Coal Exchange Farewell Party 15/09/2007

At this particular moment in time Cardiff very much resembles a massive bombsite with the city centre having been almost completely demolished to make way for a huge temple to rampant consumerism. The legendary Spillers Records has already been under threat from money-hungry developers, and Saturday 15th September marked the farewell to yet another victim of so-called progress.

Surprisingly little fuss has been made over the last year or so concerning the impending demise of much loved live music venue The Coal Exchange which is about to undergo a £20 million redevelopment, including “commercial, office and residential units”. According to Macob, who are responsible for the project, the hall will be retained for live events. However, it is unclear whether we will ever see the kind of live bands and 12-hour raves that we’ve grown accustomed to once apartments surround it. What better excuse then to enjoy one last banging party within those stunning walls? Coal Exchange regulars TANTRUM made sure the legendary venue received the send-off it deserved with a massive free party. Kicking off at 4pm it featured 11 hours of some of Cardiff’s favourite bands and DJs, with Ninjah compeering.

Arriving on time for a change I joined the small crowd that had gathered on the steps to bask in the evening sun. There was a lot of friendly chatter, drink and a lovely vibe, and to be honest, I did not venture inside until some time later when the sounds of the first band, Cardiff newcomers THE WHISTLING BISCUITS aroused my curiosity. Amazingly, it was only their second gig, which I am sure everyone there found hard to believe. Led by singer/songwriter Owen Bowley, this folk/ prog rock influenced six-piece is definitely going places. Their tunes feature great arrangements and the melodies and vocal harmonies literally made my hair stand up on end! What a marvellous start to the party! Hopefully Cardiff will be seeing a lot more of them in the months to come, as this is a band not to be missed.

Just about time for a sneaky fag before one of my personal favourites, TOP SHELF JAZZ took the stage. This was actually the first time I’ve seen the full band since their return from Down Under. Complete with tap-dancing courtesy of Lula Shaker they played a blinder of a set. As night began to fall, crowds of people started filing into the building and congregating outside. What with the smoking ban and it being a lovely mellow evening, there were as many people outside as in giving the event a lovely festival feel. Ever-omnipresent Cosmo turned up with a portable amp and guitar and gave an impromptu set in the car park much to everyone’s delight. The singer only narrowly escaped serious injury when one over-enthusiastic dancer flung himself at him in a drunken frenzy, but soon recovered from the initial shock and continued entertaining us with classics such as ”Expressin’ myself” and “Oi mush”.

Time was flying by and the next time I found myself stumbling back inside the party was in full swing and the marvellous 19th century building was packed to the rafters with sweaty, happy partygoers bouncing along to the up-and-coming STAEDLER AND WALDORF. I’d seen them a couple of months back and had been slightly disappointed, but this time they were totally on form and had the crowd bopping to the pounding rhythms of “K2” like crazed baboons. The vocalist sounded great and the bass player’s contortions were as ever causing me a great deal of amusement. I managed to join in the dancing for about five seconds before finding myself being dragged back across the hall, fresh can of Red Stripe in hand, by a friend on a desperate mission to smoke yet another cigarette.

I do in fact have to admit that I spent a great deal of time outside or milling around the hall giving people drunken bear hugs throughout the evening. This, in any case is my excuse for having absolutely no recollection of some of the goings-on that night. One strong memory is of sharing a Chinese take away with the aforementioned friend, my share for some reason consisting mainly of poppadums. I also remember dancing to TATTSYRUP but seem to have completely missed out on the TEXAS RADIO BAND and only got a split seconds glimpse of BATUCADA BASICS. However, I was thoroughly enjoying the atmosphere, which was amazing everywhere I went, toilets included.

One band I did manage to catch was SICKNOTE who have been regulars at the Coal Exchange over the past year or so and whose most recent gigs include the Metro Weekender. Never failing to entertain, they had the whole place bouncing in no time with obligatory dancers joining the band onstage, including recent regular supporters ELEPHANT FOOT. I was surprised to see that P&O who is usually responsible for the amazing visuals, had swapped his projector for a microphone, behind which he stood looking the epitome of cool and not doing much. Just as the first notes of the amazing “Headshot” blasted out of the speakers, I was once again wrenched away from the action and dragged violently out of the building for further lung damage.

The party continued until 3 in the morning with banging Drum ‘n’ Bass from APERTURE DJs. Wimp that I am, I took my leave at about 2AM, ready for a nice cuppa and warm bed, but very happy to have experienced a brilliant farewell party befitting of such a great place as the Coal Exchange.

DUB PISTOLS/ SICKNOTE, etc @ Q Bar Cardiff

Cardiff’s newest all-nighter kick started on Friday 6th July as Grooveslave’s 50th birthday was celebrated in true style with a line-up to beat them all.

Walking into Q Bar for the first time was a surreal experience for someone who tends to frequent the scabbier establishments where dress codes and exotic cocktails are unheard of. Confronted by stainless steel and expensive looking furniture, booths with beds and luxury circular sofas I felt like I had entered a different world… The balcony allowed a marvellous view onto the stage as well as the dance floor, and many a punter stood there for hours and gazed in wonderment at the hilarious dance moves and array of bouncing breasts on display. The party was already in full swing and being fashionably late, I had missed Dirty Revolution and 3 Minute Warning, though judging by the atmosphere I encountered on arrival I assume they must have been magnificent. People were bouncing off the walls grinning insanely as Grooveslave ran around like a kid in a sweet shop clearly excited about his bash.

I positioned myself comfortably leaning on the balcony railing with my first drink of the night in hand and in the company of some good friends as we watched the DUB PISTOLS take the stage. Having previously listened to some of their recordings, I was completely unaware of what was awaiting us and naively assumed I would be able enjoying the entire set from above in a civilized manner. It was not to be… As the band launched into their first track the first floor was instantly packed with a heaving mass of bodies. Despite being removed from the centre of the action I was soon manically bopping along, and after the second tune I was more than delighted to find myself being dragged by the ankles down the stairs and onto the dance floor. The Dub Pistols demonstrated energy in their live performance that was not evident in their recorded work – and they hardly gave us any breathing time between songs. This is a band that definitely has to be seen live in concert. Slightly frazzled after this unexpected workout so early on in the night I escaped back onto the balcony for further people-watching and friendly chatter.

Bomb Culture got up and played a set that put a little dampener on the event to say the least. They completely lacked the energy to match the Dub Pistols performance and also weren’t an adequate band to warm up for the mighty Sicknote. Many of us saw this as a perfect opportunity to get a breath of fresh air and have a fag outside – where there was sufficient entertainment going on to beat the hapless bomb culture’s set. The Dub Pistols manager had evidently got himself into a bit of a scuffle with infamous Cardiff character Goatee, and his blatant terror and disgust was rather amusing to witness. After summoning the police, he was clearly more than desperate to get out of this one-horse town that he seemed to have had the impression was entirely populated by maniacs. As the Pistol’s van pulled away from the Q bar, Goatee was seen pedalling after them on his BMX cackling madly and wielding a motorcycle chain with which he managed to do considerable damage to the vehicle, before being carted off himself, presumably to spend the rest of the night in solitary confinement.

We made our way back upstairs partly shaken but mostly amused by this performance to find the party was back on track. People were stumbling around drunk and loved up and the dance floor had been brought back to life by some quality Djing. Hardened Sicknote fans were gathering and watching impatiently as Doghouse was taunting them by lurking around on stage not doing much. When they finally launched into their much-loved opening track, “Gimme Dat Harp”, the place exploded. The volume of the PA was a shock to the system, with drums and bass turned up to maximum level blowing us clean away. All I can remember is bouncing around like a demented kangaroo on speed, without having to make too much effort as the floor was vibrating sufficiently to make it impossible to stand still. The new rhythm section certainly convinced me of their ferocious power and energy and every single track blasted me clean out of my socks. By the time they played their encore “Taxi For Mr. Blair”, I needed to escape the madness of the dance floor, and even standing at the back of the room the beats made my brain pound like it wanted to break out of my skull in a desperate bid for freedom.

Daylight was already creeping up on us as we huddled outside once more smoking and discussing Sicknote’s fantastic performance. All those who didn’t sneak off home at that point had the honour of dancing until six AM to Sicknote’s official DJ Tommy Tank who played a blinding set. I crept off half an hour before closing, and the party was still going strong. Can’t wait for the next TANTRUM all-nighter, this was certainly one of the best parties I’ve been to this year, so keep your eyes and ears peeled for upcoming events.

Man over Board! - The day Tony left office

On the day Tony Blair left office I had the honour of accompanying Cardiff's Sicknote on their trip to London to bid the PM a very special farewell. Here's what happened...

The crack of dawn on Wednesday 27th June 2007 saw us on our way to wreak havoc on the Streets of London in celebration of Tony Blair’s departure from British Politics. Only minutes after arrival we must have been immortalised in several thousand Japanese holiday snaps and passers-by could not help but marvel at our impressive hooters that we had sprouted especially for the occasion. Children ran screaming into the arms of their mothers as multiple images of a nightmarish Blair/Pinocchio hybrid advanced towards them.

The BBC was quick to snap up the opportunity of featuring this extravaganza on the News at 6, though even these hardened professionals struggled to hide their utter bemusement at what was unfolding in front of their eyes. As the camera crew feverishly set up their equipment and we got ready for battle armed only with a ghetto blaster and a couple of banners, people were already gathering and jaws dropping. Onlookers struggled to catch a glimpse of the action, whipping out cameras and mobiles in a bid to capture a memento of the surreal performance. The situation was somewhat unexpected and feeble attempts were made to disperse the crowd as the band was ironically forced to make a dash for the nearest taxi, with the camera crew following close behind.

Having made our lucky escape, and with a taxi conveniently at our disposal, we decided that now was the time to call at 10 Downing Street to pick up the Guest of Honour himself. He had already caused a certain amount of offence by very rudely failing to reply to our invite; not what you would expect from such a diplomatic man. But that did not discourage us. However, it was at this precise moment that Flapsandwich received a call from one of his reliable sources to inform us that Tony had chickened out and had made a desperate escape by plane to the north of the country… What can I say? The man missed out on his own leaving party after ten years of hard labour: that is in no way Rock ‘n’ Roll.

Unfazed by this minor issue, our next stop was an audience with the legendary George Galloway of Big Brother fame, who had already interviewed Doghouse on his TV show. We made him an offering of an original Sicknote quality rubber nose, but he demanded we throw in one of our t-shirts as well before we did any further business. As soon as we had complied with his demands, he did a runner under the pretence that he had to attend another interview, cheekily winking at one of our female companions as he sprinted into the distance, t-shirt and nose billowing out behind him. A furious Dr Conker expressed his disapproval by urinating on College Green in full view of all the cameras whilst the rest of us gathered our belongings and started to make our way to the now already legendary Sicknote party boat “The Golden Flame”.

Easier said than done. The short walk from The Houses of Parliament to Temple Pier was complicated by further wanted and unwanted attention from members of the public and hysterical tourists who probably saw this as a typical display of British eccentricity and mobbed us with an array of cameras and camcorders. An elderly couple voiced disapproval when Doghouse lovingly decorated the Battle of Britain monument with one of our noses while Dr Conker performed a very special ritual dance to mark the occasion. There’s just no way of pleasing some people…

Having cast our eyes upon the stunning boat floating gracefully upon the Thames and fallen instantly in love with it, we decided to take a little break before the true madness and debauchery ensued. A small friendly tavern just across the road from the pier granted us food and shelter and we managed to gather our strengths for the night ahead.

Watching the people queuing to get on board the boat was highly entertaining, many of them having turned up in fancy dress. Particularly memorable where two girls with homemade fake furry muffs stitched to their knickers wearing life-sized pigs heads for tits… You get the idea. We also seem to have let a real life witch on board. Of course every lucky ticket holder got his or her very own rubber nose, and to see a massive crowd of people all wearing them at the same time was spectacular. Kilnaboy had us all on tenterhooks by not showing up until the very moment the captain decided enough was enough and the boat would have to embark on it’s treacherous journey. And so the celebrations commenced.

There was a brief moment of panic when the boat nearly capsized as the crowd immediately stormed the bar upon getting onto the upper deck, but that was quickly sorted and soon everyone was happily drinking and making merry. Only minutes into the cruise Grooveslave and Tommy Tank already had people up and dancing, and after a quick sound check the first band of the evening, the aforementioned Kilnaboy took the stage. As the sun set dramatically on the river Thames, they had us pogo-ing away manically to their ingenious folk-punk, a very apt choice for this occasion, and it was already clear that Big Toe was missing the party of a lifetime.

By the time Sicknote hit the stage the hedonism and debauchery was in full swing and we were having difficulty keeping our balance what with the wobbliness of the boat and copious amounts of alcohol and drugs consumed. The downstairs room was packed to bursting point, everyone eager not to miss one second of the night’s headline performance as sweat started dripping from the ceiling. As the band launched into “Gimme Dat Harp” the place erupted and the entire boat was literally bouncing down the river. There was a lot of falling over each other and apologising for sitting on strangers laps as we lost all sense of gravity and bopped crazily along to Sicknote’s pounding rhythms. By the end of the set the crowd was screaming for more, and Flapsandwich’s desperate attempt to escape unrecognised was overthrown as he was removed kicking and screaming from the toilets and hurled back onto the stage.

The band finally managed to drag themselves away from the manic crowd and escape to the upper deck for a beer and a fag and the pleasure of being entertained by Cosmo and Felix’s amazing acoustic guitar and double bass performance. Meanwhile Alabama 3 DJs were keeping things lively downstairs. Hardly anyone noticed when the “Golden Flame” arrived back at Temple Pier, and the crew had one hell of a job getting everyone to vacate the premises as the Sex Pistols “God Save The Queen” blasted from the speakers. There was one last manic flurry of pogo-ing, before people moved on to Brixton Jamm to continue partying – for the next 24 hours. Tony, do you realise what you have missed!!!