Easter bank holiday is always the messiest of all public holidays. Noone is entirely sure of its religious significance and, short of easter eggs, it has no real traditions that have to be upheld. Drinking and debauchery seem to be the order of the day.
We kicked the proceedings off in Great Portland St with Mr Swish’s work colleagues. Of all conversations to walk in on, they were talking about torture methods when I got to the pub. I didn’t know that being drawn meant having your stomach sliced open and your intestines pulled out slowly. Yum yum. More friends arrived and after a few drinks and worries voiced about getting Glastonbury tickets this year we decided it was about time to head over to Infinity. Not without stopping for a McDonalds first though. A healthy dinner.
Infinity was listed as opening at half 8, and worrying about it being busy we got there just before 9. Apparently this was far far too late, we had to queue outside for almost an hour and a half. Though we were close to turning around and giving up many times in the queue we somehow made it into the venue, not without complaining and being given free drinks by the door man.
Semi-finalists were on first and as none of us were bothered about seeing them we headed down to their basement for drinks. It was surprisingly empty in the venue, god knows why they were letting people inside so slowly.
Test-icicles were on next and we were all less than sober but very excited, Test-icicles are really really good. They have a drum machine, a big keyboard synth type instrument and two guitars and are really heavy, but also quite funky and electronica sounding. Their lead singer is also the prettiest thing you’ll ever see.
They appeared on stage only to spend 2 minutes sorting themselves out and getting the right amount of dry ice for the set. Something was wrong from the first minute of their set, the vocals were REALLY low and they all looked really irate. When the second song started everyone could see trouble was ahead. Dev, their sometimes keyboard, sometimes guitarist was looking worse for wear and from the looks that the pretty Sam was throwing him, Dev wasn’t playing what he should be. Sam got angrier and more confused, barely even attempting to sing. About 2 minutes into the song Dev fell down on the floor. I’m too short to see exactly what happened, some say he tripped and hit his head, some say he collapsed. Whatever happened, the set of course finished. People were called over to help Dev, who at this point was lying prostrate on the floor not really moving much.
Rumour has it that there was nothing wrong with Dev at all and he just pretended to collapse because the sound quality was so bad that they didn’t want to carry on. It would make sense, they had a really big crowd there to see them, it was a high-profile gig for them and such shitty sound wouldn’t have done their reputation any good. A mid gig collapse does create a bit of drama about the band though. Maybe I’m just being a bit cold hearted on this, and people wouldn’t really feign collapsing to get out of a gig but this is what the rumour mill produced last night.
Be Your Own Pet have been massively hyped, with a big article in NME on them. I hadn’t read it yet (or that scary looking one on art brut either) so I knew very little about them aside from the single Damn Damn Leash. They were incredible, and its not often that I say that. The lead singer is amazing, truly beautiful. She looks a little like a pretty version of Ashlee Simpson, just with a better nose. Incredibly thin and athletic looking, she made all the girls in the venue hold their stomachs in during the set. They’ve just been put in a list of Rolling Stone’s Top 10 bands to watch at the moment and in post SXSW world, everyone is talking about them. Deservedly so, I enjoyed them thoroughly, really raunchy and fun. They have a powerhouse of a guitarist in Jonas too, he was brilliant.
Dancing and talking to internet friends, and I imagine a bus journey home followed. The four of us staggered through my flat door at about half 3 I think, all miserably worse for wear, dreading how we’d feel the next morning. Its twenty five to five now, I’ve just managed to eat a big fry up. Not from E Pellicci’s though – closed for Good Friday damn them. I want to go over to the windmill for the BBQ and Ciccone and The Pipettes but not sure how much I could cope with it. I’m working tomorrow at 9am, getting the train back to Chichester when I finish at 6pm only to go home for half an hour then head to a party. After that is Easter Sunday with family and friends, its going to be a long weekend. But maybe that’s what Easter is for. Jesus died and rose again so we could overindulge – right?