The Scaramanga Six @ The Vine
By Dave Procter
Harsh reviewers could accuse Yellow Stripe Nine on past form of being little more than Franz Ferdinand copyists. Current form would suggest otherwise. Their set tonight is based around factual(?) or fictional(?) Club Decandance, that the band runs somewhere "over the other side of town". The dress is sartorial, the songs tonsilly tuneful. There's a well constructed New Romantic edge at times, with more than a hint of Brian Ferry and Georg Kajanus in the vox - Roxy Music and Sailor, if you don't know. Google will tell more. Summing up, it's camper than a row of tents at Butlin's in Skegness, but crucially, acer than Ace Acely and The Acelettes and a top start to proceedings.
Off on another tangent are Hull's Fonda 500. For me this is the sound of a sarcastic Stereolab clashing with Grandaddy and Little Japanese Toy's driven indie pop, all fronted by a bloke who plays keyboards, while sat on the floor, with a too-big-for-head woolly hat with monster ears. Proper human beatbox action helps. Yes.
Thomas Truax is not really a neighbour as such, other than being on the same planet. Or so you'd think. The instruments he plays are definitely not of earthling derivation. The Hornicator is an old gramophone horn, with extra strings somehow attached, with mic, all fed through an effects' rack. Basic backing patterns are built up, and then his little stories of mad people in his mad (imaginary?) hometown are added. We chuckle. Sister Spinster, the rickety spokes, spoons, forks, knives and fuck knows what else "drummer" is also present, as is new item - The Back Beater, which seems to be a rotating mic/propeller wacking device. To catch us out, he disappears backstage, re-appears by the bar, ends up upstairs, punters following him around like the messiah. We are bemused, your Thomouseness.
Steve Scara admits this will be hard to follow, but suggests that "volume be the way forward, ooh aarr". The opening quartet of "Baggage", "Sunken Eyes", "Pincers" and "Poison Pen" is unrelenting and brutal, but the crowd thins, what is up with people? By the time the closing couplet of "Elemental" and "Towering Inferno" run over time, the crowd seems to have re-appeared. Suffice it to say, it's a travesty that all of these acts aren't hassling music programs everywhere, but a testament to Sandman's endearing knack to put together a varied and off-kilter line up that might bear fruit in the future. Ta.
