Burnt-Down Pubs, Bruce Springsteen and Underground Pop (in the basement)

It was a relief to even get the next evening in Cardiff started after the original venue, the trusty O’Neill’s, burnt down a few weeks ago, and the fact it was quite nice outside made it a bit of a shame that we had to disappear into the 10 Feet Tall basement bar at 7pm. Lucky Delucci tonight had Silence at Sea’s singer Laura standing in on backing vocals, as regular backing singer Rhia, in the first bit of “Boss”-related interference of the night, was at the Bruce Springsteen gig at the Millenium Stadium (Springsteen neglected our offer of opening up for our bands by the way, saying that the roof wasn’t retractable enough for his tastes). Lucky Delucci were fantastic, in a little more cautious way with Laura, and one new song in particular sounded fantastic next to the upbeat/downbeat whirling Pop nuggets that are now becoming fantastically familiar (if I could take 6 songs to a desert island now I’d say 5 would be by Lucky Delucci, and I'd also take 1910 Fruitgum Company's 'May I Take a Giant Step').

Silence at Sea themselves played next, and maybe it was to do with the more intimate setting down in the basement, but this was the best I’ve ever seen them, the gig throwing up loads of mesmerising little moments as Laura held the crowd to every line of those terrifically lyrical and outlandish little songs. Silence at Sea are such a clever band, full of poetry and emotion, and there were many times during the set where I floated over from my place at the door like Scooby towards a Scooby-snack to see them play along like the shanty-Pop band of your dreams, acoustic guitar, accordion, glockenspiel and melodica wrapping the songs in warm coats of wonder.

Flipron tonight got the full forty minutes. New tracks like ‘Book of Lies’ sounded fantastic among the old songs that have become legendary to the converted Flipron-ites amongst us, typically quirky and upbeat Hawaiian/glam tinged beauties, Joe’s organ bouncing along under its decorative garlands in crazy style, Mike’s drums flowing equally crazily, Greg’s bass throwing the most unlikely rhythms and Jesse laying his lyrical wonder over the top like surrealist gold-dust. And tonight we even get the comical before-song monologue to ‘Skeletons on Holiday’, which is always guaranteed to make my day.

Then all that was left was to count and distribe the many millions in door money in the 10 Feet Tall toilets, and fight our way through the 100,000 people that happened to wander out of the Bruce Springsteen stadium gig as we were about to load the cars, many of whom would stop and stare in some confusion at the jumble sale and antique instruments that we guarded with our lives on the street. It was a brilliant weekend, and I haven’t even got to mention Darren Hayman at Clwb Ifor Bach the next night yet, another gig that saw to it that I’d be on far too much of a high to write anything for the next one-and a-half weeks.

© Miwsig