Dead Meadow: Going Like The Clappers

Having missed a Dead Meadow gig last month (sidetracked by The Scot/a public house/booze), this month's appearance by Washington D.C.'s finest was attended by me and the fragrant Lou W. Thanks go to Howard and Lucy Local for bringing the sexy/heavy back to Islington. Crammed into a heaving Buffalo bar, we were only mildly annoyed when an unfeasibly tall arsehole and his very loud and annoying American girlfriend shoved their way in front of Miss W and I, only to proceed to turn into a wall of snogging and sweet-nothing-whispers. Lou asked "are you planning to snog throughout the entire gig?" and I reacted like this:

Take that, sir

DM played a blinding set - closed my eyes and drifted off on a sea of heavy psych (was rather disappointed to see that Stephen McCarty is no longer on skins - a truly amazing drummer with the finest facial hair a man can sport got married and a little bird tells me he's been obliged to do some proper settling down...). At one point, I think I re-enacted how Steve on bass gets when he's pissed on stage (he wears specs and can't see very well without them) by jigging up and down to the amusement of Lou W. All very funny until I banged my shin on a bar stool creating a bruise and egg-shaped bump on my leg of mammoth proportion. That'll teach me to tit around. Ouch.

Bit of hanging about after brought some nice Irish Whisky (ta, Howard) and a chat with Steve-Bass, discussing spectacles (naturally) and The League Of Gentlemen, of which he's a huge fan. He even managed to get in the Crème Brûlée "it's a shit business" quote, which made me love him more than ever. Apparently, I told him it is confirmed that DM make the best make-out music on the planet, voted by parties on two hemispheres. At some point, I may have used the phrase "going like the clappers" but I'm not sure if this translates well across the Atlantic.

(Postscript: last Thursday was one of the freakiest gigs I've ever attended. The Lexington on Pentonville Road hosted the album launch of Koolaid Electric Company's first ever release. Bernie, Scooter Steve and I witnessed Circulus (70s medieval oddboddery - head honcho Michael Tyack is moving to Glastonbury to set up a mind-bending church - are you getting this? Scooter Steve said he expected to see an 18" tiny Stonehenge descend from the rafters at any minute) and We Are Animal (perfectly ordinary bunch of lads doing loud things with their instruments - the only sane part of the night). Next, completely unannounced, two youngsters, who looked like they should be hanging around outside newsagents persuading adults to buy them 10 Benson & Hedges, picked up the mics and started doing something which I believe to be MCing. Shit MCing. I thought it was a joke. I believe the mot du jour for this is 'random'. After a brief interlude of peace from that racket, KEC took the stage and played their blissed-out, shoegazey psych for a bit, which was all well and good. Bizarrely, they then invited the yoof back up on stage to do fast-rap-MC-shite over the top of their swirlings. Stunned silence followed and I'm not entirely sure how I got home. I think I got a piggy-back from a dwarf straddling a unicorn, because I felt like I must certainly be off my tits on acid and had a sneaky suspicion David Lynch was filming me from the shadows.)

Three Kings

Like some kinda fangirl, I became more than a little giddy when I heard that my favourite swirly heavy were riding into town. Having been introduced to Dead Meadow a few years ago by Mr Ward, they fast headed for the top of my list of must-see bands whenever they're around.

Having sneaked a couple of guestlists off a very benevolent Howard Local, I was gutted to hear my dear friend Blondie wouldn't be accompanying me due to family commitments (she's rather partial to heavy too), so at the last minute, I invited my successor to Disgracelands, the lovely Andreina.

First up, Wolf People. I really like these fellas - they seem to incorporate the right amount of guitars, noise and denim which suits me nicely. Bit of a shame they lost the flute guy who used to stand on one leg (now where have I seen that before...?), but great nonetheless.

Next up, Duke Garwood. I've already waxed lyrical about him right here, following his support of my darling Mr Lanegan a few weeks ago. He had a couple of techy hitches, but kept a smile on his face whilst playing some lovely dark country blues. His drummer is a very cool, older bearded chap who knocks his skins about beautifully.

And so to the main attraction, incorporating their new album, with the first UK screening of their film "Three Kings" as a backdrop. If I'm honest, the boys took me so far away with the fairies whilst they played, I hardly noticed the footage, which seemed to consist of them wandering around in the desert wearing tie-dyed vests, aviator shades and flares (sigh...Stephen McCarty). My eyes were closed quite a bit actually, apart from the minute when an überfan tried some hilarious crowdsurf move, with absolutely no takers to support him. NONE. Very funny. Also, it was the birthday of pisshead short-sighted bassist Steve, and the band seemed to be having a ball. They were truly amazing - when they went into what I only know as "Untitled Bonus Track" off Feathers, I think I may have gone into a psych vortex (maybe).

Got roped into giving a few lifts after the gig, so as we hung about waiting for Howard and his friend Paul (very familiar looking...turns out he's the older brother of Mister Seven Woods/Thunders Rick), I spoke to singer Jason Simon (sweetheart) and a drunk but very jolly birthday boy Steve. Trivia time, kids - Jason Simon's uncle is none other than David Simon, creator of the HBO brilliance that is The Wire...so, Ladies, we have him to thank for McNulty and Stringer Bell...

Whilst loitering, I also spoke to the creator of a special silkscreen print for the show, Adam Pobiak. I've admired his work before (in fact, he laughed as Blondie and I had once gatecrashed his birthday bash), so I was more than happy to part with a few bob to be the proud owner of this:

Printed on really great quality brown paper (and you know how I love that), with plenty of swirling patterns, big hog bikes, horses, mushrooms - all my favourite stuff! You can see Adam's work here:

http://pobiak.com/

To summarise - believe I've seen my gig of the year, no kidding. Three Kings indeed.

(Postscript: I went to see Rangda the next night. A supergroup consisting of the individual talents of Ben "Six Organs" Chasny, Sir Richard Bishop and Chris Corsano. Went on my lonesome, got there just in time to see them set up and take the stage. And in parts - superb. And in other parts...well, erm...it was a bit of a racket. Little bit hit-and-miss for me. As discussed with Thee Sonic Assassin, "free jazz" might not quite be my thing. And after Dead Meadow the night before, maybe even Zep would have had a job on getting me going. Actually, strike that - that's just silly talk.)

Dead Meadow (again) @ 229

It really is no hardship to spend a Saturday evening with my dear friends, watching a band who have the knack of building swirling drone racket down pat. I love these chaps. GuitarGuy is cool (but vocals were a bit quiet). DrumDude has some great chops (skills/hair on face). BassBoy was pissed out of his mind, and I swear when he came back on for the encore, he had to put his glasses on because he wasn't certain if the blurriness was due to whisky or his short-sightedness. They rock, as the young folks say.