Holly Simons gets educated in Static while Alistair Houghton gets caught between the light and the dark in Mello Mello. Plus Mark McNulty captures Ezra Bang in action..
We all remember learning about the birds and the bees in school.
Well tonight we seemed to get a real education in how to be super-cool and not completely arrogant.
Set to the minimalist backdrop of the Static Gallery, Sex Education graced the stage with their glam guitars and impressive synths to play to a good sized crowd.
Seemingly receptive of Chris Ward‘s Cramps-style vocals; Ward’s stage presence was refreshingly modest.
This local band’s new-wave, ultra glam sound was crystal clear throughout the set. After envisioning The Cure through my favourite (and final) song of the night, Get Sick Get Stung, I can truly say, I’m looking forward to hearing more from these guys as well as gaining some knowledge.
After going to the wrong venue (Parr Street Studio) and arriving at Studio on Hardman Street (after spotting Ian McCulloch and The Rascals along the way) to see native scousers, The Trestles play their set.
Charismatic front man Al O’Hare seemed enthused as the band cheerily blasted out their guitar-driven, narrative songs.
After introducing the new bassist, praising him as ‘the best looking guy in the building‘ they continued their set, which put me in mind of bands such as The Bluebells.
As a sign of the times, songs about the recession, redundancy and the economic climate came into play including Maggie’s Farm discussing 1980s England in rather a sardonic manner. This is the kind of controversy made to love.
by Holly Simons
Ezra Bang and the Hot Machine performing in Alma on the opening night of Sound City by Mark McNulty
Quite a contrast over green tea and organic beers here on the early shift at Mello Mello.
First off, the melancholic countrified big-voiced balladry of LIPA alumnus Carrie Hayden.
Love lost, the greatness of Liverpool and the pains of going back to a hick town, all there and very stately too.
Then darkly kaleidoscopic Mancunians Spokes took to the stage.
‘We hardly ever come to Liverpool‘, they announced mournfully, then kicked off their gorgeous violin and guitar-driven stuff.
Not afraid of a bit of sheet-metal noise or driving rock amid the pizzicato violins and the boy-girl harmonies, they even slipped in a new song whose name they hadn’t chosen yet – Don? John?
There’s a Mogwai/MBV quiet-NNNOOOIIISSSEEE contrast and an Arcade Fire vibe to it all. Epic.
Spokes
The Trestles
Sex Education
Carrie Hayden
