Half Man Half Biscuit, Not Half Bad!
01/03/07
I left home last Tuesday evening at 7.30 and after asking directions twice, checking two maps(one in a bus shelter, one outside some kind of tourist place), and going into Tesco Express to sneak a look at an A-Z map book I finally arrived at The Point to see Half Man Half Biscuit at 9.10. I knew I was at the right place because the band were already onstage and I was drawn to the venue by the chant, "You're going home in a Crispy Ambulance".
The venue was packed. Half Man Half Biscuit inspire a devoted following, albeit mostly early middle aged men. Every song title received a cheer of recognition. With their mixture of shonky indie rock with dour northern surrealism the band sound like The Fall would do if Marc E. Smith was an end-of-the-pier variety performer. They perform great versions of Joy Division Oven Gloves, Sealclubbing and more.
Still, for a novice like me the formula seems spread a little thin over an hour and a half. At their sharpest they sound like Stiff little Fingers but blunter tracks sound more like The Levellers on an off day. It's hard to feel any connection with the music when the lyrics are so solidly set to cynisism. Even the faithful rarely seem compelled to move by the music, preferring to stand stock still and stare at their heroes.
It's hard not to like any band that performs blistering renditions of the songs from kid's TV show Trumpton or gets a whole crowd chanting "Two scotch eggs and a jar of marmalade", but the gig didn't really catch fire until the encore with barnstorming versions of Help Me Rhonda and their own best song The Trumpton Riots.
I left home last Tuesday evening at 7.30 and after asking directions twice, checking two maps(one in a bus shelter, one outside some kind of tourist place), and going into Tesco Express to sneak a look at an A-Z map book I finally arrived at The Point to see Half Man Half Biscuit at 9.10. I knew I was at the right place because the band were already onstage and I was drawn to the venue by the chant, "You're going home in a Crispy Ambulance".
The venue was packed. Half Man Half Biscuit inspire a devoted following, albeit mostly early middle aged men. Every song title received a cheer of recognition. With their mixture of shonky indie rock with dour northern surrealism the band sound like The Fall would do if Marc E. Smith was an end-of-the-pier variety performer. They perform great versions of Joy Division Oven Gloves, Sealclubbing and more.
Still, for a novice like me the formula seems spread a little thin over an hour and a half. At their sharpest they sound like Stiff little Fingers but blunter tracks sound more like The Levellers on an off day. It's hard to feel any connection with the music when the lyrics are so solidly set to cynisism. Even the faithful rarely seem compelled to move by the music, preferring to stand stock still and stare at their heroes.
It's hard not to like any band that performs blistering renditions of the songs from kid's TV show Trumpton or gets a whole crowd chanting "Two scotch eggs and a jar of marmalade", but the gig didn't really catch fire until the encore with barnstorming versions of Help Me Rhonda and their own best song The Trumpton Riots.
posted by Chris Chopping @ 2:08 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home