The Computers, Outcry Collective & Bullwhip @ The Croft, 17th March 2010
Review was written for and featured in the April edition of Bristol’s ‘Eye’ magazine.
There’s nothing better than a pleasant surprise. I rocked up to the Croft on the 17th March to check hang out at a gig with a mate I haven’t seen for a while. Having reached an age where I’m musically stubborn, think I know everything and cynical of anybody younger than me playing in a band, my hopes weren’t high (for the bands, not the company).
Arriving fashionably late, I strolled past the surprisingly stocked merch tables and into the main room to Outcry Collective 1,2,3,4′ing into their first song. Initially a drummer and 95% of a crowd down (drummer was in the bog), they pounded through each number regardless, gaining movement and bodies in the crowd as they progressed. Their early Every Time I Die-esque punk/metal provided Bristol with some half-time head bouncing bops and enough southern-fried riffs to help spice up a wet Wednesday evening.
We then bowled into the front room for a cider and saw Bullwhip setting up their gear as we jostled for a space at the bar. Local artist Sepr was on the drums so we were both pretty intrigued to see what they had to offer. They smashed through a set of angular, heavy rhythm-based instrumentals with minimal vocals, which quite literally let the music do the talking. Solid, musically apt and uncool in the most complimentary sense, this lot are one to watch.
Ciders in hand, we rattled into the main room once more to see the headliners, Computers. Dressed entirely in white, the band took their positions on stage and kicked into their first song. Well, except for their frontman Alex, he took position wherever the hell he fancied – mic stand and guitar in tow – and continued to do so throughout their entire repertoire. Computers had that kind of ‘smack round the face, damn they’re good’ sort of effect that some bands just have without necessarily meaning to. It’s the kind of music that denim, dirt and quiffs were invented for. Their hardcore bits and stage presence reminded me of The Bronx, the rock n’ roll bits reminded me of New Bomb Turks and the vocalist conjured up images of what Buddy Holly be like as a nasty, snarling modern day punk. I suddenly began to strongly consider spending eight of my unallocated gold nuggets on that Phil Collins’-face-featuring t-shirt of theirs I had half ignored and half sniffed at on my way in and realised that there are still cool bands out there to discover. Every self-appointed music scholar/fool needs that from time to time.
Chatting to them after, they excitedly told me that Speedo from Rocket From the Crypt would be flying them out to the US to record and produce their newest material the following week. If my trusty words aren’t seal of approval enough, then let that be. I don’t write about gigs very often due to aforementioned cynicism, so I would rate it as one ‘so good that I decided to review it’.
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