Sorry and the Sinatras/Fake Exterior/The Murderburgers
Ivory Blacks - Glasgow (6/4/10)
Itís funny how your mind can play tricks on you. I havenít been in this venue for years and I remember it being much larger. Itís actually pretty small.
Maybe itís not my mind playing tricks on me though, rather itís dementia settling in because for the second time in a week I failed to recognise a band
playing right in front of me.
When the first of the night started belting through Ramones styled songs at 100mph I commented that they sounded just like the Murderburgers.
It turns out that there was a good reason for this.
It was the Murderburgers. Glasgowís very own answer to Screaching Weasel.
Itís hard to criticize these lads as they are really very good at what they do. Unfortunately for them itís become a bit of a niche sound now. In the
nineties you were falling over bands that were playing a similar style, but now they have all but vanished and bands like The Murderburgers are left
carrying the flag.
Truth be told I donít actually mind because out of all those bands The Murderburgers are one of the best.
Yes itís generic, yes itís dumb and itís basic punk rock with a bounce in its step, but itís good dumb punk.
With original tracks like íyouíre a fuckiní moroní and a mach speed version of ĎJudy is a punkí on display they prove that it can still be entertaining and
that practice over the years does make perfect.
The best thing about their set was that for once they had a good sound. This could have been the first time that I have seen them that it hasnít been in a
subterranean club with the sound bouncing off a low ceiling or the back of a pub where they are squeezed in next to the cigarette machine. It certainly makes
all the difference.
Fake Exterior followed the Murderburgers and straight away my attention started to wander. Theyíve been on the whole Sorry and the Sinatras tour so far
and Iím not sure why. They have absolutely nothing in common with the headliners.
Simply put they play very generic rock music thatís as boring as fuck. It was as boring as fuck when pish bands from the US introduced it to us and it
became increasingly boring as fuck when home grown acts attempted to emulate them. Now Fake Exterior have managed to distil something that was crap in the
first place to a level of crap-ness that is pure one hundred percent crap. If music had a colour then what they play would be brown. To carry the theme on,
I have had more entertaining bowel movements.
I clapped once. It was when they said Ďthis is our last songí.
Sorry and the Sinatras were of course the highlight of the night. Theyíre fast, loud and aggressive from the start. Theyíve got a debut album thatís
gaining critical plaudits wherever itís reviewed and theyíre determined to push it hard. Really hard.
Itís all buzzsaw guitars, pounding drums and growled vocals energetically strung together and played with a hell of a lot of commitment. I canít be arsed
with all the people who want to roll out a list of bands that they think Sorry and the Sinatras reference, for me theyíre just a blue collar rock band who
are taking a walk on the wild side and turning everything up as loud as they can while rockiní out as hard as they can, and that should be enough for enough.
Firing full speed into Burn City Burn they set everything out on the table for the audience. No one is going to entertain the thought that these guys are
going to give less that their all. ThereĎs hardly a break before and they have No Angels and Riverside done and dusted, and then with a few mutterings to
the crowd itĎs heads down and theyíre barrelling through Black n Blue, Gimme More and Borrowed Time.
Itís relentless and anyone hoping that they would take the foot of the accelerator to catch a breath was deluding themselves.
More songs from the album are played and then near the end they slide from Nose Donít Work into a cover of the Misfits track Where Eagles Dare. Itís into
the home stretch at this point and I havenít a clue how long they played for but it seemed to be all over in a flash.
I donít feel short changed though. Iíd rather have 30 minutes of commitment than two hours of half hearted guitar wankery any day of the week.
In closing Iíll just say that while there has been much made of the fact that the band is the baby of Scott Sorry of the Wildhearts that this is pretty
much incidental. Of course there are hints of the Wildhearts in what they do, but this is still more about punk rock being played with a rock and roll heart
rather than revisiting old ground.
By the time this tour is finished I would hope that his stint in the Wildhearts will be relegated to a simple footnote in his career. That was then and
this is now.
Viva Le Sinatras.