Dry Heaves + Times Together + Brain Freeze
Firefly, Worcester
Thursday 12th December 2013
There’s a school of thought that says the DIY (Do-It-Yourself) music scene is more vibrant, more important and just plain better than it has ever been, right now. There’s a whole gamut of economic, technological and cultural reasons why. But this a gig review so I’ll shut up. And just postulate that: DIY = Punk = DIY. Anyway. This was more good Punk stuff in the Woo that deserves a wet-throated shout. And that was as DIY as it comes.
Brain Freeze came all the way from Sheffield to crank out some old-school early-80s hardcore. Simple, effective songs that owed equal parts to Bad Brains, Black Flag and Mothorhead. A tight package of short stories about life on the damp, terraced streets of South Yorks, delivered with punch, spark and sincerity. The set closed with a rousing little cover of Attitude by Bad Brains. A thing that it is very hard indeed not to warm to.
Times Together are different prospect. Their style in both appearance and sound is front, centre and direct to the point end-of-the-Reagan-era, East Coast American Youth Crew: well-cut jeans, shiny white trainers and practical sweaters, and a highly disciplined, positive noise. As definitive a circa 1988 Youth of Today / Gorilla Biscuits facsimile as you could conceive. For the uninitiated, this means STRAIGHT EDGE: A near-messianic punk subculture dedicated to self-help, self-discipline and self-improvement – predicated on abstinence from intoxicants and animal products. A counterblast to the Rock and Roll excess of the 70s, this started with Ian Mackaye’s Minor Threat in the early 80s and spawned an unusually vigorous global youth tribe all of its own, peaking in the late 1980s / early 90s. But back to Times Together, 2013. Above a pub in Worcester.
Musically nuts-tight, with the very highest levels of precision in all aspects – percussion most of all, their stick man having the “speed+technique = power” thing properly nailed – the only imperfection tonight was the vocalist’s partially-lost voice. This guy (aka “Crazy James”) has an impressive intensity and presence, tailor-made for the surgically accurate, high-octane finger-waving delivery of the righteous sXe gospel of focus and setting your goals. The guy coped with the outages of his vocal cords commendably though – and it didn’t blunt the edge of the performance. Proof though, if ever there was, that foregoing the booze, kebabs and fags doesn’t protect you against the common cold…
And finally – Dry Heaves. Friends of Brain Freeze, they shared the transit van down from Sheffield for the night. There were real echoes of the mighty Butthole Surfers / Alice Donut in both the distorted vocals and in the ramshackle, everso-slightly artsy tone here: no Gibby Haynes-style peeing themselves on stage, thankfully, but this was an Alternative Tentacles-style mass of unostentatiously intelligent punkiness – an organic counterpoint to the in-your-face Revelation Records blast from Times Together (if these labels are unknown to you, google ‘em. It may improve your life). I’m also reliably informed that the guitar work was the stuff of an early hardcore punk aficionado’s fantasies, drawing heavily on the awesomely accomplished but often overlooked rhythm parts of the Black Flag oeuvre – i.e. the bits hidden behind Gregg Ginn’s proto-mathcore wankery. It was only when these boys eschewed an encore did it transpire that they’d played the entire set without their bassist – and whilst they wanted to honour the gig, they didn’t want to play more than they had to. Speaking personally, I didn’t even notice. Having heard their recorded stuff thanks to the wonders of Bandcamp, their sound is even more distinctive and interesting without him. So I’d sack him off. But up to you gents.
And on a final note, as the Dry Heaves frontman said on opening their set, “I want to thank Neil [Cox, one of the local promoters] for keeping DIY alive in a small town”. A propos of my opening gambit, I’m happily of the growing opinion that this sort of thing has a life all of its own…
Edward Ling
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