Like a scene from Narnia, Getintothis’ Matt Eland enters The Kazimier’s wardrobe, and finds a real box of delights…
Can someone tell me why I’d never even been to, let alone heard of, Liverpool’s Kazimier venue until tonight?
It’s opposite the notorious Pleasure Rooms, with no sign on the door, and I had no idea what to expect on my way in. Maybe the owners are overly protective, and with good reason – the ticket kiosk is a little Punch and Judy shack bathed in red light, and the auditorium is a cross between the Barfly and a mini coliseum, with a metropolitan cathedral sunshine ray ceiling.
As a beaming Andrew Ellis says on the door, ‘they only hire it out for special nights‘.
And this is a special night – there is a buzz in the air from the moment Kent-based Honey Ride Me A Goat take the stage. Despite the bear-like guitarist donning a pink apron at the start of the set, HRAMG are not a band to rely on gimmicks (although a home-made welding mask with a strobe light inserted in the forehead is a fun touch), and their jerky labyrinthine jazz-infused time signatures contain the occasional satisfying head banging moment. Their three songs do, admittedly, plough the same furrows, but when it’s this much fun, who cares?
I caught a glimpse of Pulled Apart By Horses at Leeds Festival, and the two seconds I saw (I was rushing to see someone else, I think…) were pretty impressive – loud and brutal. They don’t have quite the same effect as they did then, and seem a bit conventional after HRMAG, but they’re still enjoyable, with guitarist Tom Hudson writhing on his back between visits to the microphone and still managing to keep in time with the others.
Their stock in trade seems to be big stompy bits in between fast punky bits and dumb, cajones-infused screaming straight from their fried larynxes – just like all good rock music should be, then. Despite this, they never truly explode – maybe it’s due to their bassist arriving minutes before show time.
Bilge Pump then emerge to steal the night, a stunt they have quite a reputation for. They have two things going for them – sheer volume, and Neil Turpin‘s technical proficiency behind the skins. His tom-centric, tribal rhythms add a new dimension to their sound, and he even pulls off credible use of the much-maligned cow bell.
Some ingenious guitar playing adds valuable texture to the Melvins-style riffs and hard working tempos, and all together it forms a robust whole. They roll out another party piece during the last song – backed by a wall of feedback, Turpin, atop his kick drum, decides to show off his hula-hooping skills.
It’s a bit wobbly though, so he climbs onto the guitar amps. They’re unsteady also, so with a glint in his eye and a heroic leap, he somehow makes it onto a flimsy looking PA stack and hula-hoops for a good two minutes before finishing the song off.
Oxes conclude the evening, but it’s last train home time, and I have to make a hasty departure. The silver cloud here is that I’m left with the memory of two American men who look like Spanish conquistadors roaming around the many levels of the venue, playing their instruments as they go. Good old radio leads.
So, Samizdat are fortifying their reputation for quality gigs and Liverpool has a top new venue in the shape of The Kazimier – it’s all good in the hood.
Honey Ride Me A Goat
Pulled Apart By Horses