Anyway, more pressing matters took rectangular shapes on a sweltering evening in the fashionista indie world of Brick Lane. I mean it was a little spicy in there. Spiciness that became a full-scale inferno by the time the bands were finished (cheesy link). Once again drinks were ridiculously expensive (when are they going to realise work isn’t meant for this student), yet the venue portrayed a vague kind of elegance. Obviously in abundance in the graffiti toilet, where blood sick patrolled the cubicles like overboard Mexican Pot Noodle TM. The first band to strenuously battle with the heat and overpriced liquor were Icarus Line look-a-likes, Punish the Atom. Sounding like a ska version of 80’s Matchbox, they get the gig off to a frying (haha) start, with a bit of a maniac front man and some camp make up pouting. As demi-weather god Michael Fish might say, ‘they were overcast with sunny spells breaking through in the latter part of their set,’ that if Fishy liked punk music and not his beloved 2-Unlimited. Remember them! Normally when music reviewers label a band as ‘energetic’ it means they were ‘horse shit,’ but I mean it the good old-fashioned way. Warming up a crowd is hard at the best of times but a crowd that didn’t need warming up because the sun was hovering over the venue, is even harder. They pull it off though. B -.

It’s so hot Tim, Kill Kenada bassist/vocalist, is sporting what only can be described as very short pair of running shorts. You know the ones that ball bags can drift out of anytime if the wind changes. A brave soul. But yes, the Clark Kent’s of underground music scene take the stage, disrobing their day job clothing for punk rock hero garments and well, a pair of running shorts. New songs start the evening and ‘booty shaking’ B-side ‘Tear It Up’ is played, showing that a little break has created enough material to make a remarkable debut album. Confidence has grown also. Gone is the nervousness of between song banter, and remaining is comedy surely on par with the great Bobby Davro. I mean jokes about Jetplane Landing and sticking fingers up dog’s arses, come on!! I mean, you guys!! Anyway, you can only measure performances on past ones and to say this was one of the best KK performances I’ve witnessed would be an understatement. We all know the best was Camberwell Crypt (?). The lads even left out ‘choons’ ‘SOAP’ and ‘Scram!’ which seemed ridiculous two months ago, but now seems almost a necessity. May I say it again, but strike me down with a pre pubescent bunny rabbit, this is the greatest bloody emerging band in England, and how Nazi music magazines can ignore them, Distophia and the ever youthful Mclusky, is beyond even Great Britain stealing a bronze medal at Athens for eating fish and chips. Some members can even date Ikara Colt members. Yes Chewy, I know.

Top that. Well the headliners are a band not totally new to me either. Seeing them at a festival and at an Ikara Colt gig, does kind of give me some advantage surely. Yet I believe they should consider not touring with Kill Kenada anymore, because if the support act overshadows you it really is hard to grab back attention. Yet how I really want to love this band. I really do. The five lovable Geordie guys of YCNI:M really do fill the stage, especially the giant bassist. Reminds me of John Candy. Wasn’t Planes, Trains and Automobiles a corker. But unfortunately I just can’t love them. Every time I have seen them they never quite scale the heights promised by their fans. The problem is always the lull in the middle of the set, too much ‘emo’ tinkering normally redeemed at the end by ‘Problem’ or ‘All Roads To Fault,’ with the latter bringing the evening to a climatic ending. I think it maybe because they sound too much like At The Drive-In, even down to the vocals which, to give credit, sound higher pitched than the Bixler’s. Tonight though is the best I’ve seen them and even from the side of the stage you can taste the alcohol sweat dripping off the three guitar pronged Lama attack. Only my opinion though. An amazing night none the less, I mean Charlie from Busted. That’s a grade D celebrity right there.

Matt Gilbert