Week 46

Week 46 – Friday 18th November – Wise Blood – Undertone, Cardiff – £6

“You’re just a bit of a twat really aren’t you?”

You may not be surprised to discover that the above remark was made by Sandro, but you will be staggered to learn that it was not directed at me. 

But more on that later. . .

Sandro and I left it late to ensure that we had a gig for Week 46. It was the only week in November that we hadn’t planned for in advance and our options were fairly limited. The gig we finally settled on was one from a young American known as Wise Blood, who hails from Pittsburgh.

He’d been brought over the Atlantic by Sŵn, in anticipation of big things. We’re talking S-Club big.

They brought him to Undertone, so he presumably booked the next flight straight back when he arrived. If Wisey does hit the big time, he’s unlikely to ever play anywhere quite like it again.

Sandro and I had daringly decided not to purchase our tickets in advance, so we needed to arrive early just in case one of those annoying buzzes you always hear about (not tinnitus) had led to a sell-out.

-------

After a thoroughly enjoyable bus ride to town, we were greeted by closed doors so headed next door to O’Neill’s, where old chums and upstanding gentlefolk Flapjack and The Wiggler were sharing a romantic pint. Not wanting to spoil their evening, we returned to Undertone at half eight, by which time its doors had mysteriously opened.

Tickets were a steal at £4 online, but turned out to be £2 more on the door. Sandro especially, felt robbed. 

“It doesn’t say MOTD on the poster,” he complained, after glimpsing an unwelcome Mark Lawrenson and Gary Linekar lurking behind us. Big Wise Blood fans I'm assured.

We were amongst the first to enter and helped ourselves to a cheap Stella IV while enjoying the pre-gig mood-setting music. Music which put us in mind to discuss ideas for a film neo-noir we’re planning to never make. 

Just as we were deciding how our bumbling-detective protagonist would shockingly be murdered at the end of the film (by falling into an industrial deep fryer, I suggested), law-abiding citizen Ryan of Brum appeared.

He was in time to see the support, a gentleman who went by the name of Crash.Disco! Though he was just one young man and a mac, Crash made some very interesting sounds, beginning with a twist on the signature tune from Close Encounters of the Third Kind. He didn’t outstay his welcome though, disappearing with some skinny, pale lads with large heads after a short while.

-------

As Sandro and Ryan of Brum pointed out, the presence of Sŵn chief John Rostron and Radio One DJ Jen Long suggested Wise Blood had a few industry eyes and ears pointed in his direction (only Linekar could manage both at the same time). The presence of a couple of notebooks in the audience was also noted. 

One was a small notepad (approx. 120 sheets, I’d say) held by a young lass, while the other was a more cumbersome A4 pad (200 leaf at least) cradled by a young lad. Although the budding writers both looked raw, they already seemed to know how to hold a pen. 

I felt intimidated.

“Don’t worry, you could teach them a thing or two,” Ryan of Brum said kindly. 

“I don’t know, they’ve got pens and everything,” I replied.

“Pens are for novices,” Ryan of Brum said. “Remember your motto,” he added reassuringly.

“Don’t eat yellow snow?” I said.

“No the other one,” Ryan of Brum said. “The relevant one.”

I though hard and was comforted by the words of wisdom passed on to me by my ancestors.

‘Trust your memory and if it fails, make the rest up.’

-------

Undertone was as busy as I’ve ever seen it (not very) when Wise Blood took the stage. The singer wore a beanie, which suggested he was a closet baldy. Neither the drummer nor keyboardist who accompanied him had particularly interesting hair, although perhaps that’s a little harsh.

Whether Wise Blood is the name of just the singer or the collective name for the trio is unclear to me. Maybe, as with Wibidi, it’s both. Regardless, they and he were entertaining and unusual, using samples and keyboard wizardry to create a dark yet danceable sound, although I could just be making that up. I certainly didn’t dance.

A curious Ryan of Brum noticed that the young lass with the small notepad had scribbled the words ‘pseudo-rap’ on her pad to describe Wisey’s vocal delivery. I didn’t know what that meant and therefore wholeheartedly disagreed.

Meanwhile, the faux-mc chatted a little between songs. He frequently referred to our fine city with amusing emphasis on the second syllable. “Hey Car-Diff! It’s great to play out here in the countryside.” Silly Pitsburger.

-------

At one point he quickly dashed to the bar to pinch 3 tequilas, returning to down them with his band-mates. “You English like to drink right?” he said, putting his foot in it, but all in the crowd were too drunk to argue. Though he spoke and often sang like Justin Timberlake, his voice sometimes morphed into the aggressive growl of a metalhead, something I never encountered on Justified.

 

As we neared the latter stages, Ryan of Brum suggested that although he’d enjoyed what he’d seen so far, Wise Blood was in serious need of some choruses. Wisey was clearly wise to this, as on queue came a chorus about bitches of some kind (loud bitches no less), in what was an undoubted high point of the show. 

The set ended with a touching love song about a girl called Claire, who Wisey apparently wanted to meet, tie up and beat. “Girl, I wanna meet ya, tie ya up and beat ya tonight,” he barked dementedly. I looked uncomfortably at Ryan of Brum and Sandro, but they seemed fine with it.

It was actually a very good closer, and I’m all for not taking things literally, but I can see these lyric making it into The Daily Mail at some point. Nevertheless I was keen to find someone to tie up and beat so we left to re-join Flapjack and The Wiggler.

-------

Thoroughly decent chap Dante Tyte also joined us for a post-gig pint and he, The Wiggler and I found ourselves unwittingly wasting £4 on entry to 10ft Tall, while Sandro, Ryan of Brum and Flapjack snuck off to The Full Moon Bar. 

There followed a battle of wills as we insisted they return to join us, while they invited us to join them. We were outraged by their deception and adamant that we wouldn’t be the ones to budge. 

Five minute later we were all at The Full Moon Bar. Ryan of Brum departed soon after, while The Wiggler and Flapjack entrusted me as their Kopparberg minder while they popped outside for a cigarette with Dante. 

As I leant against the bar with my back to the ciders, I saw a flash out of the corner of my eye. In my peripheral vision I spotted a man who was waiting at the bar next to me, tuck something into the inside pocket of his jacket.

I had a quick look behind me. Flapjack’s bottle had disappeared. I thought nothing of it.

Wait a second, I thought to myself, that was The Wiggler’s bottle.

 

“I’ll have that Kopparberg back mate,” I said turning to the thief.

He hesitated for a moment, as though he was considering protesting obliviousness, but made no attempt at denial and reached inside his jacket (revealing a black and white hooped top underneath) and gave the bottle back. 

“You should keep an eye on your drinks,” he told me with a cheeky smile.

“Clearly, I did,” I replied flatly. This was no time for cheeky smiles.

-------

Did he really do that, or is this one of those ‘make the rest up’ moments? I thought to myself. People have attempted to burgle bottles from almost under my nose before and I’ve wondered if they’re really that desperate or if they just enjoy the thrill of thievery. Perhaps both.

Sandro was on the opposite side of me to the thief and leant in to enquire as to what was puzzling me. He could scarcely believe his ears, but then his ears do have a reputation for lying. We stood bewildered as the thief returned a little later, with a joke no less.

“You’ve gotta be careful see, you never know who’s about,” he said with a wink.

“You’re just a bit of a twat really aren’t you?” Sandro said, in no mood to humour him. A valid point, I thought.

The thief was incensed. “You what?”  Also a valid point.

“What kind of person nicks a bottle of Cider from the guy next to him at the bar?” Sandro replied. 

“You what? It was on the table! I didn’t know it was his! It was there for the taking!” the thief defended himself. 

“Is that why you snuck it in your pocket is it?” Sandro said.

“Listen pal, I’ve just had a nice conversation with your mate and you start this,” the thief replied, stretching the truth ever so slightly. “Come on then! Let’s have it outside!” he offered, despite being a foot shorter than Sandro. 

The thief made to leave the bar, inviting Sandro to follow. By now I was feverishly scribbling notes on the A4 pad I’d stolen from the young lad at Undertone.

Sandro is not a violent man by nature, nurture has made him that way. Fortunately for the thief, the security staff at The Full Moon Bar intervened.

I was comforted by a conversation I had with one of the lads he was with. 

“He’s a nutter, I don’t know what’s wrong with him!” he said.

“Er, he’s your mate, right?” I asked.

“Well, a friend of a friend really,” he replied.

Flapjack, The Wiggler and Dante finished their cigarettes and returned, just as everything seemed to have calmed and the security staff resumed their normal duties, but the thief came back to try to goad Sandro outside once more. Dante arrived at the opportune moment and appeared to unwittingly accept a challenge to fight the thief himself. 

The bouncers prevented any rumble though, and eventually we headed towards The City Arms while the thief and his merry men headed towards the castle in an anticlimactic, yet peaceful end to the evening. 

The City Arms was exceptionally busy. After waiting a full five minutes with no sign of being served, I decided I couldn’t bear it any longer and snatched a pint from one of the guys next to us. Well, it was either that or give up and go home.

-------

November
 
29-4 - Arctic Monkeys - ✓
5-11 - Girls - ✓
12-18 - Wise Blood - ✓
19-25 - Wild Beasts
26-2 - Foster The People + Kasabian