Pic via Nialler. The gig is Super Extra Bonus Party @ Róisín Dubh, Galway, 16th August 2007. Last week in fact. This is a somewhat tardy review.
Practically empty. It is Róisíns. The tardiness of the Galwegian aesthete should never be underestimated. We should have known. Upstairs. Two drinks, one chat. Relaxed buzz... The girls arrive. Giddiness, frolics, the unnecessary malevolence of alcopops. Yet good times prevail. Downstairs. Dancing?
The crowd is dispersed. Amiable tourists talk amongst themselves, unsure yet optimistic. The hostel-dorm door is locked, and the gig is free. Indie types cling to walls and seats. The proper pose must be struck. Don't you roll your own cigarettes? The Image is all encompassing. Fuck that. We stride towards centre ground. Proximity to the stage is our poison. This Newbridge posse is our dealer... The old man is getting warmed up. Limber dementia. This is his turf. Show some respect... Or take pictures with your camera phone.
The band are onstage. The Super Extra Bonus Party is upon us, yet many in the crowd still refuses to accept the revelry that is about to ensue. One wonders how the gig will go down in this haven of the aloof... The music starts up... We are told that the party shall be most super... SEBP fans present are only too aware... One guitarist leap off stage later, the others start to believe... Slowly the dancing begins in earnest... Slowly the punters move closer... Rodrigo makes his way to the mic... The rhymes start to flow... The place starts to bounce... "Spanik Sabotage" drives the punters apeshit... Energetic vibrations...
Time for a Super Extra Bonus Prize. A French-sounding young man wins a Charles Bronson video, I think. Late converts with rollies tucked behind their ears start to join in the fun. Those already wise await the next onslaught of tunes... Their patience is rewarded. A friend arrives late and stares at me in euphoric disbelief during that sample. Instantly it becomes one of the collective's "Favourite Things". Unbridled dancing refuses the pleading of aching limbs.
Respite from the groove would eventually come, and it happens like so: "Drone Rock"... The band leaves to considerable cheering... The encore brings with it a favourite of mine; "Erosion"... The gig is over. Audience and band seem well and truly spent. Smiles abound. A most worthwhile buzz. Soon afterwards, the medals are handed out. Miraculous. Pints must be quaffed. Deserved.
Yet before we all settle in to our respective debaucheries, I have a brief chat with Nialler. Sound bloke. We discuss blogs, BATS, the Picnic and Beastie Boys. I feel I am rambling. I probably am. I usually do.
We part. My friends and I drink and dance like fools until Róisín's climax. The house lights are up, the exodus begins. The gum of the Rizla is undone by the moisture of exertion, bemoans Johnny Swashbuckle. I laugh. We all head back to my mate's house. We drink red wine, and drunkenly attempt to outdo each other by finding the funniest youtube clip. I win. Sleep beckons.
Super Extra Bonus Party. Because you're worth it.