Before getting to the Slime City boys, there were a pair of supports to contend with, both of whom were totally brand new to me, and first was Hex Bar.
They proceeded to deliver a few pretty sweet, energised tracks that had quite a fair head-bobbing bounce to them and constant shifting between various tempos to keep it fresh; the third fully instrumental song of the set in particular was a belter that really clicked.
The rhythms were firm, guided by satisfyingly dense bass chords and super slick and steady drumming, and the partnering crispy guitars worked off each other quite nicely.
Couldn’t comment much on the singing, as it was usually too quiet, but seemed fine enough from what I heard. If I did have any issues, the only real minor flaw would be that they could have been a little less still, as it noticeably contrasted with the usually high octane-material and they could have allowed themselves to radiate a greater presence.
But putting that aside, they were nonetheless enjoyable on a sonic level and I would happily see them again. In fact, I want to hear more, because there’s certainly something lurking there with these lads.
Again, I was going in blind for 10AM, and they entered on dressed as if attending a beach party in the midst of a heatwave…interesting choice.
Right off the bat, they lit up the room with an infectious pop punk sound, carried right through a series of jumping, melodic songs dotted with damn catchy choruses, entertaining lyrics, and themes spawned from the most bizarre of inspirations; kidneys, eye infections…you know, standard fare.
When not battling problems with mad tuners and sudden disconnections, they gave the jam-packed audience sharp blazing riffs, solid bass work, off-the-dial drum fills and joint harmonies spread out between the three, and although they could get a bit too frantic and fall apart a little in the early goings, for the majority of their slot, the trio were freaking vivid and vibrant, obviously having a blast doing what they did, and as a result, me and the rest of the folk were hooked.
A hell of a strong first impression made here. I’ve not discovered that many worthy new bands under the pop punk banner as of late, but 10AM have turned me into a fan, and I highly suggest others who dig this sort of thing get them checked out as soon as possible, you won’t regret it.
Who knows, they could become a major asset to the scene, there’s no denying that they had the talents to do so.
Admittedly, while being aware of the name for a while, it wasn’t until quite recently that I actually checked out SLIME CITY, and I was thoroughly impressed by their line of singles released to date, so the hype was understood and I was curious to see if they could replicate the same vibe in a live situation. Short answer: yes.
The turnout was crazy, as crammed to the rafters as it could possibly get, a few (smartly) spilling over and taking refuge on top of the couches at the side, and while there wasn’t much room to move – like, at all – the people cheerfully looking forward to death still tried their best to shake their sweltering bodies along to the juicy music being played, regularly banging their heads and occasionally clapping.
The three churned out some immensely addictive, supremely infectious belters such as Great British Skeleton, Dial-Up Internet, and BBC’s sound of the summer, One Day Die, plus the very reason we were all gathered here, Glasgow’s A Sh*tehole, was a glorious anthem, and throughout, the dreary nihilistic words were echoed back by the attendees.
They flowed through peculiar, unpredictable sequences brimming with the sweetest of hooks created from Michael’s dynamic riffs, Michael’s groovy raw basslines and Michael’s electrifying drum flurries. In addition, the briefly cancelled Michael was a cool singer with a beautiful quirkiness to his voice.
The energy levels were running hot, their chemistry was tight and the presence was as intense as it gets, rubbing off in magnetic fashion across the humid venue. On top of that, their new member Shoe made a cracking debut, and the solo (sole-o?) was out of this world.
Making their leave after the awesome Less Jools and a wee slosh for measure, it was an immaculately extravagant experience intertwined by sighing in unison, contemporary patter and evocative reactions to vinegar-topped fingers, and overall, as accurately advertised, I left The Blue Arrow and went home mildly satisfied.
But seriously though, tremendous effort from the boys, they earned everything here.