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Ali Welford enjoys a night of punchy punk nuggets courtesy of Slime City
Image: Slime City by Ali Welford
Last year saw Slime City vocalist/bassist Michael M publish an unlikely and unique addition to the canon of rock ‘n’ roll memoirs. Titled You’re Doing It Wrong: My Life as a Failed International Rock Star (In the Best Band You’ve Never Heard), the text reflected on a decade fronting Glasgow indie rockers We Are the Physics – and many of those same sentiments will doubtless have bled into his current outfit.
Completed by We Are the Physics’ other two Michaels (‘Michaeldrum’ and ‘Michaelguitar’), Slime City are a self-professed ‘existentialist nerd rock’ band who ought to be brimming with crossover potential. They’re charismatic, they’re tremendous live, and they’ve tunes that bands hundreds – nay, thousands – of times their size would kill for. They’re capable of playing a 500-capacity album launch in their hometown, yet further afield their profile barely registers. Whether it’s due to trends, bum luck or their refusal to play ‘the game,’ a sense of déjà vu abounds. Once again, they’re plugging away in the best band practically nobody has heard of.
And the best thing of all? None of this seems to bother them one jot. Their first visit to Sunderland may be sparsely attended, but the trio seize the moment with the same gusto and commitment as any and every other show. This verve can’t help but illicit a reaction. A handful of paid-up converts aside, the bulk of tonight’s audience appear to be curious newcomers or avid-gig goers taking a Friday night punt. Barely a couple of songs in, you already get the sense that each and every one is on-side.
For all their self-deprecation, it helps that Slime City really are very, very good. A punk band sporting a seemingly effortless ear for a melody, their fast, punchy nuggets marry the big hooks of early Weezer and Bleed American era Jimmy Eat World with the spiky wryness of mclusky – adding a hefty dollop of dry, distinctly Glaswegian humour for good measure. At times they’re gloriously daft, yet more often than not their songs are underpinned by a serious message. Dial Up Internet Is the Purest Internet, for instance infuses ‘90s nostalgia with pointed jabs at bigotry, radicalisation and inane content, while the scarcity of opportunities afforded to working class bands is channelled explosively via closer Less Jools More Top of the Pops.
There can be few bands less at risk of taking themselves too seriously – but that doesn’t mean Slime City lack convictions, nor the confidence to project them. During a blizzard of stone-cold bangers, those uninitiated are left in no doubt they’re firmly pro equality, giving up and triggering dads. JK Rowling, online algorithms and T-shirt gatekeepers, meanwhile, get a thorough kicking – some rather more tongue in cheek than others.
It’s a brilliant, cathartic slice of entertainment, and one which poses a pertinent question: If this is what ‘failure’ looks and sounds like, then why are so many bands preoccupied with ‘making it’ in the first place?
There’s plenty to enjoy on the local support bill too. Doing their bit to make Sunderland the newest hotspot for vintage surf rock ‘n’ roll, Johnny D & The Space Cadets offer agreeably retro sounds and contrasting personalities; guitarist Johnny’s reservedness offset by his space cadets’ (namely drummer Screamin’ Steve’s) deadpan drawl.
In a crowded post-punk scene, meanwhile, Cazimi come as a breath of fresh air. Evoking masters like Killing Joke and Wire rather than clinging to the contemporary coattails of IDLES, Fontaines, et al, this trio come armed with a clutch of excellent songs and perform with a pitch-perfect balance of scuzzy bite and melodic flair. They’re ideal for a bill which offers fashion short shrift, and while I’m late to the party – they’ve been going for over a decade now – there’s never a bad time to happen upon excellent music – new or old; ‘successful’ or otherwise.
