Red Snapper and Lo Fidelity Allstars

London Astoria

31 January 2001

Wednesday night. A bespectacled and be-sneakered crowd about half the size of a small South American country's population is corralled between riot barriers, snaking its way into London's Astoria. The draw is an event which aspires to be the antidote that multi-million-pound popular music Infomercial, the Brit Awards. Chart-shagging perma-grinning muppets go home, because tonight it INDIE that rules. And indie, baby, what a long, long way you've come, judging from tonight's beat-tastic lineup of Red Snapper, Lo Fidelity Allstars, Bent, and Zoot Woman. (After all, back in the day you weren't ALLOWED to like dance music if you had a bad haircut and looked at the floor when you "danced".) So indie it is - provided, of course, that you can see past all the fuck-off banners screaming the name of tonight's media-monster sponsor and its corporate host, C*rl*ng L*g*r. But this, kids, is the Astoria, and our feet are sticking to the floor, so it MUST be indie.

First up are Wall of Sound newbies Zoot Woman. Jaques Lu Cont is in Zoot Woman, and they are sort of similar to Les Rhythmes Digitales with their penchant for 80's cheese-synths - except they don't pretend to be French. But having been waylaid by fermented hops en route to the show we miss Zoot Woman and arrive just in time to hear Bent finish the last four bars of their set. Bugger. (If anyone saw either of them, let us know how it was, OK?)
We can, however, report with AUTHORITY on the Lo Fidelity Allstars. Yes, we can say with glee that there clearly IS life after the tragedy of a Wrekked Train. The Albino Priest clearly thinks that the Astoria is the best karaoke bar he's ever been to, and this is a Good Thing. No, really. He gallops around the stage, belting out the lyrics to "The All The All", while gurning like a loon at the front row occupants. Perhaps it isn't such a bad idea to give lager whores a forum in which they can massacre "Burning Love" after all. It is fabulous, and we dance like fools. By the time the Lo Fis kick in with The Song Formerly Known As Disco Machine Gun, everyone else is doing sillier dances than us hacks, so we're not too humiliated.
It's all over so quickly, but it was all good. The Lo Fis lurch off the stage, leaving the beaming crowd a chance to roll up their joints in anticipation of Red Snapper. That is, if they can stop pretending not to notice that Noel Gallagher has just walked into the upstairs bar with his post-Meg squeeze. But fuck bland celeb sightings of bland celebs. We want Red Snapper.

The last time we saw Red Snapper (at the Warp 10th Anniversary gig, about a squillion years ago), they rocked the free world. But since then, they released an album that was okay, but it didn't quite merit the usual Snapper seal of quality. So it is with apprehension that we settle into the final act of the evening. And LO! - we are pleased to report that Red Snapper still ROCK. Dance bands like Death in Vegas, while wonderful, wish they could rock like the Snapper. Their dubbed-out jazzfuck music borders on the untouchable when performed live. Even the most recent material from "Our Aim is to Satisfy", with MC Det rapping over it in that hysterical rock-and-ragga esperanto thing he does, takes on a life of its own. And Ali Friend's double-bass produces tones that feel like a hearty punch to the abdomen. By the time it's all over, we are convinced of our un-worthiness. Chalk up another victory for indie-crossover. Red Snapper, how could we have ever doubted you?

Leslie Gilotti, courtesey of:

www.playlouder.com