Meze, books, food, faces 034Vivers: And so Mezefest begins, with booze and noise. We turn up at the Meze Lounge swaying a little, but nothing like as heroically drunk as Linus from Thinking With Sand, who will later be variously seen being told off for yakking through Stray Borders, drawing penises, and telling this writer that all post rock is shit. Good attitude. The music of Thinking With Sand is a sterling effort too, dreamy waves of shoegaze guitar rubbing and crashing against the thudding beats and droned out bliss of the duo’s other half. In their sparse and piercing charms they’re like My Bloody Valentine, but without the shit bits obviously.

InteriorMonologue: Thinking With Sand were the first band ever to grace the stage of a Joy event.  They scared people.  They’re now a hundred times better and at times you can even hear the vocals.  A success.

Vivers: I wouldn’t say Bayonets were moody, but they have brought their own individual spotlights to shine upwards at each band member. Okay, they are quite moody, with a hefty emo touch to their anguished guitar racket. Their interesting twist is to strip most everything back, wailing over half pace noise, or minimal instrumentation. A chewy, intriguing strop, rather than hats off brilliance.

InteriorMonologue: There is a fine line between genius and total head up arse wankerdom.  Bayonets tread it finely.  The individual spotlights are going down as being so preposterous that they’re cool.  The guitarist has absolutely no centre of gravity and has to constantly move to stay on his feet.  While this must be incredibly annoying in everyday life, it’s great on stage – cool.  He’s wearing white socks and shoes – not cool.  One of them is wearing a vest – not cool.  Here’s the tie breaker, they sound like Crackout.  This gets a big thumbs up from me but I can hear some muttering even as I type.

Vivers:  I confess to not always joining in the adulation of Stray Borders that many in these parts feel. I’ve always been fond though, and swept up in the air of opening night giddiness, Newpart’s ace inclusive drawing, and the discovery of a fucking hot snack bar in the venue, this band’s talents hook into me, and grab me throughout a great set of post rock beauty. They lean on the serene, high guitar lines heavily, and let it crash only a couple of times. Top drawer, and maybe they always were.

InteriorMonologue: I love Stray Borders, I love Stray Borders, I love Stray Borders.  Carlie is wearing a dress.  I’m drunk.  I end the evening telling her I’d fight her for cheese.

Vivers: Caspian have a healthy noise addiction. They must have a good few handfuls of metal in their collections. In basic terms, they fully rock out, all those noodly, tranquil moments pushed to the side to make room for bent double headbanging. The Boston band actually remind me of Rock Of Travolta’s set from earlier in the year: quickly wandering into long zones of guitar abuse, shifting and riffing and crashing every few bars, happily flailing and flinging axes. Heavy instrumental post rock goodness from tall freaks all dressed in black: yes, I think this month is fully afloat.

InteriorMonologue: Caspian have an Arsenal of guitarists.  That’s right, a capital ‘A’.  Masses of talent up front.  Although they’ve gone old school and picked a giant to lead the line.  The man is about 8ft tall and makes the rest of the band look far away.  Epic.

In short, the gig was ace, we all got drunk and I like joint reviewing with Vivers because I don’t have to write about the music.  Thank you and goodnight.

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