SXSW - Day 3; Losing Sleep

WOLF & CUB @ MAGGIE MAE'S

VERONICA FALLS @ LATITUDE 30

VOCKA REDU @ KISS & FLY

When a day starts with Edwyn Collins and ends witnessing raw New Orleans bounce at "Austin's only gay nightclub", even the inbetween disappointments (and there were many) can't seem that bad. To see Collins perform feels like the greatest privilege - he suffered a near-fatal cerebral hemorrhage in 2005 - and his booming baritone manages to warm the cold atmosphere of the convention room he's playing today. The band performs seated, and drummerless. Collins' is still unable to use the right side of his body and when talking inbetween songs has to carefully annunciate his words in a sing-song style. It has hard for this not to inform the emotion of the proceedings. But it does. And it is hard not to be wiping away tears as he sings the words of his classic Orange Juice hit, "Rip it up and start again" ('Rip It Up'). Collins has done just that and the new songs that he is 'starting again' with are the best of his solo career. 'Losing Sleep' and 'What Is My Role?' are as potent here in acoustic form as they are on the Losing Sleep album. This set has the affect of making you wonder 'WHY THE FUCK IS THE WORLD NOT GETTING THIS?'. But perhaps that's not what Collins is about. He ends the set with his 1994 hit 'A Girl Like You'. Collins leaves the stage to a standing ovation.

Today is the Australian showcase at Maggie Mae's, beginning with the notorious Aussie BBQ (which tours the US this time every year). Brisbane's Sampology finds that he has explain his VJing set to the newbies here but they are soon getting it. However there's little dancing here as most are transfixed by his visuals which run the gamut - from Kermit The Frog to Kenny "Fucken" Powers and even some Little Shop Of Horrors. Impressive both in style and the lack of copyright lawsuits so far. The band getting a lot of the Aus buzz is DZDeathrays, the powerthrash pop duo make a huge, exhilarating noise, it's hard not to take notice. The highlight of the locals though is Wolf & Cub. Although rumours ran rampant not long ago of an imminent split, what we saw here was a band on a career high. The band have fleshed out their sound and are now exploring an almost Primal Screamesque element to their post-angular rock'n'roll. It sits well with their twin-drummer pummeling. A definite SxSW highlight. Across at ND, Sydney's The Holidays are another playing a career best. Their glistening guitar pop is now sounding immaculate onstage and their touring percussionist is adding a groove that hopefully finds him a permanent Holidayer.

It's about now that the day's series of disappointments unfold. Comedian Donald Glover cancels, with the audience only informed after sitting through an hour of warm-up folk (not entirely disastrous though, as that number includes the vicious Amy Shewmer); schedule delays/clashes mean missing Kurt Vile, Death From Above 1978, Mount Kimbie and Big Freedia; and Canada's Grimes does not live up to all the hype (just another baby doll voice over some lo-fi electronica).

Back on track, at the Red Eyed Fly there's Exene Cervenka. The former member of US band X (who reformed and toured the States last year) has honed her storytelling and guitar playing ways into a rootsy country style that is as arresting as her work with her influential punk buddies. A less succesful icon outing is Yoko Ono at Elysium. Desite her rare performance including son Sean with members of Deerhoof and Wilco, it's a case of the event overwhelming the music. The gig is rammed with douchebags, aging LA/NY scenesters who look like their faces fell off twenty years ago but who still rudely, and loudly, demand attention (they all claim to be friends of 'John'). An 'official' photographer fires a laser at anyone daring to take photos of the gig, an act so douche-like itself that people who were obeying the 'No photos' notice originally begin taking photos in defiance. So Ono's wails to an alt.adult contemporary soundtrack were mainly going unnoticed. This gig was just for folks who no doubt will be boasting for years that they were there. [If someone ever makes that boast to you, ask them what songs she played. Bet they can't tell you.]

But the night doesn't end on that sour note. Across town at Kiss & Fly there is raw-as-fuck bounce to be heard. The audience hangs off every one of Vockah Redu sexual commands and party calls as his dancers shake more than their money makers and their non-money-makers. It's frenetic shit and light years more innovative than anything Ono and her Plastic supergroup were messing with.

SXSW - Day 2; High Highs And Lows

GEPE @ PRAGUE

ESBEN & THE WITCH @ LATITUDE 30

GENERATIONALS @ MI CASA CANTINA

While gigs that fall outside the official SxSW jurisdiction tend to be where you find more left-of-centre bands, it's also where you experience schedules not being kept to and slapdash set-ups. While this Friday in Austin is plagued with missing bands because of unofficial gigs not keeping to schedule, the day also begins with some disappointing soundbleed at a non-SxSW gig at Betsy's Bar. NY band High Highs (who included an expat Aus amongst their numbers) struggle in the back room against the overflow of live music from the front room. High Highs play a quiet, thoughtful form of indie pop (not too far from the likes of Lotus Eaters) but they play on unperturbed, ending on a simple but stunning note with their shimmering single 'Open Season'.

Determination to see if Tune-Yards really can be as good as everyone says (coz the recordings don't quite convince) means a half-hour wait in line outside the Other Records party on the lush lawns of the French Legation Museum). Then it's another half-hour-plus wait as electronic pin-up boy James Blake drags his set out. He sounds like Paul Young - that's not healthy. But Tune-Yards are worth the wait as they launch into Onoesque, ESG-influenced arty funk track to open with. While their percussion-fuelled cuts are more enchanting than their freaky folk forays, it makes for a pleasant afternoon in the sun.

Hardly Art (Sub Pop imprint) talent Colleen Green is nothing short of astounding on stage at Red 7. Tiny and unassuming looking, she lets loose with buzzing riffs and wry lyrics. It all comes together best for the Ramones-inspired 'I Wanna Be Degraded'. Punx leader Hunx watches close to front of stage - Green has received the nod from the garage queen.

Witnessing Chilean singer/multi-instrumentalist Gepe at Prague is nothing short of a religious experience. His unpretensious mix of folk and lo-fi electro is romantic and joyous. Gepe had this basement-rammed crowd swooning by set's end and received the loudest calls for an encore heard so far this SxSW. And while the encore was disallowed (definitely an official SxSW gig), for the English-only speakers in the room we at least learnt that his glorious song 'Por La Ventana', translates as "By The Window'.

Checking out Toro Y Moi's set of psyched-out Balearica at Klub Krucial was cut short due to venue's sweatbox atmospheric - but it at least suited the Moi mood. And a visit to locals Ringo Deathstarr at Easy Tiger was also cut short but that was due to their shitness. Their sub-JAMC fuzz and bad singing could have almost been bearable if it wasn't for tantrum about bad equipment. And the homophobic, "Surely there's someone out there who sells amps? Give me an amp, fag" was a sure sign too much time had been wasted on them already.

At Latitude 30, the air was heavy with industry expectations for UK buzz band Esben & The Witch. But they delivered their primal goth musings by the Virgin Prune-ful. Bleak melodies, squalling vocals and raucous drumming - with the drums somehow ending up in the audience for the night's closing song - filled the room and scared the bejesus out of non-believers.

New Orleans mod-touched indie outfit Generationals have all the songs that one-hipster-wonders Foster The People don't have. The songs are catchy and crisp. The look is study hall geek. The live show at Mi Casa Cantina is sweaty and rapturous. They prove there is far more to them than 'When They Fight, They Fight' (as heard on that car insurance ad), although live that song is BIG singa/jumpalong fave. Closing with the ridiculously alluring 'Trust', it's hard not to head off towards the freeways of Austin wishing that SxSW official gigs weren't so strict on times afterall.

SXSW - Day 1; The Austin Strikes Back

NITE JEWEL @ THE BAT BAR

JEFF THE BROTHERHOOD ON THE BARTOP @ SCOOT INN

HBO LAUNCH OF SEASON 2 TREME

The first song I hear upon arrival in the US (playing in a cab outside LAX) is Beach Boys' 'God Only Knows'. That's gotta be a good sign. Less than 24 hours later, it's the Ghost Room and HBO have chosen Austin's SxSW, the world's biggest music conference/festival as the place to launch the new season of their New Orleans musical/drama Treme. Not only does it begin with one of the show's signature second line celebrations (which goes a little awry at the end as someone is knocked down by a car) but inside the Orleansesque Ghost Room we are immersed in the jazz keys of Henry Butler. There are no Treme cast to be seen but stepping outside, there's Mark Boone Junior, star of US biker series Sons Of Anarchy... he looks just as scary off screen as he does in the show - note: doesn't look like asking for an autograph is a good idea.

A long trek east from Austin's CBD (past the long lines into the Fader party) and the Thrasher party is in full swing at the Scoot Inn. While skaters do their skatey thing on a ramp in one outdoor area, hardcore bands entertain those doing non-skatey things in another outdoor area. But it's what's inside the dank, dark bar inside that interests most. "I wanna fuck every skater out there," pants queer indie icon Hunx, leader of the Hunx & His Punx pack. The crowd screams encouragement - Hunx ignores them, he's already moved on to shaking up a warm beer and spraying across those of us in the front rows. Yep, Hunx... guaranteed to leave you sticky. As Hunx powers through his anthems 'Cruising' and 'Hey Rocky', the room is over-heating. "How many songs do we have to do?" Hunx asks nobody in particular. "Ten!"... "No. Fucken. Way." But with the help of this all-girl edition of His Punx, Hunx delivers a more-than-satisfying set of lo-fi girl group fun.

But there's no escaping the Scoot sauna room as Nashville garage duo Jeff The Brotherhood enter the stage next. JTB do that wondrous thing where two folk make the kinda noise that you'd expect from at least twice that amount of folk onstage. The sheer energy as they tear through cuts like 'U Got The Look' is just too hard to resist and some old style moshing breaks out upfront. The moshing only stops to make a path for one of the Brotherhood to make a run to bar for a bar-top guitar solo. All hail the Brotherhood. Back in town, in fact, at the heart of the festival in the convention centre, local indie psych outfit White Denim work hard to win a tough room of 'industry types' sitting back with that 'come on, prove yourself' vibe dripping off them. White Denim prove themselves. A dash through a blur of bands follows before the night's most looked-forward-too moment, Nite Jewel at the Bat Bar in Austin's main music venue strip, 6th Street. The LA team DO NOT disappoint and their wonky disco stylings are captivating. Love is experienced in this room.

Over at Emo's, The Kills played a stripped down (yes, it's possible to strip their minimal rock further), no nonsense set (none of those usual Kills dramas played out tonight) of new material. The audience is torn between those loudly bitching about the changes in direction and those of us ready to order the new album Blood Pressures now. Following a trail of winklepickers and 'taches leads to the 'it' gig of the night, Gayngs at Mohawk. Suspicions of this Minneapolis indie supergroup (on record this collection of blue-eye soul boys from Bon Iver and the likes sounded a tad ironic) subside by the time the ten-piece hit their achingly beautiful take on Godley & Creme's 'Cry'. Eventually, after a parade of guest vocalists that includes Har Mar Superstar, the crowd aren't just eating out of their hands, they are sucking the sweat of their fingertips. It ends with all the boys on stage getting their tops off (surprisingly not Har Mar - the man usually leading onstage strips) and a giant lovefest breaks out as Gayngs kiss, hug and generally touch each other for the night's finale.

SXSW - 5 Awesomely Random Austin Highlights

MEETING BENJY FERREE (LEFT) AND DREW MILLS (RIGHT)

SEEING PEOPLE FIND ANY SPOT THEY COULD TO APPRECIATE THE HOMOSEXUALS

HAVING MICACHU & THE SHAPES POSE FOR US AFTER A CORKER SHOWCASE THE NIGHT BEFORE (As reported on Day 3: "Cute as buttons, the playful Brit trio steal sound ideas from ‘90s dance and churn it into chirpy leftfield pop."

FINDING THE FUNK OF SAO PAULO'S GAROTAS SUECAS

HUNX & HIS STRIPTEASE AT QUEERLAND (Apologeez for the poor quality but just had to share)

SXSW - Day 4; Couldn't Escape If I Wanted To

SHOOTING PAINS UP THE BACK

DON'T MESS WITH CRYSTAL ANTLERS

THE SOFT PACK

FINAL GLANCE AT SXSW

In the last day of SxSW musical activities it’s the final chance to catch any acts that have continually fallen off your ‘must catch’ schedule in the preceding week due to time table clashes, missed buses, sore feet, getting lost, getting too drunk, etc. It’s all about quality not quantity in these closing moments. First up it’s an in-store at Waterloo Records where NY’s The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart are earning their festival buzz reputation with an impressive set of indie-flecked nu gaze (still allowed to use that term?). Then, at the Mess With Texas massive open-to-the-public, all-ages, free party in Waterloo Park, the week’s most impressive line-up is underway. After The Bronx finish scaring the native fauna (and stirring up a swarm of wasps that has descended upon the area) two more of the fest’s buzziest bands impress. On stage, Cali lads Crystal Antlers appear far less intense than their prog-heavy recordings would lead you to expect, live their compositions breathe with soulful percussion, psych guitar and garage rock keys – appropriately, an aroma of dope drifts through the crowd on the spring breeze. And following one of the quickest change-overs ever, The Soft Pack appear. Now, this is the way to end the week. The post-mod quartet from San Diego give a nod to Husker Du and rip through a smart set of the week’s catchiest tunes, ending with what many would say could be the festival’s theme – 'Parasites'. Time to go home.

SXSW - Day 3; Austin's All Right If You Like...

FERREE & MILLS LOOK FOR AN ESCAPE ROUTE

COULD YOU WHACK THE COOKIE MONSTER?

WHAT FELL FROM THE BAG AFTER A DAY IN THE BURBS

HUNX BEFORE THE CLOTHES CAME OFF

6TH STREET ON DAY 3

HOMOSEXUALS BASHING

As a new day dawns so does a new realisation – the best SxSW action doesn’t necessarily happen in the downtown area around the festival’s convention centre. In the centre of Austin a SxSW virgin is initially astounded to find that block after block of 6th Street is closed for the four days that music takes over the town. It is gob-smackingly amazing to see an entire city’s traffic re-routed for music fans. Pub after pub, bar after bar, venue after venue, cafe after café, empty block after empty block, street corner after street corner - every millimetre plays host to music entertainment. Then on the outskirts and in the convention centre there are bigger gigs (tonight it was Metallica… or so I’m told) and industry forums (“Catch Jarvis Cocker with a whiteboard!”). But it doesn’t end there. Start strolling away from the city centre and you discover the inner suburban streets have also given way to music: car parks, backyards, stores, church grounds and bus stops are all used to stage gigs featuring local and/or visiting talent.

It was in this spirit that today I dared to venture beyond the CBD (Central Badged District – official festival participants take out a mortgage to get a coded passport that is their entry into anything officially SxSW (those who can prove they are local are afforded the opportunity to purchase a less expensive wristband that also allows doors to open). A long wait for cabs meant sharing taxis. This lead to the first swag of the day as folk from Blackland Records got on board with us and slipped us three releases of their’s. I mention this coz they were nice enough to split the fare!

Just off Cesar Chavez I found the Okay Mountain Gallery hidden behind a piñata-bedecked frontage. Within was the man who was top of the must-see list for this trip – Benjy Ferree. His Leaving The Nest album is one of the greats. His music has brought me so much joy in recent times that I half expected him to be sixty foot tall and bringing dead kittens back to life while steering tornadoes away from towns. The Great Ferree is a mix of indie troubadour in The Apartments kinda way and classic country folk in a Hank Williams sorta style. Today, accompanied by the suave Drew Mills, he supplied a simple acoustic (in that plugged-in way) set of sweet melodies and, most importantly, whistling (like a bird… not a like a Peter, Bjorn or John – not that’s anything wrong with that kinda whistling). And, like a nerd, after the gig I cornered them, drooled on their lapels, discussed Nick Cave and forced them to look happy to be photographed with me. Next time a tornado miraculously misses your town remember to give thanks to Ferree.

Next stop: Queerland. If you are familiar with the filthy faggy antics of Oakland’s Gravy Train!!!! (if Wikipedia says their has to be four exclamation marks, who am I to argue?) then the lure of a solo project from band member Hunx is too much. Hunx & His Punx do NOT disappoint. Before the band even starts today’s set Hunx can be seen on stage applying lipstick to his band members who are also shedding street clothes for their varying degrees of showtime near-nakedness. As an audience member shrieks, “He was wearing those undies yesterday”, you pretty much can guess where this one’s going… Gay garage rock has never sounded so good. Nor has it ever been stripped, flipped and quipped so inelegantly. And where else do you get to glance away from the stage for a second only to look back and see a pair of fish-netted legs appearing where the singer’s face was just seconds ago? (If you have an answer to this question please send the address…)

And there’s only one direction to go after that. It’s off to see The Homosexuals at Ms Bea’s, found to the far east of the festival centre. This tiny bar is the real deal – nothing but beer served here and a sprawling backyard/carpark (the actual bar interior is but a speck in this space) plays host to the best party of the day. A relaxed mix of punks, students, music nerds, hipsters and creaking old men don’t give a fuck that the band schedule is way behind – unlike the military precision of the gig timetables in town. But thankfully the times are awry coz it means I get to experience the Brazilian boogie of Sao Paulo’s answer to The Rolling Stones – Garotas Suecas. It seriously seemed like the whole neighbourhood dropped in to dance – actually, what do the neighbours make of all this mayhem?

Then Britain’s original punx The Homosexuals take the floor. It begins with a sermon (no mount) about the band’s place in punk history – they were first but hold no grudges to those who walked away with the notoriety (to prove there is no malice a Sex Pistol lyric is slipped in and a Stranglers lick sneaks by later). They cum to preach love not hate. And jeez, these guys aren’t just still ripping music a new arsehole, they rip it a new vagina, a new cock hole, a new nasal cavity and a new colostomy hole! They can quote Chaucer, smash out mad beats and scream their lungs out… in the most delightful way. They are also one of most musically adept acts around - these guys jump from funky arrangements to jagged melodies as if to say, “hell, isn’t it meant to be that easy?”. At one stage their bass player swaps from drumstick to bottle to pound his instrument with while the rest of the band hover round the drum kit and somehow all seem to be swirling in frenzied circle as lips are cut, guitarists are electrocuted and bass drums are jumped on. It’s no wonder people are hanging from trees to get a view of this. Jeez this gig is fucking joyous, I hang at the party even though most of the following acts weren’t on “the list” for the day.

Only the promise of an appearance by Moistboyz (is there a theme building here?) even further into this suburban area, at the Long Branch Inn, can eventually lure me away (along with the fact that I’m pretty sure someone threw a bottle at me… a Guy Sebastian fan must have snuck in – see yesterday’s comments). So the day ends with balls-to-the-wall rock – which you expect from a band featuring Nick Oliveri, a Butthole Surfer and a Ween. Can only head even further into the burbs after that…

SXSW - Day 2; Texas Fever

JULIETTE LEWIS GETS ROMANTIQUE WITH DIRTY DOG

GALLOWS BRIEF MOMENT ON STAGE

"ARE YOU FROM AUSTRALIA?"

IT'S ALL ABOUT LISTS ON DAY 2

I CHOO CHOOSE CHOO CHOO

The problem with sleeping in during SxSW is that for every hour you snooze you miss approximately 200 bands. True. So, with 1900 acts playing at this year’s festival, you may feel like you’ve wasted quality gigging time by rolling out of bed, hunting down a bus-stop, crawling into town on public transport surrounded by feral punks (and their dog) and then hopping it to the Aus showcase only to be confronted by Guy Sebastian. Holy hell. Lesson learned: no more sleeping in.

Normally it’s hard to run in the stifling Austin spring heat but the dash away from this ex-Idol putting the arse into soul was easily done. The doors to the Dirty Dog Bar sprang open to welcome me into the arms of Hollywood crazy Juliette Lewis and her new band Juliette & The New Romantiques – here, Lewis takes on the role of rock star Juliette. Lewis plays it well: one-part psycho; one-part Cherie Currie; one-part Hollywood crazy-turned-rock-star. And when the gig is over the band haul their own gear… except Lewis, she immediately flees backstage (not sure if she packed her own mic up first or not).

Headlining over the New Romantiques were UK metallic punkers Gallows. Frontman Frank Carter moves straight into high-octane mode. He is the new king of punk – it’s just that us peasants need to catch up. Pissed off with the small size of the audience (which he also describes as “eighty percent industry wankers”), Carter takes the show off stage and into the crowd. He clears a stage-size space on the floor by racing back and forth, mic stand dangerously in tow – fans know to move back fast. Songs crank out ferociously as Carter relocates all the Gallows, bar drummer Lee Barratt (he remains alone on stage), to play between the stage and the front bar. Audience mingle with band; heads bang; thumbs break (or so Carter claims); band members dispute (Carter doesn’t want to play a song but his brother insists); cameras flash non-stop. Gallows know how to get premium coverage even when numbers are low.

A quick stop back at The Pita Pit (see yesterday’s entry) for a bite and dining inside is one of The Matches who asks if I’m from Australia… I run. Perhaps the t-shirt with “Australia” emblazoned across it was the giveaway. Out on the street Oakland lad Steve Taylor has gathered a crowd playing organ in the middle of the road (but not ‘middle-of-the-road’) with just a drummer accompanying him – a nice jazzy jam distraction before being KB’d at Emo’s Annex where the Gig Of The Night is kickin’ off (Little Boots and NASA are playing there later) so bottom-of-the-bill Micachu (& The Shapes) is (are) viewed from outside the containment area. Cute as buttons, the playful Brit trio steal sound ideas from ‘90s dance and churn it into chirpy leftfield pop. And, oops, people begin to form a line behind me mistakenly believing my not-good-enough-to-get-in position is the queue for entry… sorry.

Back to the Aus showcase at Friends, now in evening mode, and Sydney rock’n’roll duo The Fumes are doing their garagey thing, showing Texans, and other international visitors, that Mr Sebastian is not best on offer from Down Under. Phew. Next door at BD Riley’s it’s time for Swiss foursome Choo Choo to be officially deemed Highlight Of The Day. Their perky new wave power pop more than makes up for later arriving at The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart gig and finding it sold out. Lesson #2: Get to bed early, try again tomorrow.

SXSW - Day 1; Something Grows In Texas

THE LEWIS SISTERS AT PITA PIT

THE STREETS OF SXSW

THAT PETROL EMOTION AT THE DOG AND DUCK

MY DISCO AT SOHO LOUNGE

SXSW DAY ONE BOOTY

QUEUING FOR DEADLY FOOD

It felt very Texan to cut my arm on a cactus upon arrival at the Austin hotel that will be home for the duration of SxSW. But it’s okay, the arm survived. By morning (Wednesday, day one of the SxSW festival’s music component) there was barely a scratch to show from the cactus attack but let’s just say that it must have been the reason for the disorientation that caused the inability to find venue one of the day and miss The Homosexuals… ah well, the old punkers are playing again during the fest. However, it meant there was time to find food and the closest place not boasting cheese melted on everything was The Pita Pit (what is this American obsession to put that nuke-orange cheddar on EVERYTHING?). What was found there was what everyone had promised about SxSW… an unexpected musical treat. Coz not only were there good wraps in the Pit but here also was my first band of the day; a band that I hadn’t circled on the schedule but blew me away nonetheless. Here were sweet country harmonies from three sisters of Goodlettsville, Tennessee (though they introduced themselves as being from Nashville – maybe it’s close by…), The Lewis Sisters. Today they were accompanied by drummer Tom Strother, drum kit-less but keeping time on a cajon. A quaint start to proceedings and one CD purchased.

Having had time to scour local street rag The Austin Chronicle as well as consult maps and timetables, the next gig on the circled schedule was easily located at The Dog And Duck. Taking place here was a performance by cult ‘80s Irish pre-grungers That Petrol Emotion. Featuring two ex-members of legendary punk outfit The Undertones, the band reunited last year having split in ’94. None of their spit’n’fire has been lost and their politically-revved lyrics seemed perversely apt to these shaky economic climes. And “hit” 'Big Decision' is still as ridiculously catchy as it ever was. Best of all, you could buy TPE buttons from the band themselves after the show…

Spotting fellow Melbots T-Rek and Infusion on the streets of Austin was inspiration enough to see what fellow Melburnians My Disco could do to this Texfest. Intense as ever, the unassuming-looking but unforgivingly-intense musicians wound up the Soho Lounge with a barrage of rib-crushing tones. It must have been good as one of uber-hip heavies Atreyu sidled up to ask who was playing and gave them the thumbs-up. However, I was too slow to get a pic of me posing with the certified rock star before he slipped away to get closer to the front. Bah.

One of the Top 100 buzzzzzzz bandzzzzzzz of the night was Parenthetical Girls. They were playing the YouTube party, of course. At the appropriately-named Beauty Bar (wall-to-wall cool cats and hip hombres), a bit of confusion led to waiting for the Girls in the front bar rather than in the backyard… Thankfully, this brought about unexpected musical treat #2 for the day: Rafter. This San Diego band are freakin’ wonderful. Funkily-structured wonky disco – with the best use of vocoder since Fox’s 'S-s-single Bed'. It’s love – four Rafter CD’s purchased.

After Rafter, it was time for gettin’ Girls out the back. Was it just tonight or do Parenthetical Girls’ live hipster troubadour wailings seem rather more twee than their cute recorded equivalents? Ah well, the room was packed so my presence wouldn’t be missed slipping out to the front again where Indiana’s DM Stith was holding a smaller audience entranced with his nubluze meanderings. Ah, thank you, Mr Stith (or however you prefer to be addressed) as now my day ends as quaintly as it began.