John Knox Sex Club & Over The Wall - Nice N Sleazy's, Glasgow

Posted in SHOFT on Friday 3rd June 2011 at 11:06pm

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It had been a hot day in Glasgow and walking around the city I noticed how quickly the population here adapts to the weather. Around the city centre, Friday night after-work crowds hogged the pavements, usually the preserve of the freezing smokers exiled from the bars. Coats left at the office and umbrellas long since discarded, the city seemed intent on enjoying the rare splash of sunshine. In the midst of all this I'd initially wondered how I'd keep myself out of trouble tonight, but once again, there had ended up being almost too many options for musical entertainment here. However, on the basis that I'd loved Over The Wall's strange but infectious 'Treacherous' album, I finally decided on a trip to Sleazy's for this show. So, after a quiet pint and a bit of people watching upstairs, I was soon installed in a comfortable corner of the dungeon which forms the venue in this near legendary establishment. The enigmatic John Knox Sex Club took the stage unannounced and begin to play almost provisionally - with quiet, uncluttered sounds gently building before a sweeping violin slipped in. Then, as if to dispel any doubts about the band's presence, Sean Cumming arrives. A bearded poet - like a strange genetic hybrid of John Darnielle and Josh T. Pearson, he begins to stalk around the tiny stage while ranting and pointing - into the air, into the audience, indeed at a point in the far distance somewhere under Sauciehall Street. He's almost too tall for the stage, dancing uncomfortably like Ian Curtis, frequently punching the air and occasionally inadvertently boxing with the ceiling beams. Despite how intimidating this could all be, it appears to have the opposite effect on the growing audience, who cluster close around the stage in varying degrees of delight and fascination.

But it would be unfair to cast the rest of this rather special band like some sort of vanity vehicle for their admittedly unique vocalist. They manage to weave a complex sound, from what sometimes appear to be the slightest and gentlest of elements and using fairly traditional instrumentation aside from the violin. But over the course of this short set, John Knox Sex Club show they are capable of a surprising range of approaches - veering from near-traditional and sparsely accompanied folk like arrangements, via a deranged blues swagger to huge noisy epics which sometimes evoke The Twilight Sad at full tilt. All of these are anchored around the complex and often introspective lyrics which show a flair for acute observation and an attraction to the melancholy. A brave accappela opening follows - just Cumming's fragile broken voice in the noisy venue, before it soars above the crowd and descends again to commence a relentless rant. Finally he is sighted briefly standing on the stack of speakers like they're his makeshift pulpit, and suddenly he's gone - out into the audience once again, gratefully and sincerely hugging those around him - and surprisingly getting a fairly warm response from an initially uncertain and somewhat reticent crowd.

It strikes me that it's going to be pretty tricky to follow the theatrics which John Knox Sex Club have just provided, but Over The Wall are in a celebratory mood tonight. It's Day 78 of their eighty day long tour of the British Isles, and after tonight there's just an Edinburgh date before a special live streamed living room gig to be broadcast by Glasgow PodcArt on Sunday. So, tonight feels like something of a homecoming - and there are lots of old friends and family in attendance, to the point I feel like I've gatecrashed someone's wedding reception at one point. To celebrate that it's also the anniversary of five years of Over The Wall, prior to the band taking to the stage, there is a surreal spoken introduction provided by a friend of the band. The detail of this is lost in my bewilderment and surprise, but it involved a mythical third member of Over The Wall who had a head like a spatula. Ultimately we were urged to boo and heckle the band onto the stage to reflect the poor treatment this utensil-headed urchin had recieved. This was duly done, to Gav and Ben's clear amusement and approval.

Live, Over The Wall are a simple proposition - a guitar, a couple of voices and a whole mess of electronica, occasionally supplemented by trumpet or harmonica when the mood demands. Amazingly, this allows a pretty faithful representation of the depth and complexity of 'Treacherous' - and some of it's finest moments are aired tonight. It was always going to be a winner for me, but "A History of British Welfarism 1945-1984" is just as impressive here as it is in recorded form, moving directly from plaintive regret to frustration and anger. The guitar sounds shred through the blips and burbles, before the trumpet drifts in like a the ghost of a distant colliery band recalling the old days. For all the celebratory atmosphere, these are simple heartfelt and crafted songs. It's probably fair to say that "The Crucible" remains likely the only song ever written about an aging snooker professional, but this doesn't detract from it being a strangely emotional and affecting song too. Somehow tonight, everything is becoming a sing-a-long anthem for a delighted crowd, and the band beam back from the stage, clearly very happy to be here. Gav and Ben are briefly joined by Ross and Davy of Three Blind Wolves to provide a chorus line for "Settle Down", which sets off all default Casio sounds, but ends up an urgent plea to "go break free/it's not your responsibility". Of course it all comes to a head with "Thurso" just as you'd expect. I think it was Jim from Aye Tunes who once wrote about the mysterious power this song has to make you hug people. There was lots of hugging, lots of singing and ultimately as this gentle and melancholy folk tune finally erupted into it's epic and life-affirming ending, lots of pretty unhinged dancing too. I'll confess I was part of this merriment - it was almost impossible not to be in the circumstances - despite the fact I've been to Thurso, and it was never like this!

The all-to-brief set closes with "Keyboard Heaven" - an old song which harks back to the band's earliest days, and is essentially a heartfelt but pretty bizarre love song to one of Ben's much missed but now irretrievably broken keyboard. And with that Over The Wall are gone, leaving a spellbound and sweaty audience eager for more. I stumble upstairs into the thankfully cool fresh air and notice to that there is still a surprising amount of light in the sky even at this late hour. I slalom home, through the crowds of sunburned and now totally inebriated revellers. Two very different bands, with two entirely variant approaches to music - but both capable of sweeping up the audience and taking them along for an always surprising ride. It promised to be a special weekend...