Monday, 30 March 2009

Ruislip Manor 1 Biggleswade Town 2

Spartan South Midlands League Premier Division
Grosvenor Vale, Ruislip
att. 53

Hobo in my pocket #25

Since this game, Wealdstone have taken over Grosvenor Vale and Ruislip have moved to Tokyngton. The Manor part of their name went with them, but not the Ruislip and, consequently, none of the fans, with Tokyngton declaring attendances of 4, 3, 2 and a possibly dog accompanied 1 so far this season.

Previously, on dubSteps
17mar08: Ruislip Manor 1 Biggleswade Town 2

from the Vanity Project archive (#21, March 2007)

Miss Odd Kid, Big Joan, Shuffle, Cruiser Chimps.
Hoxton Macbeth. 24feb07.

Ow-wow! AH! AH! Ooh-ooh (like owl). Whhhoooooooop! Agggggggghhhhhhhh! Cruiser Chimps then, an offshoot from two of Bearsuit so as to explore their more post-Melt Banana psychotic predilections. Which is kind of like ordering someone to complete the last ten hours of their community service order for arson by helping out an elderly and partially blind tobacconist with his annual stock-check. Feel their ramshackle, caustic burn. At one point they laugh amongst themselves to suggest one of them has made a glaring error. Not that you’d notice the difference. Cruiser Chimps prove to be an excellent palate-clearer for a distinctly eclectic club-night. Four acts with hardly a single thing in common. We like that.

Shuffle are fronted by two quite distinct vocalists. An under-used oriental lady and the main guy who appears to be going for that Mediterranean spiv look, his croon just the trick . Around them, the band are all dapper, halfway out of their suiting and booting, like a dinner-jazz band throwing off their stiff exoskeleton and giving themselves over to Pizzicato-funk. While the band sway, over to stage left, two guys stand, manipulating their samplers, and facing directly at the side wall, as though joined at the waist like table footballers, and jigging as though simultaneously and repeatedly poked on the join between arse and leg with the thin end of a broom. Amongst their crunch, their swing and their raised-eyebrow electronic cool, they perform a post-Deelite bohemian soul and, at their best, are utterly captivating.

Next up is the violent avant-hardcore of Big Joan. Their name gives a clue, nodding to ‘Trout Mask Replica’ levels of defiant experimentation. However this isn’t psychedelic desert free-jazz, instead it is a scientific, almost industrial kick to the chops. At their vocal helm is diminutive German Annette, lost beneath a large, high-ranking military cap, who does PJ Harvey deadpan/sultry, a Siouxsie warble distorted in one tune through a phone-line, and an occasional climb of the scale towards the operatic. Behind, the guitars and bass combine a jangle with a roar, the bass asking hard questions that the six-strings respond to with a push to the chest. They crash/shuttle/break/blast and finish with a piece that sees the bass pressed against speaker whilst the other three members crash at cymbals, the drum set and a tin bin sat at centre stage.

The night ends with a PA from Miss Odd Kid looking almost miniature, but far from overawed, alone on stage. Indeed, while her raps often veer towards the rhyming dictionary school of the uninspired (see the cumbersomely titled ‘Ooh Ahh I Lost My Bra, I Found Your Knickers In My Boyfriend’s Car’), the abrasive electro backing-tracks reveal an aggression, and a distinct lack of sugar coating. This council estate Kelis with the violent streak and the ‘I’ll pull you later’ t-shirt makes for a tough swallow, in both a positive and negative sense.

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