T Break Rundown
King Tuts
As the saying goes good things come in threes. Red Snowman, Kobai and Radars were the trio who lit up and subsequently destroyed the T Break stage at Tuts.
A truly eclectic mix of bands performed for a strong crowd of indie snobs, spotty teen scenesters and industry hacks over the three nights, the majority having refined the art of blagging to get this far.
Refined, however, is not what you would dare call Red Snowman unless you want to end up with a fist full of metal for your sins. These guys make System of a Down look like Travis on a comeback. With a raw energy that brings head banging hard rock back from the dead, they match thunderous riffs with bass lines that would pound on hell’s door. The quintet exploded into a veritable barrage of lengthy songs, but fatigue never set in as they attacked both senses of sight and sound with Americanised guitar showmanship, melodically infused in angry ecstasy. If they don’t get through, I’ll pitch my tent next to the portaloos.
Closing the first night were former finalists Kobai who habitually endeavour to
unleash a thorough assault on your highest morals. The spine-tingling sextet’s intoxicating sound appeals to the new indie/rave generation, mixing synth-based heavy guitar licks with pulsating acid-tinged electro beats - think Aphex Twin and Biffy Clyro’s love child. They have linguistically matured and radiate a confidence that only manifests in rocks highest authority. Complacency will never touch the surface with this band, they have balls and they’re not afraid to throw them in your face. If you want your weekend to be full of dirty techno dance debauchery, let’s hope these reckless rave rockers will be there.
Radars initially sounded like they were also available for weddings. But the charming onstage charisma of larger than life front man Mick Radar, and the jaunty stylings of their refreshing sunshine rock melodies rapidly began to make some serious waves. Their jerky pop balladry was welcomed by the weary crowd who had suffered through a pedestrian night, until now. Supported by great backing vocals, Mick orchestrated the audience like an urban poet signalling what the story was behind each song. This isn’t your average middle-of-the-road pop rock, they have something to say and know just how to do it. In their words judges, “Rock is not your enemy”.
Bands that deserve a mention are Theatre Fall who take Weird Science to the stage, combining electronics with grungy guitar hooks. Their youthful musings are transmitted through dual guitars and electro pianos and a hilariously passionate display of facial aerobics. “We were transformers” was technologic.
Fiction/Action have potential to be great but have yet to discover their niche and are let down by their lead vocalist, whose Mike Skinner impression doesn’t gel well with the music. An “18th Century Poet” he is not.
As the saying goes good things come in threes. Red Snowman, Kobai and Radars were the trio who lit up and subsequently destroyed the T Break stage at Tuts.A truly eclectic mix of bands performed for a strong crowd of indie snobs, spotty teen scenesters and industry hacks over the three nights, the majority having refined the art of blagging to get this far.
Refined, however, is not what you would dare call Red Snowman unless you want to end up with a fist full of metal for your sins. These guys make System of a Down look like Travis on a comeback. With a raw energy that brings head banging hard rock back from the dead, they match thunderous riffs with bass lines that would pound on hell’s door. The quintet exploded into a veritable barrage of lengthy songs, but fatigue never set in as they attacked both senses of sight and sound with Americanised guitar showmanship, melodically infused in angry ecstasy. If they don’t get through, I’ll pitch my tent next to the portaloos.
Closing the first night were former finalists Kobai who habitually endeavour to
unleash a thorough assault on your highest morals. The spine-tingling sextet’s intoxicating sound appeals to the new indie/rave generation, mixing synth-based heavy guitar licks with pulsating acid-tinged electro beats - think Aphex Twin and Biffy Clyro’s love child. They have linguistically matured and radiate a confidence that only manifests in rocks highest authority. Complacency will never touch the surface with this band, they have balls and they’re not afraid to throw them in your face. If you want your weekend to be full of dirty techno dance debauchery, let’s hope these reckless rave rockers will be there.
Radars initially sounded like they were also available for weddings. But the charming onstage charisma of larger than life front man Mick Radar, and the jaunty stylings of their refreshing sunshine rock melodies rapidly began to make some serious waves. Their jerky pop balladry was welcomed by the weary crowd who had suffered through a pedestrian night, until now. Supported by great backing vocals, Mick orchestrated the audience like an urban poet signalling what the story was behind each song. This isn’t your average middle-of-the-road pop rock, they have something to say and know just how to do it. In their words judges, “Rock is not your enemy”.Bands that deserve a mention are Theatre Fall who take Weird Science to the stage, combining electronics with grungy guitar hooks. Their youthful musings are transmitted through dual guitars and electro pianos and a hilariously passionate display of facial aerobics. “We were transformers” was technologic.
Fiction/Action have potential to be great but have yet to discover their niche and are let down by their lead vocalist, whose Mike Skinner impression doesn’t gel well with the music. An “18th Century Poet” he is not.
The tranquil lullabies of The Moth and the Mirror were truly alternative. Watch out for them.
The rest were social squanderers who couldn’t even pack a punch in a gay bar. The Cider Spiders - a poor mans Kings of Leon, and The Cuts were the Fratellis in disguise. Why do all Paisley-bred bands insist on sounding like indie-pop pretenders?
Words: Andrea O’Neill
The rest were social squanderers who couldn’t even pack a punch in a gay bar. The Cider Spiders - a poor mans Kings of Leon, and The Cuts were the Fratellis in disguise. Why do all Paisley-bred bands insist on sounding like indie-pop pretenders?
Words: Andrea O’Neill
Photos of Fiction/Action: John Summers
