Reviewed on Sunday December 20
The four musicians collectively known as Peg must be very good at poker. Though they did admittedly warm up towards the end of their set, giggling at a few mistakes that forced them to start songs over, for the majority of the show they were stony-faced and distant.
It was a shame, particularly when combined with a distinct hesitancy that infected their Slint-centric brand of rock’n’roll like a disease. Though their performance was certainly not a complete disappointment – there were moments of haunted, fragile greatness scattered throughout the set – their stylised sense of remove was both frustrating and vibe-killing; an anxiety-inducing start to the evening if ever there was one.
The burden of the show was very much on Front End Loader’s shoulders, then, and there was a palatable sense of expectation as the band took to the stage. But the audience need not have worried, and all concerns that the group would follow Peg’s suit were shattered the moment they sent their first jangly chord out into the room.
Their manic blend of cock rock tropes, punk riffs and debauched glam stylings grew increasingly intoxicating with every song, and before long the hyped-up audience descended into a frantic mess of headbanging and fist-pumping. It was fall of the Roman Empire kind of stuff; sweaty and skeezy.
Not even multiple technical issues could stop the sonic onslaught. They had to swap out both a guitar and an amp, and their onstage banter with Henry, their sound technician, reached ‘Who’s on first?’ levels of comic repetition. But the pace didn’t let up for a minute as they skipped and skittered through their back catalogue, and even threw a new, unreleased tune into the mix.
That said, the night’s highlight was a deliciously debauched cover of ‘I Want To Break Free’. A shotgun wedding’s worth of overstuffed, anxious beauty, it was grand and yet grainy; rich and yet real. Even Henry the soundman got involved, singing the guitar solo and transforming it into a series of yelpy ‘waow waows’ in the process. An acquired taste perhaps, but a significant moment in a wholly significant show; a gig with enough power to transcend the very limits of Newtown Social Club’s humble four walls.
