tattie toes play a kindof semi-made-up (isn’t everything?) basque balkan jazz folk strammash. with a bit of velvet underground violin screech and ceilidh stomp and shanty wooze. a rhythmic fucking delight. big ballsy gutsy singing from small lady. and a clattering kinetic rattle that reminds me occasionally of sunburned hand of the man. felt like dancing, but one beer don’t make me fleet of foot. totally digging this, despite the short set. so good i bought one of those wee record things that i have far too many of. available from the fine people at nuts and seeds.
muscles of joy are like if the shaggs bred, had all their instruments stolen and were forced to go on stage, sing a cappella and play whatever bits of percussive tat and old instruments were lying out back. at a push you’d say pop music with a weirdy arthouse mentality. they might have had a song about packed lunches. but then again i’m an ultra-literal fella. anything with an accordion gets my vote. plus there were more ladeez on the stage last night than have cumulatively been at all the gigs i attended this year. which either says something about me, the music i chow down on, glasgow, women or all four. i dunno. this was a rather pleasing multilimbed beast.
finally, and equally brevitous, we arrive at volcano the bear. touring this time round as a terrible twosome of padden and moore. what it is, is stupid. what it is, is clever. what it is, is exotic erotic and strange. exhilarating. funny. funny haha. funny weird. funny satie. at it’s best it’s the eccentric colliding with the mundane. exemplified by a lidl carrier bag filled with tin goblets and seventies stainless steel ice-cream bowls. the juxtaposition of the sweaty realness of folk and jazz with the absurd tootling of musical straws and tracked and taped concrète. it’s the grin of slight and knowing silliness tempered with the smashing of drum and mangling of geetar. it was fun in the same way the residents are or sun city girls were. which is odd since this kindof thing is usually po of faced and stroked of chin. hell i found my feet tapping and hips aswaying every now and again. so there you have it. a tonic for the mind and body that’ll put you in a buggered trance while hollering into yr faceholes. like red bull that doesn’t taste like tramp piss. you can sticker that on the next record fellas.
By the end of the Joyless Muscles, and Tattie Tits I was ready to give up all avant-garde music events as a fucking very bad idea. I didn’t care what Volcano the Bear were going to be like: I just wanted to go home. They were of course, superb: like The Third Ear band meets King Crimson at Nurse with Wound’s farm trying to mesmerise a chicken.
The biggest difference between VTB and the support was of course, VTB have a sense of humour. The support want to make weird music so they can be performers on a stage, but VTB had more charisma, humour and strangeness in one farting straw solo than every Glasgow art-school pseud marking time before they have to get a job in social work. Gig of the year.
they weren’t that bad surely? muscles of joy probably a bit more of an aquired taste. but tattie toes were quite enjoyable.
agree that the main difference between vtb and the support (and most of this kindofthing) is humour. nothing i hate more than wanky po-faced avantisms that are quite clearly ridiculous to play and listen to yet treated with utter deadly serious reverence. i like those that wilfully prick the bubble of pomposity.
anyway isn’t it all performance? in one way or another.
i actually really enjoyed the video of the joyless muscle (and the tattie toes), the poetry was slightly grating, but the overall rhythmic jam, squirting, bendy, spring-sounds, and weird chanting was pretty cool.
hey fella, thought you had left the building. keep forgetting to drop you an email…
yr man above is slightly more cynical of the muscles and tatties than i was. i’ve seen enough of this wonky shite to know enjoyably odd from endurance testing. this was mostly of the former. latter? the first one anyway. enjoyably odd. why do i struggle with the whole former / latter thing?
still here! agreed, i’m quite tempted to check the tatties out at the cca next time. got any good gigs lined up? i’m off to see beak> next week at king tuts…should be sweet. no worries about the email man, anytime.
it costs next to bugger all for a cca gig generally so always worth a visit.
no gigs for me for a while according to my diary – all at the arse-end of january. future of the left. rolo tomassi. vivian girls. baroness. real estate. then some of that glasgow film festival snash with zombie zombie and pere ubu.
that’s what i’ve spied anyway. no doubt a whole buncha other shit on the go.
I know, lets call our band Grizzly Bear.. Or Minus the Bear… something with bear. The world needs more bear bands.
huggy bear?
panda bear?
bear vs shark?
polar bear club?
bipolar bear?
Thanks for your kind words! Promise to play a longer set next gig. (Jan 30th with The Ex at CCA. Tickets Scotland or Monorail.)
Much appreciated x
that’s quite alright. duly marked in diary. or written on the back of something which i’ll in all likelihood throw out tomorrow…
By the end of the Joyless Muscles, and Tattie Tits I was ready to give up all avant-garde music events as a fucking very bad idea. I didn’t care what Volcano the Bear were going to be like: I just wanted to go home. They were of course, superb: like The Third Ear band meets King Crimson at Nurse with Wound’s farm trying to mesmerise a chicken.
The biggest difference between VTB and the support was of course, VTB have a sense of humour. The support want to make weird music so they can be performers on a stage, but VTB had more charisma, humour and strangeness in one farting straw solo than every Glasgow art-school pseud marking time before they have to get a job in social work. Gig of the year.
they weren’t that bad surely? muscles of joy probably a bit more of an aquired taste. but tattie toes were quite enjoyable.
agree that the main difference between vtb and the support (and most of this kindofthing) is humour. nothing i hate more than wanky po-faced avantisms that are quite clearly ridiculous to play and listen to yet treated with utter deadly serious reverence. i like those that wilfully prick the bubble of pomposity.
anyway isn’t it all performance? in one way or another.
i actually really enjoyed the video of the joyless muscle (and the tattie toes), the poetry was slightly grating, but the overall rhythmic jam, squirting, bendy, spring-sounds, and weird chanting was pretty cool.
hey fella, thought you had left the building. keep forgetting to drop you an email…
yr man above is slightly more cynical of the muscles and tatties than i was. i’ve seen enough of this wonky shite to know enjoyably odd from endurance testing. this was mostly of the former. latter? the first one anyway. enjoyably odd. why do i struggle with the whole former / latter thing?
still here! agreed, i’m quite tempted to check the tatties out at the cca next time. got any good gigs lined up? i’m off to see beak> next week at king tuts…should be sweet. no worries about the email man, anytime.
it costs next to bugger all for a cca gig generally so always worth a visit.
no gigs for me for a while according to my diary – all at the arse-end of january. future of the left. rolo tomassi. vivian girls. baroness. real estate. then some of that glasgow film festival snash with zombie zombie and pere ubu.
that’s what i’ve spied anyway. no doubt a whole buncha other shit on the go.