Today, Monday should have been recovery day, and to an extent, after a full Friday and Saturday of not being big or grown-up, Sunday was spent travelling and today walking in the country; recovering… So when that Wobbly Heart Jules, texts me to see if I wanna go back to Liverpool tonight to see this gig, AND he was driving; there was only ever gonna be one answer.


There was such a buzz about this mini-tour that on seeing the 8pm queue outside the Kazimer, we feared being locked out… Particularly when Brighton and Bristol had sold out.
Fear not… Our powers of persuasion ensured myself, Julian and Malam were able to join Kyle, Hannah, Wayne etc inside (or at least our powers of patience in the queue!).
There’s a few witches doing the rounds and a Witches Drum too – but there’s only one band worth noting called The Wytches
Kyle nudged me in the sweaty throng that we stood within and shouted, ‘See! I told you I was right..!’
He wasn’t kidding… I preferred this experience than their excellent recorded work, it was more immediate, more.. err Live! Loved the feedback looped segues between songs as they tuned up guitars that had been battered for three minutes thirty seconds. Also loved the subtleties within those songs, little nuggets buried amid swathes of screeching and reverb..  And those songs! Psychobilly-grunge throbs out like a Black Rebel Motorcycle Club with their dignity collapsed, that My Red Cell vibrato young voice… Shy boys with outgoing guitars… You can wait for music like this all your life and thankfully it’s come around again… New album imminent.


Quick breather outside and it’s a quick turnaround inside – a shared kit throughout (no prima donna drummers here). The stickman is on a riser so high he’s virtually touching the ceiling.
Kyle had text me earlier to see if I wanted a review of tonight and an interview with the next band The Growlers – They were his draw and they drew the biggest crowd in this rammed venue and it was dripping with Californian sunshine as we all took an acid rain trip in a revolutionary spirit kind of way…
It was like standing on The Kop as a kid, everyone vying for a viewpoint, just a glimpse of what was going on… The occasional punter was offered a microphone and would finish a song like One Million Lovers.
The very charismatic singer, Brooks Nielsen has two mics (one for effects) as his distinct voice and flares and moustachioed backing band take us down a lysergic highway to a summer filled with love… It’s all songs, all three minute songs and no jam outs, no hypnotic twists.. Simply songs, lovely songs, country songs, psychedelic songs, full of influences… Lot’s of them! An hour’s worth, which was probably about twenty minutes too long for me. Just glad they hadn’t taken more acid as Jules had suggested or they may have played into Tuesday!

It might be raining in your mouth and you’d be forgiven for having your jaw on the floor if you were of a nervous disposition. Anticipating what was to come I sought refuge at a safe distance. You could sense this gig was about to explode the moment The Fat White Family hit the stage. Five sweaty fingers may well be on your dashboard but there’s six sweaty mad bastards on the stage. For those just starting out in a life of concert going (real gigs, not corporate wank), then you are so fucking lucky to be in an era where bands like this exist. Bands that aren’t too big yet, bands close enough so you can touch that leather. They are the irrepressible reason for your lack of shame…
The Fat Whites should never be bigger than this… A bigger place would be lost on them, on their reason for existence, where they can swap spit, sweat and spunk with an audience eager to offer… It’s Lux Interior packed fun, stage diving, fucking up, carrying on… A bouncer tries to escort a girl off the stage, the bassist deliberately gets in his way so she can happily dive (head first) back into the crowd.
‘This is the last one, it’s called Bomb Disneyland
It’s all over within thirty-five minutes… 35 minutes of highly recommended blister inducing, psychobilly-garage entertainment made by nutters…

If The Fat White Family are the real deal then one, two or all of them will be dead within a year having burned brighter than a thousand suns…