Until Tempertwig clamber onstage that is.
Without meaning to question their integrity or musical aptitude, their set offers nothing which I haven’t seen or heard a thousand times before, and the next band I see that mixes out of tune vocals with recycled Thurston Moore sound collages will receive an all expenses paid exile on Murray Street courtesy of me.
Sorry.
When London based fop-rockers Baptiste take the stage, you can almost cut the atmosphere with a knife. Maybe it’s their impeccable dress sense that rubs some of Nottingham’s most prime sceptics up the wrong way? Maybe the long wait for Seachange has taken its toll on some overly inebriated punters? Or maybe Baptiste’s songs are just that little tad polite and cumbersome in places to keep anyone’s attention for too long.
Still, the blissful ‘Love In A Southern City’ produces a ray of optimism that suggests Baptiste may be worth keeping an eye out for in the future.
Junktion 7 is now packed to bursting point, and Saint Joan are the first band tonight to take the bull by the horns and milk it for all it's worth.
Despite a nervous start, opening number ‘All Things Melt’ explodes into a plethora of sincere beauty, and paves the way for a palatable five course feast that raises comparisons with PJ Harvey, The Flying Burrito Brothers and Arab Strap in their ‘First Big Weekend’ heyday.
Vocalist Ellen McGee alternates between spoken word monologue and a soothing lilt with consummate ease, and when their epic finale ‘The Ice House’ draws to a close the shy lead singer finds herself besieged by new converts wanting more lasting mementos of this eventful evening.
Soundchecking delays mean that Seachange don’t appear until just after midnight, but boy was it worth the wait.
From the opening bars of ‘AvsCo10’ to the pulsating ‘House Of Leaves’, Seachange prove to be an invigorating force, all six members of the band seemingly lost in their own world, following different paths before arriving back at base every now and then. It becomes nigh on impossible to take one’s eyes off the stage for a second, as guitars are wrestled to the ground, monitors are passed along the front row, and the singer bloke known as Dan, a curious amalgam of Emo Phillips' facial expressions and "anyone for a game of Twister ?" style body contortions, spits out lyrics in a way Mark E Smith would still be doing if he hadn’t disappeared up his own arse years ago.
The loose-limbed ‘Seven Miles From Intrex’ officially ends the set, but it’s only a matter of time before Dan and co. are dragged back on to race through their signature tune ‘Superfuck’, as feedback squalls from both guitars and violin, symbols crash and a vitriolic rant subsides declaring “I’ve got a bomb strapped to my heart, gonna blow myself right outta here” emphatically brings the curtain down.
This may be the last time Seachange grace a venue of this size in their native city for some time, but this was Saturday night entertainment at it's best and I went home with a contented smile on my face.
Oh, and we won 3-2.
