Date: 25th of July Venue: Bitter End Romford Acts: The Rom Rats, JD Smith, Lamina.

So here we go; knew I'd get this done eventually! You'll have to excuse the time it's taken me to publish this; as prominent, active and respected members of society I have no doubt in my mind you all are, you'll understand how much one finds themselves with so much to do during an average week!

This review will cover my experiences at Romford's Snakebite soaked Bitter End on Saturday the 25th of July. The Saturday night band nights in The Bitter End are something I'm going to make a weekly occurrence. 'Why..?' I imagine you saying, simultaneously screwing up you're face like a dogs bum hole in inquisition. The reasonable prices? Picturesque bar staff? Warm, inviting atmosphere that breeds conversation? No you sillys. In spite of the fact that the Bitter End offers none of these it's a pub I know, it's easy to get to, they serve Strongbow and they have live music weekly; more to the point they occasionally have good live music! This is besides the point of course, I'm not reviewing the venue after all! Though I feel it's important to state that I won't be reviewing these nights exclusively, I'll make more effort to cover special events like the upcoming 'When Bands Attack' at Bar 64 or bands who ask specifically for a review. Saturday nights are handy however to provide fodder for an already increasing canon.
Right, after thoroughly boring even myself with that last, extremely anal explanation, let's soldier on.

Before the Rom Rats even tune up their instruments it's apparent that the bass player wants to be Syd Vicious so much that he may have spent the pre gig period swallowing safety pins whole, just to be able to say he literally shits them! That may also explain the look on his face as he gurns and snarls his way through his set. The guy has all the trademarks, it reminded me of a ghastly feature I saw in the NME once which shows readers how to achieve certain looks, this particular look was the Kurt Cobain (plaid jacket, ripped jeans, converse etc). To me, this kind of article appeals to the true poser, despicable arse wipes without any sense of individual style who pollute the alternative scene by reducing it to the kind of behaviour and attitudes typical in the mainstream. "If I wear these clothes, I'm cool! And people will like me! I love Spongebob! Har har har!" Cunts.
The Syd clone doesn't piss me off that much to be honest, though there is something intrinsically hypocritical about those who reject mainstream styles and then end up dressing like everyone else who rejects the mainstream (which I think we're all guilty of every now and then really). It's especially amusing in punk, because as I recall, punk vowed to be different, to reject the ordinary and the expected, to be shocking, relevant and constantly shifting and moving forwards, changing to suit its environment, not unlike the T virus. Then you get young punks in the 21st century dressing EXACTLY like those who started the whole thing thirty odd years ago! A word to you all, a 3ft Mohawk is no longer shocking to a society that genuinely misses Jade Goody. You'd be better off suggesting that schools should try to celebrate Christmas again. "*gasp* ...can he say that!?"

They describe themselves on the billing poster as "Romford Hardcore punk - Nuff said." A modest 'nuff said' isn't accurate however, sadly they managed to sum up all that they are in the three previous words and subsequently it's more fitting to use a disappointing 'that's all'. That's not true really, actually some twinkles of classic Grindcore can be glimpsed trying to shine through, entirely thanks to the guitarist who according to all the evidence I managed to gather that night, has no face! Merely a nose poking through a curtain of brown hair, eerily reminiscent of some woodland animal testing the air for predators before emerging timidly from its home. Come on out little fella, we won't hurt you! The thrashing riffs, occasional screams (courtesy of the guitar player of course) and speed are welcome additions to fake Syd's standard punk vocals and bass lines. It was a while before I had noticed the Rom Rats drummer, a testament to the amount of impact he managed to inflict on me. Though when I began to wonder where the sounds of 'boom tish, boom tish, boom tish, crassssshhhh' were coming from, I finally found him! Easily he looked to be the youngest Rat, so young in fact that I thought he was too young to have much to be pissed off about! Still who am I to judge? ...oh wait.

Punk seems to be quite in vogue of late, we've all seen the look coming back in the alternative crowd and it's easy to see why; recession, disaffected youth, unemployment, violence, no future... Sound familiar? I've been dreading it for a while, the late 70's/early 80's are being repeated! Hopefully however what happened after the 80's will happen again, the hangover which birthed the 90's; a far superior decade in every way!
I feel I'm being far too hard on the Rats, I did genuinely enjoy their set! The vocals were good, their sound was tight, it was nice to see a three piece again, and especially one that sounded as full as they did. The songs were short, catchy and got their point across (especially the song concerning emo). The thing I most enjoyed was that they were enjoying themselves, I genuinely believe that if the performers enjoy themselves, who gives a toss about the audience? The audience enjoying themselves is a bonus.

JD Smith was described on the bill as "solo acoustic punk rockabilly guitar can only be one man". I hate rockabilly. So much. And I'm not sorry. Mind opened up wide for this one then. Within a few minutes of listening to his set it was apparent that what we were all listening to was standard acoustic slide blues! ...which I don't hate as much! Hooray? No.
JD sported a black flat cap, an ear lobe stretcher and a short well trimmed beard; clearly a man who wishes his blues were a bit more 'midnight' rather than 'turquoise' but his life just hasn't really been that hard. Yes clearly...
I want to say however, that I've got a lot of respect for anyone who takes the stage alone, and his performance was enthusiastic and passionate; which is something that can never be slated. It was probably my own tastes that prevented me from enjoying JD's set, but the nasally vocals (which were mixed too loud), the songs which all sounded the same and the length of his set just wore my patience thin. Towards the end, all the songs blended together, the appreciative and genuinely enthusiastic applause from the audience grew into hazy white noise, and I found myself slipping away into a fantasy world where slide blues stayed in the mid 20th century American south, where I would never have to listen to it.

Luckily however, before I faded completely away into this half arsed coma, I was awakened by a thunderous noise! I was ripped from the brink of the consuming void and was offered salvation from my fate by the mighty Lamina!
They described themselves as "buzz saw guitar, brutal drums, grinding bass & screaming", reading this description made my eye's prick up; if such a thing were possible.
Death metal growls unfurl from the crowd and follow the band on stage, like an audience of wolves. My spine tingles and I can't wait to hear this four piece play. Lamina's appearance is steeped in death metal cred; moss has grown in the guitarists hair (it fucking has), the drummer looks like a bastard cross of viking stock and the Joy Division (not the band, the Nazi division designed to produce an Aryan super race). Needless to say, I was excited.
Lamina's sound doesn't exactly disappoint; the guitar sounds like a buzz saw, the bass is grinding, the drums are brutal, and there is screaming, but over all the songs are easily forgettable. Wreck of the Minotaur have chaotic, spazzy scream fits of songs, but they have a way of sticking with you. Still it's certainly head-bangable! Especially according to the front row of the audience! (A cynic would suggest that this was made up of friends, and that's me suggesting it; I'm a cynic).

Lamina have an obvious punk influence, it's grindcore pure and simple! A sound like a giant thresher being fed regular sized farming vehicles and burping its approval! Very welcome after JD! (It's hard to see where he fits in on this bill...) I remain unwowed really though, that is until the audience have formed a pit! Lamina's noise has erupted into pure anger as they lose themselves completely! Grinding and oozing infectious, wonderful NOISE into the audiences eager and submissive ears. The bands mates have gone all primeval! Driven to destroy, no doubt by Lamina's intense chaos and in the hoo ha of it all, the mic is stolen by an audience member! Who proceeds to add his screaming to the din! Marvellous! What a finale! By far the most excited I have been watching a local band in quite some time, and one that made me disapointed when they walked away.

So there we have it! Lamina saved the day quite adequately so I may live to write another day. I'm off to go and do it all again now! Bye!