A support group’s lot is hardly a happy one. They’re forced on early, rarely get a soundcheck and in the cases of bigger tours, if they’re seen as being “on the up” and play well, the headliners may even respond by sabotaging their already fragile sound mix. Call me cynical (go on, you know you want to), but it does happen.
The other thing about drawing the support band’s short straw is that most of the punters don’t have a frickin’ clue who they are either, but just occasionally, this can be a good thing. After all, prior to tonight, I had no sodding idea who LAND CRABS were. Come to think of it, I still don’t know that much about ‘em, but while they are chaotic and clearly don’t give a flying one about most things they are most certainly worth seeing and/ or hearing. Preferably both.
I’ll tell you what I’ve gleaned so far. Land Crabs are four misfits with a propensity for woolly hats and unkempt hair and their frontman sports a massive, feck off five-string bass with a Nine Inch Nails sticker. They apparently hail from Cork (city) though bass and vocals is reputedly a local Clonakilty man. He could quite plausibly pass as a Yorkshire native, however, while at least three members of the band also put on credible American accents onstage. Oh, and their powerhouse of a drummer gets introduced as “Mr. Dickhead.” Let’s hope it doesn’t say this on his passport.
So that’s Land Crabs’ mythology sorted, what does their music sound like? Uh, how about “unclassifiable,” though “scratchy post-punk” is probably not too far away. The titles (‘Fish Curry’; ‘Down on The Beach Yeah’) give little away, though on one listen, the ace ‘Can’t Find Them’ comes on like Sultans Of Ping FC covering something from the more monstrous end of Alternative TV’s ‘The Image Has Cracked.’ For now, let’s just say that’s a good thing and that I’d very much like to see them again.
Extrovert Japanese trio ELECTRIC EEL SHOCK are, however, anything but an unknown quantity in West Cork as they previously turned in an incendiary, reputation-building set at the 2010 Clonakilty Guitar Festival. It’s the first time W&H have encountered them, though, and despite their reputation they seem unusually sedate before the show. The way that drummer Gian Ito, especially, diligently constructs his kit in the semi-darkness with just a roadie’s torch for assistance suggests his ‘wild man’ image must surely be apocryphal.
Oh yeah? Well, so much for theory, for when EES hit the stage, such surmising is squarely turned on its head. With Ito already stripped down to just the one, er, giant tube sock (c’mon, use your imagination), they make a truly notable entrance to the strains of Black Sabbath’s ‘Iron Man’ and proceed to treat us to 60 minutes plus of phat, stoner riffs, old skool metal and anthemic, Class of ‘76 punk.
|
They’re here to promote their two simultaneously-released CD anthologies, a ‘Best of’ of their own material and ‘EES Covers’: an apparently self-explanatory 13-track affair, even though some of the titles involved (more of this later) are rather unlikely.
They willingly plunder both compendiums tonight; early highlights including their strangely lithe version of Black Sabbath’s hoary old chestnut ‘Paranoid’ and their own ‘Bastard!’ wherein diminutive guitarist/ vocalist Aki Morimoto leads the energized crowd through a gleeful call’n’response scenario.
It’s a cliché, I know, but this Tokyo trio really was born to rock. Indeed, they parade all the shapes thrown in the Rock’n’Roll 101 manual, from bassist Kazuto Maekawa’s Dee Ramone-esque feet-on-the-monitors routine through to pocket battleship Morimoto’s windmilling chords and the exquisite squeal of a solo he rips from his Flying V during their down and dirty cover of Van Halen’s already lascivious ‘Hot For Teacher.’
Morimoto enthusiastically dubs Clonakilty “Heavy Metal City!” and sings Iron Maiden’s praises between songs. Sadly, EES don’t wheel out their nifty cover of Maiden’s ‘Invaders’ tonight (nor, for that matter, their ace version of The Wurzels’ ‘I Am A Cider Drinker’) though their main set does climax with a supreme version of their calling-card anthem ‘Metal Man’ and a fab encore of ‘Suicide Rock’n’Roll’ wherein Ito skilfully batters the skins with four drumsticks while manfully keeping the contents of his Chili Peppers-esque sock under wraps.
Electric Eel Shock certainly mean it, maan, but – crucially – they never take themselves too seriously. Their metal-tinged aural assault is always tempered with their innate sense of fun and showmanship and, stacked up against a lot of the beige-hued supposed future-shapers, their show makes for an ideal, day-glo splurge of wild abandon. Gimme gimme shock treatment, then? You betcha.
Electric Eel Shock online
Land Crabs Facebook page
De Barra's online
|
