Eggnog communists were gagging at the jugular for the next instalment of what creators Ben Lovett (Mumford and Sons) and Kevin Jones (Cherbourg) had up their chequered sleeves. The pressure was on to produce another cracking show with folkalicious delights, to wet the appetite of this idiosyncratic mob at the dinghy yet endearing NHAC.
We prodded down the stairs into Lucy Rose’s set. The young lass and her band let free a cane basket of sugar coated pop tracks, enchanting the vibe and our hips.
This delightful introduction was surpassed by the barn-dancing quintet Handshake. Their Irish influenced banter had the 300 odd contingents clicking their heels feverishly, appreciating the originality of their efforts they kept on without so much as a hiccup. The only snag was a few minor vocal slip-ups, perhaps owing to the sound equipment.
Amidst setting up for the next collection we were privy to some tricks from Pete The Magician, a dude who’s been playing magical marvels since he was 8. Our trusty chum Father Christmas was there too, donned in his inflatable suit and caterpillar boots,; odd! His chore was to rally up the cliental before each exhibit. A few more whiskeys in lieu of milk and biscuits would have done the ruse.
If you were drunk as a monkey, you could be momentarily mistaken that Crosby, Stills & Nash had appeared. The Treetop Flyers drew emphasis to their melodious vocals cohering wonderfully with their jumble of ballads and up-tempo numbers.
The sleigh came to a grinding halt to the sounds of Oddyssey. The majority shunned away and side stepped to the bar for some reprieve of the neurotic front bird that was striving intensely to imitate a nu vogue Blondie. A showing packed with out-of-time jingles and timing glitches proved a night to forget, as our ears bled to the crass bourgeoisie noise of just another indie band.
Headliners The Agitator tore their predecessors to bits, shredding off our jingle bells with sheer intensity to a diatribe from Howard Beale, “. I want you to get up right now and go to the window, open it, and stick your head out and yell, I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!!"
The dynamic duo consists of a simple drum kit racketeered by Robert Dylan Thomas and the exuberant navigator propelling his rockabilly volcano, commonly known as The Mouth Derek Meins. We stood in awe from the intro and were punched in the baby maker with 'Get Ready'. Meins spat hollers from the depths of his bulging lungs, meshing the beats and toxic notions of their unruly anecdotes. My stocking was splitting at the seams by this performance; keep a beady eye out for these two menaces and the treetop gang, two diamonds in the rough!
Posted In Live Reviews, Dec 09 2009.
Words - Chez De Bartolo