Remember when sniffing glue was always a curiosity, or at least something within budget when you’re young and ready to get shit faced? These were the days when you’d sneak home in the morning hours after a night out with your friends, sitting in a graveyard, smoking the lowest grade pot you were sold by the lowest grade fuck up five years your senior. You’d sneak home, crawl into your room and shine a light on to your ever growing and curiously feeble CD and tape collection and wonder “what would it be like to mix this band and that concept and this artwork and that mother fucking see-through guitar?” and then pass out in a puddle of your own thoughts and urine. Many people have formed bands with this amalgamation of ideas taking the entire D.I.Y noise riff-rock and forming a potential monster but it fails to grow any chest hair as this premature monster mind just can’t process a simple idea.
Fat Bitch had all the elements there, the licks, the drum fills, the polyrhythm mind fuck Load Records via Noxagt up your arse and out of your face tone but...still, this is still for cheap low grade pot smoking clerks and bedroom elite enthusiasts.
Hail to the promoters on such a cold night in Brighton town, nobody in their right mind would like three to four sludge dirge doom ridden bands spilling their apathetic sob stories of twisted visuals, depression, and gut-wrenching political angst. Instead, it appears we have the ‘United Colours of Benetton’ (in reference to Bilge Pump’s desired wardrobe) light up the stage. Three individual males ready to unleash what could be filed next to “England’s answer to the 90’s tail end of Dischord”. Splattered songs sending calculated good time sonicness to everyone’s mind making it that little bit more enjoyable buying that overpriced dirty pint of muck from the bar. These are the guys who probably didn’t sniff the glue but were actually around to see the crossover of genres take place at real shows rather than sitting in the damp cum-stained room with the stereo on blast pumping out no-wave attempting new and daring hair partings. Bilge Pump could have continued to play all night if we all knew who wasn’t going to be breaking speaker cones and subs up stage next.
The headline band is selling a cheap run of the mill self made CD-r entitled ‘Reduced to Clear’. As it happens the first song is classed as ‘the moment when Ligament became Part Chimp, Glasgow 1999’. Tonight we witness the moment Part Chimp become King Chimp, before you know it the four piece are on stage celestially bastardising peoples eardrums to the tune of ‘TRAD’ the opening desert riff driving track from new full length ‘Thriller’.
It’s been roughly ten years since the transformation from previously mentioned band to this entity and finally, after a period of time it looks like they have secured a concrete line up. Destroying pretty much every punter in the venue with a blissful and euphoric set list, they can do no wrong. Blending in all manner of songs from Chart Pimp, I am Come, Cup (especially the beast ‘Once More Forever’) and mainly the first 50% off the new album, it’s safe to say we are still in good hands as our ear drums liquidise into our pints and back down into our throats, into our guts and back into the venue’s pisser. This kind of happiness makes your jaw ache from gurning even though you haven’t double dropped any chemical you can find on the tar ridden floor. The loudest band in England? Without a doubt. Reduced to smithereens.
Word by Ade Dovey
Pictures by Thom Hayes
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