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Wednesday 30 June 2010

Mike Peters (The Alarm) Direct Acoustic Tour

It gives me great pleasure to announce that I have managed to book Mike Peters to play a gig in my home town (Kilmarnock).
It's going to be the smallest venue on the tour. 100 people maximum.
So if by any chance there is anyone reading this from the west coast of Scotland and think they could manage it then contact me, but do it fast as even on the basis of presales it looks like it is going to sell out.
Tickets are £12.50. No booking fee or shit like that. Just direct from me.

By Christ tickets are going super fast. I'm not saying this in an effort to shift them though.
Only confirmed this morning and half of them are gone presale.

Tuesday 29 June 2010

Well hung

I had a big screed written about my love for The Men You Couldn't Hang, but I wasn't happy with it. So I reworked it, edited it, cut bits out, swapped things around and you know what? It was still crap.
It's a bit like writers block. I just couldn't get what was in my head onto the page.
The crux of it was that I would pick them over the Pogues any day of the week. While few would disagree that McGowan is a great songwriter, his slurred deliverance of a line makes listening to the band a chore compared to the equally eloquent and superiorly understandable MYCH who shine whether they are in the studio or live.
They also have a nice rockabilly twist to their folk music that I'm a sucker for.
So anyway. Forgive the rambling bollocks and instead enjoy this little gem.
According to my memory this is from a tape of Night of a thousand candles pre official release that a member of the band gave to someone, and it was only years later that they realized it differs slightly in the sound than what eventually hit the streets.
Apologies for the quality of sound in bits, but it is from the original tape.
I hope you enjoy, and remember to go out and support the band
Oh, and leaving a comment would be appreciated.

Sunday 20 June 2010

Hyperjax/Eddy and the T-Bolts/Roscoe Vacant - 13th Note Glasgow 19/6/10

You would think that on a hot summers night slinking into the 13th Notes subterranean basement club would offer some respite from the heat, but no. It's the opposite. It's an underground oven.
I'm sweating like a paedophile clown at a kiddies party. If you licked the moisture from the wall you could probably get a taste of my DNA.
I could claim that the alcohol I was drinking like it was going out of fashion was for rehydration purposes, but in all honesty I was just in party mode.
It's been a tough week and Saturday night was the perfect night to let my hair down (Cue the bad haircut jokes from those who know me). Good venue, good company and three acts who could give any other band appearing in Glasgow a run for their money.
Like I said perfect.
For tonight Roscoe Vacant has left his battered acoustic at home and instead is slashing at his equally battered electric guitar with the passionate conviction that we have come to expect from him.
Mild mannered, quiet and charming off stage Roscoe may well be, but he's the polar opposite once he straps on his guitar and gets behind a mic. There's a righteous anger there that bubbles up and spills over. His ire at the world around him is eloquently displayed and whether you agree with his political view it's difficult not to be swept away with the passion of the performance.
Right at this moment he is firing on all cylinders and every line spat out is formed with frighteningly honest intent. He has a message and you need to hear it
Often enough he has been compared to a young Billy Bragg and it's easy to hear why.
He has the same strength of conviction in what he is doing and the one man and a guitar also lends credence to the comparisons, but the differences that lay under the surface are huge.
Roscoe Vacant is far more immediate, far more forceful and far more relevant than Billy has been for many a year. He's a true punk poet, and with his anti fashion punk attitude is a hundred percent more honest than the latest gap year riot student diddling about with a studded belt, some converse sneakers and waxed liberty spikes.
Sticking Roscoe on the bill is the perfect antidote to the fashinista punks. So vive le folkpunknrolla.
Next were the exuberant Eddy and the T-Bolts, who similar to Roscoe aren't interested in all the scene bullshit that permeates so many other gigs. They simply have a remit to rock and do so with infectious wild abandon. Their frontman is a stomping dervish who is living out his rockstar dream regardless of who is there to watch them.
The first word from his lips is “Heeeeeeeellllllllllooooooooo Glllaaaaaaaaaaaaaasssssgggggggoooooow” as if he's stepped to the lip of the stage at Madison Square Gardens. It's hilarious considering the size of the venue and even the size of the crowd he is playing to, but he knows this. This is his shtick.
A little later he dedicates a song to the god of thunder Gene Simmons pretending that he is oblivious to the fact that the crowd is made up of punks and psychobillies. I could imagine him saying that it doesn't matter as everyone loves KISS anyway.
Let's get this straight though. When I say that they play rock music it's actually got a nice punky edge to it.
In the UK punk a lot of the bands can sometimes be a bit basic. They see guitar solos and such as prima donna bullshit, wheras the US ones seem to know their way about a guitar and never shy away from some guitar wankery, and neither does the fella in the T-Bolts.
So if you like your punk rock with added howling guitar solos then this band is for you.
The last song they play is called “John McClane” and sums the band up with it's genius Yippee Ki Aye refrain. Everything bounces along like a Russ Meyer cast jogging in halter tops. Hugely entertaining and as they finish they tell us all that they have an ep for sale at the bargain price of £4, but will settle for £2.51 with a bit of haggling.
The night just gets better and better.

The Hyperjax is the band that the majority are here to see though and they don't hang about. I think Eddy and the T-Bolts were still packing some of their stuff away as Sam. Liam and Neil kicked off.
I don't know what was in the coffee that Sam was drinking earlier on, but it banished his hangover blues and seemed to give him a new lease of life.
Everything was played harder and faster than I've heard before and although I've never felt that any of the music needed toughened up it does work better when it's pushed hard like this.
Neil is a thrashing blur in the background while Liam seemed to think that he was still slapping for The Termites. It wasn't as if Sam was being dragged along by his rhythm section though. He had it all in hand and was leading from the front.
I've never seen the band play a less than sterling gig, but this was the best so far.
The Wildest Card sounded like a rock and roll behemoth. Fuckin awesome.
There wasn't one single solitary moment when the gig dipped below the very high benchmark that they set themselves.
This is how every single band should approach their gigs. No prisoners should be taken and no quarter given.
Talkin' New York City sounded as fresh as it did the first time I heard it, as did everything else.
I could literally just keep going on and on punting forward increasingly more ridiculous superlatives about how good these guys were, but I guess you just had to be there.
There's even a new single coming out and to my buzzing ears it sounded pretty damn good so keep an eye out for it and if you haven't seen the Hyperjax before then you really have to ask yourself why the fuck not?
It's not as if they only do the occasional gig in far flung places. These guys are road dogs and have been pretty consistent in playing up and down the country over the last few years.
So my advice would be to get your finger out and make sure you do before the year is out.
A few months ago a mate in the US mentioned to me that he thought that the Hyperjax were a bit lightweight and I set him straight, but if he had seen this performance he would have been issuing a grovelling apology.
A top show that the band should be proud of.

Free downloads of Roscoe Vacant available from the man himself at

Friday 18 June 2010

Osaka Calling

Thursday 17 June 2010

Back to basics

Okay folks. With the last couple of posts I wandered away from the raw, but still glittery rock'n'punk that I love. So to get back on track here's something that everyone should have.
Although unfortunately for you I'm going to waffle on a bit first. If you can't be arsed with that though just look at the big picture and jump to the comments for a nice little link.

The honour of being lauded as legendary appears to have been devalued over the last couple of decades.
It's a term that seems to be bestowed left, right and centre on any band who has sold a couple of million records regardless of whether they can actually keep a beat, or carry a tune.
At one time it had to be justified beyond a doubt before it would be uttered.
Take James Brown. he played legendary live shows, No argument about that at all. Frank Sinatra was a larger than life legend. Once again who could disagree? Elvis Presley is the King of rock and roll. Now that's legendary.
Johnny Cash? Cut him in half and it says legend through him like a stick of Blackpool rock. MC5, The Stooges, NY Dolls, Ramones, Pistols and Clash are all legends as they served as catalysts and lit a rocking flame in the hearts of the dispossessed wherever they played.
Now everyone from the Pussycat Dolls to the latest Disney corp wet dream inducing teens are classed as legends.
It's bollocks isn't it?
However Hanoi Rocks who barely got a mention in the mainstream press, and who you rarely seen on the television were without a shadow of a doubt legendary in every aspect of their existence.
From the moment they got together in 1979 they had the attitude in place and then throughout their career walked the walk and talked the talk of debauched rock and roll destruction.
Their steadfast refusal to be forced into a firm pigeon-hole and be categorized probably didn't do them any favours, but it adds to their bitter-sweet legendary tale.
Too rock and roll for the punks, too punk rock for the hair metal crews, just too much junkie business for the world to handle if truth be told, they managed to forge ahead doing just what they fuck they wanted.
To this day they are mentioned as being iconic trailblazers who influenced just about any rocker who is worth commenting on, and to me this is why they are deserving of the legendary tag.
I could have put up something from Hanoi Rocks Mark 1, but instead I thought that it would probably be a bit different to highlight the band that bowed out under the name.
Hope you enjoy.

Tuesday 15 June 2010

Carrying the torch

I'm one of the people who while I had never met Joe Strummer felt his death as a hammer blow to my psyche. I've written about this before and self analysed why his passing left me feeling gutted, and the conclusion that I came to is that it wasn't actually about Joe Strummer dying. It was really that I was mourning the closing of one chapter of my life.
This was a man who had created much of the soundtrack of my youth, and continued to do so long after the Clash had folded, but when his heart quietly stopped beating it served as a watershed moment for me. One where I reflected on the young man I was and would never be again.
This was what I had lost. I hadn't lost Joe as I didn't know him. His passing was just a wake up call that reminded me that time marches on regardless.
As the plaudits for Joe's work flowed in from every corner of the globe certain people moved forward and eloquently put into words how many of us felt.
One of them was Billy Bragg, who more so than anyone had carried the torch of punk protest that Joe had run with. He had never slavishly ripped Joe off and I would even say that he had a more sussed and less naïve political world view than Joe ever did, but The Clash are without a doubt the springboard that Billy sprung from.
So it is no surprise that there are occasions when Billy pays tribute to the Clash live on stage and this is one of those times.
Bit rough and ready, but still worth a listen

Monday 14 June 2010

Bring on the revolution

While doing the rounds of my regular haunts in the blogging world I chanced upon some Billy Bragg Peel sessions on the rather wonderful "Music Ruined My Life" blog and I found myself nodding my head in a sagely manner at the comments about the links between folk music and punk rock. Especially the Woody Guthrie comments.
You needn't even look too far for a link between the voice of the protest movement to punk as let's not forget that Strummer himself was a fan and was calling himself Woody pre Clash days.
So while it's not a universal truth that all punk music is rooted in the protest scene there is enough of it that stems from the dust bowl to the anti Vietnam movement of the sixties that it would be foolish to discount it.
It's the biblical kicking against the pricks given voice in the modern world
This then brings us back to Billy Bragg who it could be argued is the man who crystallised the folkpunk sound. One man, one guitar and the ability to evoke strong feelings through his social commentary.
I'm not an uber-fan by any stretch of the imagination and if I'm going to be completely honest I will admit that I have been less than impressed with anything he has put out in the last decade, but at one time (first three albums) I thought he could do no wrong. After that it was more sporadic, but he had an excellent run at it early doors didn't he?
This doesn't mean that I've written him off though. Strangely enough as I've become less impressed with his musical output I have increasingly become enamoured with the strength of his political convictions.
You just have to look him up on youtube to find him passionately opposing a BNP candidate in his local elections. He's toe to toe with the right wing twat giving him it with both barrels, and I really have to give him credit for still speaking his mind and even giving voice to much that others think, but are too fearful to say.
So anyway. I've not got a tonne of Bragg rarities or boots to delve into, but I do have a couple of odds and sods kicking about that I could post.
I've got him doing some Clash stuff somewhere and if anyone is interested I'll dig it out, but in the meantime I thought that the one I'm posting here would serve as a good example of who Billy Bragg is and what he stands for.
Take it away comrade.

Fire in the hole

Betty Blowtorch quite literally crashed and burned when they lost key member Bianca in a car crash, and in the vacuum she left it's easy to say that they could have been the next big all girl rock band.
The truth is that we will never know though.
Did they have the attitude, songs and ability to carry it off? The answer is hell yeah, but unfortunately success isn't rooted in any of these things.
As most people who have ever had a stab at being famous can attest to it has more to do with luck than anything else.
Being in the right place at the right time seems to be more important than having the talent and ability to write and play good music. It's always been this way.
So the reality is that we will never know if Betty Blowtorch would have stepped up to bigger stages and all we can do is look back and play should-a, would-a, could-a if things had been different.
Maybe someone reading this will have seen them play and can attest to whether they were really as good live as their legend claims.
I'm hoping that this is the case as I've got a soft spot for them.
Like the Ramones they had a cartoonish aspect to their take on rock and roll. They embraced the inner spinal tap that's in all rockers, turned up the amps to 11 and kicked out the jams with their tongues firmly in their cheeks.
I mean you gotta love that sort of attitude. The 24 hour party people who aint going to stop until they're puking blood sort of thing.
Quite simply put Betty Blowtorch are a prime example of undiluted cool as fuck rock and roll.

Sunday 13 June 2010

Wheatus/MC Frontalot – ABC2 (Glasgow) 12/6/10

It's a Saturday night and I'm weighing up my options.
I could watch England play the USA in the world cup or kill some brain cells by soaking up the latest instalment of Big Brother.
Is this really what life has come to?
Then again, instead of sitting about cultivating a repetitive strain injury with the televisions remote control I could have a look about and see what entertainment Glasgow can throw up instead.
There's plenty on, but nothing much catches my attention until I see that Wheatus are doing a tenth anniversary show in the ABC2.
I've never seen them before so I'm not really sure what to expect.
When they were riding the crest of the MTV wave with Teenage Dirtbag I was suitably impressed with their début, even though I was a tad confused as to why they were being lumped in with pop punk bands like Blink 182's and their ilk.
To my ears they sounded nothing like them.
Personally I would have put them somewhere between the eccentric sound of PUSA and the summery power pop of Fountains of Wayne.
Intelligent pop music with a hard edge and a sense of humour.
So anyway here we are ten years later and I'm find myself about to break my Wheatus cherry.
I know nothing of Suck Fony or the recent Too Soon Monsoon, but I'm willing to take a chance and see if they can live up to their reputation as being a great live band.

It's a bit strange in the ABC tonight though. It seems like they are determined to wrong foot me at every turn.
I've never paid a booking fee for any of the gigs they have had on, but tonight it's an extra two quid over the ticket price because I'm paying on the door.
Then there was the hanging about. I've always made the effort to turn up for the doors opening as the support bands are normally punted on very early.
If you are at the back of the line outside it's actually possible to miss half of the first bands set.
Not tonight though.
From the doors opening to MC Frontalot coming on it's an arse numbing hour and a half.
This only served to suck the enthusiasm out of the venue.
Well it did for me.
It was about the third song into his set before I could relax and get into his nerdcore hip hop.
No I didn't make that up. That's his thing.
He has a studious nerd/geek look going on and his raps are humorous digs at everything from strangely enough Margaret Thatcher to internet porn.
Although it's all very clever it's not really my thing, but I can see the appeal and appreciate what he is doing.
It's to his credit that he has some very vocal fans who have turned up to lend their support.
He works damn hard for it.
For me it was only when Wheatus joined him on stage that his set picked up and I got something out of it. The jump from using a backing track to having a live band made a world of a difference, and if the set had started this way I'm sure I would have been more impressed.
Wheatus themselves are an exceptionally good backing band though and use playing with MC Frontalot to effortlessly ease into their own set.
It's a nice touch. There are absolutely no signs of any prima donna antics with the band lording it over the support.
In fact there's a strong communal feeling from everyone on stage that spreads from the band through the crowd. There's no set list and they are happy to take requests and just let the gig flow.
I'm most definitely in the minority when it comes to the material.
Anything that isn't from the début is completely new to me, but it's all of a very high standard.
The gig doesn't ebb and flow, but remains at a constant high throughout.
Each member of the band is an outrageously talented musician and they all shine in their own way.
Sometime I feel that those who are supremely talented on an instrument want you to know it and can fall into the trap of taking themselves too seriously, but none of that attitude is on show from Wheatus who are happy to entertain the crowd and feed off their enthusiasm.
Midway through their set I was thinking that they are deserving of playing to a much larger audience, but the material and the camaraderie between band and audience could be lost if they were to jump up to bigger venues.
A club sized venue is probably the place where they really excel.
The penultimate song was the bands big hit Teenage Dirtbag and like any band who have to drag a singular hit about with them they must be bored with it.
So instead of a straight take we got MC Frontalot joining the band and adding a rap bridge. It worked really well and I doubt anyone was disappointed that they didn't the note by note original.
From the start of their set to the end it was all hugely entertaining and I suppose the best thing you can say about a band is that you wouldn't miss them if they returned to a venue near you and that's how I'm going to end this.
I hope it's not too long till they return as they have a spiritual home in Glasgow that will always welcome them with open arms.

Free ep available at

Saturday 12 June 2010

Fill yer boots and show some appreciation

It's with a heavy heart that I bring you this news.
The mighty King Rocker Rocks On Blog is turning off the lights, closing it's doors and shutting up shop.
This blog is pretty much peerless if you are an old punk. The best of the best. The blog all other blogs aspire to.
It's shelves were stocked full of hard to find demos and rarities that were lovingly polished up from old tapes and vinyl and given a brand new lease of life.
It literally was the one stop shop for all your punky needs.
So before it does finally vanish get over there and grab what you need and show your appreciation for a job well done.

Friday 11 June 2010

Rockin' rebels

It's funny how certain memories never fade
I can clearly remember from 28 years ago walking into a small local record store to browse through the racks and the guy behind the counter asking me why I was wearing a Sun records t-shirt.
I had hair down to my arse at the time, a leather motorcycle jacket on and red baseball boots.
To him I must have looked like one of the run of the mill heavy metal kids that would hang about, but the Sun t-shirt would have been at odds with everything else.
I mean this was 1982.
These classic Sun logo t-shirts are everywhere now, but back then they were far from common.
Anyway, we got to talking and he was sort of surprised that I was into a fair bit of rockabilly as well as rock bands, punk bands, blues, country and some jazz.
So after shooting the breeze for a few hours and setting the world to rights he mentioned that a new Johnny Cash album had came in the day before.
I told him that I was really only into his earlier material as I thought that over the last decade he wasn't really putting the effort in and was a shadow of his former self.
He just laughed. Said he didn't disagree, but this was something a bit different and he went and got me a copy of “The Survivors”.
It turned out that the previous year Johnny had been touring Germany, and at the same time Jerry Lee Lewis and Carl Perkins were also doing their own thing nearby and on a night when Jerry and Carl weren't doing much they turned up and joined Johnny for an impromptu gig.
It was one of those “you had to be there” moment. Not a tour or anything arranged by labels, just three old friends getting together and enjoying themselves on stage.
Best of all is that it wasn't lost, but instead was recorded and was now in my grubby little hands.
There was only one problem.
I didn't have any money and it was his only copy.
So the low came crashing in immediately after the high. What the hell was I to do?
I needn't have worried though as the guy in the store told me just to keep it.
He said that if I took it he knew it would get played and wouldn't be left to gather dust by someone who didn't really give a fuck.
He was right.
It did get played and played and played.
I've never seen it reissued, although that doesn't mean it hasn't been, but if it's not then it should be. It's too good to be lost in the mists of time.
Thankfully this is the era that allows us to plunder at the click of a button and it's rare not to find what you want somewhere. So check the comments my good friends and enjoy.

Thursday 10 June 2010

Back in the saddle with The Runaways

Yep. I'm back. The laptop is gone and "ol' trusty" my pc is back in my control. That means that I'll be writing more, posting more and uploading more.
So what better way to dip my toe back in than reviewing the Runaways movie that I watched this morning and give you all a small surprise in the comments.

Silly me.
I was expecting a film about the Runaways to be about........well the Runaways.
Instead the current biopic should be named the Cherie and Joan show because Sandy, Lita and Jackie barely get a look in.
Their roles as members of one of the best all girl rock bands ever are shockingly over-looked in preference to keeping the spotlight on the bands two leading ladies.
By the closing credits I was wondering how many old wounds this would open as it's a well recorded fact that the band started to disintegrate when the attention started to focus on Cherie rather than the band as a whole.
Now it's as if history is repeating itself, only this time Joan is along for the ride and the remaining living members are left to pick up the pieces as bit players.
This however is my only real criticism of the movie, because the plus points actually far outweigh any of the negative ones and that's saying something for the genre of the rock and roll biopic. A scene that has done little to engender any real favour over the years.
Of course I'm sure that the hardcore fans will pick over the factually incorrect points relentlessly until they have persuaded themselves that the film is a worthless piece of trash. A bit like picking at a scab, but it's far from the atrocity exhibition that some will no doubt claim.
If you keep in mind that this is a fictional account of a factual period in time and don't sweat the very few inaccuracies then you will enjoy it just fine.
The two lead roles played by Dakota Fanning (Cherie) and Kristen Stewart (Joan) are superbly re-enacted. Both have taken their jobs very seriously indeed and this is without a doubt Fanning's coming of age movie, and the one that could help ease Stewart out from under the Twilight franchise.
Their portrayals are virtually beyond criticism. Both are immersed in their characters and on screen have expertly taken on Cherie and Joan's persona's perfectly. They are living and breathing Runaways for the duration of the film.
The film itself actually looks amazing and huge kudos have to go to the wardrobe department and the hairstylist as they, above anyone else, have managed to do a tremendous job in revisiting the seventies. Everything looks perfect. Line up pictures of the real Runaways next to their screen doppelgänger and you can barely see the join.
If you wanted any more accuracy in portraying the times then you would need a DeLoreon with a flux capacitor fitted to it.
.. and finally the soundtrack. It's all killer and no filler. Obviously you have The Runaway hits, but there's also some Stooges, Sex Pistols and more to wrap your ears around.
It's as if they had a trawl through my record collection so I'm not complaining. It saved me the hassle.
Everything considered I'm honestly very impressed with it. I had my reservations, like most fans, but they've all been blown away.
So get down to your multiplex to check this one out. I'd bet that for people of our age, and younger, it will be a far more entertaining night out at the cinema in comparison to going to see the so called summer blockbusters that will be coming our way.
More Runaways in the comments, and check out the Death Party blog for tonnes more Runaways and Joan Jett rarities.

Some links

Sunday 6 June 2010

Tragic City Thieves/Filthy Little Secret – Pivo Pivo (5/6/10)

Bon Scott famously sang that it's a long way to the top if you want to rock and roll, and he was damn right.
If you have your eye on the prize then you have to pursue it with single minded determination and accept that it's going to be a long hard slog of playing for nothing while placing down payments on the dues you have to earn.
It's months, if not years, of playing support slots in front of audiences that don't really give a fuck, and travelling here, there, and everywhere to pimp yourself in the hope that you can pick up a singular fan in every shithole that you get the opportunity to do your thing in.
It aint easy, that's for sure.
Yet every once in a while I'm privileged to see a band that 'gets it'. A band that live and breathe what they are doing.
Last night it was the turn of Filthy Little Secret to impress and they certainly did with their personal take on what sleazy guttural garage punk should sound like.
From the first chord being struck it's a roller-coaster ride of blues injected in your face rock. The sort of thing that the Supersuckers do so well, except in this case they give the cowpunk sound a bodyswerve and instead throw in a healthy chunk of New York Bowery inspired sleaze that really gets the blood pumping.
It's a heady mix that has a huge crossover potential. Everyone from the hardened punk rocker to the preening glam vixen is going to be able sup from the devils cup that Filthy Little Secret are offering.
It's about time that some bands stepped forward and tried to break the stranglehold that the stereotypical throwbacks of the local punk scene have on the west coast circuit.
I was mistakenly under he impression that it was only Tragic City Thieves that were up for the fight, but now we have the start of something a little bit different and it's about bloody time.
...and speaking of Tragic City Thieves they were the next band up and although this is the seventh time that I've seen them in six months the rush is still there.
With most bands the allure diminishes as you become more exposed to them, but for some reason that I can't put my finger on this isn't the case with them.
Maybe it's because you never really know what you are going to get. Even with a similar set list no two gigs are ever the same.
They dance on the edge of anarchy, well the illusion of anarchy I suppose. While everything is as musically tight as you would expect from a road tested band there is still that feeling that it could all quite easily fall to pieces at any second. There's a rawness at play that hints at them being unaware themselves of what is coming next.
When I was watching them the main thing that kept pushing into my thoughts was that this must be what it was like to have seen the legendary New York Dolls when they were in their infancy.
I took a photograph of the band when they were sitting waiting to take to the stage and if I printed it off in monochrome then you could easily pass it off as it being taken in Max's in '75. It's not just the look, it's the attitude, The disregard for convention, fashion genres or being labeled as this or that.
Tragic City Thieves don't fit in. They don't want to. They want it all on their own terms and are pushing hard to get it.
Once I can get some cash sorted out I'm going to put my money where my mouth is and get these two bands to play in my home town.
I swore that I wasn't going to ever promote anything ever again, but after this show I've decided that I should come out of retirement for one last job and join them in kicking down a door or two.
There was another band on after both Filthy Little Secret and Tragic City Thieves, but it's safe to say that they didn't come close to matching them. In hindsight I'm not sure how many bands actually could have. These guys will give any band a run for their money. Headliners beware.

Once again I'm still waiting to et my computer back and once I get off the laptop I should be able to punt some pictures up.