There were two support acts, the first an indie pop duo Summer Camp.  Debbie Harry-esque vocals from Elizabeth Sankey, beautifully filled the Academy, decorated by swells of synth piano and guitar effects by multi instrumentalist, Jeremy Warmsley. The second were California formed band Surfer Blood who’s laid back surf rock sounds were the perfect appetizer for the headline.

The Vaccines opened their set with full audacity, a glowing stage and Do You Remember Rock And Roll Radio? by the Ramones welcomed Justin Young and the rest of the band with punk rock flare. They opened with an anthemic Lack of Understanding, all songs followed suit with the crowd almost equalling the volume of Young’s vocals on every track of the album proving just how much the public have taken to them. Songs that were particularly climatic came in the form of Wetsuit, debut track If You Wanna and Nørgaad, all of which provide simplistic, driving guitar and drum rhythms which seems to be what people want and need right now, music to have a good time to.

This is what makes The Vaccines so great; there is no need for fancy synth looping or intricate, cryptic lyrics. Their matter of fact, quick fire rock and roll is something the public can relate to and something that needs to be brought back, true post-punk-revival spirit. So what DO I expect from the Vaccines? A bright future at least.

Watching a mariachi band isn’t something I’ve often done. Alright, before this I’d never seen a mariachi band. Where does one even go to watch a mariachi band? Manchester…apparently. Alright this wasn’t any old mariachi band, this was Mariachi El Bronx – side project of Los Angeles hardcore band The Bronx – and they were as off the wall and awesome as I expected.

There was a real vaudevillian atmosphere about the whole show. I don’t know what it was, but everything seemed so theatrical, something that’s probably down to all the ‘banter’ between songs. I like to see artists interacting with the crowd, but this was too much. Lead singer, Matt Caughthran stopped to explain each song and talk about how much he loved being in Manchester. That’s all well and good, but it broke up the flow of the show a bit too much, and I left feeling a lot of that time might have been best served playing more songs. Granted, a lot of this could be down to the complex nature of the band and them having to set up, but it just seemed a little too much.

Aside from this, the show was fantastic. The band kicked the night off perfectly with ’48 Roses’ and continued to impress with every song that followed. The setlist had everything an El Bronx fan could want, playing an abundance of songs from both records, recognizing the fact that they hadn’t really toured in this form before. By the end of the set, Matt has gotten the crowd into a frenzy and everyone was singing and dancing along.

The band left the stage and, surprisingly, didn’t return for an encore. It was unusual, but I left contented. I’d gotten exactly what I wanted out of an El Bronx show, and it seemed like everyone else had too. Matt could’ve definitely cut down on that banter though. We might have had a few more chances to sing and dance with one of the most interesting bands of the past few years.

What better way to celebrate 35 years of being one of the most influential punk bands ever than to go on a huge world tour (U.S, U.K and Australia) and playing the two, debatably, most iconic albums from your back catalogue? I suppose a big birthday cake filled with L.S.D and cocaine would be better but, given the current financial situation in the world, the white stuff has been hard to afford (I’m talking about flour, obviously). The Damned went with the former, and I was lucky enough to catch the horror-tinged punks at Manchester’s Academy 1.

It should have been a great night all around and it nearly was. The only downfall was, opening act, Viv Albertine. Once guitarist for, the now defunct, punk band The Slits, Viv broke the night in with a set of stripped down punk songs, so stripped down in fact that it was just her and an electric guitar which sounded like it was barely plugged in. A bad sounding guitar wasn’t the only downfall of the set. I imagine even with a full band setting they wouldn’t hold much water. Her vocals were completely off, and the lyrics were often reminiscent of a child who’s learnt a handful of, semi-crass, limericks. Her final song was definitely the best, ‘Confessions of a MILF’ did clarify one thing about Viv, she might be a little older now but she was still pretty easy on the eyes. Her short skirt gave a little reason to not head back to the bar. Nevertheless, nice pins weren’t enough to make up for what felt like a forced set of songs about a sexually liberated, self-confessed mother. Mid set a drunk guy turned to me and said, “it’s fucking punk rock, innit?” If so, maybe we should give up on the whole damn scene.

After nearly vomiting from the visual display that pre-empted their set, The Damned took to the stage. They tore into the entirety of, 1977 classic, Damned Damned Damned, playing everything aside from ‘Stab Your Back’. Why such a great song was missed from the set is insane, but this did little to diminish the intensity too much. The band played so tight it felt, at times, as if they were simply dancing to a copy of the album. Their energy levels don’t seem to have dropped one iota since the days of its release (fair enough I wasn’t alive, but that’s what YouTube is for, right?), and if anything the years of touring has made them a much stronger live band than ever before. Though I was curious as to why, keyboardist, Monty Oxy Moron was on stage during an album that features no keyboards. My heart goes out to Monty though, he jumped around like a maniac, playing no keyboard, offering the occasional backing vocal, and looking like he was as excited to be part of the show as the audience were to be watching it.

The band left for a brief intermission before returning for the second instalment. “Alright, it’s now 1980 and we’re in a studio in Wales” announced the Captain, changing from his Yeti-like garb to a much cooler looking Dennis the Menace styled ensemble. I hadn’t drank enough to believe him but I knew what was coming and the band blasted their way through the, more progressive, Black Album. Even though I can’t fault it, listening to this after something as intense as Damned Damned Damned felt like a bit of an anti-climax. Monty was finally given a real musical role and played fantastically. Singer Dave Vanian’s vocals began to give towards the end of the album but he pulled through, giving the haunting punk inspired melodies the mellifluous vocal talent that is missing from so many of the more vocally aggressive punk bands from the same era.

They returned for an encore of a few choice hits, ending with the greatly received, albeit cliché, ‘Smash It Up’, leaving the audience blown away and leaving me upset that the night was over. I’d had two of the greatest punk albums ever played before my eyes by one of the greatest punk bands ever, but it had left me salivating in hunger for more. Maybe next time they’ll play all their albums in one night?

Tom Gabel of Against Me! - © 2011 Emma Stone Photography

“In short, it was a punk rock show…”

It’s been a while since I’d been to The Cockpit for a gig. The last time was for The Lawrence Arms and the sound sucked. It probably didn’t help that the sound guy kept walking away from the desk, and that the desk itself rolled away every so often. Let’s just say I wasn’t hoping for the best gig-going experience I’d ever have, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad as to ruin seeing two of my favourite bands on one night.

After the disappointment of Against Me! pulling out of their 2010 UK tour, it was great to see that messieurs Gabel and co were down to make things up. Not only did they bring the Crazy Arm boys out on tour with them but, in a rare moment of on-stage banter, Tom Gabel took time out to apologise to fans who were excited to see them last year. They didn’t half make it up to us either but, before all of that, it was time for Crazy Arm to set the bar for Florida’s finest.

Following a great performance from Middle Finger Salute, Crazy Arm took to the stage with one intention; to tear the roof off The Cockpit. Opening up with ‘Blind Summit’, the band was met by a rapturous response from the crowd, something that continued throughout their short stint on stage. Setlist mainstays like ‘Still To Keep’ and ‘Broken By The Wheel’ were as well received as ever, an army of fans singing every word. Powerful political anthem, ‘Song Of Choice’ proved to be my highlight of the set, the unity displayed during ‘Tribes’ coming a close second. As the band closed out their set it became apparent that there was a bunch more Crazy Arm devotees in that crowd than before they started, and rightly so!

After a short break in proceedings, Against Me! took to the stage and were relentless from beginning to end. I’ve never seen a band play as hard as they did that night. Stopping once for the aforementioned apology, they remained tight up until the end. The crowd didn’t relent either. From the start of the first track, it was utter chaos. There were limbs flying everywhere, people crowd surfing (which didn’t seem to take with the ‘cool’ section of the crowd) and people jumping from the amps. In short, it was a punk rock show and anyone disputing the punk credentials of Against Me! needs their head testing. I screamed my way through ‘Walking Is Still Honest’, and was glad to hear a good amount of older material mixed in with newer tracks like ‘Russian Spies’ and ‘High Pressure Low’.

I walked away from this gig covered in sweat – both my own and that of other people – with bruises on my legs and back, cuts on my hands and a throat that felt like someone had taken a sander to it. It was just what I expected, and it was brilliant. I live for gigs like that, and it was one of the best I’ve seen all year. And you know what? The sound was fantastic!

Against Me! are now out on tour in support of Frank Turner. How’s he going to follow them? I have no idea.

After a 2 year leg with his band, The Rascals and on and off spouts of appertaining to the super duo Last Shadow Puppets alongside Arctic Monkey’s front man Alex Turner, 25 year old Miles Kane has recently had his well deserved, ‘big solo break through’ . His debut album Colour Of The Trap was released in May of this year featuring appearances from the likes of Noel Gallagher and French actress Clémence Poésy . This year he has confirmed a stadium tour alongside indie-rock legends Kasabian, supported Beady Eye and The Courteeners and is currently touring as headline artist with EMI signed band, Folks.

The night began with support act Folks. The Mod-rock band originating from Manchester played a roughly 50 minute long set, the lead singer Scott Anderson brandishing a tambourine throughout the act but only playing it on occasion. The six piece band went down well with their driving guitar music and Gallagher-esque vocals.

After a quick set change it was time for the arrival of Kane, who swaggered on stage, fists raised and strobe lights pulsing, to a more than warm welcome from the already exuberant audience. His opening track, Better Than Invisible stirred the crowd into their unending frenzy with distorted guitars reminiscent of Elvis Costello’s Lipstick Vogue. Needless to say the rest of the evening followed suit with the sea of Paul Weller hairstyles never endingly bobbing up and down; the evening was ‘pretty alright for a Sunday’ as Kane put it half way through his set. Highlights of the set came in the form of King Crawler a shamelessly catchy tune sounding not so different from The Age Of The Understatement (a hit by The Last Shadow Puppet’s in 2008). Quicksand was also a climatic song of the evening with it’s Banana Split’s style hook line. Kane finished his set with the iconic Come Closer, built to fill stadium proportioned venues, it’s a track that rocked this year’s Reading festival to the ground. The encore came in the shape of Inhaler released in November of last year it’s high energy synth and punchy vocals were the perfect end to the evening.

After the gig I decided to wait around to see if I could have a chat with Kane, he duly obliged. Although it was brief I managed to ask him about his nomination for ‘best break through artist’ at the Q awards, to which he replied that he was very grateful of the nomination but like all things it was all public dependant and being up against contenders such as Ed Sheeran it was a given that the competition was steep. I also tried to ask whether another stint with Last Shadow Puppets was on the cards however due to other distractions he was unable to reply so we’ll have to wait and see as to whether he and Turner re-hit the studio. For now though Kane can only  be expected to carry on releasing more mod/ indie rock anthems and adding more tour dates to his ever busy schedule. Personally, if the chance to see Miles arises I would fully recommend taking it as his shows promise great, dance-filled evenings and he comes across as a genuinely nice guy.

By Choo Cooper

Clearly burnt out after having too much fun watching "the Fiend"

How much fun can you have with a bunch of 50 year olds who are drunk at 2pm and donned in skin tight jeans that clearly haven’t fit their bloated stomachs for at least 20 years? Apparently, a shit load.

Now to be fair it wasn’t just oldies. There were a lot of teens there sporting some of the gnarliest hair cuts I’ve even seen (do people still say gnarly? I don’t care. It wasn’t the 70’s anymore but that didn’t seem to matter much here.) I’d been in touch with Rebellion about getting a press pass for the event but didn’t hear anything back from them. This really was their loss as I worked my balls off all weekend and shot some great footage. Maybe next year, ya mother fuckers.

Thursday

I arrived around midday on Thursday and was met by a large queue of punkers waiting anxiously to get in, passing the time by drinking booze. The crowd were an eclectic mix of nationalities, Americans, Germans, a few Swedes, the list goes on. A man walked up and down this line of punks trying to hand out leaflets about Jesus. I guess he’d never heard the phrase “target demographic.”

After about an hour of queuing I was in, checking the surroundings and not having a fucking clue where anything was, which was okay, because Thursday didn’t really have a lot I was interested in. The first band I checked out was Angry Agenda, Watford based street punks. Apart from being musically retarded, their singer had that kind of embarrassing drunken uncle look about him, the one who always sings karaoke at parties in front of your mates, but instead of singing Phil Collins he was having a go at punk.

As much as Angry Agenda sucked, they were nothing compared to Newcastle’s The Fiend. With a name that shitty you know it’s gonna be good fun. Their tough guy noisey punk might have impressed the skins but it wasn’t doing shit for me. “This song is about the government and goes like this, FUCK THE GOVERNMENT! FUCK THE GOVERNMENT!” “This song’s about religion, FUCK RELIGION! FUCK RELIGION!” “This song’s about the police,” ….well, you get the picture.

Thankfully it didn’t all suck balls, and I was pleasantly surprised by the band Girlfixer who, I’ll admit, I checked out because I thought the name sounded pretty cool. Female fronted and hard hitting they were the first instance of the entire day where I thought, “Hey! There might actually be some decent bands here!” Their singer had a great stage presence and also a cracking pair of….lungs. Had ya going then, didn’t I?

The real wild card of the day came in the form of Pete Bentham and the Dinner Ladies, a rock and roll act which didn’t really fit in with the rest of the bands I’d seen but kicked mega arse anyway. Catchy, quirky, funny and tight as hell, Bentham and his band were easily the most entertaining I’d seen all day. Though I really don’t get what the fuck the dancing dinner ladies were all about.

After this I headed to the Empress Ballroom, a giant hall which was originally intended for, no surprise, ballroom dancing. They should have kept it for that because even though the majority of the best bands that weekend would be playing in here, the sound team just couldn’t get the acoustics to work for them and this greatly hindered the bands. I watched Old Firm Casuals featuring Lars Fredrikson of Rancid and Bastards fame, they played really well but no one gets a free ride with me so I’d like to point this out to anyone who was pitting during their set. I saw more enthusiastic and violent pits the one time I watched Simple Plan in Manchester. Fifteen year old pop-punkers gave it harder, that’s embarrassing. (NOTE: I do not condone or promote Simple Plan, but if a homeless guy offers you a ticket because you shared your cider with him, you take it.)

The only band I was really looking forward to on the Thursday list was OFF! They did not disappoint, again, the poor sound (though this is meant as no offense to the sound guys, I can’t even imagine how hard it’d be to make that hall work) made it difficult to understand what Keith Morris was saying between songs, but it didn’t matter much, they tore the place apart and left faces melted left, right and centre.

Friday

Friday came and the first band I got to check out was the Creepshow, I was actually just making sure I got a good spot for A Wilhelm Scream but this band played hard and impressed me a lot. Their 2 foot tall (probably) female singer had more balls than any of the men in the bands and she jumped right into the centre of a pit while still strapped up and began guitar soloing her little heart out. I’d never been a fan of music whose genre features the word “billy” at the end, but I’d come a little closer to the dark side thanks to this Canadian four piece.

I have a lot of respect for D.I.Y bands but unfortunately the Restarts didn’t get me off. They had solid moral ethics and this came across in their on stage banter but musically I wasn’t blown away. I don’t want to insult a band as hard working as the Restarts because it’s a rare thing in the music scene these days but it just wasn’t for me.

I’d began to notice something about Rebellion Festival, there was a scary amount of white people, and not just white people, white people with skin heads who looked like thugs. Now I know it’s stereotypical for me to think that just because someone has a skin head, wears steel boots and looks like a bruiser that they are inherently racist (the skinheads had originally brought ska and reggae to the U.K but must have lost their cool somewhere along the way) but come on, if you look like a fucking murderer, people are going to start thinking you’re a fucking murderer. It made me a bit tense but as the day went on I saw a few faces of varied skin colour and no one was shooting dirty eyes at them so luckily it didn’t seem like Hitler’s “Pure Aryan Nation” was going to be achieved this weekend.

A Wilhelm Scream finally came on. I was right at the front. I’d seen them play in Manchester on Wednesday and they were definitely in the top three bands I was looking forward to seeing (T.V Smith and the Damned also.) They completely destroyed the place and I was surprised to see a healthy turn out for their set as I’d not noticed many about who looked the AWS sort. The band battled through a few sound problems but made a complete riot out of the Empress and, with debatably the exception of OFF!, were the band that give it the most in the Empress the entire weekend. The most being their all.

Now I imagine people reading this who know me would think I stuck around for the Bouncing Souls. I actually didn’t, because another stage at the festival featured a band I hold very dear to my old school punk heart, The Vibrators. The first time I’d seen them singer Knox wasn’t with them and the band played as a three piece, I actually prefer them like this, and came across as a sort of wrinkled Lawrence Arms, I loved it. They played this way today. They didn’t disappoint this time either playing the tightest I’d ever seen them play being the first band to get some real honest punk motions out of the crowd. Every topless mid life crisis in the audience jumped about like a kid after a bowl of lucky charms and it was truly a beautiful sight to see. Their bassist Pete genuinely thanked their crowd as the set finished, who thanked him for the beers he’d given out at the start, who then thanked them again for thanking him. What a bloody nice bloke.

Next up on the “to do” list was Arturo Lukers “punktry and western band.” Being a big fan of the Lurkers I was intrigued so headed to the Bizarre Bazaar room to check them out. What I hadn’t planned on doing was stepping into the bad acid trip that was Rubella Ballet. It just didn’t make sense. The lights were off and some fat old woman covered in glow in the dark paint was making orgasm noises to a backing band. What the actual fuck is Rubella Ballet?

Arturo came to the stage and kicked out some Johnny Cash style grooves tinged with a punk rock feel and comedy lyrics, songs like “God and Chips” and “Three Legged Ben” instantly became crowd favourites and even the people who had no idea about the punktry and western band, like me, were soon singing to every chorus.

I’d heard good things about Infa Riot, admittedly I’d head good things about them from a pissed up guy who was waiting for them to come on, but none the less, good things had been said. The good things didn’t match the reality, making Infa Riot by far one of the worse bands I’d watched; they were The Fiend bad, but pretty close. Another over the hill four piece consisting of members who’d taken time out of their busy schedules working at TESCO’s or the local butchers to pretend they were still punk to the bone and hard as nails, it was kind of sad really.

Thankfully Infa Riot fucked off and so did we, planning to suck up the set of Drunken Balordi in exchange for a good spot for the Damned. The Balordi bunch never played so instead the time until the Damned was spent sat on the concrete floor on the Olympia in great anticipation for a chance to see the Captain and co. They took to the stage and burnt through a barrage of hits leaving nothing in their wake except a sea of gob smacked punkers covered in sweat. I think I saw one girl crying she was so happy. They played all the greats, mixing old with new and didn’t let up for a second. Definitely worth the years I’d waited to finally see them, and I didn’t hear “The Captain is a wanker” once (though it was probably still said.)

Saturday

Practically all of Saturday was spent at the acoustic stage listening to great artists like Louise Distras, El Morgan, Honest John Plain and Kelly Kemp. The acoustic stage really was the place to be for the most part of Saturday. I was excited to watch El Morgan again as I’d been a fan of hers for about a year now, the only downfall of El’s otherwise incredible set was a fat Irish woman was sat behind me being very loud, very drunk and very rude. Congratulations, you’re a national stereotype. I hope you choke on a burger, you bitch.

After the acoustic stage had died down I moved across to the Empress to watch the Boys, having just watched one of them do an acoustic set, and they really nailed it. Though no longer boys, the band donned receding hairlines and bloated guts these days; they still kicked it with the energy and enthusiasm as a 14 year old that’s just discovered masturbation. They played a sweet cover of the Ramones “Beat on the Brat” as well as all their hits. The crowd went nuts, me included.

I’d heard good things about the Filaments and Captain Hotknives so checked them out accordingly. Neither hit the spot. I couldn’t stomach another band that used trumpets as stage decorations more than part of the music and I didn’t find Hotknives funny one bit, and I’m a funny bastard. Instead I checked out the Have Nots who played a pretty solid set appealing to the younger demographic of the event with their ska influenced punk rock.

Pennywise were up next at the Empress and to say that they were one of the mostly eagerly anticipated acts for a lot of patrons would be a massive understatement. But here’s where things go wrong, where good reviews go bad, you could say. I’d been a big Pennywise fan when I was younger but even before original singer Jim Lindberg left, I’d kind of lost enthusiasm. I thought I’d watch them anyway as they were a hard hitting band with opinions, I thought, matched my own. The band themselves played a real good set, the music was tight as hell and everyone went nuts, the atmosphere was almost perfect. The only downfall was the banter, “Alright you fucking mother fucking fuckers, are you fucking ready to get the fucking fuck up?” I’m not eleven anymore and I don’t think swearing as much as possible is cool. “This song is about being different!” Really? You’re probably pushing forty and playing to a crowd of mostly almost thirty year olds who, after this weekend, are going back to their 9 to 5 jobs like the rest of the world and you’re trying to appeal to them on grounds that would grab the heart strings of a high school kid. “This song is about how much high school can suck, but you can get through it!” It did suck and I did get through it, you know what else I did? I got over it. I love Pennywise, but they kind of need to grow up a little, it was all a bit childish and fake, like New Found Glory singing about dating girls in high school even though they probably have daughters of their own there now. Kelly Kemp will hate me if she reads this.

With Pennywise done, sometime to kill, and not wanting to watch a band with a name like “the Grit” I headed to the Olympia to see what the Red Eyes had to offer (yet again, another shit band name.) They took to the stage and looked even more burnt out and pathetic than any other mid-life crisis band of the weekend. They opened their set with a song that, “We love music, music is our life, we’re living our life, because we’re playing the music,” or something like that. Great. Fat fifty years olds playing half arsed punk rock with lyrics that would fit nicely on Sesame Street. I was out of there. I’d take my chances with the Grit.

I wish I was less of a dick, I really shouldn’t judge bands by their names before I watch them. The Grit were awesome. Really good. Another band that was slowly pushing me more towards the “billy” side of punk rock. Grufty, aggressive, full of attitude and gusto, the band’s name actually described the mentality of their music to a tee. With a stand up bass player, who manically climbed a set of speakers with his large instrument (haha) in hand, the Grit were not only fantastic musically, they were also one of the most kick arse bands to watch live involving the crowd in sing-a-alongs and the rest of their on stage antics.

The Grit left, and so did most of the crowd in the Arena. Eddie and the Hot Rods were up next and even though the place had emptied quite a bit in comparison to the previous act, more fool them, the Rods were fucking awesome, energetic, fast, furious and just all around cool as fuck. Eddie looked as if Rod Stewart and Mick Jagger’s love child….of about the same age. I’d heard the Sex Pistols once opened for the Hot Rods and really couldn’t work out why that fucking butter selling hair dresser had got so far while this outfit of pure talent were left at the sidelines. If you don’t like the Rods, you’re a dick, and that’s not opinion, its fact.

Sunday

The weekend was coming to a close and depression was setting in. I didn’t want to leave Rebellion, it’d been the most fun I’d had in a long time and the people and bands were cool as hell. I’d miss being able to see all my favourites in one building. I’d miss A Wilhelm Scream being one hundred percent cool to me and my constant queries. I’d miss hanging out with all the cool people I hardly got to see while living in my cave and hiding from the daylight back home. I’d miss drunken punks who looked like they’d spent their lives lying in a field of smack needles asking me where I was from to such an inquisitive degree I was pretty sure they were gonna turn up for tea someday soon. Hell, I was even gonna miss the Fiend.

But it wasn’t over just yet, there was one more day left and the line up was looking great. Well it was until I noticed who was playing before Glen Matlock.

This is a review, okay? And as much as I’ve joked and made sly comments about some of the bands I’ve attempted to keep some element of professionalism (it’s still a review by me, so admittedly, that isn’t much) but honestly, fuck John Robb and fuck Goldblade. They might as well change their name to “The John Robb ego band even though my hair cut makes my head look like a vagina….band.” The guy had been swanning around the festival all weekend with this air of arrogance and the same crappy suit he wears to every event he somehow blags his chimp looking fuck head into. “John Robb spends more time in crowds then he does on stage,” maybe he should work harder on his shitty band and stop sliming his way into other people’s shows. Fuck that guy, fuck Goldblade and fuck his shitty haircut and God complex. The only thing you’ve done for U.K music is piss a bunch of bands off by bothering them all the time. I bet even his mother hates him, “Mummy, I just played on stage at Rebellion in front of thousands of people and they really loved it!” “Oh, shut up John, you twat. No one likes you.”

With that rant over, it’s back to the review. I watched Glen Matlock and the Philistines and they were great. Even the Sex Pistols covers sounded alright without that fucking hairdresser on the mic. Glen had a real good attitude and the crowd responded to this with aplomb, singing back the lyrics to the bands punk influence rock and roll sound.

As soon as Matlock had finished, it was a quick dash to the Bizarre Bazaar to watch what I’d truly been waiting for. T.V Smith. I’d never

This could easily just be a picture with my Dad, you'd never know the difference

seen him play acoustic before and even though it was a little disheartening to not see him blast about a stage kicking the crap out of whatever piece of air he could find, the change from distorted guitars to acoustic melodies wasn’t only a nice change, it worked great bringing a whole new love and dynamic to the T.V Smith experience for me. He played an array of songs from the Adverts to the Explorers and brought a weird combination of extreme intensity whilst playing and polite post song gratitude that left the audience of manic Smith fans high as hell off their T.V fix.

I moved back into the Empress to check out the U.K Subs. For years now people had recommended the Subs to me and I’d never checked them out, I don’t know why, I guess other shit just came up, but I was here now and had a free space in my itinerary so the Subs seemed as good a choice as any. They took the stage and instantly I thought one thing, WHY HADN’T ANYONE TOLD ME THEIR SINGER WAS JIMMY SAVILLE?! Jokes aside, the band were great, far surpassing my expectations of a moderate punk band with decent riffs. The audience was clearly in adoration and beer cups, a mix of empty and half full, flew across to room as did an abundance of crowd surfing mohicans while Charlie Harper downed beer after beer mid song.

Thankfully, the Sub didn’t run over as across in the Arena were another band I had been greatly anticipating, the Lurkers. I’ve tried to describe the Lurkers sound to friends who have yet to hear their music and the closest I’ve got to putting in an image they’d understand is, “kinda like Glenn Danzig Misfits, if they were from the U.K, but didn’t dress like trick or treaters and write songs about shitty B-movies” (I’d like to point out now before anyone calls me up on this, I actually love the Misfits, they’re one of my favourite bands and I think a lot of B-movies are pretty cool.) Though the majority of Rebellion patrons had clearly gone to see either Slaughter and the Dogs, the Lurkers still drew a healthy turnout of fans clearly addicted to the Lurkers sound. Arturo was, of course, as hilarious as ever having some of the best on stage banter in punk rock and reminiscing about how the open for Metallica in the states. “It’s good to be playing the little venues again!”

The day was drawing to a close and there was only one more act I wanted to see. Truth be told there was two, but Captain Sensible was on at the same time and I’d already had one viewing of the Captain so instead I vouched for Jello Biafra and the Guantanamo School of Medicine. Before the band took the stage Red Alert had been playing on the stage across and were getting pissed by the amount of people NOT paying attention to them. “If you’re waiting for that fake Yankee tosser, you can fuck off!” The bitter truth was, everyone was and were not up for fucking off anywhere.

The band took to the stage followed by a Biafra dressed in bloody medical gear and looking like a wanker. He spent the entire set getting more naked, to the point where I almost thought we’d be seeing little Jello make an appearance, and dancing around like an insane moron. It was great. The band and Biafra played like crazy, chucking a dead Kennedy’s song in after every few of their own. Though the majority of people seemed more interested in the DK songs than the School of Medicines originals they still went crazy the entire way through. Bar some sound issues at the start of the set and Jello’s pre song rants (which raised some good points I guess, but were just a little excessive) the Guantanamo School of Medicine were a strong finisher for one of the greatest musical weekends of my life. “We’ve ran out of time! We’re being kick off stage!” Keep the rants for the spoken word dates next time, Jello.

So Rebellion had ended, it was done. It’d be back to the normality(ish) of my day to day life tomorrow. There’d be highs; there’d been lows, blah blah, and some other parting cliché’s. I’d watched a whole lot of bands, and if you weren’t mentioned in the review then you probably weren’t great, didn’t suck incredibly, I couldn’t think of anything funny to write about you or, most likely, I just didn’t watch you or forgot. Now there was nothing left to do but go home, put a pot of tea on, and wait for the Fiend to come round and kick my fucking head in.

Low Points

• Scary amounts of thug looking white people
• · The Fiend
• Infa Riot
• Being pretty sure Pipes and Pints sang WHITE POWER on one of their songs (though I think I’m wrong about that)
• Being sober (mostly)
• Being pretty sure that the Olympia is usually a car park
• John Robb not getting hit by one of the bands buses on the way out of the festival (I haven’t heard anything about it anyway)

High Points

• OFF!
• A Wilhelm Scream
• The Vibrators
• The Damned
• Getting to hang out with Sam Barry and Melissa Murphy
• Going outside and walking along the pier
• The Fiend (they were pretty damn funny)
• That hot girl from Munich with an Against Me! shirt
• El Morgan and Kelly Kemp (both watching them and hanging out)
• Jobey’s awesome but totally fucked up art (which you can see some of here)
• The girl who, when asked by John Robb during Goldblade’s set did she believe in the power of rock and roll, said “Do I fuck.”
• T.V Smith and Leigh Heggarty
• Getting a picture with T.V
• T.V Smith wanting me to have some kids so another generation could listen to his music
• Something, something. Look, I just really like T.V Smith, okay?
• Jello Biafra’s bouncing podgy man boobs (is it strange this made it into high points and not low?)

If you’re into pop punk and haven’t heard of Polar Bear Club, then expect to soon. The Rochester, NY five-piece are close to releasing their 3rd album, Clash, Battle, Guilt, Pride, but not before a short tour of the UK, including a stop at The Cockpit in Leeds.

Watching first support bands is always awkward, you’re not sure what to expect, half the crowd hasn’t even showed up yet and the other half’s talking to friends by the bar. The stage is treated like a bio-hazard zone for some reason. To top it all off there’s a band trying their hardest to play their music and get some sort of response. Local band, Gravelines didn’t appear to be put off though, playing a pretty good set.

If I had to describe Man Overboard in one sentence, it’d probably include the words ‘slightly clichéd’ and ‘pop punk’. Not that that’s a bad thing, If it’s done well and sounds good, something which Man Overboard manage pull off well. Seeing them live, on the other hand, feels like a letdown. Their music isn’t bad but, to be honest, I could’ve just sat at home and listened to their albums, which is probably what I’ll be doing in the future.

Polar Bear Club’s set was pretty awesome, which is probably a huge understatement. With songs such as ‘Most Miserable Like’ and ‘Burned Out In A Jar’, Polar Bear Club gigs really are giant sing alongs, with a heavy dose of fist pumping. Their set is well thought out, with more rowdy songs interspaced allowing the crowd to catch their breath before being launched into the next high. In short, Polar Bear club are a great live band. New song ‘Screams In Caves’ was a nice inclusion in the set. If it’s any indication of the rest of the new record, then we’re in for a real treat.

Having solidified their line-up in 2011, they are now a strong, experienced 5 piece with a charismatic and professional female lead singer, giving the band an interesting dimension.

The band are currently working on an EP which they plan to release in late 2011 and are currently performing in their local music scene and beyond.

They have recently played a series of gigs, including their local ‘Battle of the Bands’ competition, in which they have reached the final. I went along to the heat gig and the semi-final and thought their performances on both occasions were incredible.

For the Semi Final, the band opened with a stripped down cover of Amy Winehouse’s “Love is a Losing Game”, with a spotlight on the lead singer and a single guitar accompaniment; a delightful and touching homage to the late soul singer with Pressure Kids’ frontwoman paying her respects perfectly with soulful and powerful reflections on Miss Winehouse’s sassy and haunting vocals. As this cover faded out, the band kicked into their own repertoire of tracks. With effervescent energy and a great rapport on stage, the band certainly engaged the audience where heads were bobbing, toes were tapping and plenty of people were dancing. Their sound is full and profound with hard-hitting percussion and edgy guitar riffs. The vocalist has a strong tone and has great control of her voice which compliments the intelligent and witty lyrics perfectly. The set ran smoothly and the band received a great reception from the crowd once their slot was over. The 5 accomplished and talented musicians gelled on stage and were a genuine pleasure to watch and listen to. There was no pretention or angst, but plenty of raw ability and star quality.

The reaction from the audience was extremely complimentary and excitable, with a general hubbub of interest in the band. Once the audience vote opened, a swarm of fans headed to place their votes for Pressure Kids who were, in my opinion, champions of the evening and thoroughly deserving of their place in the final!

A selection of the band’s songs include “Monster”, with a catchy-chorus and fun lyrics and their new track “Blinded”, which will undoubtedly be stuck in your head after listening to it (video of live performance below!). “Robots Break Hearts” is another great upbeat track whilst “We never really got on anyway” offers a slower, edgier take on ‘Pop’.

I recommend, no, I URGE you to head over to the band’s Facebook Page and show them some support. You can download their first EP for free and acquaint yourself with a fantastically talented and interesting unsigned band! You can find Pressure Kids at: www.facebook.com/pressurekids or www.youtube.com/user/pressurekidsmusic

[J]

“….one girl punched her boyfriend in the face, he cried, and I let all the kids jump over me on their skateboards, BMX’s, scooters, etc.”

I sit here writing this whilst eating 10p chip shop curry noodles in an attempt to remove the taste of hangover from my mouth. I’d spent my £10 shopping money on wine because yesterday was the Walkden Music Festival.

I know what you’re thinking, where the fuck is Walkden? Or if you’re not, and you know, why the fuck was there a festival there? You’re guess is as good as mine.

We left at this point to get money and booze. By the time we got back Jeremiah Ferrari were kicking out some ska and reggae influenced jams. Apart from having a crap name, they were actually pretty good. Imagine a less technical RX Bandits.

The sun had punctured it’s way through the clouds, the place was full of people (a varied group, half BMX kids, half big beefy scallys, oh and a couple of old punkers) and I was half a bottle of wine down and feeling good. Next up was, reggae funk band, Extra Love. Their brand of positive music, I say their brand but it’s reggae straight up and true, got the crowd going and even some of the tough nuts started to jive. At the end of their set one of the bigger scally guys got on stage and started blasting Bob Dylan covers. He was fucking awesome and it was hilarious watching twenty odd “chavs” head banging to Dylan.

The final act were The Skints, a female fronted ska band. Everyone was totally wasted now (one girl was lay face first in the dirt) and the few that could still stand skanked like crazy. The show was over but everyone hung around after, one girl punched her boyfriend in the face, he cried, and I let all the kids jump over me on their skateboards, BMX’s, scooters, etc.

We heard there was an illegal rave going on afterwards so decided to hit that, drinking beer on the way and stopping at Tesco for more booze, a banana and a baguette. I won’t say the location of the place or the peoples names in case I drop anyone in it. The rave sucked, mostly because DnB is the worst music ever, but also the sound system was fucked. I got hit on my a 14 year old and a guy with no shirt was trying to fight everyone. It was time to leave.

I walked home in the rain without any booze (little did I know there was a can in my bag) and listened to Fugazi. I’d say the day was a success. Now the article is done I’m gonna drink the can of lager, watch the Ghostbusters movie, then play Metal Gear Solid 2 all day.

© 2011 Kate Black

“…Slumped against walls, wearing tattered ‘GolfWang’ shirts, and being treated by paramedics…”

Since the release of the ‘Yonkers’ video last February, the music world hasn’t been able to stop talking about Tyler, The Creator and his band of not so merry men. Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All  (often shortened to OFWGKTA or Odd Future) are a hip-hop collective formed in Compton, California – a city famous for violent crime and ‘Gangsta’ rap. Unlike their 90′s predecessors, Odd Future prefer skateboards to guns, but that doesn’t mean they’re without controversy. They’ve been accused of everything from homophobia to devil worship, so why were 800 people (myself included) waiting to see them?

The reason is fairly simple: Odd Future are, by far, the most interesting thing to happen to hip-hop in a long time. To quote Tyler, they’re not rapping about “fucking bitches and getting head”, like the majority of today’s hip-hop acts. Their songs range from the clever to the comedic (often at the same time), and even manage to turn a few stomachs. Their on stage antics are equally extreme, bordering on those seen at a punk show, and often leave fans, and Odd Future themselves, injured by the time the lights go up. I’m happy to report that Manchester was treated to exactly the same, despite Tyler having a broken foot (see, I told you).

Odd Future DJ and producer, Syd The Kyd kicked the night off with a selection of current hip-hop stuff and dubstep remixes; chants of “Wolf Gang” eminating from the hyped up crowd. Syd finished her set, but we had no time to recover. MellowHype (Hodgy Beats and Left Brain) burst onto the stage to performing ’64′. I guess that’s what happens when you get your own DJ to open up your show. Left Brain and Hodgy were soon joined by the rest of the crew, with the biggest cheer of the night going to Tyler. The entirety of the group (well, all those who could make it) shared the stage throughout the night, and it became clear why Odd Future’s shows were so chaotic. Having that many people jumping around the Academy 2 stage at once, is something I’ve not often (if ever) seen. The guys really seemed to be enjoying themselves. All of them, Tyler included, throwing themselves into the crowd at one point or another.

Despite the craziness, each member got a chance to show Manchester what they were made of, which was a great decision. Although this had been billed as an Odd Future show, it was clear that the majority of those in attendance were there for Tyler and ‘the hits’. They won’t have walked away disappointed either. The only notable absence from the setlist was ‘She’, which was likely cut due to the absence of Frank Ocean. Singles, ‘Yonkers’ and ‘Sandwiches’ went down really well and worked well in amongst some of the lesser known songs – ‘Fuck The Police’ (not an N.W.A. cover) and ‘Splatter’ were a couple of personal favorites.

Tyler and co had the whole crowd under control. Having grown weary of “Swag”, which was consistently chanted throughout the night, they managed to get a room full of people shouting “Soup” at the top of their lungs – a surreal experience to say the least. With the night coming to a close, the guys launched into ‘Bitch Suck Dick’ and the night almost ended there. With all the excitement, Tyler hopped up onto Syd’s equipment. Needless to say, he broke it. This caused almost ten minutes of mundane chatter and a capella. Even this didn’t silence the crowd, who all seemed up for this improvised mess. With the equipment sorted Tyler closed the show with ‘Radicals’, clearing the room of any ill sentiment their might have been. A chant of “Kill people. Burn shit. Fuck school.” engulfed the entire building, and the crowd engaged in a ‘wall of death’, before Odd Future left the stage to, the absent, Earl Sweatshirt’s ‘Earl’.

As I made my way out I witnessed the casualties of a good gig. The same people I’d seen outside playing tough guy were now slumped against walls, wearing tattered ‘GolfWang’ shirts, and being treated by paramedics whilst holding their ripped Supreme caps. I couldn’t help but wonder what they had expected from a night with Odd Future.