The Senses, How Garbo Died live at Pivo Pivo in Glasgow
The last minute of the match. All eyes are on the telly in Pivo Pivo for there is money riding on the outcome. Two bimbos – oblivious of the socio-political significance of the event – stand up in front of the telly and start taking pictures of their pals just as the last wave of German dive bombers attack the Uruguay goal but we can’t see a thing. Even the damn fine Furstenberg can’t bring forth forgiveness for that sin of stupidity.
It sounded like a sound check but it was actually the start of How Garbo Died’s set. Two men with two laptops strike forth with acoustic singer songwriter level angst and attempt to overdose the audience on pre-recorded sound bites of social significance layered over robotic rhythms. Burning with the intensity of a man to whom trainspotting would represent an improvement to his chances of success with the opposite sex, Kevin Gilday emoted like he was on stage at the Tramway. We’re talking electro punk deconstructed into Leonard Cohen’s third album. Shazam, rent boy!
Turning conventionality into Exocet near misses were The Senses. The word is that the band hail from Kilmarnock and Paisley which might well explain something but probably not the meaning of life. Or the price of a portion of chicken pakora for that matter. George Barron proved the standout in the band rising above the – let’s state the obvious – limitations in the rhythm section. Nonetheless, this was a band that that ran down the middle lane of the motorway at close to the legal limit.
Time to return to the hacienda. Time for public transport. Time to watch in wonder as the police (God bless them!) suffer the indignity of having to be polite as they arrest fat drunk ned and equally drunk nedette for the crime of throwing bottles across a crowded street. Later, watch in wonder as a fat bird runs for the train. In the great battle of the steak bakes, it’s easy to figure out what side she was on. To the victor, the spoils…
July 10, 2010
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