Review: Mongrel, debut show at Boston arms

November 9, 2008 · Filed Under Live, Review · Comment 

What is all this about then, I see a bunch of names under the banner Mongrel: Reverend And The Makers‘ Jon McClure and Joe Moskow, Babyshambles‘ Drew McConnell, former Arctic Monkeys bassist Andy Nicholson and MC Lowkey.

A plethora of Indie minor celeb in one band, a bunch more in the audience.The PR looks second to none with a healthy mix of industry faces and random members from The Enemy and Glasvegas making up the crowd tonight.

The excellently monikored Death Ray Trebuchet open up the show, 3 Horns, a scuzzy bass and a shouty man at the back sound fresh until it dawns they another Mr Bungle (first album only) tribute band with a dollop of late night Lost Vagueness field thrown in for good measure. Although anyone that convincingly can rip-off Mr Bungle has to be pretty compelling by association and technical ability, even if stylistically they may be throwing darts in the dark at Mike Patton pinata.

Mongrel themselves are jumping about in the audience building up the vibe and then clamber on stage with a casual accord. We are going to be in for a randomly exciting Wednesday night out. Mongrel are a meeting of minds of black and white, rock and rap a nice human solidarity.

Mongrel’s heart is in totally the right place and in a lot of ways echo that of Crosby, Still, Nash & Young a political supergroup that come together at times of international crisis to talk about, to remind people not to get let their fears and war get the better of them. but that is where the comparison stop with a rather murderous crash.

They start hurling some piss poor lyrics at us. ‘This country is a lie, yer gonna die yer gonna die’ Thanks for that Mongrel. Not quite Ghost Town is it, I hope the album is called ‘GCSE rebellion’.

This is doing fuck all for me, look about and look for the escape route. Try to engage some people about the sheer awfulness of this act. Nobody is wanting to express an opinion seems a lot of people here work on this act looking at their next client, Emperors new clothes it would seem.

They order us to “Put your hands up if you hate racism ?” going on “If you keep your hands down it means you love racism” the MC tells us attempting to guilt trip support for his dreadful band. I feel short of options: I mean what if we hate this music, but also hate racism? Or what about Love music, hate Australians? It would seem we need a whole semophore for the range of realistic prejudices among the crowd. I point to the east with my left leg while holding a blue biro in the air indicating a dislike for budget rap and schoolyard politics.

This playtime rebellion continues and the band were very impressed with their own performance. Fortunately we didn’t realise Mongrel were doing two sets and left the building chose find something more enjoyable to do like having our fingers sliced off at one millimetre at a time like Pauly does with garlic in Goodfella’s.

So Death Ray Trebuchet good Mongrel bad.


Crosby Stills & Nash

Warner 1994, Audio CD, £7.99

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Love Music Hate Racism

May 1, 2008 · Filed Under Live, Review · Comment 

Most of us here at Music Towers are like the Wicked Witch of the West – the prospect of going out in the rain makes us curl up and melt. So when the weathermen predicted dark clouds over London last Sunday, step forward our new guy, Tom Gibbons, for the Love Music Hate Racism Carnival:

Despite a stinking hangover, yours truly dragged his arse to Victoria Park in London on Sunday, to check out the 30th Anniversary of Rock Against Racism – an Anti-Nazi League ‘music festival’ which has renamed itself Love Music Hate Racism.

Upon entering the regal gates we were aurally assaulted by some ANL activists with megaphones, and handed a year’s supply of roach material, cleverly disguised as ‘Vote For Me’ flyers. On May 1st, Londoners will elect both the Mayor of London and the 25 members of the London Assembly, and what better way for ‘Red’ Ken Livingstone to finish off his campaign than with a rally….err….music festival.

It seems that a large proportion of London was camped just outside the entrance to the festival, drinking their cheap booze and such, and after negotiating our way through the midday mayhem we found a friend covered in mud, grinning like a mad man. He’d just been ejected for doing a running ninja slide under the gate, armed with enough booze and drugs to knock-out a small elephant. Surely that’s par the course for a music festival? For an Anti-Nazi League music festival in London, the security were going about their business in an ironically fascist manner. After some full-cavity searches were done with, it was over to the main stage for some music. Except Ken was talking – we were his “brothers and sisters” – and he only just stopped short of “I have a dream……”

When the music did arrive the acts on the main stage didn’t last long. It was one or two numbers and on with the next, and no-one in the crowd had a clue who was playing. So we bought a programme, which gave you a nicely illustrated line-up…but no stage times. Most performances - particularly from The View - were lacklustre and there was a less atmosphere than the aroma of one of Neil Armstrong’s farts trapped inside his spacesuit – mainly down to the bizarre and short performance arrangements, which were interspersed with political sound-bites from Ken and co. Just as the procession of politicos was becoming tedious, it started to rain.

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