“…Give me some prostitution. Or something pornographic…*pause*…that’s a legitimate word in the Greek dictionary!…”
Hearing that singular heckle and getting punched square in the groin within the first ten minutes and yet still enjoying a gig counts as a rare success I think. Kudos, FiniTribe, kudos.
The esteemed Transmission – they of the appropriately Andrew Weatherall lurking ‘A Love From Outer Space’ nights – put on tonight’s event helping to ease the newly reconstituted band back into the saddle after another hiatus. And I will say this, hearing the the monolith that is ‘101’ live is pretty much a defining moment. Presented here in a slightly more acidic guise than solely the Weatherall mucked-about-with version of 1991 it’s a thunderously heavy, shuffling beast. Look it up; buy it. This callow groover encountered it in a record shop in rural Oxfordshire. You should encounter it wherever you can. Huge, live and on wax.
It’s a short set – “We haven’t got any more. We’ve only being going thirty years” – and the feel is of being in the studio listening to the boys get prepped for a fresh assault on the unwary. That’s not to say it’s not all rather marvellous. There’s fearsome hip-shaking to be had. But the reverb happy Poetry Club is the tiniest place and coupled with the band facing away from us and getting on with important shit like, ya know, making the music rather than hopping about, is like looking over the shoulders of fiddlers molesting a mixing desk. Thee most beautiful desk mind. There’s a mesmerising pleasure to be had watching the various buttons change colour as things are twisted to produce yet heavier basslines coupled sometimes with rather delicate melodies.
FiniTribe straddle an array of genres through industrial to (albeit unintentionally) Balearic – represented by the huge and recently Optimo remixed and re-released ‘De Testimony’) – to straight up thumpers to political to…well you name it. Having a background in electrical engineering allowed them to upgrade cheap samplers in the beginning and make records when the only bastards who you afford to buy quality ones off the shelf were folk like Peter Gabriel and Duran Duran. And who the fuck wants that?
A career that spans so many years, on and off, manages to encompass managerial beast Tom Watkins envisaging them as a “Gay Orbital”, defections to Ministry and building studios where others may have enjoyed perhaps more recreational uses of record company advances. And in between it all making some rather unique music. Music that whilst appealing to the clubbing generation was and is always to the left. Be it production or approach, there’s a feel that whilst always at home on the dancefloor, it certainly ain’t acid house. There are moments when it seems they’re sliding into recognisable Detroit style machine funk but it’s always subtly different. Sometimes intangibly so. In many ways they were Optimo before Optimo even existed. Long before.
The running thread keeping things cohesive is the juddering thud. It’s crafted but it’s physical and delivers that body music to veins. A rumbling train overhead shaking the tiny arch we are in adds to the vibe most pleasingly.
They’re good natured fellows and despite my aching nethers I swing about furtively. The crowd is a touch sedate, given the rather impressive sonic kerfuffle but perhaps that is a reflection of the relaxed nature of the event. With new and bigger (not hard) gigs on the horizon and a muted jolly jaunt to Iceland to finish some new material this evening feels like a toe in the water. A delicious toe right enough.
I want more. Much more.
A note should also go to Hausfrau who delivers a pulsing set of moody grooves beforehand, ‘Season Of The Witch’ being the highlight. Promising.
RT @isthismusic: Gig review – FiniTribe @ Glasgow SWG3 – http://t.co/DBl9qyQL0g
A live review of our show at @PoetryGlasgow http://t.co/dfOPmrmqUy Nice one Thank you
RT @finitribe: A live review of our show at @PoetryGlasgow http://t.co/dfOPmrmqUy Nice one Thank you