After the wheel
Blurt.
Deptford Bird’s Nest. 28oct11.
Given that guitarist Steve Eagles and Ted Milton (vocalist, saxophonist and the sun around which the world of Blurt orbits) have turned out in suits (albeit with t-shirts rather than ties beneath), it seems slightly wrong that Blurt should be playing out in the alcove of a South London boozer with a gap of about five feet between the stage and the sound desk.
Whatever the space available, it is well filled with bodies gazing intently at the band leader, as his jaw juts out, his face contorts and he taps about like a chap who’s taken a bag of poppers to a tea dance. It’s a home town show for Ted though so he doesn’t have far to walk to sleep it off comfortably.
“Yes! I hear they’ve invented the wheel, since you’ve been away from me” goes the lyric of ‘Plunge’, a highlight of the evening’s set, and indeed most inventions post that epiphanous moment in human history have occurred since Blurt first began troubling audiences. Thirty two years on stage has certainly not diminished Ted Milton’s energy, being the squalling scattergun over the bedrock provided by Eagles cyclical guitar and Dave Aylward’s angsty, shuffling drum beats.
Ted moves between sax and singing regularly with both his instrument and his vocal chords undertaking the same role; howling, wavering, slaloming, shooting and flailing over the sturdy brickwork put up by his bandmates, like a manic Jackson Pollock artwork being superimposed over a stubborn Rothko.
Tonight’s set was less reliant on tracks from 2010 LP ‘Cut It!’ than I’ve experienced in the past, but Blurt have a fine body of jazz-spattered post-punk work upon which to draw and show no signs yet of being satisfied with resting on their laurels.
Deptford Bird’s Nest. 28oct11.
Given that guitarist Steve Eagles and Ted Milton (vocalist, saxophonist and the sun around which the world of Blurt orbits) have turned out in suits (albeit with t-shirts rather than ties beneath), it seems slightly wrong that Blurt should be playing out in the alcove of a South London boozer with a gap of about five feet between the stage and the sound desk.
Whatever the space available, it is well filled with bodies gazing intently at the band leader, as his jaw juts out, his face contorts and he taps about like a chap who’s taken a bag of poppers to a tea dance. It’s a home town show for Ted though so he doesn’t have far to walk to sleep it off comfortably.
“Yes! I hear they’ve invented the wheel, since you’ve been away from me” goes the lyric of ‘Plunge’, a highlight of the evening’s set, and indeed most inventions post that epiphanous moment in human history have occurred since Blurt first began troubling audiences. Thirty two years on stage has certainly not diminished Ted Milton’s energy, being the squalling scattergun over the bedrock provided by Eagles cyclical guitar and Dave Aylward’s angsty, shuffling drum beats.
Ted moves between sax and singing regularly with both his instrument and his vocal chords undertaking the same role; howling, wavering, slaloming, shooting and flailing over the sturdy brickwork put up by his bandmates, like a manic Jackson Pollock artwork being superimposed over a stubborn Rothko.
Tonight’s set was less reliant on tracks from 2010 LP ‘Cut It!’ than I’ve experienced in the past, but Blurt have a fine body of jazz-spattered post-punk work upon which to draw and show no signs yet of being satisfied with resting on their laurels.
posted by skif at 8:31 pm
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