"These guys make the four-foot-deep stage sound like a cavern."
The air is THICK tonight; somebody has flipped the smoke machine from incense to forest-fire. The only thing visible in the bar as Cable Ties start setting up are the vague outlines of a couple of glowing orange crucifixes framing the stage and a few neon halos floating on the dance floor. Mixed with the tight, arched space and the red walls and lighting, it creates the feeling of watching some nega-pulpit in an abandoned cellar turned church.
Cable Ties become self-fulfilling prophets by predicting "a fucken’ ripper evening" and then delivering a fucking ripper set. They’re clever garage punk with catchy riffs, but they really hit their stride when the bass takes the weight, giving the guitar a chance to let loose. "I’m aware that I’m a’ wasting time," they sing. That could be true but it certainly isn’t the crowd's time they're wasting.
Things change up with Pure Moods. They play the kind of dreamy harmonious pop that convinces you you're either 20,000 leagues under the sea or floating out past the Horsehead nebula, and despite a couple false starts they deliver spectacularly. An overheard punter likely put it best when he said, "That’s the best thing I’ve heard in… phhhht…"
It is absolutely wall-to-wall in here by the time Girl Crazy hit the stage, something made more noticeable by the frenzy they kick up on the floor. It’s easy to see why — they’re having fun and so is everyone else.
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MC Kate Boston Smith starts chanting "Are you ready?", adding the reverse church vibe in here, before pushing head first into the crowd singing Will You and Loose Tooth start their show. It’s pretty clear these guys have already been celebrating their single launch. There are lots of shots "for nerves" and cheeky banter between songs — mostly about whether there should be more shots, what MD really stands for and guitarist Nellie Jackson’s glitter-filled knickers. Though they’re joyously loose they never get sloppy. These guys make the four-foot-deep stage sound like a cavern. Drummer Etta Curry’s reverb-soaked vocals especially seem to be coming from (and filling) somewhere much bigger than the available space. Throw in fuzzy guitar, clean bass, and harmonies from