The lunatic is on the grass… Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs… Got to keep the loonies on the path…

So despite every day the paper-boy bringing more, we can’t get enough of the special effects by loonatik and drinks. Thankfully Core Promotions and this end of town (town being North Wales) supply a seemingly endless line of psychosis…  The lunatics are dead, long live the lunatics…!

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With a few toffs and tiaras scarring the streets of Chester tonight, parking space was at a premium, so after keying a few Mercs and Beamers we trekked up the road. This led to us walking in on Secateurs as they bounced into that spooking but stomp blasting single She Lost Her Mind.
They seemed really up for it tonight, particularly Gareth on drums, who twatted his kit relentlessly. Secateurs have a forklift and they’re gonna pick you up, they have come of age and are soon to embark on a UK tour to promote their forthcoming EP ‘Streak’, which was finely previewed tonight in full head throbbing glory.
Finishing with last autumn’s single Temp – that brooding tune that plays with matches and solar flares before it smashes your senses to smithereens it was a set well worth getting in early for.
Ace. Headliners in their own right.

A new blob on my radar are Doppelgänger from that hotbed of fucking ace bands, Fucking Wrexham. And while we’re talking about fucking; these guys are Fuckin’ A! Cutting guitars, crooning harmonies, leaping around in stop-start motion, they hate the things that you love and do it as if Zappa told them to do it… Genre crossing; stamping on punk, gobbing on metal, flashing at Queens, sending them back to the stone age with the hours in their heads.
Ace. Headliners in their own right.

The medication has been stopped, the cage has been unlocked, the strait jackets untied… Ladies and gentlemen, we give you Falls… I knew what to expect; those who didn’t were taken by surprise as Falls stormed the crowd to play in the crowd.
The lunatics have taken over the asylum… White chimps on coke, they spun like a hurricane, spraying sweat on those before them as they riffed the Compass to the ground. Radio One sessions, Too Pure singles – the world is about to embrace Falls and the world never stood a chance.
Ace. Headliners in their own right.

The voice in my tiny head was trying to lure me home; after all, it’s a long drive and there’s a 6am start in the morning, and we’ve just seen three brilliant bands… I had done a quick crash course on Allusondrugs (main pic) this afternoon, and they were ok…
Sanitised studios can be so deceiving… They set up, lit the blue touch paper and BANG! The ante was upped again… Allusondrugs are the secret recipe you didn’t know and they’ll fill you up with sunset yellow. They’re like hippies on steroids, full of love but totally fucking wired.
While the band are a blur of mindless, directionless energy, the singer is in the zone; only he hasn’t got a fucking clue where that zone is. He could be watching porn with his friend Ted in a high chair or catching over exuberant fans falling off the lighting rigs.
It’s all compelling viewing while the music can be tetra splendid indie-pop before morphing into a butthole surfing Dead Kennedy, snorting the ashes of Duane Eddy.
Fucking Ace. Headliners in their own right.