lands. 

Gigs in bright rooms put on for fans and press wonks are always odd affairs. But the four members of Sløtface make a better fist of it than most. Tracks from this new album sound impressive and stand up well against the odd old track (Nancy Drew). A break from their current tour with Pup, Sløtface are initially relaxed about our sedentary state. But, by the end, they’re urging us to our feet. Haley stage dives because it’s what she’s done on every night of this tour. Sløtface are a band that could connect with you anywhere. 

The chap from the NME visibly riles Sløtface when he suggests that their mission is to make as many enemies as friends. On tonight’s evidence, the likelihood of more friends is the certainty. 

05.21.19
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Grimm Twins, Bird Shoes and Lavde – Sebright Arms – May 20th 2019

The London gigs I’ve been to since January have mostly had decent turn-outs. Even on the stay-in nights early in a week, venues have been throbbing with numbers. Thus, I’m surprised and a little thrown to find myself watching a Monday night support act at the Sebright pretty much as the sole member of the audience.

And it’s not as if Lavde, the band in question, are so bad that they’re deserving of the low turn-out. Refreshingly (and despite being acutely aware of the sparseness), this three piece still put on a show. If they’re going through the motions it sure don’t show. Their thing is classic rock; the beardy bass player wears a Slayer T-shirt openly promoting his influence. With some soaring vocals and elaborate almost proggy solos, things go a bit Muse-like for a while before getting back on track with songs that draw upon AC/DC and Led Zep chord structures. There’s rock postures, awkward (given the numbers present) crowd invasions and down-on-yer-knees histrionics. All told, quite enjoyable. 

 

A few more have turned up for main support Bird Shoes but the Sebright is by no means packed. “Hello Wembley, it’s an honour to be here. Thanks for having us”, says the singer of this indie-punk duo who draw obvious numerical comparisons with the likes of Slaves and Royal Blood. They’ve travelled up from Bournemouth, ‘the crack-addict capital of the country’ and pound through their set as if they’re in a hurry to get back. “Thanks for coming out tonight when you could have been at home watching Antiques Roadshow”, says the singer, temporarily forgetting that it’s a Monday night. ‘Door’ is introduced, a song in which they appear as clowns in the accompanying video before all gives way to a megaphone tirade whilst swigging on a can of Stella. 

 

Grimm Twins are worthy headliners. There’s more than a dash of the Buzzcocks about this punk band from Macclesfield. Like Pete Shelley, they’ve got some killer rhyming couplets (“We are Generation Zed, we take our I-phones to bed.”) and the singer has more than a passing resemblance. But Grimm Twins embellish this with a Gallagher sneer and swagger. It’s nihilistic and nonchalant, recent release ‘I don’t care’ full of the existential crisis of youth. “We’re all working tomorrow so wish us luck on the long trek home”, says the singer before launching into their closing number. 

I hope they’ve had fun. Nights like this are great. Three bands, not all to my taste, have battled gamely amidst a challenging atmosphere. And for that they deserve nothing but praise.

03.13.19
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Skinny Lister and Wood Burning Savages – Leicester O2 Academy – March 9th 2019

It’s exhausting to simply watch Skinny Lister live on stage. Goodness knows what it must be like to actually be in the band. They just don’t stop moving, none more so than singer, Lorna Thomas. Quite how she still has the breath to sing without wilting is anybody’s guess. They’re certainly well practiced in this hard-partying performance lifestyle.

Indeed, this correspondent wonders whilst watching them at Leicester’s O2 on Saturday evening if there’s a band that he’s seen more times over the last five years than Skinny Lister. And if there is he’s not sure who. Be it hungover early afternoon at a festival or later at night at their own headline gig you always know what you’re going to get. This is a frantic, riotous folk, an exhilarating Clash-like head rush, a sharing-caring  united celebration, an opportunity to let your hair down whilst all else turns to shit. 

Ostensibly, Skinny Lister are here to promote their new album, The Story Is. And they take the opportunity to play a fair few of the songs from it. It might have only been out for a few days but the tunes already appear to have worked deep into the heads of the moshing crowd and the more-cautious types who position themselves just outside the throng. There’s no sign of discernible lull here when the band plays new ones. “This is not a drill”, we urgently sing reminding ourselves that life is to be cherished whilst also comprehending the stark situation described within set and album opener, 38 Minutes.

For Lorna (and her brother Max), Leicester is pretty much their homecoming gig. They tell us regulars once again that they remember Saturday lunchtime folk sessions at the old Phoenix (what days they were) – and a Skinny Lister gig in Leicester wouldn’t be what we love without an appearance from Party George, their Dad. He comes on stage during the traditional encore as do the rest of the touring entourage, support acts and shameless liggers, in a finale free-for-all knees-up. Six whiskies is the most exuberant of drunken excess party tunes and it’s hard not to delight in its playing tonight. 

 

I mention the support; we berate ourselves for missing the opener, Trapper Schoepp, but happily arrive just in time for the Wood Burning Savages. From Northern Ireland, they’ve got a neat take on the angry, the political and the human.  They’ve got a retro -rock anthemic sound not dissimilar to The Alarm (though I’m sure they’d baulk at such a comparison). “Put your name on our mailing list and you could become our First Minister“, says their lead singer, clearly as despairing of the state of things in Stormont as most are here about the impending Brexit gloom. 

 

Lorna dances with the punters; she dives into the mosh and crowd-surfs. The flagon of rum gets passed around as is tradition though I’m no longer close enough to the action to take a gulp. John Kanaka, Skinny Lister’s largely acapella call and response number, raises the roof like never before. 

This is a band at their very riotous heights. As they head off overseas with leg one of their UK tour done and dusted, the neatly reworked Scholars bar at the O2 knows it has witnessed a treat.