33 Oldham Street
Manchester
Nov 16, 2023
Well, I weren’t expecting that – fucking hell! A bit like a punch to the jaw that floors you without hurting ya, from out of nowhere like, & yer just completely buzzing anyway, last night in Manchester reminded me in its totality that, just as the Italians & Germans have their operas & the Russians explore the human existence soul & psyche with their novels, the English genius for guitar music is just so innate & native – we’re amazing at it.
So, to the touring Velvet Hands & two more bands, a reyt tasty three course meal of music in Manchester on a pre-Christmassy Thursday night. Despite their proper dodgy self-deprecating name, but fresh from winning a battle of bands in Wigan the previous night; MUNDANE ACT serv’d up a right nice dish of subtle baroquey cardigan rock, full of clever bits & the Kooks… & they were fuckin’ 17 n’all – Manchester has some wee gems on it’s hands there, like. That tune whose hook was ‘Living for the Weekend’ was smashing, still ringing round mi ‘ead as I type.
Next up were GREY MARE, a slight improvement on choice of name, tho’ I did feel like I was down the fucking dogs or summat! This gaggle of students from Manchester uni were brimming with class aboveness & an absorbing psychedelia full of promise – Joy Division on ketamine. If they ever manage to get to a farmhouse together for a bit they’d create a right a bangin’ album. Somewhere in North Wales lads, where one of the members is from – roundabout mushroom season.
A touching moment was when the band’s singer’s girlfriend’s mate went to the girlfriend, ‘this is your song,’ & the wee laddie had only gone & written an absolute belter of an uptempo paean to their amorous shenanigans. Honestly, three bands full of poets & poet-warriors with axes you can slap on the distortion… a proper night’s music, like I said.
Then came THE VELVET HANDS – the best named band of the night & the main course, of course, from which band of slick amigos every tune was like somebody whacking a massive gong & going on, ‘have a listen to this shit, it’s reyt fucking good.’ That’s every tune, that is, honestly. These Cornish lads had relocated to London, & are a result of a Celtic passion for music, combining with London’s cutting edge band scene. More electric guitars than pan pipes, like, they had a fantastic vibe & sound, especially the guitarist’s foppish Keith Richards swagger. I were loving that, like, nice to see.
I’m not saying owt denigrating about the other bands, but you could hear the maturity in work of the Velvet Hands. What I mean is from 17-year-olds, thro’ 20-year old students, to the mid-late 20s or so of the VH, I witness’d guitar music working itself out naturally thro’ its ever evolving exponents. But at each level there were masterclasses all round!
Ultimately, that was one of the very best structured nights I’ve witness’d for a long time – big shout out to the promoter like, clearly some kind of segue-ninja, & a big shout out should go to the venue, 33 Oldham Street, a place where if you stand outside the whole world will pass you eventually, where inside the beers were well priced & the music selection on both the playlist & in band room was top notch. I also notic’d that the crowd gather’d for the gig was very healthy in terms of both numbers & spirits – a great place to be & enjoy yourself, for sure. Onwards & upwards for everybody involv’d !
Words: Damo Bullen
Photography: Peter Rooney
Mumble Music 