Otley, centre of the known universe, is on the case yet again. With a Royal Park Cellars triumph behind them on Wednesday, Miss Black America are all over the NME on Thursday. And who has them on Friday? Of course. Malcolm and Simon, we salute you.
Kenosha psyche themselves up to get the show started. Malcolm has craftily set them up with two Orka tracks through the PA, followed by Patti Smith's great version of "So You Wanna Be a Rock n Roll Star". Three piece Kenosha have the girl contingent in the crowd, but they're looking a bit overawed. They have seven or eight great two to three minute pop songlets but their school-concert-shuffling sort of presentation undermines the effect. Nerves maybe. The singing and the guitar is a bit out of tune and the drumming is, well, basic. Someone shouts "Get the local band on!", and the sarcasm cuts a bit. Give 'em their due, though. Kenosha stick at it and keep their heads up, staying confident enough to wander back stage to wrestle with a harmonica holder. They have some good material and some clever ideas. They play off to a very warm reception from the crowd and from the other bands. With entry level musicianship, though, the three piece format can be cruel. Tonight will turn out to have been a night of art and craft. Kenosha have the art, but might still be a few bob short on the craft.
Antihero, label mates with Miss Black America on Integrity, have worked much harder on the craft. They can kick it. They are all square chinned handsome and well dressed, which must help somehow. They also thrash that skate rock thing with a drilling vengeance. There's no attempt here to steal the headline's thunder they're not going to convert the strangers in the camp. But they're worth every penny of the money. Having seen Sparta recently I can hear similar source material at work. They chop away at the guitars, eight and sixteen to the bar, and there's even a hint of System of
a Down. They are good, and they're going to be even better. The double vocal assault works very well, with a clarity and sharpness that grabs attention. I vaguely try to imagine them pinching Kenosha's songs and the result is very good indeed. More art needed in the craft maybe? Spooky coincidence of the night is that front man Pete Hurley lives in the same Warwickshire village where I first heard big sister's new release copy of "Heartbreak Hotel". This gig is cooking up very nicely.
Miss Black America certainly don't look like they're surfing in on the crest of a media tidal wave. More like back of a van, hand painted backdrop on a white sheet, no idea where we're sleeping tonight air about them. The stage lights are pointing all the wrong ways and the mike stands are still eight feet in the air from Antihero's giant vocalists. Equipment that isn't already in trouble gets the gremlins as soon as Seymour Glass looks at it. Two songs in and he's lost a guitar strap and broken the mike.
But hang on a minute. This is High Art and Great Craft. These guys show what post-apocalypse rock is all about. No more mass media, no more Colonel Tom Parker, no more AOL Time Warner Sony, no more IPC Media Inc. If you
want to get involved in this stuff you pretty well have to join in the funfight at the end, and dive onto the massive pile-on that Otley hasn't enjoyed since it was at All Saints Primary.
Your reviewer, music snob that he is, sits well away from the chaos and notices the lovingly constructed guitar parts. Gish does a fantastic job of making one guitar sound like two. He can really play and he looks like he loves it. The moshy part of the crowd don't particulary care. But without it, the cumulative effect of the music wouldn't be so exciting. Micky D and Neil (bass and drums) are inventively spot on, proving yet again that without a faultless engine room there is neither rock nor roll.
Even so, these guys are happy and willing sidemen to the self propelled one man riot that is Seymour Glass. He talks, sings, thinks, acts, all at different speeds and with varying degrees of accuracy so everything becomes a blur. He hypnotises the crowd into thinking he's out under special licence and needs protecting for his own good. He tells us all about the songs and his mission in life. First words? "We've come to make you miserable!" And on through a rambling stream of consciousness ."This one's for Aryton Senna", "I'll skip the next one, it requires me to play guitar even better" (no guitar strap by this time, remember) "The next one's called 'talking hard'. It's about talking really hard". "Smile, you're on fire: don't be bitter about it" ... "This one's for the Queen, It's called 'Miss Black America'". And on and on. Here we have art and craft, and more. We have someone to connect with and someone to love. The band rock dementedly and they know how to play. They keep going and Seymour goes apeshit. And I don't think he's pretending. Catch him before he burns himself out.
To top it all they have NO merchandise. I can't even buy the new single off them. They had a box, but lost it. They do give me their only copy of a compilation on R*E*P*E*A*T that features "Miss Black America" as the blistering opener. It's terrific.
Gig Date: Friday, 7th June 2002 | 415 page views.
