Song, by Toad

As you can see I have complied with Mrs. Toad’s request to stop featuring cutesy Edinburgh pictures on these little posts and put up some pictures of radgy wee neds instead. This is something I think she feels is more representative of a kind of Edinburgh life that tends to be ignored (for more such pictures, go here, it’s hilarious).

I play football regularly in Craigmillar, often against teams from there or alternatively from lovely places like Craigour, Niddrie and other delightful Edinburgh tourist spots. I’ve actually been threatened with being knifed something like three or four times during various matches when we’ve played out there. It is a little unsettling actually, because for all you always have to respond with bravado – ‘Yeah fuck off – I’m more scared of your Mum you little poof’ or something equally erudite – there’s always the slender chance that one of the weaselly little fuckers is just crazy enough to mean it.

The biggest question I have with neds (pikeys, scallys, radges, whatever you local variation might be) is how they manage to find the stamina to go through life so CONSTANTLY FUCKING ANGRY. Honestly, where does that rage come from, how can they summon that level of anger, all of every day, about nothing at all? I suppose having lost at everything doesn’t help. Maybe the anger is why they live such short lives too – the rage must just burn you up.

Anyway, all that’s by the by really, isn’t it. What’s on this week then? Not much, but one absolute corker: Fence Club.

Wednesday 17th September 2008: James Yorkston & the Athletes, Malcolm Middleton, and Pictish Trail & Rozi Plain at The Caves.
In terms of lineups you’d struggle to beat this. James Yorkston’s new album is gorgeous, and given his tour is necessarily going to be a solo affair I really recommend you take this chance to see him now. The lush beauty of the sound is going to be perfect for The Caves, especially with full Athletic accompaniment. Malcolm Middleton’s literate, witty, downbeat indie takes little introduction, I would hope, and the dynamic duo of Pictish and Plain should be a treat. Tickets are getting close to selling out, too, so I’d buy one now if I were you. The official line is that there should be tickets left to sell on the door, but they aren’t certain. Book here to put your mind at rest.
James Yorkston – Queen of Spain
Malcolm Middleton – A Brighter Beat

Saturday 20th September 2008: Jonquil at Henry’s Cellar Bar.
One of Edinburgh’s own has recently agreed to become their manager, so they must be good. It’s a sort of experimental folk sound, broadly speaking, and is really bloody marvellous live. It’s a late one too, so don’t get so plastered you fail to appreciate the music. I do that all the fucking time, and it irritates the shit out of me.
Jonquil – Apparency

And, you know, I really think that’s it.

Ah the perils of actually interacting with bands and watching your objectivity vanish into the distance.  The Steeples were hanging around before and after their gig and came across as such a sincerely enthusiastic group of really, genuinely nice lads that I really, really hope they do well just on that basis alone.  Watch them play live and the number of times you catch any two members of the group grinning ridiculously at one another, as if playing this gig was the single best thing that had ever happened to them, is just silly.  You can imagine, I hope, how that sort of  boundless enthusiasm spills over into an audience: what fucking brilliant fun to see, these guys are.

I think perhaps the most obvious and instructive comparison to make, although they may not thank me for making it, is with The Fratellis.  Indie-snobs the world over turned their noses up at The Fratellis somewhat, which is something I find partially undeserved and irritating.  The album itself was a splendidly catchy and eminently enjoyable slice of indie pop which I think it is just plain churlish to sneer at for seeming a little lightweight.  That said, The Fratellis’ big failing, one which The Steeples highlight strongly by their difference, is that with the exception of the drummer they sucked sweaty donkey balls live.  Two thirds of them just couldn’t play.

The Steeples, on the other hand, have no such problems.  Live they are really, really tight.  The sound is similar to The Fratellis alright, albeit with a much bigger debt to ska, but the playing was light years ahead.  If you fancy a really fucking good night out, I wouldn’t recommend many bands above The Steeples.

That said, recorded, I think a lot seems to have gone missing.  The infectious joy and energy of the live performance is not really there, if you ask me.  Over-production would be my first guess, but who knows how these things happen.   Either way, perhaps be cautious about the records, but definitely go and see them live.

The Steeples – Tight Tina

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