I quite enjoyed The Bees, although they're a bit of a mixed-up muddled up band. Maybe it's an Isle of Wight thing but none of them can decide which instrument they actually want to play - no bad thing, sort of a garage band mentality - but when you're stood waiting for the bloke you thought was the drummer to strap a bass round his neck and the keyboard player to adjust the drum stool and the bass player to switch to six strings it all comes across a bit wankey, a bit ooh, look at our musical viruosity rather than entertaining. But I didn't pay to get in, so who am I to complain? I danced on the spot quite a bit and that is, perhaps, all that matters. "You've earned a place on next year's tour," shouted one of the band members vying for the frontman position. I didn't realise it was a competition. Nor, I shouldn't think, did many other people, judging from their lack of appreciation. A Minha Menina's a bloody good song though, eh? And I did enjoy the first number of their encore, some rock 'n' roll song about a chicken*, if my drink-addled memory serves me correctly.
* That'll be Chicken Payback, you blithering idiot.
No comments:
Post a Comment