Part travelogue, part review, part rambling flow of
consciousness from a sleep deprived rock and roll junkie.
I'm not sure if that's a promise, or a warning, but at the very least it is a
heads up before we proceed.
I'm sitting on a Megabus writing this, one hour into a twelve hour journey
home. I could count the hours that I have slept in the last three days on the
fingers of one hand. Mentally and physically all is fine. I've broken on
through to the other side of exhaustion hours ago. That's what happens after a
while. Just when you think the tank is empty the reserves kick in. I don't
think I could sleep now even if I wanted to.
Megabus probably wouldn't let me anyway. As a company they are apparently at
war with Hypnos. None shall sleep could be their motto, and they take their
motto very seriously.
Outward appearances are more deceptive though.
I look like a wreck.
I've got more bags under my eyes than Ryanair lose in a year. If I sat a
polystyrene coffee cup down in front of me then random strangers might start
throwing loose coins into it. It's a common look for those who do silly things
like travel through the night from one end of the country to the other to see a
band in a club.
Old hands like to claim they look elegantly wasted in the aftermath of such
trips, but strip the romantic prose away and they mean shell shocked and
fucked. I'm wearing that barge with pride.
I'm not bothered though because I seen Crazyhead last night.
Yeah, that Crazyhead. Leicester Grebo kings.
Remember when Grebo was a thing for a blink and you would miss it moment? Well
I loved that shit. That melting pot of rock and punk paired with an attitude of
not really giving too much of a fuck about the populist culture of the time
when you could conjure up a fantasy world of your own to inhabit instead.
It was all a bit Mad Max and 2000ADs Cursed Earth fashions sound-tracked by
garage rock and roll with some liberal soap dodging thrown into the mix for
good measure.
If your leather trousers couldn't stand up on their own then you weren't really
trying hard enough.
And out of all the bands that were spawned from that loose scene it was
Crazyhead that stole my heart. Stole it and kept it.
I've had a little flame burning for them in the hope that one day they would
return, and every once in a while I'd fan it with a binge of playing their
records just to keep it alive. I never really gave up hope.
And yet last year when they finally did reform, the chance to see them
unfortunately passed me by, and when it did a little demon that I call Cunto
whispered internally that I'd blown my chance.
I, of course, whispered back "we shall see Cunto" and fanned that
tiny flame with the sleeve of Desert Orchid.
And now here we are in 2018 and Cunto is gleefully being told to shut it as I
bathe in the luxuriant memory of seeing them in the 100 Club.
I'm grabbing my "sneer and gloating in London
There's always a bit of trepidation lurking around these gigs. Will the band
deliver? Can they match former glories?
Any gig is a toss of the dice, but it feels like there's more of a risk with a
band returning to the stage after an extended break. In the main it’s just a
perception thing though. More often than not bands do deliver. Good bands that
is.
The Stooges return to the stage was off the hook, The Sonics
killed it, Mott the Hoople was another one that easily slapped the intervening
years out of the way to come crashing into the present.
And now Crazyhead have emulated the success of them all.
Stepping onto the iconic stage of the 100 Club they took the
faithful on a trip.
The songs from Desert Orchard still sounds as good live as they
ever did. There’s a deeper growl to Andersons
Some may have wanted a note perfect carbon copy of the album
in its entirety, but that would be a strange approach to take as Crazyhead were
always about pushing the pedal down hard and pushing the needle up as far as it
could go. Even back in the late eighties you wouldn’t get a sterile studio
rendition. They were a live band, not a studio one. So why expect that to
change? No, let’s just set that aside and appreciate that the aggressive
passion is still something that is firmly in the driving seat when they play.
There was a point mid set when I looked up and considered
the nostalgia angle on gigs like this, but it was a fleeting thought. It’s not
something that matters much to me. In the heat of the moment it’s not about
reliving the past, but about losing myself in the present, and song after song
of their set that’s where I was. Lost in the moment, not a moment, but the
moment, and so was everyone around me.
Beaming smiles seemed to be the unspoken order of the night,
and as the band pushed ever further through the album the smiles just got
bigger and bigger.
The smiles were not just plastered over the audiences faces
either. Each member of the band was revelling in the moment too. As they
thundered on the wall between band and audience was demolished and the show
became a party of like minded people who had one mission in life, and that was
to collectively get down with the music.
In short I came, I saw, they conquered.
The world needs more bands like Crazyhead, or to be more
accurate people need to reengage with bands like them. They are one of those
bands who when they take to a stage they draw from the audience a need to punch
the air and let loose a primal scream, and that’s a positive.
Now all we need is everyone to shower these lovely bastards
with love and maybe we will get a UK
Note : Some photos from the night will be added as soon as Kelly manages to send them to me.
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