VENUE: VANGUARD
LINE UP: Tokenview, Le Kingste and ME
[ME] were the first fresh-faced, snappy-dressed upstarts to take to the stage. Kicking off an epic set of engrossing noise, dressed like young scallywags who’d been scrubbed down for Sunday mass.
Their psychedelic sound is assumedly the culmination of Muse, Radiohead and Queen all ejaculating into a petri dish containing Grace Slick’s eggs. It’s beautiful brilliance, and if you haven’t heard it – you fucking should.
Then Le Kingste rambled out onto stage and spat a sticky sound scape of spoken word across the red walls of the Vanguard. The lead singer hypnotised the punters in 30 seconds, before detonating into an orchestral set of thick sounds, meaty wailing and quirky humour. Fuck their brilliance, I’m good at stuff too, fuck you… fuck.
Anyway, after witnessing these two acts shit on every ounce of scepticism I had left and whipping the crowd into retardation – I was feeling nervous for the next act. I couldn’t imagine two harder acts to follow – and I began to doubt the headline heroes.
But after armouring themselves with their battered instruments and swaggering on stage – the half drunk, languid looking rockers strummed about and proceeded to rip into a faultless set of perfect timing in a tide of talent. They looked more like a band than ever before as they throat fucked the audience with their restored unity.
It was a night smothered in beautiful noise, at a venue packed to the rafters with beautiful, edgy-looking kids – which left me feeling a little old and ugly. So I was thankful for Tokenview’s creepy manager, who consistently hovered behind me, stroking my ears and stalking the crowd with his sweaty rape glare. If it wasn’t for that spine-chilling bastard, I could have been the worst-dressed at that gorgeous venue.
Thank fuck for management.
George Bannister
Your review needed more penis.