Mindless Self Indulgence gig review.

EdGrip · December 2013

After last night, I've seen MSI twice - with a five year (REALLY? Oh man...) gap in between, both at the Waterfront in Norwich which, as many of you will know, is a little dark box of a venue, with trunking and pipes on the low ceiling, and the ideal environment for this band. I loved it the first time, and last night was even better. Kitty plays drums (two bass drums); Lyn-Z plays the bass (and synth? Someone must play the synth...) and Steve Righ? - rock and roll pirate - plays very tight rhythm guitar through an Engl/Mesa stack.

But really, it's the Jimmy Urine show. And we're very happy for that to be the case. Energetic, hyperactive, filthy dandy who crotch-thrusts to the left and then robots to the right. Someone in the crowd throws a sock; he snatches it out of the air without seeming to look, and puts it on his hand to bring it in as a second singer.

At one point the rest of the band disappear; a telephone rings. Urine picks it up - an old-fashioned red telephone on a long cord. As he answers, we hear his voice, crackly and lo-fi, through the PA.

"Oh, HI!" (he puts his hand over the mouthpiece, and says to the crowd, "SHUTTHEFUCKUP! This is important!"

"Yeah, hi, sorry, London. You were AMAZING last night. Like, the best blowjob I ever had, only in reverse. It was like being---I SAID SHUT UP! I'M TALKING TO SOMEONE ACTUALLY IMPORTANT!--Sorry, London. What? Oh, no, it's no-one. It's fucking... No-wich, or Shit-wich or something. They're---SHUT UP! This is London! They've got lots of money and they've got culture like this every night. I know this is a big deal for you, but shut up."

*Booing from crowd*

"Oh, you wanna talk to London? Okay. Hang on." *holds phone out*

Crowd: "FUCK LONDON!" "<unintelligible noises>!!!"

"Man, you people are fucking stupid. It's fucking OBVIOUSLY not even a real telephone! There's no-one there, much less a whole city, which would be logistically impossible. Fuck. Why do we get the broken ones?"

The delivery of this had me in stitches, and reminded me of similar bits by Stewart "contempt for audience" Lee.

Some would say that such business is a crutch for weak music, but the music is what it is (see title) and is performed very tightly.

(At one point Urine picks up a set list and takes us through it: "Angry... sex... sex... angry... kinda about sex... sex... sex... angry... drugs... ice cream... sex... angry...") Such a routine would be a bit much in a stand-up show, so this might be the only place it would work.

It's not a concert, it's noisy filthy performance art, and I love it. They MIGHT be my favourite live band. Go see 'em.

Support came from Australian art-rock group The Red Paintings, and The Dead Betas from Devon.