The Gold Lions
To get obvious comparisons out of the way, there is growing precedent for brutal blues bands, especially ones involving only a drummer and guitarist – from The White Stripes, to The Black Keys, to local boys Bronto Skylift. In any case there’s no hiding behind a wall of sound. As luck would have it, The Gold Lions need not hide anywhere. Theirs is a raw and raucous sound, and it’s a joy to behold.
The guitar snarls and hums in between catchy headbanging riffs. And it’s no mean feat carrying vocals and lead guitar simultaneously, and keep both sounding funky. Of course, half the trick is having drums that embellish with gay abandon whilst maintaining a driving beat.
There’s a lot to be said for stripping a song to it’s bare essentials, and showing that it still rocks. In their early days, Aerosmith, Led Zep and ACDC were rough and ready blues bands that played in grimy basement clubs. In many ways, The Gold Lions sound like this kind of howl, which is brilliant. The things is, it’s hard to imagine where you would fit any more instruments into this racket. They are already loud enough. And you cannot pay a higher complement to a blues two-piece.
Ste McCabe
Continuing the vein of unconventional band arrangements, Ste Mccabe is a solo act, layering crispy fuzz guitar over thumping electro pop. The songs themselves are tongue in cheek, acerbic takes on modern life – “Everybody hates a benefit cheat”, “Buy an iPhone, have a baby'” along with some more opaque observations – “When you’ve had your face smashed off a wall in a gay bar.”
Ste McCabe stretches the definitions of a live music act. Songs are interjected mid-flow with witty prose. He wears a gaudy rainbow tie with polo shirt. The line between caustic observation and outright joke are blurred.
He revels in the lo-fi. A more conventional setup would dilute the complete package, and it is a distinctive sound, but so much so that it is in danger of sounding contrived. But like every aspect of his act, this could be a knowing wink.
It’s fair to say that Ste is not for everyone. But he knowingly embraces this – it’s part of the act – and those who do enjoy it are likely to do so with rabid devotion. The true definition of a fan. And what more could an act want?
Bleech
Chunky guitar, thunderous but tight drumming, beautifully timed harmonies. Dressed like punks, female-led Bleech continue the lineage of where grunge left off, except with more balls than Air or Feeder. In fact, at times they sound more like early, angry Metallica, or new American heavy rock. But, again, with more balls. That’s not to say the songs are full of bile – many are ultimately uplifting – it’s just that all are delivered with intensity and vigour and impact. ‘Adrenaline Junkie’, for example, is charged with positive energy. Of course, this hasn’t stopped them being called ‘the most cynical band on the planet’ in Glasgow. But they are more 30 Seconds To Mars than Stain’d.
And good lord, they are a tight unit. They have clearly spent hundreds of hours on stage, and it shows in spades. What a noise. The guitar and bass sound like they’re using a jet engine rather than an amp. Meanwhile, the drums sound like cannons going off. With immaculate timing, that is. They are so tight that on one number they give the bass guitar to a member of the audience.
This is music to dance/mosh to. They would be perfect for puncturing the eardrums of countless teenagers at various summer festivals, or providing the soundtrack to skating videos. You too should punish your ears like this as soon as you can. Spectacular.
