Pat Cash“Gone are the days  bonfires make me think of you”.  If you think this line is poetry like (1), read on my friends.  If it makes you cringe into a ball it’s probably best you skip to the Times New Viking review that will no doubt appear on this site soon.

I apologise to Spencer McGarry Season, I missed them due to Liverpool’s steadfast refusal to put more than one goal past a third rate Hungarian side.  They have a player who I think is called Quiche and he is (that one’s for the people of Reading).  I turn up at 9.45, it’s the best I can do.

It’s safe to say that Sunset Rubdown can be a bit overblown but when they stick to a tune they’re really, really good.  Spencer Krug takes to the stage looking like a happier with life, not shitting in his own shoes, Mike Patton.  He’s joined for the first song by two drummers, a very enthusiastic guitarist and a female keyboard player that has hair like Joey Tempest from Europe but still manages to look sexy due to her thin lips and cute nose.  Getting back to the point, she also contributes backing vocals.  Getting back off the point, she looks a bit like Laura Norville who I went to school with.

I’ll start with the obvious comparison in Arcade Fire, deep voice, shitloads going on, bit serious.  My housemate thinks they sound a bit like Metric.  Makes sense, they’re both from Montreal.  What is it with Canadians and loads of instrument parts?  For the second song the extra drummer morphs into a bassist.  The third song involves some quality squealing from the guitar player although Krug’s jizzshot facial expression hints that he was just a little bit too impressed with it.  A track later he comes over all David Bowie, it’s a newy and even my dour, pessimistic companion likes it.

I do drift off a few times during the more proggy bits but this time is filled contemplating an earlier conversation about whether Cash In The Attic would be better if it was about the Antipodean former Wimbledon champion hiding from Nazis.  There are pros and cons.

The band have a further swap around for the last couple of songs, guitarist now on drums, drummer that looks like Screech from Saved By The Bell is now on axe.  Rattle off two more songs that are to the point and therefore ace and scuttle off for the world’s shortest break between set and encore due to the curfew approaching.  Keyboard player Camilla Wynne Ingr decides to use this moment to reveal she’s part Welsh, the ensuing cheers and explanation ensures that the curfew is pissed all over.  She has family in Pontypool, I was born there.  So, I suspect was Laura Norville.  I wonder if they’re related.

The band seem genuinly pleased an appreciative that the crowd have made the effort to come and see them, whether they’ve been told about TNV’s presence not far away is open to debate.  There was still a fair crowd in The Globe though and all looked like they we having a damn good time.  Especially the guy that kept turning around front of stage to wave at his mate on the balcony.

My housemate walks home with purposeful strides as he’s received a text telling him he’s left his car lights on.  I walk home with a bag full of Senser tickets.  Come on make a switch, make a switch yeaaahhhh.

(1)  Obviously it’s only real poetry if it rhymes.

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