On a hot summer night, would you... Wait a minute, this neither involves Meatloaf, or the Wolf with the Red Roses. It's just the sweat-drenched sauna that was The Strange Boys at The Globe, Cardiff. Hailing from Austin, TX, and having just performed at Glastonbury's 40th anniversary, the band were freshfaced and eager to put on a show. It's just a shame that in such an intimate venue, the main thing on everyone's minds (and brows) was the sweltering heat which either stuck you to your seat, or kept you spending at the bar.

The opening act, Cardiff's very own The Method, were the result of what happens when five unhinged gentlemen with a penchant for trumpets, organs, and chaos in general, take the general layout of music and turn it on its head. There was definitely a tinge of the punk here, as well as the psychadelic, and the funky. Having seen guitarist Johnny perform solo as Johnny Alchemist, I sort of knew what to expect, but, even then I was blown away by the depth, the structure, and the overall showmanship put into such a set - it wasn't big and flash, but it had all the charisma needed to play a much bigger stage, to a much bigger audience - the solid, groovy basslines; the underlying darkness given away by the synth; the indescribabilty (not a word - Ed.) of it all... And when they finally gave way to Sex Beet, I must admit I was ready to rock, and possibly roll.

What was then brought to the stage was a shambling minimalist performance in all senses of both words. The three appeared mismatched, as though they had fallen through a thrift store on the way in, and when they finally tried to grace us with music, it actually wasn't all that good. Think The Horrors if they did songs by Bombay Bicycle Club, and the bassist was dead. Then you'd be in the right ballpark, but you'd still be digging for the metaphorical hidden body. Generally, aside from the helium-esque qualities of the vocals, it sounded as though it was half-baked - it was too noisy to be 'punk' but too pop to be 'noise rock'. I don't know if the levels should be blamed (by that, the tech guy...) or the band. In the end, a bad workman always blames his tools - so I must regretfully brand these as a band to give a miss next time they're on a bill...

Thankfully, when they disappeared back into the crowd, the stage gave way to what can only be described as rockabilly sensibilities. Though the general genre-range of the crowd was 'indie', these guys stood out like a sore thumb - and were all the better for it. Gingham shirts, denim jeans, white undershirts; all they needed was some greased back hair and a toothpick and I'd be sure there was some stereotyping going on. However, looks aside, what The Strange Boys brought to the stage was in fact the best piece of rock'n'roll ever - it lived by the DIY ethic, layering it with rockabilly, and general caterwauling to great effect. Even the saxophone of ex-Mika Miko Jenna Thornhill was greatly appreciated (personally).

Though what do you say about a band that's working a sound that seems to be making a possible comeback? You've got the polished traditionalism of The Baseballs and the classy pin-up girl in Imelda May. What you get from the Strange Boys, as evidenced last night, is a sense of "down-to-Earth garage band". If Buddy Holly had been born that little bit later, I think this is what his music would have sounded like. It's all evidenced in how straightforward their set was last night - some songs, some crowd interaction; generally a traditional "band", which is a refreshing thought knowing that they'd already played Glastonbury.


Overall it was a night of ups and downs. Well worth seeing The Method, slightly marred by Sex Beet, but the mood certainly picked up amidst the punk-try and western hoedown that was The Strange Boys. Honestly, I'd go and see them again any day.

8/10

Folk Punk has always been something of a borderline genre. Parents can enjoy certain parts of it, based on their old love of Gram Parsons or Nick Drake; and kids can enjoy the edgy lyrics and the pure vitriol that is pumped into each song. Frank Turner was once at the forefront of folk-punk, but, lately, he's fallen into the trap of playing up to his genre.

Beans on Toast, the amazing one-man busker-cum-politico act from London opened for the half-full room with his overtly political set. It was all about the economy and the end of the world-as-we-know-it, but with his usual emotionally-uncharged, 40-a-day voice. It runs through the room like Molasses being poured through a blender; a sound you could love, and, the longer it goes on the more you're drawn in. All in all, though, he's the epitome of British folk-punk; it's three chords, one melody, and a political message. Well-played.

Fake Problems hail from Florida. It's a long way to bring their music, but, over the course of hopping the pond, they don't seem to have hopped any fences that haven't been hopped before. I struggled to enjoy this act; I think it was because everything they played sounded remarkably like every other indie act already out there. It wasn't as if it was terrible because of that, it's just, if you're opening for a fairly original artiste, at least try to be fairly original yourselves.

The main event; Frank Turner was greeted by cheers that in my years of seeing him perform, I have never heard. It's a total change of pace. I first saw him perform at a tiny Weekender called Collision Course, and he won me over; from then, I've seen him every time he's performed in Clwb Ifor Bach without fail. And every time I've been impressed beyond. Tonight, for the first time, I wasn't as moved.

Objectively, my review would be along the lines of: "Frank Turner is an amazing artist in this day and age where everyone wants to sing about life and love, with songs with catchy hooks. Everyone wants an artist who whips up the crowd. And everyone wants a bit of Middle-England performing to them in a semi-ironic fashion. He's grown up, he's come out of his shell, and he's playing to bigger venues; he is the capitalist musician's wet dream - ten out of ten".

But, this is my site, and I'm not paid to do any of this by any sponsor or patron, so, I can be as subjective and bastard-ish as I like. So, here goes:

Frank Turner is an amazing artist in this day and age, or, at least he was. He used to be all about the dream; all about the floors and the punk ethic, and everything that made him seem gritty and like a true riding-the-rails folk hero a la Johnny Cash. Instead, he's now one of those guys who plays to audiences who only know the singles rather than the albums; he's one of those guys whose front row was full of folks who loved the new singles, but didn't know anything much prior to the new album.

That's my main gripe. Yes, good for him for reaching such stardom. Good for him for moving up the ladder. Good for him. But, at least his fans could be half decent and if they truly 'loved' him as much as the older fans amongst us who have been coming for years; those who have been coming since he started playing acoustically; those who have been following since the Million Dead or Kneejerk days...

That's what ruined the night. I've gone to his gigs before, and the room has been a non-stop sing-a-long with everyone enjoying; with everyone on the same page. In this gig, there were periods of silence, and periods of blank faces. When 'Smiling at Strangers on Trains' was being played, the front row must have thought he was covering some punk band, and not playing his own, old, Million Dead material. I would internet-sigh if I wasn't just moaning out of my own pretentiousness.

I'll quit my moaning, and get to the score so you may all have your lives back:

Objectively - 8/10
Subjectively - 5/10

What do you think of when I say "Papal Conclave"? You think of set-in-their-ways Cardinals; a cold church in Rome; some smoke; and a dead Pope. You don't think game shows, raucous laughter, and a young comic named Simon Bird. But, that's what happened on Tuesday night at Cardiff University's CF10...Simon Bird came to play, and came to find a potential anti-Pope.

Simon Bird's comedy-fest was opened by a strange man whose name actually escapes me. He was the compere, but I believe his name was Dan. He looked like the strange bastard-son of Boyd Clack (writer of High Hopes and Satellite City) and Huw Stephens (of Radio 1 fame). He was a pretty good compere, even if he did leave a lot of the audience stuck to their seats in fear of yet more audience participation!

Skipping out the opening act, who, in all honesty, isn't even worth mentioning (even the five minutes I stood next to him at the bar, he was no more noticeable or interesting than the fast-emptying fridge of Carlsberg, or the painfully stiff seats that had been laid out in make-shift rows), Simon Bird insisted on participation.

So, let's cut to the chase:

Was it funny? Possibly. I have no idea. I laughed, yes. Was I laughing with Simon Bird, at his witty little experimental, Catholicism-based "game-show", or was I laughing at the silly things he made people do in order to become "Pope" for the night? I think it might have been the latter - sure, he had some witty moments, like "Choose a Christian!" as a category, naming not only people like Christian Bale, Hans Christian Anderson, and Chris(tian) Rock, but also lesser-known Formula 3 Danish racer Christian Bakkerund (of all people).

Was it worth the money? Yes. I can't say that £6 to sit for two hours in a Students' Union building and watch a vaguely high-profile comedian, and two relative unknowns, was far too much. I'm paying less to see Steve Hall in December, but that's because he is relatively unknown to the majority of kids on the block. So, value for money there was.

Would I go and see him again? Not really. Given the chance, I'd like to know what the hell he plans on doing next time. Warwick S.U. had a lovely poster saying it was an Experimental Game Show, while Cardiff's S.U. just advertised him as Simon Bird (of The Inbetweeners) at the Comedy Club on Tuesday 29th September. He might be good doing stand-up; he might be good sticking to this; I just don't know if I found him terribly worth it all.

Overall: 6/10 - Good attempt, Simon. It wasn't my cup-of-tea, but I enjoyed, and so did everyone I went with. Well done.