BUZZARD BUZZARD BUZZARD’S LATE NIGHT CITY SERMON | LIVE REVIEW
Clwb Ifor Bach, Cardiff, Sun 5 May
Buzzard Buzzard Buzzard’s inaugural Late Night City Sermon kicks off, as is only right and proper, with a rendition of the Lord’s Prayer. We are gathered here today in this house of worship to pay tribute to the gods of rock‘n’roll, or at least their earthly incarnations – starting with CVC, who hail (fittingly enough) from Church Village and who, it’s fair to say, have an awful lot going on: berets; dubious 70s funk-rock influences; one song about smoking too much weed; another that briefly thinks it’s House Of The Rising Sun; a keyboard player with “CVC” marker-penned on his forehead in case he gets lost; a barechested, porno-tached and explosive-haired loon in a red suede tasselled jacket on vocals. You can attempt coolly cynical detachment if you like, but be warned: Jungle Fever is infectious. “That was fucking large”, announces one beaming youth to another.
After a brief skit that bemuses more than it amuses, Rainn Byrns returns to the stage with his band, all in regulation white T-shirts and ill-fitting jeans, for a set of pleasantly loose lo-fi on stoned nodding terms with The Lemonheads and Pavement. A bedroom dreamer who fantasises about moving to California and learning to skateboard, Byrns also claims “There aren’t enough songs about hate” by way of introducing How Can I Get You Out Of My Life?. You’d have thought that cultivating a trucker’s mullet might have been the answer, but apparently not.
Another interlude, during which the headliners’ Zac White plays random noise/slide guitar sat on a chair with his back to the audience, and then (in the words of compere Tom Rees) it’s time for a “supergroup” featuring “two members of the second best band in Cardiff”. Davey Newington is back behind the drums, but Shoebox Orchestra are skippered by his Boy Azooga bandmate Sam Barnes. Theirs is the most sober and restrained performance of the evening, with neat songs like Rainy Day and Under January Skies characterised by nuance and subtle shifts – and consequently probably better experienced in different circumstances.
That such sobriety and restraint are by now in short supply is underlined by the bout of boxing that then takes place in the middle of the dancefloor starring Buzzard Buzzard Buzzard drummer Ethan (yes, really), which precipitates a genuine scuffle and an ejection. Cue the country gospel of the Louvin Brothers’ Satan Is Real and the arrival on stage of our hip priests. Bassist Eddie Rees is dressed as a vicar, Zac looks like a dissolute Catholic minister and Tom is resplendent in a backless turquoise trouser suit.
Fresh from fraternising with the devil (well, chatting to the NME and appearing on Soccer AM), Buzzard Buzzard Buzzard are in absolute peak form, preaching the gospel according to Marc Bolan, the Rolling Stones and AC/DC, strutting and rampaging through a set of cast-iron classics in the making. Such is their confidence that Late Night City comes second, with debut Double Denim Hop towards the end and forthcoming single Love Forever somewhere in the middle. As usual, John Lennon Is My Jesus Christ gives particular delight to the congregation, while Magic Christian Mountain closes out a quite extraordinary show. Cameramen are jostled, crowdsurfers stack up, people hang from the rafters and all of the performers reappear on stage to take the applause.
Let us give praise for the redemptive power of rock‘n’roll – for the inestimable joys of messy, sweaty salvation. Amen.
words and photos BEN WOOLHEAD