Birmingham Barfly - "Best of the Festivals"

Ben Sherman’s “Best of the festivals” is mid-way through gracing the country with some of Britain’s top acts…apparently. And tonight in the Barfly there is a mixture. Veterans and rookies, new and old, and frankly, the brilliant and the down-right shit.

The social commentary of New Street Adventure opens up a proverbial can of worms with tales of muscle clad rugby-types and shallow minded fuck-nuts who waltz around, head held high, with nothing to be proud of, bar their over-sized guns and under worked genitalia.

Destroying the set with northern soul drenched riffs and the knee stomping beats its clear to see that Mr Corbin, of New Street, has a way with the pen and, even more importantly, knows his way around the stage.



But little prepared the grotty hole of Birmingham for the ramshackle mish-mash of Manchester’s Twisted Wheel. Groggy punch-drunk licks hold their own underneath the growl of Johnny Brown’s profound vocal domination. “She‘s a weapon“ bursts in like the drums of a thousand hyped up marching bands while “Let them have it all“ stomps carelessly around the room like a moody teenager..

Fresh from playing Wembley with local Manc heroes, Oasis, Twisted Wheel seem to have their heels firmly lodged into their progressive musical agenda. Columbia have hit jackpot here as even Liam Gallagher is praising Mr Brown and it’s clear to see why.

New single, “Lucy the castle”, is rinsed like a soggy towel of crass lyrical thrush while “You stole the sun” grates the walls with its rough-around-the-edges ramshackle echo. But after tonight the Wheel are hardly finished. It’s back down south for the three-piece to commence another support slot tour with Liam Fray and his Courteeners. A future rock star’s work is never done…

Headliner’s Little Man Tate, arguably not “best of the festivals”, give it their best with their mediocre mumblings and over the top hand movements. “Hey little Sweetie” and other distinctly drab tales from the second album appear and then quickly dissolve until “House Party at Boothy’s” sets the bar for yet another over-hyped LMT showcase.

It’s impossible to fault their enthusiasm. Jon Windle is all over the place like a hyper-active mutt in a kennel, but their tales of love, lost and the like lack any real hearty substance and when each song begins to blend into one another I think it’s time for a word with the organisers. Best of the festivals? I think someone’s cocked up.