Limerick and Cork alliance Out On A Limb Records are fast-establishing themselves as one of the best new independent operations around. Apart from being among the nicest blokes you'll meet, they have an ear for exciting and uncompromising new talent and the opportunity to catch four of their acts under the one roof was more than enough to mobilise your reviewer.
With sunlight still streaming in through the venue's windows, Balincollig boys REST take to the stage safe in the knowledge that they've just released a terrific debut album in "Burning In Water, Drowning In Flame." Well, I say take the stage, though in reality only guitarist Gram and drummer Johnny are actually up on the podium, with their second guitarist and bassist flanking them from the floor, but that's splitting hairs.
Anyway, the place is packed already and Rest's thirty minutes doesn't disappoint in the slightest. Entirely devoid of vocals, on paper you'd think their potentially meandering post-rock shapes could quickly pall, but the reality is that their music is equally engaging in the live arena, with the chiming melodies flowing passionately through the guitars and Johnny making this whirling-dervish-behind-the-kit malarkey look nonchalently simple. Virtually the whole set's a highlight, but your reviewer really thrilled to the coiled tension of the compact "Rest Go Pop" with its' nagging guitars and Buzzcocks-y drumming and the closing ten minute assault of "Is Our Blood Not Enough?", which takes in E-bow melancholia, crunching dynamism and cauterising crescendo before it finally dies away. Gauntlet thrown down and no mistake.
Cork trio THE WAITING ROOM, though, take up the challenge with relish. Their recent album "Catering For Headphones" remains an intriguing listen, throwing semaphore signals with songs bridging the gap between minor-chord post-rock and straighter indie guitar pop and a penchant for Wire-ish 'let's-stop-this-song-as-it's-building-up-steam' enigma. Live, they are a little more direct, with bearded bassist Dave this time playing Mr.Nonchalent as he hugs the back wall while he whacks out growling JJ Burnel-style basslines and drummer Wayne making with the bug-eyed, flailing limb power, thrashing seven shades of shinola out of his minimal kit. Singer/ guitarist Nigel stands almost apologetically off to one side, but his sweetly fragile voice and bitterly tender songs ("Message Received" being particularly good tonight) are things of deceptively frail beauty that linger in the air. The Waiting Room are worth sticking around for.
7:10 take the stage with darkness having fallen and their guitarist emerging from the shadows in a fetching chicken/ rooster outfit. As you do. Judging by his energy levels, he's not been battery farmed, though, as he joins his bass playing cohort in a jumping bean contest throughout the band's all too-brief set.
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Your reviewer must confess scant knowledge of 7:10 as yet, but suffice it to say this fresh-faced young trio play furiously tight, souped-up math-rock that veers from Nomeansno to Firehose and back again and construct tunes with enigmatic titles like "Purple Pot" and "Comedy Night." There ain't no vocals, but the mini Dave Grohl on drums makes suitably surreal comments 'tween songs (e.g: "This one's for Seamus. He's twenty today. I can't believe he's lived this long") and spends the rest of the time unleashing a truly awesome percussive display. In the "what the fuck was that?" department, 7:10 have a head start, and apparently they're only a few gigs old. Impressive.
Only a frenetic, amped-up attack could possibly hope to follow that, but it's what Limerick duo giveamanakick supply, shoving us out into the night with the most in-yer-face garage rock thrills on the bill tonight. Yeah, they're a guitar and drums pairing, but if you're already reaching for the White Stripes/ Immortal Lee County Killers comparisons, forget it, as burly guitarist/ vocalist Steve and drumming cohort Keith are only interested in delivering the most brain-flaying rock'n'roll around and have scant regard for blues-based niceties.
Vocally, the pair are more scream and abuse rather than call and response; spitting verbal vitriol at each other during the scuzzy, poisonous riffage of tunes like "Say 'No' To Sports" and "Checka", while in the mighty punk avalanche of "Ger Canning" they have probably the best song about sports commentors since The Fall's "Kicker Conspiracy."
Admittedly, in terms of variety, giveamanakick's horizons sometimes seem narrower than their labelmates tonight, though in the gnarly discoid textures of "Marmite Walk" they demonstrate their willingness to destroy any potental straitjackets, and in terms of sheer sense-rearranging power have already got it made.
"If you're not with us then you're against us!" howls Steve, impaling himself and most of the crowd on the turbulent racket of "Say 'No' To Sports." Well, on the strength of this jubilant evening, only the terminally crazy would turn against any of Out On A Limb's bands to date. The future in this part of the world is beginning to look very rosy indeed.
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