Su Casa - 19/04/12 (Ayr)

Here I am in Su Casa yet again waiting for Little Fire to introduce the line up for the night and perform a few of his own songs.

As usual words tumble through my head as I consider how best to try and put across how the atmosphere makes me feel, about how the moment is heavy with untold promises of what is to come, but no matter how many descriptive lines come to mind I'm aware that I have written about Su Casa, Little Fire and Alan Frew so many times now that I may be in danger of repeating myself.

Similarly to how I previously mentioned that Little Fire shakes his material up on a weekly basis to freshen the approach I am going to have to do something like that to.

Yet here I am sitting at the keyboard letting words just trip from my head to my hands and onto the screen.

There's no plan, no guideline, no template for me to strictly adhere to.

I keep coming up with one angle after another, but I'm over thinking it.

So instead all I am going to do is let myself go and leave everything that pours out unedited, and in that way I hope I can get across the essence of the night.

I guess the first thing that I should do is just tell you how Little Fire makes me feel.

He makes me feel warm.

His voice has a rawness to it that shouldn't elicit a warm feeling, but there's very little in it that is abrasive so it does the opposite of expected.

There is just enough grit to make it all sound heartfelt.

It's soft warm molasses with crystallized sugar in it.

The rawness could be the grain of sand waiting to become a pearl in the embrace of the oyster.

There's some alchemy at play in how he takes the raw material and melds it into something beautiful.

He only ever sings about one thing.

Love.

Positive tales of love sought, love found and the unknown future of two people in love.

Some may think that this is nothing new, but there's a reason why we have written about, and sung about, love since the dawning of time.

It's because apart from birth, taxes and death it is the one thing that everyone shares.

We all have experience of it in some capacity and Little Fire evokes those feelings and seduces us through the familiarity of what he sings about.

Is it a clever ploy on his part?

Is he even aware of the possibility of an angle on it?

I sincerely doubt it.

Witness one single solitary performance and you can tell in your gut that what he does is just express himself in as heartfelt way as he possibly can.

What more could ever be expected from an artist?

Once Little Fire finishes there's a stitch in time.

We slip through a wormhole and find ourselves in the company of Jiezuberband.

Like aliens from out there on the other side of the universe it sounds like they have been listening to the sounds from earth for centuries and weaved a patchwork quilt of it all together, and now consider themselves very clever for recreating our music.

The reality is that it sounds nothing like what we do.

Bits of jazz wrestles with tribal rhythms, a celtic influence manages to hold some gospel down for the count of three and a submission. The blues keep making an appearance ringside and the audience is made up of snippets of every single genre that has ever managed to get a toe hold in our subconscious.

Often mentioned as psychedelic space rockers it's apparent that they could well be if they were plugged in.

Possibly like a cross between Hawkwind and the Afro Celt Sound System, but acoustically it's a whole different sound, and I suspect that due to the free flow nature of the band that you could see then five times and never really get the same performance repeated.

Within what they do is a flavour of what keeps bringing me back to Su Casa.

It's the eclecticism of the artists that appear.

If someone solely gravitates to one genre then they will often enough find something they like going on, but Su Casa is a haven for real music fans of all ages.

Open minded people who are willing to experience whatever is thrown at them find a home there, and Jiezuberband are the sort of band that fit into that inclusive ethos of experimentation.

So how do you really describe such a multifaceted band?

I guess you don't.

Instead you just throw everything into the mix and then tell someone that they really had to be there to get it.

Time for apologies.

I missed Laura Carswell, but Kel didn't and a review will either be added or put up as a stand alone update.

Steve Dunn was the surprise of the evening.

He looked shell shocked, the rabbit in the headlights as he stood up and strapped his guitar on..........and then he sang.

In that instant he was transformed.

The nerves vanished and in there place was a real performance.

There's two people behind the mic occupying the same body.

It works though. The chemistry of the yin and yang is apparent.

One exists with the other.

It's just that in Steve's case they are very clearly defined.

Songs finish and one Steve reveals himself and then when he closes his eyes to play his doppelgänger takes his place.

Some would say that he could be more relaxed and that would balance how he promotes himself to an audience, but I like both personas and he isn't losing anything by showing some vulnerability.

Taking on the penultimate spot was Chloe Simpson who seemed surprised at the reception she got.

I've no idea why though as she is yet another star in the making.

Her smile illuminates the room and similar to Steve she doesn't seem to be aware of how good she is.

There's a hint of the quirkiness of Kate Nash, but while I've always considered Ms Nash to be a bit of a one trick pony this isn't the case with Chloe.

There's a great deal more going on.

Her one woman show is as accomplished as anyone who is gracing the worlds largest stages and has a whole career behind them.

Su Casa seem to be making a name for themselves in finding precocious talent and propelling them into the consciousness of Ayrshires music fans.

First Anna Sweeney and now Chloe Simpson.

While I was impressed with all the material that she played it was her cover of The Courteeners song Not Nineteen Forever that grabbed me and spun me straight back to seeing the band in a tent in Hyde Park.

It wasn't a straight cover, but the same passion was there and for that it has to be applauded.

Rooftops are made for shouting this girls talents from.

Closing the night was Alan Frew.

He's a musicians musician and while I am not one I often find myself transfixed watching his fingers adding weight to the strings on the fret and picking away at them on the body.

I listen to the sounds and I don't really understand how it is done, but my ignorance isn't a barrier to my enjoyment.

As the night is slowly drawing to a close Alan plays a few songs from his own debut album that spread out and infuse the room with a sense of camaraderie.

It's probably because I have heard them a few times now that I associate them with Su Casa, but when he plays his own material it just seems to fit.

Then just as I was getting comfortable and letting the music wash over me he burst into the Johnny Cash hit Folsom Prison Blues that he then manages to effortlessly morph into Junior Parkers Mystery Train.

It's a move that wouldn't be out of place getting dragged out for the patrons of a juke joint circa 1955.

I suppose you could say if Carlsberg made coffee shops................

Everything is not enough

Edmund Burke, the Irish philosopher of the 1700s is immensely quotable.

In a letter he said that 'Those who have been once intoxicated with power, and have derived any kind of emolument from it, even though but for one year, never can willingly abandon it. They may be distressed in the midst of all their power; but they will never look to any thing but power for their relief.'

It's a comment that rings true through the centuries.

Who could really doubt his words?

Power does indeed corrupt, or as Lord Acton said 'Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.'

Is it human nature to lust after power though?

It would appear so.

Could we really argue that there has ever been a time that peoples lives have not been blighted by the pursuit of it by others?

Empires have risen and fallen on the waves of the insatiable need to accrue as much influence and power as possible.

We see the same thing in the modern business world.

Hostile take overs of land by countries are now hostile take overs of companies by multinationals, and from my perspective they create similar amounts of casualties.

Broken lives litter the wake of the pursuit of absolute control.

Expand or die is apparently the motto.

More, more, more. Always more.

Although having everything still seems to falls short of being enough.

We see examples of this everywhere.

From the CEO's of the multinationals to the dealers on the street corners this lust exists.

It's really just a matter of scale.

Take small nascent music scenes as an example.

Recently I've seen issues rising that were rooted in the expansionist agendas of a minority in Glasgow, and here in Ayrshire.

I wasn't surprised as at my age I have seen the same thing happen more often than I would care to admit.

Yet while I wasn't surprised, I was left feeling heart weary at the inability of people to break the cycle.

So let me lay out how this works and maybe someone somewhere will remember what they have read and use it as a 'how not to do it guide.'

Okay. Sitting comfortably?

Here we go.

Initially everything is great.

A band, artist, radio station, or even a promoter comes along and creates something that previously wasn't there.

The spark of originality is fanned and others start to gravitate towards what is going on.

It's still all great.

Altruistic positivity is the byword.

This moment can last for varying lengths of time.

Everything is new and every step forward is an attempt to break new ground.

Then the original sin moment creeps in.

The introduction of the corruption of the original ideals float to the surface, and either an individual, or a group, starts to think about what is in it for them, rather than what is mutually beneficial to all.

It's often difficult to tell who they are though.

Some will always of had an eye out for an angle that they can use to their own benefit.

They're the parasitic leaches whose only interest is in lining their own pockets while advancing on their dreams of building a self serving empire that they can preside over.

Like carnival hucksters they will spin a line and in their eye you can see the gleam of a bright future.

Only that bright future is reserved for them solely.

They just never mention that.

They will have no qualms at all about sucking the life blood out of a scene and leaving it as a dried out husk.

In the blink of an eye they will walk away from the broken dreams and laugh all the way to the bank, or onto pastures new where they can exploit yet more people.

Others will have started off with the best intentions and then been corrupted along the way as the plaudits for their endeavours rolled in.

They've been seduced by the power.

When they looked into the abyss they found it attractive.

Power is their aphrodisiac, their drug.

They then get wrapped in their own delusions and from there on in everything has to revolve around them, and hell mend anyone who doesn't get with the plan.

A plan that ultimately once again only benefits a minority.

Often just that one individual.

Once these people arrive on the scene it really is the beginning of the end.

In Glasgow a certain person made a move to slowly but surely take over much of the traditional punk scene.

If there was a touring band from yesteryear with a name for themselves then his finger wasn't just in the pie, but instead he was up to his elbows in it.

Everything revolved around his band playing, his friends bands playing, and bullying others to get in line with what he was doing, or fuck off.

Unless you doffed your cap and showed respect then the scene would be an exclusive one that you were not allowed to be part of.

Basically something that could have been built on turned into an ugly situation run by a clique of bullies?

Is there a collective name for that?

If there can be a murder of crows, a sleuth of bears, then could there be a bastard of cunts?

Whatever we want to call them isn't really relevant though as once that stage is reached then it's all downhill.

Then there's the woman who is known for putting on under 14s gigs.

It sounds nice and positive.

Young musicians of that age struggle to find venues that will allow them to showcase their talents, and should be supported in doing so.

However there's a difference in seeing that an environment needs to be created to allow young talent to flourish, and seeing a niche in the market that needs to be exploited.

Once again over a period of time a toxic reputation started to build, and no matter how altruistic the original premise was, the bastardization of it warped it until it reached a stage where as a venture it was indistinguishable from those set in motion by charlatans looking to make a quick buck.

Then lastly there are the people who come bearing the offer of plenty.

Enthusiastically and tirelessly they support local artists until they have their feet under the table.

Once they do carve themselves a niche the mask slips a little though, and a ruthless attitude to expansion reveals itself.

Those who oppose the expansion are dealt with in moves that are obviously lifted wholesale from the book 'Purges for Dummies' by Joseph Stalin.

From covering one area they attempt to move into another, and then yet another.

In a short space of time a blitzkrieg approach is revealed and the momentum carries them ever onward,...........well ever onward until the wheels fall off the train and they're derailed due to their behaviour managing to tip the balance and piss too many people off.

From then the negative aspects of how they went about accruing control is all that anyone remembers and all the good that they had done, or could have done, is forgotten.

So what do these all have in common?

Well apart from the formation of cliques and bullying it's the boom and bust cycle isn't it?

If people can get on board with that then the next question would be how can we all avoid the bust aspect of it and maintain the boom?

The answer actually seems very simple.

Just don't succumb to putting personal interests first all the time.

Consider the bigger picture and play a longer and more inclusively positive game.

Accept that there is room for everyone.

Support each other.

...and nip the negative forces in the bud.

Never let then get a toehold.

Their influence is a malignant cancer that will destroy the potential of what could be.

Think about what could be achieved if the trend was bucked and we all refused to be swayed by our own apparent selfish nature, or that of others.

While all that may sound simple it's actually a big ask as I've yet to see it being put into practice by enough people for it to matter.

It's entirely possible that I've just wasted my time writing this, but I'll go full circle and end it with a paraphrase of another quote from Edmund Burke.

'All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.'

This blog update is dedicated to my friends, and supporters of original music, Sandie Noone and Taylor Buntain.

Devilish Presley Tour Diary - Glasgow Pivo Pivo - 20/04/12

GLASGOW

 Friday 20th April 

 Pivo Pivo.

We left London at 7-30pm on thursday evening heading for Stoke, and as we stopped to get some fuel I saw a black Range Rover with tinted windows and the number plate MI5 I SPY - it "must" have been James Bond surely? Or a berk....?

We stayed in a place called "StokeTalke" which sounds like an "Olde Worlde Radio Showe" where everyone phones in and talks about Manglewurzels and shrubs. The "Stoke Talke Little Cheffe was Closde" Harpo was delighted with his sofa-bed but as usual with Travelodge because we had a dog with us were downgraded from 3rd class to "fucked up shit class".Big hole in one wall, water stains on the ceiling, bootmarks on the bed - the usual (before we arrived I hasten to add).

Set off about midday Friday and the weather was mental, sunshine, shower, sunshine, shower....As we got up near Carlisle the scenery started to get more impressive and the clouds were doing their best "biblical sky" kind of thing. Stopped at a services surrounded by rolling hills, sunshine in one direction, evil black clouds in another and lots of mist. Harpo was heard to mumble "fuck me this is a BIG park!"

We arrived outside Pivo Pivo at 5-30 pm and I loaded in while Jacqui sat like a spider waiting to pounce on the parking spot right outside the venue. Pivo is situated right near Glasgow’s main station and the area is how shall I put it “vibrant” at night time. Parking space acquired, gear set up and sound engineer sorted THEN our mate Meester Mainy arrived looking very dapper like a cross between Clockwork Orange and a Parisian Beatnik all tooled up for the Parisian riots in 1968. Mainy paid me upfront an example to all and a feat shared by some of the bikers we have played for in the past. I said hello to Kel and was introduced to Pauline & Claire. Everything ran like Clockwork (Orange) and all the bands were on time and there was no fucking about.

We set up the merch and I have to say a special thanks to Lorna (who arrived looking glam in leopard skin) who took over whilst we were feeding Harpo and continued to do the merch’ during the night. Many times in the course of the night she handed me money and said “CD & T-shirt” in her cool Glaswegian accent. Thanks mate.

Melisa Kelly & The Harmless Thieves were on first and were a really pleasant surprise to me. Melisa has an amazing voice, Jacqui came up to me and said “she sounds like Stevie - Stevie Vann Jac’s vocal coach – who also has an amazing range and power. Melisa could earn a fortune doing sessions but does her own songs which are great.

Mainy was sitting out on the stairs for a great deal of the time (Pivo is a basement) and I kept popping out to chat with him, on one of these occasions I met Homesick Aldo (Alan Smith) who was the next on the bill. Aldo was every bit as good as I was expecting blowing up a one man storm on his harmonica, playing minimal drums and blues-wailing. Unlike some wannabe blues guys Aldo opts for the Johnny Thunders meets Slim Harpoimage and sound and was terrific.

More folks were arriving all the time and I met long time fan and friend Lisa M and had some photos taken with her and sister Pauline M & their friend “DP first timer” Joanne who was a party on legs!!. This is one of the perks of the job.  Also caught up with my mate Antony Crimson Black (who we stayed with in Whitby last year) who made it to the gig after a very long drive from Sheffield!

And then there were The Coffins fronted by the dude Joe Bone. Now I was lucky enough to see Glasgow’s finest son Alex Harvey and I can think of no higher praise than to say there were distinct echoes of SAHB here, maybe it was the vocals & accent, maybe it was the bank robbers balaclava or the excellent band (the bass player was superb) but whatever I loved these guys. “Get into the Coffins before you die” wise words indeed!

Then we were on and it was a such great crowd. Fucking excellent gig. Mainy did us proud at The Barfly in 2008 and he did it again, thank you so much mate.

A bit of a hectic rush to pack up and get out....Lisa M asked if she could help me pack up because she quite rightly felt we should have some roadies (so do I but I can’t afford them). Lisa I have to say the next day when we went to set up the stand for the flag it literally fell to pieces – no worries we sorted it out – and you have got the job!!

A few more photos outside and it was all over – apparently there had been mayhem earlier in the evening around the venue – Jacqui saw a large group of people hitching a ride on a garbage truck and a big fight – but we got some deep fried pizza and wished we could rewind the night and do it all over again. Maybe we will!!

Just got a short and sweet review in from Mr Anarchoi aka Mysterious Stranger (For 'Plastic Punks' Only) 

DEVILISH PRESLEY/THE COFFINS/HOMESICK ALDO/MELISSA KELLY... PIVO PIVO/ FRIDAY 20TH APRIL 2012. 

Great turnout for a Friday gig, and that was with a coupla other things goin on in the city.

Sadly I missed Melissa Kelly who was 1st on but I was reliably informed her set went doon well wae the punters.

Next up was Homesick Aldo who sported a 'Johnny Thunders' t shirt....top marx straight away fae me!!!! He done a 1 man band playin some drums,harmonica and anything else he could get his hands or teeth into!!! Like a blues meets glam meets sleazy punk in cbgbs which certainly messed up the rules of punk, he kept it going well and the crowd were eatin outta his hands by the end of it!!

The Coffins were up next and treated us to some Garage influenced rock which was met with an equally frantic crowd, horror and murder the order of the day...or night...crackin band live!!! Devilish Presley ended proceedings and they've never disappointed at all, drum machine and guitar and bassist all served up a tasty mix of 70s punk and Joan Jett influenced attitude!!! Once again, a well promoted gig not relying on big names just honesty and attitude.

NOFX - Thalidomide Child

…....and so it goes on with Fat Mike continuing to lean heavily on the self destruct button and ruin everything that NOFX has built up over the years.

Following on from an indulgent stab at some hardcore covers he is now alienating more fans with a painful fuckin' dirge of shite from their past.

Seriously Mike?

I mean seriously?

The band admit it was so bad when the originally recorded it that they never released it, but now they think it would be funny to get it out there.

Yep. It's funny to release crap that wasn't deemed worthy to be aired years ago.

The joke just flew past me.

Where's the fuckin' punchline Mike.

Oh wait a minute I did just get it.

People are buying something you admit is crap.

It's one of those jokes that you can laugh at but no one else is in on it.

He's laughing at the fans, not with them.

Okay.

That makes sense.

Time for a check up from the neck up.

Does anyone really doubt that he does actually want to fuck everything up for himself.

Was pissing in a bottle and then giving his own fans shots of his own urine not enough?

Now he's taking a dump in our ears with this.

This is not the NOFX that fans know and love.

It's not even a side project where the band flex their influences and provide something that's bit different from the norm.

Instead it a fuck you to everyone.

Someone message me when NOFX start giving a shit again..

Mucho gracios amigos.

Poster is free to download.
Help yourself.

Not really a blog update, but instead a thank you list.

Thank you to Devilish Presley for once again restoring my faith in rock and roll.
Thank you to The Coffins who once again took it to the limit.
Thank you to Homesick Aldo for being a fuckin' star. Thank you to Melisa Kelly and her Harmless Thieves for adding some class to proceedings.
Much love goes to the venue Pivo Pivo for allowing me to host the gig in their venue.
And obviously thank you to everyone who came along. I'm especially proud of those who supported me in this and were willing to try out something new that possibly wouldn't have previously been their thing musically. Converts to the church of rockin' one and all.
I am genuinely very pleased that the acts were an eye opener for some, and happy that the appreciation of their talents was given so freely.
I would also like to thank the people who messaged wishing me luck and gave their reasons for their non attendance.
It's not a hassle.
Life often gets in the way of a good night out and I also appreciate that you took the effort to offer your reasons as opposed to excuses. I have no idea what is next, but I suppose I will be dipping my toe in again.

Mainy.

Here, there and everywhere - Adventures in the low end of the gene pool and some music.

I've been rather neglectful of the blog of late.
The reasons are legion.
Family matters that needed my attention, some work related things that needed addressed, and a few other distractions that could best be filed away in a folder marked 'same shit, different day' continued to pile on the pressure and relegated the blog to the position of 'something I need to get around to'.
On top of the usual daily grind that many of us - if not all - slog through I've also been shedding some light on what I perceive was a negative force within Ayrshire's nascent music scene.
My public condemnation of certain behaviour has acted as a catalyst and ushered in a bit of a shit storm that has embroiled many in its clutches.
Probably this will be no surprise to those who know me, but I don't regret a single word that I have said and I stand by every utterance.
As for the threats I have received and comments saying that I am a cowardly cunt sniping from the shadows.
Well everything I have said has had my name on it and I've not threatened anyone.
Comments from people who only know one side of a story are usually rather misguided and I have seen many of them.
In this instance I am comfortable in occupying the moral high ground as I haven't told one lie, nor exaggerated anything at all.
I've been asked if I'm bothered by the hate mail, but the answer is no.
I've bought some really soft printer paper and I will be printing all the threats and such off on it and using it to wipe my arse.
That's how concerned I am.
On behalf of my arse. Thank you.

Anyway. I've been to a few gigs and as time has past a bit I'm just going to give an overview of the performances rather than a full reviews.
So first up is a night in Glasgow when I popped into Box with Kelly as a time killer before picking my daughter up from a gig she was attending.
There was a guy playing who was rather run of the mill.
Acoustic guitar and songs about relationships.
Initially I thought he was verging on being okay, but as his set continued there was no real shading. Just variations of the same thing again and again.
He lost me, and from the lacklustre smatterings of minimal applause it would lead me to believe I wasn't the only one whose attention had wandered.
Full credit to him for getting up there to perform, but he's maybe a few months away from airing his songs in public.
Sadly, but rather telling is that I have dredged my memory for his name and I am coming up blank.
It's never a good thing if a performance doesn't manage to lodge your name into an audience members head.
The band who followed him had no problems in that respect.
Going under the name of the singer Steve Heron they slowly but surely turned the heads of what I would presume was a crowd of pub regulars.
The three piece are exceptionally tight musicians and their material covered a fair bit of ground. Some funky post punk courtesy of the rhythm section, and some angular guitar work mixed with some pop overtones conjured up a balanced melting pot of influences.
Steve himself is an engaging front man with a comfortable presence on stage and the over all package screams that they are just killing time in venues like Box until something better comes along.
http://soundcloud.com/steveheron

Next was last weeks Su Casa line up.
Yet again it was a very strong bill that started with Little Fire rattling off a couple of his most well known songs with a bit of a difference.
I'm not sure what his trip to Australia, and his experience of being questioned and nearly jailed in Indonesia has done to him, but this was a more powerful, faster and focussed Little Fire.
The songs got a bit of a going over and were pushed harder than I've heard before.
Jamie seems aware that as he is co-host of Su Casa, and plays on a weekly basis, that simply revisiting the same songs would be detrimental and familiarity could breed a bit of contempt.
So his regular efforts to come at the material from different angles is refreshing.
It provides ample proof that he is more than capable of taking what he does with him in whatever direction takes his fancies.
It's something that other artists should be thinking about.
After Little Fire was John Cooper who is a Su Casa regular.
John is a professional songwriter and over the years has plied his trade consistently, but he hasn't actually performed in over twenty years.
So it was a bit of an honour to see this.
Accompanying himself on the keyboard he sang some songs from different points from his past that covered some accomplished boogie woogie to songs that had featured in stage shows.
Between them he regaled us with stories of submitting songs for the Carpenters to sing and such, and there was a real warmth and love apparent in how he expresses himself.
I'm not sure if the casual music fan would have been as appreciative of what we were seeing, but personally I loved getting an insight into how a professional songwriter can write to order.
If that is one side of the coin the other is that I would love to hear the songs he writes for himself.
It would be interesting to see John return to Su Casa and play a set of material that has not had the restrictions of working within a template applied to it.
As taster this did the job, but I want John to reveal more of himself to us, and if he chooses to do that then I will be making the effort to see what comes up.
Following John was Matt Scott who I have mentioned often on the blog.
Now I could say a great deal here, but then I would be repeating myself further down as I actually seen him perform again on the Sunday in Glasgow.
So I will just say it was the usual impressive performance and it featured a new song that went down rather well.
So here we go. Straight into Mark Copeland.
Do you know what the worst thing about Mark was?
He didn't have any CDs with him and now I just have the memories to live on.
Not a bad criticism though.
The song writing is very accomplished with some fantastic turns of phrase, the delivery is beyond criticism, the musicianship was excellent and there is nothing at all negative that I could say about his performance at all.
Not one single solitary thing. Nothing even anything constructive that Mark could work on.
His songs, his voice, his attitude to performing. All top notch entertainment.
www.facebook.com/pages/Mark-Copeland/114035698681578
Dave Mac was next to take to the mic and similarly to Mark he equally astounded.
I'm not going to say one was better than the other, but instead that they were just different.
Dave has a slight intonation in his tome that is reminiscent of Paulo Nutini in his delivery, but it's not overpowering, just that vocally there's an overlap.
The material itself is once again shockingly accomplished and the stage presence that Dave exudes is something that very obviously comes natural to him.
Two acts in a very short space of time and both with the ability to blow your mind with their talent.
Seriously remember their names and don't miss them if you get the opportunity.
www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000924948017
There was a wee surprise single song from a guy called Eugene who was a friend of the final artist of the night, Jono, who from a cold start out of the blocks managed to grab everyone's attention and secure himself an invite back to SuCasa.
So hopefully I'll be there to see him and cover what he does on the basis of a full set.
Jono who finished the night was a bit confusing for me.
First song in and I was unimpressed. Nothing grabbed me at all about it.
Second song wasn't much better either and I was beginning to resign myself to an excellent evening ending on an anticlimax, but then with a song called Grey Skies was revealed and it was as if the sun had come out.
Although the title conjures up images of dark days of depression the actual music and lyrics are uplifting and full of the promise of summer days and a brighter future.
As songs go it's rooted in pop music, but pop music as Jeff Buckley would have imagined it.
From that point onwards everything fell into place and the first two songs of the set were forgotten.
The high praise that others had showered Jono with didn't just slowly become apparent, but crashed in.
In the space of one single song he turned it all around and had the audience in the palm of his hand and held them there for the remainder of the night.
Once again Su Casa had delivered an eclectic night of talent that shows that if people would care to make the effort that they will find magic on their own doorstep.

Lastly for a week of music I was at Slouch in Glasgow for the first time, and seem Matt Scott perform for the second time in a matter of days.
Matt has been hassling me to check Slouch out as a venue for a while as he has nothing but praise for it.
So by heading along I was killing two birds with one stone.
I can see why it is one of his favourite watering holes as soon as I sit down.
It's a nice set up with friendly bar staff and a relaxed atmosphere.
Split into two there's the bar in one and an area for the acts to play in the other.
This lack of a bar where the bands play isn't actually a negative point as it allows the audience to engage with the music without distraction and a pint can be waiting for you a mere few steps away through one of two doors.
Like I said. A nice set up.
Enough about Slouch and back to Matt though.
He's got an ep coming out soon and has been drip feeding the new material out live and we got some more in this set.
It doesn't sound tentative as may be expected.
Instead, like the rest of his set, the new songs are part of a continuous flow.
The quality of the material really stands out in its totality.
I've always supported what Matt has been doing for one simple reason.
It's damn good.
In fact he may be about the most lyrically poetic musician I know.
A fan of Dylan, Waites and Morrison he may be, and there are aspects of those legendary performers in his work, but this is 2012 and so much of the interplay in the words are well rooted in the present.
What Matt does isn't a homage to the past.
Far from it.
Instead he has taken influences and used them as a springboard to jump forth from.
While previously I've waxed lyrical about how good I think he is I would have to say that he is now better again.
It's not as if he has changed the material, but instead it simply fits him more comfortably now.
Think of the songs as if they were a new pair of denims.
They fit and the look good and there's nothing really to complain about when you slip into them for the first time.
Then fast forward a few months and they've been washed a few times, they've been out on the piss with you and you've even slept in them one or twice.
They're the same pair of denims, but now they envelope you like a second skin and they're an extension of of you.
That's where Matts music is just now.
The words and the music envelope him and nothing is at odds.
A seamless expression of art that beguiles the listener.
This new ep that will surface soon is going to attract a great deal of attention I think.
(All the photos are from Su Casa and were provided by Sophie Conway who is eleven years old and a bit of a regular at the venue.)

Punks Not Dead - The 4 Past Midnight Reunion - Classic Grand - 7/4/12 (Glasgow)

Very often the words 'punk is dead' falls from the lips of the fashionistas who have no understanding that punk has evolved past the point of being something as simple as a cultural phase reserved for teenagers wishing to rebel.
Punk is more than that.
It's a way of life, an ethos, a mindset.
With this being the case it may well ebb and flow in popularity as the years pass, but it never dies.
At its low points it exists in the corners of pubs all over the world with bands and fans quietly getting on with it on the fringes of the mainstream.
It no longer feels the need to pander to social trends.
It simply doesn't give a fuck, and with that attitude it has managed to sever any ties with any sort of reliance on what is, or isn't cool.
The bands and the fans are their own symbiotic life support system.
However sometimes it does crave attention, and when it does we see a gig taking place that allows the punks to bare their teeth and roar that they are still here, and that they aint going anywhere.
Last night was one of those nights when 4 Past Midnight reformed, and along with Hateful and The Red Eyes, played in the Classic Grand in Glasgow and raised a banner for the punks to rally to.
It was a rallying call that was answered with a great deal of passion and style.
The Red Eyes provided the opening salvo and once again played what is often referred to as a blinder.
I've probably said this before, but I have never seen them have an off night.
My friend Claire, who until last night had no idea who they were, mentioned that there should be a rule that all young bands starting out are required to go and see The Red Eyes so they know how it should be done, and she's right.
Their set is the perfect balance of musicianship, showmanship and great song writing.
A master-class in how music should be played to an audience.
Over the years they have distilled their sound down to the point that what they do has no fat on it.
They're a lean mean punk rock machine who have taken the music of The Clash, Stiff Little Fingers and the Jam as a springboard to leap forward from.
While their influences are on their sleeves for the world to see they don't sound like they are emulating their heroes though.
Instead what you get is all the passion of those bands, all the heat and all the energy bundled up and brought to you in the here and now.
They are consistently one of the best bands you could see in Glasgow and if you haven't seen them then do yourself a favour.
Next was Hateful.
Virtually everything said about The Red Eyes could be reiterated about them.
They don't sound the same as they are coming to the music from a slightly different angle, but everything is there.
Once again the musicianship is faultless and rips apart the allegation that punk rock is a style that a three fingered monkey could master.
The rhythm section is beat perfect and there's nothing basic about what they are doing.
Meanwhile Barry Lewis on lead guitar is indestructible.
Not that long ago he had a heart attack and yet here he is powering through a performance with his band mates that men half his age couldn't manage.
Saying that their set was impressive falls far short of conveying how good they are.
Saying they were fuckin' impressive doesn't cover it either.
Headline act of the night was 4 Past Midnight playing their first gig since reuniting.
On a personal note I have to say it was great to see Peter and Fred together again on a stage.
These guys are 4 Past Midnight, and without taking anything away from the others who have played in the band, or the bassist who did a great job last night, for me it isn't really the band unless both of them are in it.
Something clicks with them and it works.
From the first crashing chords it was as if they had never been away and the fans were bouncing along to every song while they lustily sang their hearts out to all their favourites.
The communal spirit was alive and well in the Classic Grand.
The word unity gets bandied about in punk circles and very often those spouting it talk the talk, but don't walk the walk.
That isn't the case with this band.
When Peter dedicated 'Fuck 'em all' in support of Fire Exit, another Glasgow punk band who have had their own trials and tribulations to deal with, it made me proud to know that some people will still strip all the bullshit away and make a public stance in support of their friends.
This is maybe why 4 Past Midnight remain dear to the hearts of their fans.
There's no airs and graces with them.
What you see is what you get.
Three guys playing solid punk rock with anger and good intentions.
Musically they sound more muscular than I've heard them before, but they never drop to a level of mindless droning and guttural shouts.
It's powerful, sometimes brutal, but the melody is there.
It's just being punched out instead of being danced around.
THIS IS FUCKIN' PUNK ROCK.
THE REAL DEAL.
If you could put it in a bottle then the government would have to ban the sale of it due to its addictive qualities.
Once anyone witnesses quality punk rock played by people who know how to write and play songs that rattle about your head for days after hearing them, then it clicks with them that the cartoonish aspects of punk rock is just one facet, and not one that truly represents what is a real movement that has its fingerprints all over music and the arts since the seventies.
4PM understand this, and promote the bones of what punk is. They were the icing on the cake of the night, and as reunions go it couldn't have been done any better.
Three bands who never put a foot wrong for a fiver.
You can't do better than that.
What a night.
It fanned a flame in me that has been flickering.
Many thanks to Sandie Noone and 4PM for putting the gig on.
Mucho respecto to Mr Gemmell and anyone else who helped make the night run smoothly.
Big ups to my brethren in the 4PM Crew.
All the best to Helen who I haven't seen in an age, and of course the bands and everyone else who was there and made it such a success..
Go'an yerself Glasgow an' gie yerself a pat on the back.

An open letter from a troll

I am anonymous.
I am not part of 'anonymous' who are the internet hackers with a political agenda that pushes for transparency.
I am just anonymous in the singular.
I am not legion.
I am not many.
I am a troll.
I visit Mainy's blog to post comments on his reviews of local artists.
I can't help myself.
When he responds I often wish I hadn't bothered as his answers often highlight that I'm the person who is often referred to as 'not the sharpest knife in the drawer'.
I then feel hurt and crawl back under the rock I had come from and swear that I will never comment again.
Then the urge comes to me and at night I can hear the whispers in my head urging me to make yet another nonsensical comment that will highlight my lack of social skills, my petty jealousies and my inability to express myself in a manner that others would understand.
The voices often drive me to distraction.
It may take days, weeks, or even a month, but no matter how much I fight to ignore the voices I know that I will succumb and find myself at the keyboard again.
It is then that the cycle begins anew.
I look for a recent review and then become fixated on one aspect of it.
I then magnify my imagined issue in my head until I am no longer able to consider what has been said in any sort of context other than the one I frame it in.
He's a megalomaniac.
A Machiavellian master of the dirty game.
The destroyer of young peoples dreams.
He has an ego the size of a small planet and I'm the Death Star that will blow it out of existence.
This is my reality.
The actual reality is that when I comment I come across as petty, snide and unhinged.
I'm not sure what is worse.
My realization of this, or the posts others make sneering at me and my very obvious stupidity.
I can't help it though.
I long for the day that someone says that I should be pitied more than loathed.
I aspire to being pitied.
No one knows who I am.
I an not legion.
I am not many.
I'm just a sad sack, and now I think I will go and do something a bit more fruitful with my time.
Like have a wank while watching my Justin Bieber DVD

Macy Gray - Covered

Cover albums.
Either works of genius or the last ditch attempt for some credibility from an artist who has already scraped the bottom of their own barrel.
Well sadly Macy Gray falls into the latter category with the lions share of the imaginatively titled 'Covered'.
Much of it sounds as if it was recorded by Stock, Aitken and Waterman in a bathroom with dictaphone and a guy from the pub playing a casio.
It's not all bad.
There some spacy dub stuff that works, but the covers of the bands like Eurythmics. My Chemical Romance and Metallica are truly awful.
I mean really really bad.
Imagine them as the worst covers you can think of and then accept that no matter how bad they are this is worse.
It's the aural equivalent of falling from a great height naked into a large cat litter tray.
It's painful and embarrassing.
I think that her first two albums are stone cold classics.
Real breaths of fresh air when they came out.
Yet here on this she manages to ruin every good track, like Sail, with something that is so horrendous that it eclipses any of the meager highpoints.
Best if the police just tape this off as a crime scene and tell people to move on as there's nothing to see.

The Cider Spiders, Masters of the Sea, OK Social Club, Colour Cells - Bakers Kilmarnock (31/3/12)

Who are The OK Social Club?
Spill it.
I want to know everything about them after seeing them play in Bakers in Kilmarnock.
Like a Scottish version of The Strokes they played a storming set in front of a partially disinterested crowd (their loss) who were mainly there to see the reunion of local heroes The Cider Spiders.
It's to the bands credit that the lack of an enthusiastic response from the audience didn't come close to putting a dent into what was an excellent 'you had to be there' performance.
By the midway point of their first song I was hooked and my attention didn't wane in the slightest as their set progressed.
To get back to the sound though, when I say The Strokes I don't want anyone thinking that they're the McStrokes, but instead that what I'm getting at is that they've delved into the punk past of the New York scene, and beyond, and drank from the same well of influences.
It's more a case that they're coming at the music from the same direction rather than trying to emulate Julian Casablancas and the boys.
There's a real freshness to their take on what they're doing.
This isn't the seventies, eighties, nineties or the naughties.
This isn't a band on a nostalgia trip.
Far from it.
This is young men forging their own path who simply have some excellent influences in their rear view mirror.
As short introductions to a band go this one ticked all the boxes and I hope to be hearing their name being whispered about rather loudly in the coming months.
They should get t-shirts printed that say 'The OK Social Club only do effortlessly cool'.
I'd buy one.
Soon after they had finished Masters of the Sea took to the stage and attempted to defy description.
I'm not really sure when the last time was that I seen such a musically anarchic band.
If there's a rule book to how music should be played then these guys have been tearing sheets out of it to use nonchalantly when the toilet roll runs out.
This band are the Twilight Zone. Nothing is as it should be.
You could lose count of how many time changes there are in a song, and just as you're managing to wrap your head around a Morricone styled waltz they start getting funky.
One minute Stevie Smith is conjuring up the ghost of Jim Morrison and the next he's encroaching on the territory of Grand Master Flash.
Sometimes it's as if the set hasn't been prearranged and we are watching a band jamming, but the bigger picture is that there's more cohesiveness to it than some may think.
Biggest surprise of the night is that people are getting it.
I've underestimated the crowds ability to be challenged and get on board with something that doesn't fit into the narrow confines of what is churned out on a weekly basis on television music channels.
I suppose I could rave about how much I enjoyed what they did, but it would just be a a bunch of jumbled words thrown down on the page.
I suppose the fairest and most accurate thing that can be said about Masters of the Sea is that they're not going to pander to you. You either get it or don't.
In a vibrant local music scene they're on the outside looking in, refusing to fit, and loving every second of it.
I guess what I'm saying is the world needs Masters of the sea.
The night was however always going to belong to The Cider Spiders.
This was the band that everyone was there to see, and expectations were set on high.
The good thing was that the Cider Spiders don't do disappointing if you exclude splitting up.
They're the shoulda, woulda, coulda band from Kilmarnock, and on the strength of this one solitary gig they showed everyone why.
With a name taken from the paranoid hallucinations that creep in the morning after the night before of binging on whatever is on offer the band more than live up to their local legendary status as hedonistic nutters.
Minx out front is a whirling and thrashing bare chested dervish who fires out tongue twisting staccato heavy lines like machine gun fire, and then intersperses them with moments when you can hear that this man really has some pipes on him.
The all out attack is only one string to his bow.
The band are solidly grooving behind him and there's a real sense that they can handle anything that is thrown at them.
It's been a while since this town has seen a crowd going nuts. Really nuts, and then with Kilmarnock Football Club wresting the cup from Celtics hands, and then this, it has been a double blow to the foundations of the town.
There's people on the east coats probably wondering why for the second time in ten days that their crockery is rattling in their cupboards.
It's the seismic shocks that are doing it that reverberated from Kilmarnock.
By the second song half the venue has stripped to the waste and bodies are being hoisted onto shoulders and rolling across a sea of hand.
It's not just the audience participating either.
Minx launches himself wildly into the crowd on more than one occasion and it's a wonder that the crowd let him out of their clutches.
It's a fantastic experience to see people singing along word for word with a local bands songs and losing themselves in the moment.
It's nights like these that smash the lie that the only good bands are the ones in the larger venues and stadiums.
Here is a band that could give any of the big boys a run for their money.
If there was any justice in the world then they would have been giant killers first time around.
That it didn't happen is neither here nor there. It has no bearing on how good they are.
Someone said to me that this performance was like controlled chaos.
Utter bollocks.
The brakes were off and no one was at the wheel.
As the last song imploded Minx once again took to the shoulders of the crowd.
Not to be outdone in the showman stakes guitarist Tiger joined him and very nearly crowd surfed from the stage to the bar at the back of the venue.
Security guys who are used to clubbers shaking their thang and the odd drunk throwing some macho shapes watched on in bemusement as this all took place, and fair play to them as they took it all on board for what it was and made sure everyone had a great evening without it being hampered by idiocy on the part of over excited patrons.
A fine balance was struck.
Unfortunately the same couldn't said about the alcohol consumption.
I'll be guessing that in the morning some fragile heads would have been held.
Beds would no doubt have been seen as an oasis of calm in a stormy sea, sick buckets would have been filled to overflowing and give it nine months and there could be a few new arrivals called Bakers to celebrate the night of their conception.
It was that sort of night.
'Mon the Spiders. You canny leave the story half written.
Come and save us from the mundane and take us to the land of unashamed debauchery.
(ColourCells were the first band of the night and I just missed them. If anyone want to contribute a review then I'll either add it to this (credited of course), or put it up as a stand alone review credited to the writer)