In The City Day One

So here we are again. In
The City, or the

UK’s
answer to SXSW so we’re told. Which basically means 3 days of running from one
venue to the next, barging through the AnR scrums, ignoring our throbbing feet
and indulging in a pretty extensive liquid diet with whatever booze is on offer
all in the name of the next big thing. It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do
it so we thought it only right we give you esteemed readers a bit of an insight
into what’s going on bout the fair city of Mancunia over the next couple of
days…

So Day 1, (or rather, day 2
having been an over keen little Fly and starting a day earlier). After
indulging in £2 Berry Mojitos and dancing the night away to

Manchester beau’s The Lead Balloons and Little
Engine at a typically messy Friends
of Mine at The Attic a night previously, we’re off to a late start. There’s
no time for recovery though thanks to nearly dad-rockers Sons of The Stage and their ‘listen up music industry’ guerrilla
gig in a white van, outside industry base The Midland Hotel. Yes, very
proactive boys, but totally original it aint. Still, hats off to the lads for
trying and waking us up for the daytime fringe events.

4PM and we head to the
Northern Quarter to be greeted weirdly, by lots of bands playing to empty
rooms. After finding ourselves one-on-one with what can only be described a Sex
Pistols tribute at Moho Live, quickly leg it to Princess Street to check out an
‘ITC Special’ courtesy of the City’s finest regular open mic night Busk. We’re instantly greeted by some excellent
sounds as two guys kick things off with a bit of freestyle hip-hop and beat boxing. We’ve actually caught them a
million times before as regulars on the open mic scene, but they never fail to
impress, no matter how tight the crowd’s trousers might be. Just like magicians
they keep the secret of their trade close to their hearts and rightly warm the
crowd up for a long night ahead. Next up three-piece Optional Wallace, winners in the crap band name stakes but equally
good for blasting us away with their retro 90s Mansun/Placebo onslaught of dark
noise. “I’m so fucking hung over” the singer tells us, we agree. George Burowski follows – a bit of an
overlooked ledge round these parts with truly mature rock n roll songwriting to
match his grey mane, an infectious wail and more amazingly, an ability to get a
crowd of industry punters to forget who they are for a few minutes and chant
Our House’ at the top of their voices.

By now a decent crowd has
gathered and The Witches, spreading
themselves around the L-shaped stage open their guttural fuzz and menacing rock
with an impressive instrumental. A couple of technical hitches aside they’re
the band shaping up one of the acts to seriously keep a future ear out for over
the coming months. By now we’ve worked up an appetite so a quick stop at a very
questionable £6.50 all you can eat Chinese buffet to re-fuel ourselves with
gigging energy before heading to catch 6-piece Detroit Social Club at The Mint Lounge. We’re pretty impressed with
the lead singer, who’s sporting the loveliest turquoise jumper and fronting a
band that nails the whole ‘if Gomez did rock’ thing with some killer gruff
vocals and a huge finale in deafening guitar noise.

From decent to even better
next as we head to pseudo-swank Bar 38 hosting the superb Baddies. Sporting a very dapper top buttoned-up shirt and slacks
Devo look combo they hurtle through a 90-mph set of Futureheads meets
Klaxons-if-they-replaced-the-electronics-with-more guitars taught angular
tunes. They’re the best band of the night by far and we won’t be surprised if
they end up gracing our Ones to Watch pages some time soon. To well-and-truly
knacker our eardrums, To The Bones
do a damn fine job at shattering each ear canal faster than an opera singer at
an ice-sculptor convention so we venture to something a little quieter and
kinder on our lobes.

At Bedlam, Charlene Soraia gently serenades us and
warms the belly (much needed after the Chinese food). Think Adele playing the
leccy guitar with Beth Orton vocals and a vaguely girly streak, plus the
occasional blue song. No, not the band, but we’re talking filth. Really! We
wouldn’t expect such a think from a young lady but Adele she isn’t. Can you
imagine a Top 10 pop hit called “Does She Fake Her Cum Face”? Well, yeah
probably, but we can’t see mum n dad buying into something like this which is
what makes our Charlene so much the better. After catching a bunch of acts
we’ve not seen before, we decide to reward ourselves and finish the night with
what we know from a little performance by the charming Eugene McGuinness at South. Tonight he’s a bit like a rabbit caught
in the headlights under the glare of the club’s spotlight but as always warms
our cockles with his delicate minstrel musings and nasal balladry. Sunday a day
of rest? Ha bloody ha.

Lisa Durrant