Twelve Point Buck kick off tonight, and the hot & sweaty upstairs room at record-shop-bar-venue The Record Crate doesn’t get any cooler when they do. The great crashing waves of grungy sound, huge Pumpkins-y guitar squeals and some juddering rhythm all just add to the pressure cooker vibe, and to the night’s fun.
See a full photo set of Twelve Point Buck here
Since The Record Crate is a room and not a stage, Death Sleds are free to get out into the crowd, which is where their singer immediately heads, and then basically stays for most of the set. Rooms like these best suit bands like Death Sleds, whose tight and shuddering punk belongs out among the people, pointy elbows and clattering into one another. The set is fast and raw enough to leave blisters, sharp enough to cut glass, and as much boisterous fun as a riot in the monkey enclosure.
See a full photo set of Death Sleds here
Sloppy Kiss Soiree come off with equal parts ferocity and fun, big slabs of shouting and distortion, but delivered with a bit of a grin and a wink. It’s a lark to watch, with their bear-like bassist hurling himself around with gusto and the drummer’s raid on the dressing-up box providing visual and sonic backup to some zippy punk songs. It’s like a smiling mouth full of pointy teeth and well worth the modest cost of entry.
See a full photo set of Sloppy Kiss Soiree here
Coming completely new to Flight To Dubai is quite the introduction, not to mention a fair bit confusing. There’s the band, who look like a random and selection of completely different young men collected from somewhere near a beach; there’s the singer, whose jumping, gurning, moshing, screaming, crooning, preening and other assorted lunacy is impressively batshit; and there’s the music, which sounds like someone doused Royal Headache in funk and then mashed The National into their face.
It’s all very perplexing, not least the fact that it works like a bloody charm. The singer’s baritone is a doozy of a twist on the shout-first-find-the-tune-later approach of many garage bands, and the groove that occasionally bubbles its way out of the bass is – weirdly – rather fun, and not even slightly as nauseating as it sounds. It’s ballsy and bombastic and not a little bit bonkers, a fine way to end a night – surprised, confused, lightly bruised and grinning like an idiot.
See a full photo set of Flight To Dubai here