Fears that my first outing to gig since
becoming a dad would see me somewhat ring rusty turned out to be well
founded. Finding the venue, Manchester's Partisan, proved something
of a mission. After tens of minutes wandering round in circles with a
decidedly unhelpful Google map, I finally followed two people who
looked vaguely punk and found it that way (it's to the right of the
faintly terrifying snooker hall then right again).
I've been, quite understandably
slightly wary of 'safe spaces' after being in one in Leeds and seeing
a pissed middle aged man call the lead singer and songwriter of the
headline band a 'blonde girl cunt' and proceed to kick seven shades
of shit out her tour van. Partisan, however, is everything it claims
to be. The space is excellent, the sound brilliant and everyone from
the bar tenders to the doormen (not quite to the world weary
cheerfulness of the Star and Garter bouncers but not far off) are
super friendly and happy. The whole audience seemed relaxed and at
home. Job done Partisan, job done.
I arrived just in time to catch the
last two songs by Zaplain, who sounded brilliant. I quietly berated
myself for my poor orienteering skills that prevented me catching the
rest of the set. Brighton's Just Blankets cheered me up again,
however. Their gloriously noisy set was infectious with melody and
good cheer. Set highlight, Short Walks ('How many short walks/to make
this place feel like home?/I don't know') can be found on their Like
Velcro EP out now on Everything Sucks. Go buy it. It's class.
Onto the tonight's main attraction, the
much missed Onsind. Blooming from a punka troubadour two piece to a
newly established five piece, they bound on stage with an odd mix of
nervous energy and extreme confidence. The set explodes into
Magnolia, taken from their incredible new LP We Wilt, We Bloom on
Specialist Subject Records. It's immediately and abundantly clear
that the band are skin tight, they sound absurdly confident and
absolutely terrific. New cuts are proudly unveiled. Immature, the
classic in waiting Sectioned and a poignant Loyalty Festers,
introduced by a long and heartbreaking monologue by Nathan about a
school friend of his being swept away by the dark icy waves of the
far right. (Shamefully, a small gang about the back continued
laughing and chatting away through out this speech. It got to the
point where the sound man had to go and tell them to be quiet. I've
never ever understood this; why go and see a band and talk to your
mates all the way through?).
New babies proudly shown off, the band
went into a section of what Nathan called, tongue firmly in cheek,
'the hits'. And what beauties there are in their cannon. The still
furious BA77, the moving Dissatisfactions, poignant Suicide is
Painful and the personal highlight of the evening God Hates Facts.
Now, this song is so powerful and emotive it would sound good played
on the spoons, but this line up absolutely smacked it out the park.
There's a tiny bit of my stomach only the 'Meet me at the reservoir'
bit can reach. Heterosexuality Is a Construct has turned into an
absolute monster. Delivered at break neck speed (“We are gonna do
it faster and faster it last, like, a minute” jokes Nathan), so
fast it's a challenge to sing along. Class.
Just before the encore, the promoter
comes up to the stage with a cake celebrating Onsind's 11 years as a
band. The band are quite visibly touched. “It's vegan too!” adds
the promoter, getting one of the biggest cheers of the night. Then
onto the promised encore, the greatly anticipated Pokemon City
Limits. “Lets get rid of some Tory's” spits Nathan “Seriously,
I want to see some fucking heads on spikes”. It doesn’t really
get more comforting or cathartic than Manchester screaming never
trust a Tory in unison.
This is the key to Onsind I think.
Anyone buying their new LP hoping for a map through political
swamplands or a cure for mental illness will be left wanting. What
the band offer is a hand to hold in the darkness. There's nothing
like mental illness, anxiety and disgust at a political climate to
make you feel alone. Onsind are not the antidote, but sometimes
finding someone or something just as fucked up and fucked off as you
are is a comfort. Here's to the next eleven years.
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