The Thursday rant #6

This week’s ranter: Paul has just joined The Sharpener team — you can find his first ‘proper’ piece, on Sun Tzu and George W. Bush, here.

Tuneless in Islington

Any regular gig-goer can sympathise with the classic ‘support band dilemma’. Do you turn up early, get a few drinks in and endure what is probably going to be about half-an-hour of discordant dribble? Or do you rock up fashionably late and risk missing soon-to-be Rock Gods playing in your local toilet in front of 40 other people, cementing anecdote envy among your friends for years to come?

Being an optimistic chap, I usually opt for the former. I’m often disappointed. I’m sometimes outraged. Never before, however, have I wanted to run out into the streets of Islington on a murderous rampage.

Then I saw the aptly-named and space-less giveamanakick, ‘supporting’ The Undertones; ‘supporting’ in the way that the rest of the Northern Ireland team used to support George Best. Never has the ability to make music been so disastrously confused with the ability simply to make noise.

Whoever was responsible for inflicting this racket on innocent fans of Peel-championed punk either has no ears or is one of those sick delusional altruists that can’t see that their actions, whatever their intentions, are entirely pernicious. Like the muppets behind deferred success and grade inflation.

Sadly, this clueless attitude appeared to have spread to three people in the front row, who baffled the rest of the room with their incessant cheering and clapping. They did look quite young — they might just have got horribly pissed within 30 minutes of turning up. That, or they had ingested the most mind-altering drug known to mankind.

In between pathetic bouts of clamouring for cash (for some reason, this talentless two-piece haven’t had much luck transforming feedback into fistfuls of dollars), I spotted that one of their ‘songs’ was called Gravity. Oh for some of the big G to get to work on their musical aspirations.