Playing The Toilets

OK, that title's a daft and unfair pun on the gig I attended last Friday. The Nag's Head is most definately not a toilet (although they do have such facilities which is handy for a pub) and Rochester (AKA Canterbury's little sister) seems to be quite a posh place, proof of this was obtained as we walked down the high street. Among all the upmarket pubs, wine bars, posh hairdressers with champagne drinking customers (I shit you not) and Italian restaurants there seemed to be only the one fake KFC junk food eaterie. "Favourite Fried Chicken" it was called, with a cartoon logo of a chicken gawping at you, smiling, beguiling (great Jam lyric - couldn't resist including it), almost inviting you to come in from the bitter cold and eat one of its poultry brethren. So we did.

We had parked up nearby to the high street after asking for directions to the venue (we got sent in the opposite way by a dozy bitch who should've known better). After asking an actual native, we were on our way to what must be one of the cosiest pubs I've been in for a long time. For those that know The Nag's Head and say that it's anything but cosy, then you should compare it to the Anne Boleyn on the Barking Road or the now defunct and very non-existent St Helliers Tavern that used to be perched on the interchange between Goat Road and Green Wrythe Lane, Carlshalton (not so much a pub, more a den of knives and gunfire). Plus the fact that I don't manage to get out much these days indicates that I think I'm justified in being correct with the description.

The place started to get busy half an hour before Armitage Shanks took to the stage and when they did, things did not bode well for our ears. Strange looking guitars were wielded and they started tuning up very badly by ear. Some impatient gig-goers may have thought "what's the point?" and more so if you know they're a punk band. But there they were dressed in smart black and white suits, all Tarantino'd up and they were ready to let rip.

Saints preserve us, they sounded as rough as industrial strength brillo pads.

But here's where I failed to get it. I've been judging gigs for quite a while now on the technical abilities of the band and their sound engineers, that I've possibly been missing the point. Once I received this epiphany, I quickly warmed to the band. These are a bunch of gentlemen that actually enjoy themselves and once they get up on the stage they enthusiastically endeavour to hit you hard with this glorious racket. Who are they to worry about the pettiness of technicalities? It's not something that's bothered this band for the last 18 years of its existence, so why should it bother them now?

They knocked out audience faves such as "Jack Regan", "Ambulance", "Shirts Off" as well as their fondly appreciated cover versions of The Clash's "1977" and "Keys to your Heart" by The 101ers. I wished I'd listened to some more of their stuff prior to their gig as it would've been more enjoyable.

But enjoyable it was and possibly more so for their drummer Vic Flange (owner of undoubtedly the best punk name in showbiz) who celebrated his birthday too...so, many happy returns to Vic.

If you like scrappy punk with attitude and laughs, then look no further. If you're a technical snob, then fuck off now. For those that are still reading, here's a clip of Armitage Shanks performing "Jack Regan (broken on the floor)" from the Art Fein show, recorded during the 2006 USA tour.