Saturday 8 December 2001

So, the support act is back in fashion, is it? Good oh - always nice to see people getting value for money. Trying to give us good value tonight are The New Mexicans, a slightly perplexing proposition - "New", they certainly may be (I'd never even heard of them before), but "Mexican" they most certainly are not. Not one poncho, no big floppy hats, no straw donkeys, no Pinatas, no tacos, no burritos, no cigars, not even a scouser shouting "Alright, Gringo, count us in...". Mind you, their singer did at least sound vaguely american. Until he started talking, at which point any Trans-Atlantic intonations mysterioulsy vanished. Hey ho.

Petty nit-picking aside on the name-calling front, why don't you do your job and tell us about the bloody band, Pad? Oh, alright, then. But only because you asked so nicely. Ver Mexicans are a four piece band, with guitars, drums, keyboards and a singing bass player, who (my gripes about accents aside) did a very convincing job as front-man for the band. Some strong lyrics and a good sound mix, with the vocals way up, only served to emphasise his role as the focal point of the band. As to his compadres, they set about conjuring up a backing of fairly simple but effective interlocking lines. Nice to see Duran Duran's Nick Rhodes on keyboards, too. The overall feel of their music is of a fairly american-based set of tastes, filtered through english pop sensibilities - a bizarre mix of The Doors, and even (curiously) the Crash Test Dummies, as heard by the Jam or Starsailor, and lines like "My love is gone away" under those plunky organ riffs do nothing to allay those Doors comparisons.. Their delivery, however, is possibly their major stumbling block; nicely constructed songs that end abruptly (one imagines that the alternative was either stopping or sticking on an extra verse and chorus), and an altogether too-restrained performance leave one feeling just a little bit flat, which, when in tandem with lyrics like "I don't remember a time when I felt so elated" left me feeling just a wee bit unconvinced. Only their last song really rocked out, and it was well appreciated by the large crowd. Coincidence? No, I don't think so.

Now, then.

The controversial bit.

Jitterpig would very much like to be rocking out all the ime, I suspect, or would at least like to be living in Manchester in 1990. As mad for it as they wanna be, this is a concoction that sounds like nothing so much as the band the Charlatans would have been if they had full-time jobs. Ver Pig's music is somewhat derivative at best - those loping basslines, the solid, yet slightly dancy beats, the apropriately fucked-sounding vocals, and a Bez-equivalent who stands around mugging tremendously at the crowd, before attempting to strangulate his saxophone. Even if you're unfamiliar with the band themselves, Jitterpig's sound will be very familiar to you, being the distillation of all your party favourites of the last fifteen years. Track two is a dead ringer for Robbie Williams' "Let me entertain you" (or perhaps even "Jesus Christ Superstar"), although Darren Andrews (bass) assures me that it predates Robbie's offering by 10 years. Well, sue him then. Track three, their "Improvised number" (nineteenty? Twen?) asks "What can you do?". To which the apropriate answer would appear to be "Impersonate Jim Morrison".

Obviously, with such a large crowd, Jitterpig are a popular band who appeal to a wide range of people, but I must confess to being slightly mystified by this. The attempts to be "baggy" aren't a patch on the people that they're aping, the forays into Ian Dury-style pub-rock retain none of his sly wit or his danceability, and as for the Reggae..... the joke of playing the Doctor Who Theme over the backing to "Ghost Town" grew very thin very quickly. Also, since writing this review, I have been informed that "Whitey's on the moon" is about Ver Pig's guitarist, Mike "Whitey" White. Who apparently lives on the moon.

I'm sure lots of people had a great time at tonight's gig. As I've already said, there was a big crowd, who remained right up to the bitter end. People were dancing, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, yet, for some reason I can't quite put my finger on, I wasn't, as Mob Curious might say, "One of them". And it may well be that I stand alone on this. Just as the New Mexicans seemd to be holding back on their delivery, Jitterpig seemed to be keeping their sincerity to themselves. Frank Zappa once asked "Does Humour have a place in music?" - it may well do, but I personally don't think it should come at the expense of having anything valid to say. Tonight's show was another game of "Spot-the-influences" (my favourite being their set-closer, which sounded like nothing so much as Kula Shaker's "Hey Dude" played in the gay disco stylee), and I can only conclude that, like a Movie Producer giving his pitch to the studio saying "It's like...crossed with...", Jitterpig appeal to people not because of who they are, but because of who they're a bit like. Tha's probably enough for a lot of people, but it wasn't enough for me, I'm afraid.

Paddy Garrigan