Big Hands, 26/1/03
(Feat Black Basque, Icons of Poundland, Brothers with
Different Mothers, Moco & Stazi)
Lucy Papercut, one of the organisers of this Ricochet event, large brandy type glass -complete with drink and straw
firmly clenched in grasp - has made her was to the optimum viewing point for Moco. She's seen them before and
doesn't want to miss anything.
Before Moco take the stage though, three other bands have displayed their ware at this inaugural event. A receptive
crowd was present to hear Black Basque displayed a short set of darkly melodic numbers that hint at potential, some
of which is realised in their penultimate number "Girls in Boxes".
The followers of Brothers with Different Mothers then shuffled towards the floor monitors that mark the edge of a
would be stage to capture the delicacies of their faves.
The regeneration of Icons of Poundland from their previous incarnation of Loafer, has not lessened the drive of their
songs or the incisiveness of Juan de Loaf's biting lyrics. "House Doubles" is a slice of caustic observation lyricism
discharged at rampant pace with gritted teeth. Newly shorn of hair, but no signing of mellowing, Julian plunders
through a rampant pop tinged catalogue to great effect
With faces painted, fake blood on faces, front man Steve Jones & fellow cohorts in rock'n'roll push past the sell out
crowd to the nominal "stage area". Why on earth he bothered getting there beats me for within 5 seconds he is
hurling himself into a crowd that knows disruption, spilt beer (all except Lucy's' as she is a professional drinker) and
knocks to the body are essential staples to a Moco gig. Indeed, Jones likes moshing so much
he wants to join in, and the speed driven blues of their repertoire allow for plenty of that.
Loaded bounces of the sweat laden walls, a bit like Jonesy himself. Latest single or "Our hit
song" as he describes it, "Where Girls Go" is a relatively laid back affair "Loaded" is a
sleazy, rock fuelled adrenalin laden waiting to happen car crash of an event. Vinyl cannot
represent of capture the energy showered during a Moco concert, especially when as a finale, Jones who by now is half way down towards the bar area, is carried
back at head height on a
bed of willing hands. Except he no longer has a microphone, so one punter has got a souvenir of
So how can Stazi match the ferocious drive of Moco? The secret -as Alex Ferguson states- is not to
concentrate on what they do, but focus on your own stuff. So, replete with Gimp and mask in the corner, exhaling an
air of manufactured boredom with each drag on the requisite cigarette, Stazi take their up positions.
Redolent in black glasses that are closer to ski masks in their style, with ties and jackets providing a
notional formality to an informal event, this lot are either setting themselves up for a fall, or asking us
to take part in the proceedings.
Risking use of using the dread phrase "electro clash" merely as a reference to a combination of visual
imagery and deception coupled to infectious beats and non rhythms, overlaid with a series of
meaningless lyrics, Stazi are adept purveyors of this genre.
So ditties such as "Do you like it like this? Do you like it like that?" are accompanied
by frequent excursions into a bouncing and receptive crowd that can now press the
keyboards and contribute to the spectacle. It's cleverly simple; snappy, catchy one liner's delivered
on a base of electronic beats that jar and judder, enabling first timers are able to quickly catch on,
join in and enjoy.