Finlay Outclass All Of Brixton
October 22nd 2006 15:10
Do you know who was playing in the Brixton Academy this weekend? It was Panic! At The Disco. Sellout crowds singing along with the looming threat of a good old-fashioned bottle in the face. Who's playing in the slightly less glamourous Windmill pub? It's some sort of rather hip Acoustic night with some Vauxhall Conference bands. Which turns out to be better? You know already, you tools!
The Windmill played host to a folky bloke last night called Dan Raza who broke a string, shouted and walked about a bit and then spoke to his parents. Nice shrieking, sir. He was followed by a true lesson in how to be complete cack in one easy step - join Loose Cannons. They were... oh... how to put it... yeah... cack. They looked like they wanted to look like they owned the place, but came off owning only the own idiocy and naffly annoying chug-chug Razorlight-soundalike Strokes rip-off workmanisms of any pretender to the dubious NME throne. Crap. (And, rather cheeringly, PM could not locate a website. Ah well).
Luckily, Finlay were on hand to kick the shit out of everyone. PM got rather carried away last time we wrote a review of a Finlay live show, but any worries that we might have gone a bit gushy were put to rest last night when, for half an hour or so, they ruled again. This was a different kind of domination from last time, however. As usual, more than one of the band we pissed and most were more than happy to jump about heroically like Idlewild did when they were good. Singer Adam Straw opts for banging his guitar on the roof and dangling the mic round the neck of his axe, while squirming about on the floor and smacking his head on ampifiers before attempting to talk into the empty mic stand. Now that's entertainment! And that's the difference between tonight's show and previous performances. Where the proggy meanderings of before called for holding poise and retaining the intricacies of their second record, tonight is just about sheer explosive muscle and jumping about like it's 1998. It's just as electrifying, whatever mood they're in. Cymbals are choked and smacked and killed, scissor kicks fly around with alarming regularity and gusto, and Lorna, doe-eyed keyboardist, remains as motionless as Kraftwerk. Such vigour met with such calm is utterly peculiar and, if you like, Finlay's Unique Selling Point. That and being ace.
There are two reasons why PM left as soon as Finlay had finished - one: our train was leaving. Two: no-one would have topped Finlay.
So go to their MySpace and listen to their songs. Go to their website as well cos there's more songs there. Also buy their records here and here. Then, when you've done that, go and read this interview and this review. Then you can rest for a while. But, we warn you, if you don't like Finlay, PM will officially hate you, not invite you to any parties and never go for a kickabout with you ever again. Mmm, got it?!
Here's a pic from earlier this year:
The Windmill played host to a folky bloke last night called Dan Raza who broke a string, shouted and walked about a bit and then spoke to his parents. Nice shrieking, sir. He was followed by a true lesson in how to be complete cack in one easy step - join Loose Cannons. They were... oh... how to put it... yeah... cack. They looked like they wanted to look like they owned the place, but came off owning only the own idiocy and naffly annoying chug-chug Razorlight-soundalike Strokes rip-off workmanisms of any pretender to the dubious NME throne. Crap. (And, rather cheeringly, PM could not locate a website. Ah well).
Luckily, Finlay were on hand to kick the shit out of everyone. PM got rather carried away last time we wrote a review of a Finlay live show, but any worries that we might have gone a bit gushy were put to rest last night when, for half an hour or so, they ruled again. This was a different kind of domination from last time, however. As usual, more than one of the band we pissed and most were more than happy to jump about heroically like Idlewild did when they were good. Singer Adam Straw opts for banging his guitar on the roof and dangling the mic round the neck of his axe, while squirming about on the floor and smacking his head on ampifiers before attempting to talk into the empty mic stand. Now that's entertainment! And that's the difference between tonight's show and previous performances. Where the proggy meanderings of before called for holding poise and retaining the intricacies of their second record, tonight is just about sheer explosive muscle and jumping about like it's 1998. It's just as electrifying, whatever mood they're in. Cymbals are choked and smacked and killed, scissor kicks fly around with alarming regularity and gusto, and Lorna, doe-eyed keyboardist, remains as motionless as Kraftwerk. Such vigour met with such calm is utterly peculiar and, if you like, Finlay's Unique Selling Point. That and being ace.
There are two reasons why PM left as soon as Finlay had finished - one: our train was leaving. Two: no-one would have topped Finlay.
So go to their MySpace and listen to their songs. Go to their website as well cos there's more songs there. Also buy their records here and here. Then, when you've done that, go and read this interview and this review. Then you can rest for a while. But, we warn you, if you don't like Finlay, PM will officially hate you, not invite you to any parties and never go for a kickabout with you ever again. Mmm, got it?!
Here's a pic from earlier this year:
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