The Oedipus

Won Mississippi are first to assault the stage with their blend of dischordant guitar noise and pounding post-rock drumming. With the frontman utterly wired, the band lose themselves in their self-cultivated cacophony altogether oblivious to the fact that those present seem rather ignorant of the excellence unfolding right before their very eyes.
They've got tunes too, something rather rare in the current crop of bands plying their Sonic-Youth apeing shit-rock trade and by the sound of their new material one suspects this band are getting better and better. Tonight may not have exactly been a brilliant victory, though it should've been, but eventually people will have to sit up and take notice. Won Mississippi are a band with an excellent future ahead of them.

Spraydog seem to only be here to provide comic relief. The promise of their "fuzzed-up indie pop", as the local press put it, was the most enticing thing about tonight's gig but anyone for whom Spraydog were unchartered territory must have been sorely disapointed by the passionless and tuneless nature of their dreary tedious set. They probably like to think of themselves as the 'fun My Bloody Valentine' but the entire set consists of little more than mindless mumbling over forgettable fuzz. They even spend a considerable amount of time telling jokes to little reaction from the increasingly bored crowd. Spraydog, here's a tip - when there's a crowd there to be won over don't piss them off with poor stand-up comedy.
Shame that they look like they couldn't give a shit as they dropped one or two gems into the set including the hook-laden 'Girls Know Girls'. If next time they haven't yet started giving more tunes and less "comedy" then just ignore them and maybe they'll go away.

The Oedipus are a band who are rather difficult to ignore. They are tagged with the shit-scary term 'post-rock' but fear not tune-fans, they're anything but shoegazers saving up for the plastic surgery to turn themselves into Stuart Braithwaite. Guitarist Tom spends barely a minute onstage as he leaps around the floor like, well, a berk frankly, but it's the sentiment that matters here.
The Oedipus are ideologically driven post-rock and roll. They are fronted by one of those lucky bastards who just looks a total natural with a guitar round his neck and looks effortlessly cool as he bounds around the stage like a young Graham Coxon. And boy do these boys know how to put a guitar in it's place, treating them with all the respect that Alfie have for tunes or that My Vitriol have for imagination.
It's brave of them, really, cos those guitars are so utterly crucial for them. Sounding like a thousand Thom Yorkes being used as scratching posts by one hundred thousand angry cats, the dischordant dissonance of their guitar sound does for The Oedipus what those long pointy things that fire explosive shells do for tanks. Not to say that their noise-tank is ready to crush all indie-folk drivel under its feedback-ridden wheels. This set barely includes any exceptional songs (the angry Seafood of the untitled set-opener, 'Just like watching TV' and the feedback meltdown of the last song are the exceptions).

But we can wait for the band to unleash their mind-blowingly great rock and roll. Why ? Because they're a band with their hearts in the right place. A band who have the right ideas about what music ought to be. Tunes from ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead may be rare but if you watch 'em lay waste to a venue it all begins to make sense
Don't expect Conrad Keely to start writing proper songs but in contrast to Trail of Dead The Oedipus are unfeasibly talented, still young and must have a classic record up their sleeves. This revolution is GO !