Chris T-T, Art Brut, David Devant and his Spirit Wife, Mclusky, Sarah Russel

Jimmy Savage 25/11/2004

Sometimes the word 'genius' is banded about with regular monotony. This weekend was just so rich with genius that I have to just review the whole fucking thing. Thursday night, 8pm arrive at the Spitz, Spittlefields Market to see Mr Chris TT. The first support were a wee bit flat, the second support were a bit quirky but good....the third however, whose name escapes me, made all his own instruments , climbed the walls and jumped off the balcony.

Anyway Chris took to the stage very quietly and launched into the haunting and stunning "tomorrow morning" the room is silent, I look at the stunned faces of the people in the audience who had never previously witnessed TT and who had been dragged along by friends, he then launches into Giraffe #1 a song about foolish beliefs and trust and religion only with giraffes instead of people. I could go into these depths with each song, because that is what the guy does, he makes you really care about his music. This is a fucking cliché, but there is something wrong with a world that listens to Dido whilst people like Chris......oh you fucking know. If you haven't seen Chris, just do it, buy everything he has ever done. If you don't like it, you haven't experienced life and you never will. He lays down "I can stop dreaming of injured popstars" neither can I, preach on brother TT. I stagger home wasted but privileged.

I wake up hung over with thejessicaquestion on my lounge floor. Sort it out then head for the ULU, as usual Mclusky's support bands are loud, young, attractive and talented but people rarely bother listening, except Corrigan, they were great....I digress.... The man himself is stood in his usual place at the corner of the bar taking time to talk to his fans, and I don't mean just "Hey, how are you doing" I mean actually fucking talking." They come onstage the mood is dark, they are a dark band but tonight someone has switched the lights off. The drums roll its "light sabre cocksucking blues", it is the loudest noise in the world the guitar the bass the vocals everything is perfect the place shakes with amazement, disbelief then goes mental. I am sober (driving) and intend to watch this one from the back, first time for everything, Suddenly my jacket is off and I am pushed up against the barrier as Jon screams and the veins on his neck hit bursting point, yet its a song, a real proper song and that is Mclusky. Some guy heckles, Andy launches an attack on him that would make Bill Hicks blush then cccccollegen rock.........he is really proper angry and it shows. He talks with a look of menace then I notice he is talking directly to me, he says "You have your hand up, do you have a question" I freeze and say "No, I have no question" he laughs....what I should have said was "Could I play rhythm guitar in your band please?" then I could die happy safe in the knowledge that I had been in the best live band in the UK, period. I read a Steve Albini quote somewhere about a band that are hyped, buy media attention and don't growing organically, calling them parasitic parasitic(It was about a certain New York band fronted by a guy whose pretend name is the location of a 1940-50s epic). Anyway what do those foppish knobs matter? "Last night, she said....." or "Nicotine stained on account of her crotch and I am aching from fucking too much". Come back soon. Speaking of hype I head for hype central, the Barfly, Camden Town, reeling from one of the greatest concerts ever into a place full of camped up pretenders in silly clothes.

I am here for Art Brut's single launch do. It is rammed, somewhere along the line the Brut got famous. Support is from, David Devant who is great, Killing Moon who, despite there awful cliché name, are entertaining. Then come the Brut. I am covered in pink poster paint, they tear through a set that even got the sullenest of posers smiling, Eddie is on fire and has the audience in the palm of his hand. My Little Brother is SUCH and amazing song! Somewhere along the line Eddie has also learned to keep time with his vocals. It shows, Ian's guitar sounds a bit ropey for a while but that is quickly remedied. When they are on form the Brut are worldbeatingly entertaining and tonight is their night! People love them and are singing the words to "Modern Art" back at them (and getting them wrong....."Murder me want to say hey??"). The single is out on the 6th December on Fierce Panda it will be on TOTP, now no longer an in joke.....(thank fuck;))...Rhesus loves you.

Saturday… to Essex where some band called Rhesus are playing with two local acts. I arrive on the day that they turned on the Christmas lights, expecting Will Young and Jade Goodie or that horse woman off X Factor with the phoney temper innit (Sorry for my Essex prejudices), it is amazing how clean and polished everyone's car is and I saw kids in matching pink furry wellies. Fuck me! Was my view changed! What I saw of Southend was a progressive and interesting town with one of the best "Alternative" clubs ever. “The Sun Rooms" just fucking go. Nasty doorman though. The grand is a nice little venue, Emma Russell takes to the stage at around 9, she has the look, the eye make up, the black telecaster, the smile and everything it takes to be excellent, and she is. Poppy heartfelt songs, she has capo issues and giggles them off with guitar girl perfection. Her bass player uses a six string bass. There is no need, unless you are Les Claypole (Look him up kids, ref: "Tommy the Cat"). I am in the middle band so no comment.

Headline act are Smother, and they can really fucking play and they make a huge noise. Recently signed, screaming telly casters and hell sent double vocal melodies. Angry front man. Some great tunes.....nice bit of loop work at the end.....sounding like a nerd....sorry got back from the sun rooms at 4. Totally enlightened about Southend. How was your weekend?