Adrian Cooper has been unwell

Old reviews that are no longer available online, or from sites that no longer exist. The pen is dead, long live the camera.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Clwb Ifor Bach, Cardiff

Some people seem to be of the opinion that there’s no reason for Seafood to exist; that if they want to listen to Sonic Youth, then they’ll listen to Sonic Youth; that if they want to watch Sonic Youth, then they’ll wait three years for them to come over to play, and then cry when the tour gets cancelled after all their gear gets nicked (nothing quite like the real thing, eh?). However, if you want your alt-rock rampage laden with razor-blade hooks, doused with searing feedback, and still contriving to contain more pop than the Smash Hits Poll Winners Party, then it’s time to welcome Seafood into your lives.

There’s a table lamp in the corner, the drums and mic-stands are laden with flashing lights, and up on the wall is Seafood’s very own slide-show, changing picture with each song. If it’s people fishing on a riverbank, it must ‘Dig’; a house on a lake can only mean it’s time for ‘Porchlight’; while ‘Guntrip’ is greeted rather fittingly by a couple of crows feasting on a corpse, creating that Boxing Day ambience which almost leaves you expecting to hear your dad mumbling about the focus before slipping in a half-naked picture of your mum, just for a laugh obviously.

Clearly enjoying the opportunity to headline a tour for change, Seafood are out to entertain, piling through the set with maniacal grins on their faces, and even attempting to make peace with the Welsh crowd - “we love Terris honest” they quip. Course you do, Kevin, of course you do. Unfortunately, no-one seems to have warned them how petty your average Cardiff crowd is, and four songs in, with Seafood having failed to either produce a Welsh flag or an offer to play upfront against Ireland at the weekend, the foolish gathering of disinterested onlookers in front of the stage begin to drift away, oblivious to the barbed-wire melodies of ‘This Is Not An Exit’, or the unrelenting barrage of ‘Guntrip’, as the noise assault steadily builds in volume and intensity, leaving the band battered by their instruments in front of a dwindling crowd.

As ‘Folk Song Crisis’ reaches it’s dramatic finale, everyone is hunched over their guitars, fervently smashing them against the floor, while David’s lachrymose voice turns vehement scream, tearing the ear-drums out of anyone with the good sense to keep watching, as he’s left howling “I wish the wretched town would fall”. Given the nonchalant manner in which Cardiff responded to Seafood’s fine effort tonight, you can’t really blame him.