TRANS AM, KID GALAHAD & THE MORE MISSHAPEN @ Hull Adelphi, Sun 13th Oct 02
Crack! Whacking straight-down-the-line immediacy, that's what counts at the LIVE gig… where's the next groove coming from, how fast, how long and how strong can this beat go on… how do these people adjust to each other's actions as they play, and to the people watching, watching them, under hot yellow light surrounded by bass, synthetic and warm, humming like a bitch of a milk float. It's so of the moment that I'm already forgetting it five minutes after at home now I've taken my socks off, but the smell of the Adelphi still hangs round like George Harrison's ghost.
Trans Am's label Thrill Jockey decorates its tenth-anniversary releases with a picture that I can tell you from researching posters comes from a German campaign against noise pollution - there's a random throw into the mix from me like I'm in an improvising supergroop. You should know the story of the Misshapen though it's never the same one twice; rarely the same line-up in this band, fluid but sticky like PVA glue. They're mostly made up of members of the Fondas, the Edibles, the Marble Valley and the Bob from Pavement when he takes his annual holiday in Hull, all orechestrated by the man with the box Jez Riley AKA Capra. In as much as the group plan anything, tonight's a quiet one, but too loud to hear a xylophone as waves lap around like outside... puddles under neon with a beercrate bridge. It's raw, it muddles, it's the spirit of the place, it samples the Prisoner, it's a cracking mess and I love it when it does get loud.
KId Galahad play next. Their creativity goes so far as slapping together lots of different pop styles; some heavy guitar, some dancey beats, a monkey frontman. They're OK. But then there is-
Trans fucking Am! Their reputation precedes them and their music. They have a reputation of being quite good. It's not post-rock, it's now-rock.. or pre-post; the future of the past wrapped up in polyethylene and buried with a Blue Peter book or the Washington DC equivalent. Y'know, a vision of the future imagined in the 80s. I had a hand-me-down book from my big brothers, predicting what would happen in the next 30 years. I remember wondering why we didn't live on the moon after all. Because Trans Am appreciate many aspects of 80s music. They are three men in tight tees, playing ROCK.. with synths. with da funk. Imagine New Order's programming, dirty Detroit bass, hair metal guitar solos, Daft Punk's vocoders and virtuoso drumming. It's what I would like to be dancing to in a tent and poking my head right through the top of it.
And as if the small crowd hadn't
been rendered speechless enough, the guitarist ends the show by pouring
lighter fluid into the upturned cymbals and setting it alight. Well
it is the final night of a world tour, all roads lead to Hull. The road
to Hull is paved with good vibrations.
