The Dogbones
Black Sixteen
Dumbjaw
The Voodoo Binmen
Unicorn, London
Friday July 25 2014
Once more into the Unicorn, in search of rock 'n'
roll...
Ah, there it is, on stage right now - in the ramshackle form of The
Voodoo Binmen, who are a kind of minimalist version of Fat White
Family. Two lairy lads on guitar and drums flail and bash and holler, and
generally make an entertainingly messy racket.
The proceedings
are enlivened by a couple of guys with video cameras, who get down the
front and shove their hardware right into the bands' faces, presumably
in an effort to get dramatic
close-up shots. Possibly they aren't aware that we have these things called
'zoom lenses' now.
At any rate, they do a fine job of Getting In The Way,
and do rather take the fun out of the set. I'm sure the video will be
great, mind.
The video guys return for Dumbjaw's set, but as Dumbjaw are a four-piece
band there's more to keep them occupied and thus a better chance of the
rest of us getting a view of the stage without having to dodge around some
bloke trying to get that vital up-the-nostrils shot from six inches away.
Dumbjaw rock out like Queens Of The Stone Age,
Foo Fighters, Soundgarden - you know, all those rock-but-not-metal
bands that manage to sound punchy and smooth at the same time. Dumbjaw
are working in that same area, and they've certainly got their enormodome
heads on tonight. They give it loads like they're on stage at Wembley
(the bassist in particular has an impressive range of rock star shapes),
and generally do all the essential
stuff that rock bands do.
If that makes it sound like Dumbjaw lack any real
individuality - well, yes, that's about the size of it. They're good at
what they do, no question. But there are a lot of bands out there doing
it, and Dumbjaw
don't necessarily rise above the crowd. You gotta have a USP, guys.
Black Sixteen have certainly given some thought to the old
identity question. They're highly colour-coded in red and black - clothes,
hair, hardware, all fit the scheme. Even the bassist's strings are red. That's
the visuals sorted, then. Now for the noise.
Black Sixteen edge the evening's entertainment slightly more towads the metal zone, but although they push their big rock racket right up to the line, they never quite cross it.
Black Sixteen are tight and heavy, the vocals are an anguished
rasp, and the riffs are suitably face-melting.
But for all that, they're
still not quite a metal band,
and that means that even at their heaviest and raspiest (and, at times,
Black Sixteen get very heavy and raspy) they're still accessible
for those of us who are a little metalphobic. That accessibility that
gives the band a broader appeal than you might at first expect. I'm not
much of a rawk merchant, but I find myself rather digging the
Black Sixteen blast.
But now I'm ready for some proper punk, and here come The
Dogbones to
dish it up. This is where things might get a little messy, in a rock 'n'
roll kind of way. The video guys seem to have beaten a retreat, and perhaps
that's wise. The Dogbones, at full pelt, don't take prisoners.

Crank up, here goes.
Only
one drummer in the line-up nowadays, it seems, but that drummer is Vince
Johnson, who is well able to keep the rolling thunder going by himself.
Johnny Orion is present and correct, swinging his guitar from the hip, and,
of course, Nomi Leonard is up front, dressed as if for a surrealist barbeque
on the roof of the Riot House, giving it her best grunge-queen
caterwaul.
The Dogbones don't so much play a set as tip their songs
off the top of a mountain, and go careering down the slope in a glorious
landslide of
rock 'n' roll freak-outery. But they always remain in control - sort of,
somehow - and the songs themselves are always equal parts pop sensibility
and rampaging crash and swagger.
There's new stuff in the set - a new album is in
the works, apparently - and newies like 'You live In Hell Already' and
'Time's Running Out' have the makings of classic Dogbones anthems: abrasiveness
and catchiness holding hands and knocking heads. The band slam through
'Give Us A Kiss', their caustic dissection of the music biz, and 'Goodbye
Miss Jane', their hat-doff to absent friends, gets a good seeing-to.
Michael
Vakalis, on bass, even has an enthusiastic female fan leaping out of the
audience and throwing herself at his feet - and, let's face it, chaps,
if that sort
of thing starts happening to a band, you know you're doing something
right.
That's The Dogbones for you. Crazy noise, poptastic tunes, on-stage
mayhem. Yep, they're doing it right.
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