Heart of a Punk - Soul of a Rasta

28th April 09 Birmingham O2 Academy 2
Art Brut/Robocop Kraus

After The Specials on Sunday, a spell at bloody work in between, the prospect of wanging over to Brum again on Tuesday night to see Art Brut was a prospect that I didn't view with any great sense of alacrity. If only all bands worth their corn could organise their gigs around me, keeping their performances at a convenient equidistance, it would make my life a whole lot easier and a whole lot more, well, BORING!

Anyway Tuesday's 160 miles of wanging was fulfilled with a good deal of music shoved in and out of the car cd player and several gallons of coffee and red bull being consumed, its not Rock n Roll but it's the most me Doctor and me family are going to allow these days.So back to Birmingham's O2 Academy where I might as well have my wages transferred directly to each and every month. Back inside the huge pistoir (pistoir that's French for piss hole that is) of Academy 2 and in good time too; time enough to have a little moment. As always I find the darkest quietest corner in which to hide and I plonk my sorry ass on the black felt floor. This is a bad idea, bringing the arse part of my anatomy closer to the flooring is ok, but bringing my nose down 5ft nearer to the floor is not, but I'm not moving now I'll just have to sit here and abide with the stench, sit and abide with the decades of stench, the stench of beer and blood, beer and shit, beer and piss, beer and blood, beer and fag ash, beer and most importantly beer, if only the stench could speak what stories it could tell. Wait a minute "people are standing up, the band are on the pitch" Robocop Kraus a German five piece art rock combo? "Never heard of them - I have now!"

At this juncture I must break off momentarily from my narrative but please bear with me it is not without purpose. From time to time in this fanzine we find it necessary to criticise the inherent stupidity of a music journalist, it's not clever of us, and it doesn't mean we know any better, but as I have just said we find it necessary - if only in an attempt to remain sane. Just prior to my voyage to see Art Brut The Bigot passed me this clipping which appeared in a certain weekly publication, he asked me to comment on it "maybe in the future", but the time to comment is now!

Well, well, well, this tragic little extract raises several questions for me:

1/How can this person be a music journalist; to fulfil this function aren't you required to have at least an open minded appreciation of music? (No it's their job) Oh right.

2/Why would this person ever want to go to a gig if this was their actual experience of seeing a band live? (Because it is their job) Oh right.

3/Where does this person stand at a gig to experience this sort of nonsense? (At the back with all the other cynical disinterested tossers who unfortunately aren't getting paid to be a cynical disinterested) Oh right.

I am forced to conclude on reading this unmitigated rubbish that the person who wrote it must have been forced into music journalism by evil warlords at an early age. And I can only fervently hope and pray that this person never "thinks" about watching a live band ever again.

Ahh I feel better already (and a bit like The Bigot errr), let's proceed because as it turned out, everything that transpired at the O2 Academy on the evening of the 28th didn't need thinking about it was completely joyous.

The crowd only needed several seconds of shocked surprise to take in Robocop Kraus before they realised what these fine fellows were about. And what were they about? Well, they were about giving us some cracking songs, some cracking entertainment, some silly choreography, some silly stories, but above all GIVING US thirty minutes of unrestrained joy. The well aged bass player drove his instrument as hard as Peter Hook, the drummer sped, clanged and thrashed away somewhere out of my sight, the hairy keyboard player plinked his keyboard and forced his Korg to beeb and splurt wherever necessary, and the guitarist, well he just, he just did the f'in business standing hard fast to the beaming and constantly motive lead vocalist. The crowd didn't really need much warming up for Art Brut but after Robocop Kraus they were gas mark 3. All I can say about Robocop Kraus is I WISH I WAS IN THIS BAND. I'll have to get hold of a Robocop Kraus album - oh look there's bloke selling some - talk amongst yourselves a moment I'll be back.

OK, with the red smoke machine on full torque Art Brut kicked off their set in the same fashion as their latest "Art Brut vs Satan" album, by ripping into "Alcoholic Unanimous". The almost too wee and microphoneless Freddy Feedback sung every word, the sticks of Mikey Breyer made contact with every cymbal to hand, Ian Catskilin's guitar eked out every riff, Jasper Future's guitar went clank clank, clank clank, and Eddie Argos stood centre stage a microphone in one hand and the fringe of his tar black hair clutched in the other. On the night he had a lot of information to impart: LOVE: a love for "DC Comics and Chocolate Milkshakes" and "Slap Dash for No Cash" records. COMPULSIONS: "Modern Art" it still makes him want to rock out, it also brought on an urge within him to mingle & mosh with the crowd. UPDATES: He now knows where "Emily Kane" lives and his "Little Brother" who once discovered Rock and/or Roll no longer creates compilation tapes of bootlegs and B sides he makes iTune lists instead (whatever these are). Finally CRUSADES: Bringing back Top of the Pops he admits maybe a lost cause, but there is a new crusade, Art Brut vs Satan, or Art Brut vs the record buying public. Mmm democracy, that old chestnut, not all that it's cracked up to be - it seems "Which ever way you vote the government always gets in" and as far as the charts is concerned "The shit always rises to the top".

As for the Art Brut vs Satan album, well I've read some really revelatory reviews in the music rags, one stated that Frank Black's production was minimal [major sarcasm WARNING], really, no, what, shock horror, minimal Frank Black, no, surely, well I'll go to the foot of the stairs, this is amazing Frank Black(head Pixie) minimal, surely throughout his career he has been synonymous with luscious multi layered highly orchestrated productions, this is a big shift for him then wow. I also read a review that said that on Art Brut vs Satan Art Brut had failed to move their music forward, eh? Oh you mean Art Brut are still Art Brut on this album, no shit! Well I can confirm that this journo is correct Art Brut are Art Brut on the Art Brut vs Satan album! What do you think Bigot.

I've really enjoyed listening to the Art Brut's new album, there's only one problem, and that is I've enjoyed listening to it slightly less than listening to their previous two albums. But I'm sure we'll all survive this.
Now I shall play the race card.

What I know is:
Art Brut are an English band.
Frank Black is American.
The Replacements are an American band.
The only music of any worth that comes our way from the USA is anglophile in nature.
America is where Satan resides.
England is God's own country.

What I don't know is:
What the Gallagher brothers find appealing in the work of Kings of Leon.
What Eddie Argos finds appealing in the work of The Replacements. Can anyone help? - The Bigot

Vive le difference, Bigot, vive le difference.

Vive BOLLOCKS!

Fair enough.

Anyway I agree Art Brut's songs are quintessentially English, Art Brut are quintessentially a great live band, and a great band to see live. Before "Good Weekend" was played and the imaginary curtain finally dropped Eddie called upon all present to have formed a band prior to Art Brut's return to Birmingham. I was so fired up by this request I decided to take up his challenge I went straight home picked up the guitar played three chords on it and decided to start writing a..................Fanzine!