Dead Fly Bukowski
17.1.05 - Camden
Firstly, may I offer my heartfelt thanks to DFB for
bringing my guitar all the way down from Glasgow (where it had spent Xmas
and New Year for reasons not interesting enough to go into), and not least
because this is the excuse that secures me free admission - hurrah!
In such circumstances,
I am more than happy for the band to hold on to it for a further half hour
and use it as a back-up instrument, although sadly it turns out to be
superfluous to requirements. But no matter..
I have it on good
authority that Dead Fly are a live force to be reckoned with and tonight
they do not disappoint. Take, for instance, lead singer Roddy, who is not
just a dead-ringer for one of those bullies from Grange Hill that struck
fear into my very soul as a small child, but has all the necessary
attributes for rock front man well and truly ticked off the list: stage
presence (check), paint-stripping vocal qualities (check), tight trousers
(check…no, I wasn’t looking!). Off-stage, however, he’s a lovely chap.
guitarist belies his boyish looks by spitting out jagged shards of
distortion, whilst the rhythm section simply lock on and produce one solid,
heads-down groove after another. Epic closer “The Sun Song” encapsulates all
their finest qualities, ebbing and flowing, twisting and turning through
multiple sections, never giving any warning as to which direction the song
will turn to next.
Throughout the set I
hear nods to all the greats - Hendrix, Led Zep, Love - all filtered through
the fuck-you fuzz attack of The Stooges, but DFB choose to integrate these
influences rather than to merely imitate. They play to each other rather
than to the audience - always a good sign.
As the set draws to a
climax I’m left with sore calves (a by-product of too much rocking on the
spot) and an unshakeable question…if they’re this good now, how much more
amazing will they be this time next year?