Week 8 - Part 2

Part Two - Frankie & The Heartstrings

“You’re too nice to be a murderer. . . and you’re gutless. . .”

Sandro is a fine practitioner in the art of giving a sugar-coated insult. He demonstrated as much as we casually discussed the most light-hearted of topics: murder.

Initially, I was pleased to be described as being 'too nice' to be a murderer, but after a while I figured out the the real crux of his comment, which is of course the desired effect of the textbook sugar-coated insult.

“I’m not gutless!” I eventually replied indignantly.

“You are. You haven't got any guts,” Sandro assured me.

“I know what it means, but I’m not! I could murder someone if I wanted to,” I told him in my most menacing voice.

“No you couldn’t,” he said confidently, sounding disappointingly unmenaced.

“What if I was brainwashed to kill someone by an evil fashion designer?” I asked.

“You'd still be too gutless to go through with it,” he replied.

“I’ll murder you to prove otherwise if you’re not careful!” I said even more menacingly. I even narrowed my eyes at him.

“I bet you twenty quid you don’t,” he responded, reaching for his wallet.

Damn. He had me.

I laughed, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Two hundred?” he said, raising the stakes.

That was too much money to instantly dismiss.

“No, don’t be daft,” I said after a while. “You can’t afford that. . . And how would I claim the money once you’re dead?” I wondered aloud, giving the offer the consideration it deserved.

“Well, we would have to draw up a legally binding contract I suppose,” Sandro said thoughtfully. Too thoughtfully.

“Even then, I’m not sure the police would be too impressed. I don’t think the two hundred quid I’m unlikely to ever see, would be worth the life sentence,” I said trying to move away from the subject.

“What’s a life sentence these days? Ten to fifteen years? That’s not too bad,” he said persuasively.

“Well. It is for two hundred quid. . . No, I’m not murdering you, and that’s the end of it!” I said decisively.

“How about one million quid?” Sandro asked finally.

I’ve always maintained I’d do anything for a million pounds, so I did, and that was the end of Gigaweek.

Of course, Sandro didn’t really want to be murdered, and I’m no murderer. Not because I’m gutless, but because I’m nice. But mainly because Sandro doesn’t have one million pounds.

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What relevance does the above conversation have, you may be wondering (you probably couldn't care less)? Well, it’s indicative of the kind of conversation that two brothers might have if they spend too much time in each others company, and this week a double Gigaweek was to blame.


Les Savy Fav were always going to be a tough act to follow. For a new band that neither Sandro or I had listened to yet, it was even tougher. Even so, Frankie & The Heartstrings impressed.


Cousin Bish was still in a fragile state of mind and recovering from the events of Wednesday, complaining that he was suffering from the black lung, but Sandro, P.Mushy and I were fit enough to join delectable male models Gavlova and Flapjack, whose noses were still vibrating from the recent NME Shockwaves gig. 


The North Star provided our pre-gig pint, but unfortunately they’d withdrawn their 'Guess The Quote' competition. Presumably they’d been inundated with desperate, alcoholic time-travellers after my late tip-off last time, and thought better of it.


My own pre-gig drink was a soft one. Being the finely tuned, disciplined, committed athlete that Sandro will testify I am not, I was off the alcohol altogether (another first for a Gigaweek event). I was already focusing on the football I’d be kicking around aimlessly the following day, visualising the numerous open goals I would miss.


Tonight’s gig was at Clwb Ifor Bach, rather than the nearby Dempsey’s as had originally been planned. I assumed the move was in response to a greater than expected demand for tickets, but when the first of the two headliners Cloud Nothings took to the stage, there were barely fifteen people in the crowd.

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Cloud Nothings is the name of an American teenager and his support band. Assuming that is actually the young scamp’s real name, Cloud told us he’d never been to Cardiff before and he declared himself to be a fan of Mclusky, but apart from that he didn’t waste too much time talking to the sparse crowd. I don’t blame him, there were some real weirdos about, particularly Gavlova and Flapjack.

Mr Nothings set consisted of fast paced, old fashioned indie guitar music, but his vocals weren’t particularly clear or strong. There weren’t really any standout moments or even melodies that stuck in the head for too long, yet, in my infinite wisdom I saw hints of potential. There was toe tapping, hand clapping and head flapping.

“He's so hot right now,” I told Gavlova. He, however, was less impressed.

“What is the drummer doing facing sideways?” he said with a perplexed frown.

“Maybe he has trouble turning left?” I suggested reasonably.

“Nah, he’s just got trouble not being a prick,” Flapjack said with the aggression of someone who supports a frustratingly limited football side.

“Attention seeking, that’s what it is,” Gav said, “I’ve seen plenty of drummers and drum kits fit on that stage, and none of them had to face sideways.”

Who could argue with that? Could he turn left? Who knew?


Frankie & The Heartstrings' drummer didn’t risk incensing Gavlova, choosing to face the audience in the traditional manner, although the singer did take unusual option of dancing in front of the stage rather than on it. It wasn’t quite Harringtonesque crowd interaction, in fact it was an option that was only really available to him due to the vast oceans of space among the audience, but it did the job of involving the audience a lot more than we would have felt otherwise.

Flapjack had done his homework, having bought Frankie & The Heartstrings newly released debut album, Hunger, and gave an encouraging report of what he’d heard so far, tipping the song 'Possibilities' as one to listen out for. Of course, I made a mental note to ignore Flapjacks tip. Flapjack admitted he was hoping they’d play his all time favourite song 'Relax' to finish, before he tailed off, muttering something about killing the prime minister of Malaysia, or was it the Chairman of Cardiff City?

Sadly, Gavlova had worried me. His own report related to the hairstyle of the singer, Frankie. Whilst I, like Gavlova, try to avoid preconceptions and prejudice as often as possible (except as far as Flapjack is concerned), I must confess that when I saw the singer’s hair for myself, I was reminded of those annoying indie kids who are so easy to mock. No, I don’t mean me.

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Frankie and the Heartstrings took to the stage with Frankie wandering around microphone in hand, displaying some impressive dad-dancing, with no sign of shame or embarrassment as he pranced in front of the sparse audience. His hair was surely inspired by Morrissey himself, more than slightly floppy, and ginger too. Luckily the band's substance was more important than their style and they won me over quickly.


A slightly effeminate singer from up north (albeit Sunderland rather than Manchester), who sings earnest lyrics, with catchy chorus’ backed by jangly guitars; where do the comparisons with Mozzer end? One of the Heartstrings was even a bit like Johnny Marr, although his virtuosity with his guitar and keyboard drew less attention than his legs.


“They are the skinniest legs I've ever seen!” Gavlova said, aghast at the pins on display. His comment was clearly influenced by the skinny jeans 'Marr' was sporting. “What are they? Jeans for Ants? They should be at least 3 times bigger!”


He could have easily been mistaken for a member of Young Legionnaire, if only he’d had bad facial hair.


Luckily the jeans weren’t constricting enough to prevent him and the rest of the band showing off their obvious talents with a string of exciting and enjoyable tunes, surprisingly including Flapjack's tip 'Possibilities'.


Their set even improved as it went on, with break up song 'Ungrateful' and it’s lyrics “I wrote this song with you in mind,” a particular highlight and the perfect accompaniment to Sandro’s favourite song 'Mr Vain' both of which were written about him, he tells me.


“That was great, but still, they are just horribly skinny legs,” Gavlova reasserted, now enjoying himself. But just as some people with weak stomachs watch horror films and spend the whole time peeking through their fingers at the screen, he was unable to resist the urge to gaze at the guitarists legs.


They excelled themselves with their final song 'Fragile' which began as slowly and as gently as a left footed shot from P.Mushy, before growing into a triumphant chorus about breaking down, emotionally I imagine, rather than having to call out the AA, to provide a suitable end to a fine gig.


Later on P. Mushy and Flapjack spoke to skinny legs Johnny Marr in the outside smoking area, and were told that the ginger duo of Frankie and The Heartstrings would be up early in the morning to head to London for an appearance on Soccer AM. 


Despite that conversation, P. Mushy still decided to ask the 3 members who would be having a longer lie in if they were excited about going on the show. 


“That’s only the other two,” they replied glumly. 


Sandro meanwhile probed deeper. “What’s with the other guitarist, hiding behind the curtain?” he asked suspiciously. “Is he the Wizard of Oz or something?”


“He was just tuning. It’s fairly standard”, the ushanka wearing bassist replied shiftily, before disappearing into his own hat. 


“And what’s with your legs?” Gavlova called out, but they were all gone, legs and all.

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“I think we’re all agreed that was a very fine gig indeed, right?” I said afterwards.

“I’m sorry, but the guy’s legs put me off. I felt physically sick to be honest,” Gavlova said.

“Some people don’t need great legs Gav,” Sandro told him, “Think of hand models for instance.”

As we were speaking, Gavlova was tapped on the shoulder by such a hand model. It turned out this young man was Gavlova’s cousin, and was in attendance with his girlfriend.

“I didn’t think this would be your kind of scene,” his cousin said sounding surprised to see Gav.

“What do you mean? Why not?” I heard Gavlova reply as I made for the loo.

“You’re a bit. . . old, aren’t you?” his cousin responded, just within earshot of me.

I didn’t see his cousin when I returned, but Gavlova’s walking stick was dripping with blood.

With this in mind, I turned down Sandro’s challenge to a walk-off, and went home, content in the knowledge that we’d completed our first double Gigaweek. The following morning, I did manage to see Frankie and the ginger Heartstring discussing the merits of Niall Quinn on Soccer AM, and showing themselves to be real (i.e. knowledgeable) Sunderland fans.

Having prioritised football over the opportunity of a Friday night out on the town, and having taken pride in my own strength of will to stay off the sauce altogether, it was only fitting that my game was postponed due to heavy rain.

Isn’t it always the way?

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February

29-4 - The Joy Formidable - ✓

5-11 – Jonny - ✓
12-18 - NME Shockwaves Tour (Crystal Castles, Magnetic Man, Everything, Everything, The Vaccines) - ✓
19-25 –Les Savy Fav & Frankie and The Heartstrings - ✓