Cheesecake
Flat 0/1, Glasgow
22/06/2011

First things first – the venue. Tonight’s gig is taking place in Aunt Betty’s dodgy wallpapered flat, slap bang from the 1980s, with a furry bed in the corner and cheapo chandeliers hanging from the roof. Well, it’s not quite Betty’s humble abode, but it is pretty close – swap it with a trendy, flat-themed city centre drinking establishment, and you’re there.

Tonight’s undercard is the John Knox Sex Club, who perform with such intensity that every strung-out guitar note is one step closer to hair-raising implosion. Their bombastic yet poetic set ends with pure explosion, however, as Rory Anderson crowdsurfs whilst pummelling his guitar into apocalyptic oblivion. Glasses are smashed to smithereens, dismembered lemons weep on the floor and mouths are cavernous.

Unlucky then for tonight’s headliners, electronic three-piece Cheesecake. Whilst their namesake is made out of biscuit, cream and sugar, this tantalisingly elusive band is comprised of members of Frightened Rabbit, Union of Knives and Glasgow post-rockers Galchen. It’s an intriguing ingredients list, but they have remained largely off the radar for some time. Their engaging mix of plunging electronic bursts and pummelling drums, however, makes for a convincing education into the sound of Cheesecake, even if a mischievous bass drum pedal halts their instrumental juggernaut for a few minutes.

Cheesecake’s decision to shy away whilst their day-job cronies steal the attention is a curious one, and whilst tonight’s crowd flop their bodies like slippery fish to the pulsing beat, there is little more to grab onto – hips are snaking and shaking, but hearts and minds are left a little nonplussed. Cheesecake often tastes better with a fruity little number on top, and if this Scottish trio had taken inspiration from one of the lemon slices on the floor, doused in rock and roll aplomb (and probably a few lashings of vodka) after John Knox Sex Club’s cantankerous finale, then things might have been a little bit sweeter.

Chris Cope