ENTERTAINMENT NEWS
TUPNews recently attended an all-ages gig by accident at Nambucca, on the Holloway Road in London.
I was there to see Pull In Emergency, a rather excellent combo who had supported my now-defunct band last August. Oddly, they were all about thirteen. But they were nice kids and had kept in touch, so I thought I’d pop along and lend my support.
My plan was to hit early doors at six when the place was still empty, have a bite to eat and watch the England play Israel (despite being a resolutely indie-schmindie venue, Nambucca always has the football on in the bar area, even during gigs. My mate reports that a sensitive singer-songwriter’s acoustic gig was recently disrupted mid-song by the roar elicited from Shevchenko’s wonder strike against Spurs).
Arriving at quarter past, I found to my surprise that the place was already absolutely rammed - I was fortunate to even get a ticket. Even more surprising, it was absolutely rammed with remarkably well-dressed fourteen-year-olds.
I bumped into a former band colleague who had come down to meet a mate and ended up having to sneak in through the back. He was chatting with Faith, lead singer of Pull In Emergency. I offered both a drink; my mate asked for a G&T, while Faith looked utterly baffled by the whole concept of being offered a drink. She eventually settled on a Coke, but had wandered off by the time I got back.
My mate and I had played the venue together several times, but agreed that we had never seen it like this. The kids had filled the stage area and were moshing to the music played in between bands (the kids didn’t go for the DJ’s initial selection of Too Much Too Young by the Specials, but went apeshit for Lethal Bizzle’s Forward Riddim.)
We both waxed lyrical about how incredible the experience must be for bands and fans alike. While the stereotype of the static, po-faced London gig-goer is not completely accurate, it is, however, well, basically completely accurate. It suddenly seemed obscene that kids can’t go to most shows – they clearly get so much more enjoyment out of it. Just the effort that went into the clothes was impressive – lacking the cash to splash on faux-rock high street clothes, many wore self-customised T-shirts in the punk style (one kid just wrote his full name on a white T-shirt – genius), or new-rave magic-markered baseball caps.
(One girl had written “Trash Fashion” on her baseball cap. I decided it would be cruel to tell her that Trash Fashion frontman “Jett Storm” was a contemporary of mine at Oxford, and had received the highest first in engineering in his year.)
As for the bands – well, you’re fourteen and you’re the lead guitarist in a band that plays actual gigs to actual crowds in actual London venues. What more do I really have to say? Although we did wonder what it would be like for them in the future, burnt out of music at 18, or maybe even onto their third solo record by 25.
My mate eventually shot off to a shindig in Hackney, and I returned to the bar. The taps had been covered with black bin bags, and all beer was being poured out of bottles into plastic pint glasses. This was to prevent kids from operating the taps Homer Simpson-style when the barstaff’s backs were turned.
After flashing my black wristband at the bar to indicate my overage status, I got chatting to the barmaid. I asked her whether the kids all bought non-alcoholic drinks, or whether they just didn’t drink anything at all. Whenever I am off the booze for whatever reason, I still go to the pub and have one orange juice for everyone’s pint – I wondered if this is just learned behaviour. But it turns out the kids do still buy drinks, although it’s not quite as busy.
“This is my second all-ages show,” she said, “there’s no way I am ever working another one.”
There had been trouble at the previous gig, when 900 kids had attempted to gain entry to the 250-capacity venue. The police were called. More generally, she was pissed off that they only ever seemed to ask for tap water (although I don’t see why that would be a problem for her personally.) As we chatted, a few kids attempted to use woefully unconvincing fake IDs. She warned me not to take my eye off my pint glass, as it would be snapped up immediately, and went off to serve another customer.
Finally, Pull In Emergency came on. A nagging thought had been running through my mind: everyone was having fun, but the bands so far hadn’t really been particularly good. Good for their age, of course, but these kids are supposed to be properly taking over music. Anyway Pull In Emergency delivered a tight, confident and imaginative set. Faith was excellent up front, and the whole band had a natural stage presence. By the end I had joined in the moshing, although I was careful not to crush anyone half my size, and half my age.
I was there to see Pull In Emergency, a rather excellent combo who had supported my now-defunct band last August. Oddly, they were all about thirteen. But they were nice kids and had kept in touch, so I thought I’d pop along and lend my support.
My plan was to hit early doors at six when the place was still empty, have a bite to eat and watch the England play Israel (despite being a resolutely indie-schmindie venue, Nambucca always has the football on in the bar area, even during gigs. My mate reports that a sensitive singer-songwriter’s acoustic gig was recently disrupted mid-song by the roar elicited from Shevchenko’s wonder strike against Spurs).
Arriving at quarter past, I found to my surprise that the place was already absolutely rammed - I was fortunate to even get a ticket. Even more surprising, it was absolutely rammed with remarkably well-dressed fourteen-year-olds.
I bumped into a former band colleague who had come down to meet a mate and ended up having to sneak in through the back. He was chatting with Faith, lead singer of Pull In Emergency. I offered both a drink; my mate asked for a G&T, while Faith looked utterly baffled by the whole concept of being offered a drink. She eventually settled on a Coke, but had wandered off by the time I got back.
My mate and I had played the venue together several times, but agreed that we had never seen it like this. The kids had filled the stage area and were moshing to the music played in between bands (the kids didn’t go for the DJ’s initial selection of Too Much Too Young by the Specials, but went apeshit for Lethal Bizzle’s Forward Riddim.)
We both waxed lyrical about how incredible the experience must be for bands and fans alike. While the stereotype of the static, po-faced London gig-goer is not completely accurate, it is, however, well, basically completely accurate. It suddenly seemed obscene that kids can’t go to most shows – they clearly get so much more enjoyment out of it. Just the effort that went into the clothes was impressive – lacking the cash to splash on faux-rock high street clothes, many wore self-customised T-shirts in the punk style (one kid just wrote his full name on a white T-shirt – genius), or new-rave magic-markered baseball caps.
(One girl had written “Trash Fashion” on her baseball cap. I decided it would be cruel to tell her that Trash Fashion frontman “Jett Storm” was a contemporary of mine at Oxford, and had received the highest first in engineering in his year.)
As for the bands – well, you’re fourteen and you’re the lead guitarist in a band that plays actual gigs to actual crowds in actual London venues. What more do I really have to say? Although we did wonder what it would be like for them in the future, burnt out of music at 18, or maybe even onto their third solo record by 25.
My mate eventually shot off to a shindig in Hackney, and I returned to the bar. The taps had been covered with black bin bags, and all beer was being poured out of bottles into plastic pint glasses. This was to prevent kids from operating the taps Homer Simpson-style when the barstaff’s backs were turned.
After flashing my black wristband at the bar to indicate my overage status, I got chatting to the barmaid. I asked her whether the kids all bought non-alcoholic drinks, or whether they just didn’t drink anything at all. Whenever I am off the booze for whatever reason, I still go to the pub and have one orange juice for everyone’s pint – I wondered if this is just learned behaviour. But it turns out the kids do still buy drinks, although it’s not quite as busy.
“This is my second all-ages show,” she said, “there’s no way I am ever working another one.”
There had been trouble at the previous gig, when 900 kids had attempted to gain entry to the 250-capacity venue. The police were called. More generally, she was pissed off that they only ever seemed to ask for tap water (although I don’t see why that would be a problem for her personally.) As we chatted, a few kids attempted to use woefully unconvincing fake IDs. She warned me not to take my eye off my pint glass, as it would be snapped up immediately, and went off to serve another customer.
Finally, Pull In Emergency came on. A nagging thought had been running through my mind: everyone was having fun, but the bands so far hadn’t really been particularly good. Good for their age, of course, but these kids are supposed to be properly taking over music. Anyway Pull In Emergency delivered a tight, confident and imaginative set. Faith was excellent up front, and the whole band had a natural stage presence. By the end I had joined in the moshing, although I was careful not to crush anyone half my size, and half my age.
I left confident that rock no longer needed me, and was in safe hands.
posted by oliver at Tuesday, April 03, 2007
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