A Hazy Shade of Hinter

Three Hinterland related MySpace bulletins from a PR worker came into my inbox this afternoon, the first proclaiming "Half Price Hinterland Tickets", followed later that afternoon by "Free Hinterland Tickets". The final "What is Hinterland?" raised my fears, and with a potential washout in mind, it was no surprise to be watching These Monsters as part of an audience of ten in the echoing main room of the Arches. Their sax-doused metallic squall was neither Kenny G, nor quite Zu, but an excess in morose meandering and slow motion moshing and simply
didn't contain enough screaming to justify much of it.

To the cosier Classic Grand, where 85 Bears were just starting. The banner hung behind them proclaiming "Sucioperro" fortunately proved to be misleading, as their crescendos and drum pummeling immediately marked them apart. These boys certainly know their numbers - hence the name - but their strict, math riffage was well balanced with looping catchy tunes, and thats what really counts here.

Over at Stereo, Plugs were listenable in an indie-pop-meets-the-Very-Best kind of way, though their constant "Where is the audience? We usually play in front of huge audiences..."
moaning got in the way a little. Endearing when they wanted to be, and in possession of some mean drum machines, they'll likely be back to try and win over some more people once again.

Finally, Galchen at Pivo Pivo provide some gusto. So powerful and crunching were they that it was difficult to make out much musically beyond the building introductions. However, as the drums collided with the roving visuals in front of the first decent crowd of the evening, it was difficult to resist becoming absorbed.

Running back over to Stereo to try and catch the last few glimpses of the Wave Pictures, their sing-a-long guitar solo fest was to found in full swing, all smiles onstage and dancers down the front. Documented by Jenny Soep, a live illustrator, it felt like we had found a proper festival moment. As the room slowly got warmer, busier and louder, Micachu and the Shapes emerged as undisputed highlight of the evening. The chest shaking synths and percussive mishmash (featuring no less than five cowbells, don't you know) played off Micah's discordant
guitar wranglings, with her grating and grinning croon fiendishly bouncing along amongst it all.

As my ears start to melt, I foolishly jaunt along to the Sub Club for yet more aural punishment. However, while the beats are thunderous, Theophilis London schmoozed along to the soft club synths as his partner DJ Melo X span a lush, synthetic mesh of gentle noise. Theophilis counters Lucky Me's American-obsessed evening with his own Scottish tribute, downing the better part of a bottle of Buckfast between rhymes. The party seems to have been building here all evening, but as rumours abound of a Rustie no show, I saunter off in search of some cheaper refreshment and non-Hinterland related relief. A musical success then, but though audience numbers did swell a little as the evening went on, it will be interesting to see whether they significantly pick up tomorrow.