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Being SquareOne’s regular theatre lovey’s a hard job but somebody’s got to do it. Interval wine, plush red velvet seats and schmoosing with
Glam it isn’t but there’s something rather endearing about the sheer scumminess of the ECA’s cramped union. While the toilets are best not visited without a PhD in hygiene or detonation, the gin’s cold and there’s enough cute indie boys to keep the skinny jean industry in trade for the foreseeable future.
We were here for a showcase of fresh, up and coming new talent - eccentric enough to fit in with the 20 art students who formed the bulk of an intimate yet enthusiastic audience. So glow-sticked up we took our places for the first set by Juno, a band of naïve young pups with logo tee-shirts, obligatory uber-stylish haircuts and a distinct lack of bottoms.
There’s something to be said for the guts and tenacity of a band who keep playing even when they blatantly can’t handle their own technology. The truth is jumping and spinning like the proverbial whirling dervish does not mix with a tin-pot synth which spluttered and shrieked before throwing up half way through the first song. Not to be deterred Juno skilfully rearranged their rubix cubes, adjusted their fluorescent spectacles and kept on leaping. When all else fails resort to retro kid’s toys and maracas. Eventually the technology monkeys got the system up and running and we were treated to the soundtrack of a cheap Japanese porno, complete with a token
Keeping with the theatrics theme the Futuristic Retro Champions opened their set with a display of frontwoman Cecelia’s knickers as she executed handstands to the evident joy of Manson, the band’s resident groupie. An eclectic mix of keyboard, bass, trumpet and a singer who fancies herself a bit of a Debbie Harry - FRC are cute and kitch, if a tad sloppy. The sound just wasn’t clean enough with a bit too much going on, especially the orgasmic screaming in “DIY Lovesong.”
Following the antics of the first two groups Weegie headliners Kobai were left a mere 15 minutes to show the others how it’s done. The ethereal Placeboesque voice of the lead singer was beautifully juxtaposed by the hairy yetis moshing and headbanging on the synths and keyboards. Starting rocky, the set crescendoed through cow bells, finishing with a track verging on classic techno that left you reminiscing about the glory days of Underworld and making shapes in a dodgy back alley club in
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2 comments:
you shall be hearing from manson's lawyers soon regarding your libellous suggestions of bisexuality.
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Maybe she says "girls (or boys)" because she doesn´t know if Manson´s prefers girls or boys. That´s my impression.
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