Tuesday, May 01, 2007

Incredibbile (subt. i misteri delle online translation)

Pogues Dec 06 gigs review

Billie Mcgowan translated from Italiano

Just while the pinta one is arranging begins the concert of the opening act, the Junkman's Choir, original of Lugton, in the Ayrshire. The first song is The Spike, and endured me vien it wants to dance. Aspect a moment, but: the time of drink the top of the pinta, in order not to turn upside down stout in churning to me. The Junkman's Choir is huge, an optimal concert. On drums troneggia Mr.Luggs, A.K.A. Stephen Feartie, to the century Stephen Wiseman. The battery is composed only from a tom, a rullante and a Moroccan drum, played with the maces. Nothing plates, nothing case. To the guitar (acoustic and electrical worker) it very makes to be worth LouGaroux (than in the study formation he is the drummer), while Johnny Gator if sbriga between the fisarmonica and the bugle. The frontman it is Davy Cinco, A.K.A. Davy Feartie, to the century Davy Wiseman, brother of Mr.Luggs, and with he former-member of the leggendario group folk-punk acoustic Scot Nyah Fearties. Davy Cinco manoeuvres with a low acoustic on which sfuriate accesss code and it touches light cakies and in inaudito way, and sings, with its rough voice, sweet and decided at the same time. One of those groups that to feel to play them you would want to become their better friend, one of the beautifulr discoveries of "gita" to Glasgow. The folk-punk triggered that it dominates their concert it leaves in some moments more space moments ska-reggae, or more tomwaitsiani, or more… insomma: a pentolone of infuences stirred. The songs are ollowed, with one Hey Joe! (not that one of Hendrix, but a piece dedicated to Joe Strummer) that it sees to me to sing "Are you going backwards or are you going forwards? Are you taking over or to are you taking orders" of clashiana and redskinsiana memory. Warmth the moment of Wide Blue Yonder ("With to song in his heart, and to rythm on his feet") that it succeeds to affect and give to me to me brividi, but the top is the last piece: Red Kola, about which task I will speak more extensively in an other occasion. All the public sings to scuarciagola "Red Kooooola! Red Kola! Red Kola! ", and the Junkman's Choir ends the concert. The theater box is mounted, it is resumed to us from the fantastic one gig, and without warning the lights are extinguished, and leave Straight To Hell of the Clash

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