The New Estate show was anything but thirst-quenching. How else to explain the vast quantity of beer that went into my gullet. The band were sweet as honey and raunchier than an indie Dad at a bucolic crab feast. I was ogre-riffically mauling everyone in sight, so consider yourself chronically relieved if you happened to not be there getting mauled ogre-style by me.
Lindsey Lowhand were the raddest thing. To say I am enamoured is to soft sell a band that sounds nothing like Soft Cell. I’m thinking Superchunk circa Cool, The Jicks’ circa Dynamic Calories, Archers’ circa Scenic Pastures and something special that sounded like Close to Me by The Cure. Panel didn’t throttle me, which is so perverse I wish it to never occur again in this lifetime, but seriously that’s OK a breather between LL and the NE juggernaut was probably critical, even though what kind or to what extent the breather was I am not sure because I totally didn’t show it and felt like hurling as I sat in the booth spilling a big water down my frontage. What an amazing bill. I had my belt buckled the whole time too, unlike Monday’s show (New Estate, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah at the Hi-Fi Bar) where I looked down, New Estate were just getting into it, and there’s my belt completely unlooped and dangling before my innocent, well-intentioned eyes.