Shonen Knife, Black Box, 9th May 2014

"When I finally got to see them live, I was transformed into a hysterical nine-year-old girl at a Beatles concert" - Kurt Cobain

It was a snap decision to go see Shonen Knife at the Black Box.  My friend Claire and I had never actually heard of the band before, but Kurt Cobain’s fandom and the idea of an all-girl Japanese punk rock band who played Ramones covers was too good to ignore.

We spent the week doing our Shonen Knife homework so we wouldn’t be completely lost.  I was in love with their 60’s style matching girl band outfits and music videos featuring nothing but cats.  And how can you not love a band whose songs feature lyrics like “banana chips for you, banana chips for me, in the afternoon banana chips and tea”?

The first thing that struck on us on arrival at the venue was, of course, the fabulous merchandise stall – even though an over zealous Black Box staff member tried to shoo us away, telling us the stall wouldn’t open until after the gig.  Of course 5 minutes later said stall opened for business, staffed by the lovely Atsuko, former Shonen Knife drummer and sister of front-woman Naoko.

We immediately proceeded to spend money we didn’t have buying Shonen Knife tote bags, badges, Space Xmas tour posters and, in Claire’s case, a rather fabulous green vinyl edition of their new album, Overdrive.  We spent a brief moment jumping up and down excitedly with Atsuko before taking our place in the moshpit.

Support came from local band European Jane who defied usual support act protocol by actually being rather good.  I was particularly taken by their set list, featuring song titles such as “shit riff”.  Their bassist informed the crowd they had no online presence whatsoever and invited people to come up and actually speak to them instead.  Real communication, how quaint!  Still, it turns out they are on Twitter after all, so go investigate them (once you've finished reading this).

But of course, we were there for Shonen Knife, and eventually the women themselves took to the stage in matching blue sequin tunics.  Only having been listening to the band for about a week at this stage, I’m afraid I can’t go into too much detail about how they played this song and that song.  Even the set list I nabbed after the show doesn’t provide much help here, written as it is in Japanese.

I was able to recognise and vaguely sing along to Twist Barbie, but in all honesty that wasn’t the point.  The point was – Shonen Knife rock.  We weren’t here to watch earnest singer-songwriters sing equally earnest acoustic ballads about feelings, we were here to see three awesome women play punk rock pop songs about ramen noodles (amongst other things).

Inspired by the fabulously haired bassist Ritsuko, the women in the moshpit (us included) all began a very girly style of headbanging, the aim being to get hair your to swish about like you’ve just stepped out of the best shampoo commercial in the world.  There was also some gorgeous synchronised punk rock posing from from Ritsuko and Naoko, while drummer Emi played with the energy of a large army of Duracell bunnies.

If the Shonen Knife rider really does consist of Snickers bars, marshmallows and gummi bears, as Naoko’s Twitter suggests, it’s easy to see how their sweet-based calories get burned off each night – the band just can’t stand still.  Coupled with the fact the Black Box was hotter than hell during a heatwave, the entire crowd probably sweated off a few pounds over the course of the gig too.

After their main set the band came back onstage for an encore, asking for any audience requests.  Despite the fact I’d only been listening to Shonen Knife for a week, I still felt the need to shout out my request for Choco Bars (the song, not the product).  Another fan requested the track Explosion, and democratic Naoko put the final decision to the crowd.  Needless to say, the vast majority of people also wanted to eat choco bars all day long and my request was played.

The band hung around afterwards for an autograph session, during which Emi and I bonded over bobbed hair.  Well, I say bonded.  I drunkenly pointed at my bobbed hair, pointed at her bobbed hair and she laughed.  With me, not at me.  Honestly.  The ladies graciously hung around long enough to ensure everyone who wanted an autograph got one before helping to pack away their own merch stall and equipment.  Sisters are doing it for themselves.

We left the Black Box exhausted from our relentless pogoing, our hair a terrible sweaty mess with added Hello Kitty hairslides.  It was brilliant.  Shonen Knife are my new favourite band and I want to listen to them all day long.

Neil Finn, Dublin Olympia, 30th May 2014

“The doors don’t close, love – especially not for you two!”

Oh dear.  It should have been the time we went into the Olympia to watch Neil Finn’s support act Tiny Ruins take to the stage.  Instead, we were checking with the doorman whether we could definitely still get in once the support act had finished, so we could go drinking instead.

Being the classy ladies we are, my friend and I had already drank pre-mixed G&T and Pims & lemonade on the bus down, and a cocktail each on arrival in Dublin.  As another cocktail started calling to us, we decided to ditch Tiny Ruins, as good as they might have been, to go drink a Harvey Wallbanger and a shot of something foul , in a pub populated with slightly creepy old Irish men.  It was a good idea at the time.

Eventually, we put our glasses down and headed back to the Olympia.  Where we immediately lifted our glasses again, plastic ones this time, filled the foulest wine we ever had the misfortune to drink.  I had been worried that our seats in row L wouldn’t exactly offer a memorable view, so was pleased to see that we actually had a pretty clear view of the stage.  Still for a woman who’s used to being crushed against a barrier in the mosh pit, it took a bit of getting used to.   I also had a pretty clear view of the arse of the man in front of us, who frequently had to stand up for whatever reason, letting his low-riding jeans travel further southward. 

I should add a disclaimer to this, namely that I am a huge Neil Finn fan.  And, as this was my first Finn gig, I was practically jumping up and down in my seat by the time the man himself took to the stage.  Unexpectedly, he began the gig with a piano-led version of Black and White Boy, one of my favourite Finn tracks, so I was sold already.

“It’s good to be back on the sloping stage of the Olympia”, Finn enthused as his backing band joined him on said stage, “though no-one knows why it’s sloping, exactly”.  The set list for the evening obviously contained numerous tracks from Finn’s excellent new album Dizzy Heights, but also ran through plenty of his greatest hits, from his Split Enz days right up to Pajama Club.

I was pleased to hear the Split Enz track Strait Old Line get an airing – it’s not exactly a well known song in this neck of the woods by any means, but is another favourite of mine (hell, they’re all favourites of mine) and Finn performed it in the gospel style he had originally intended.

One particular highlight of the evening came when Finn’s Crowded House band-mate Nick Seymour joined him on stage for a couple of tracks, and even an impromptu dance routine of sorts.  Having never seen Crowded House live myself, it was rather lovely to the see the two of them on stage together, clearly enjoying the brief reunion.

Special mention has to go to the beautiful backdrop behind Finn and his band, designed by former Split Enz cohort Noel Crombie and his partner, Sally Mill.  Thanks to some clever lighting the backdrop appeared to change colour according to the song being played – during Divebomber, for example, the backdrop looked like a gorgeous sunny morning sky as the aircraft sound effects soared across.

The Olympia, Finn told us, has “a soft curfew” and, having recently seen Bruce Springsteen play a three hour set he saw no reason to end his own gig any earlier.  And so it was that Finn came on stage for what amounted to a 12 song encore, just him, his guitar and his piano.  As the evening wore on, people began leaving in order to catch public transport or relieve babysitters of their duties, but if anything this reduction in numbers only improved the atmosphere.

Going to a Neil Finn gig doesn’t feel much like going to a gig at all – instead, it feels as if he has invited quite a lot of people to his rather large living room for a bit of a sing-a-long.   The decreasing crowd served to make the proceedings feel a bit more intimate, and certainly the crowd that remained definitely appeared to sing along much louder than they had been before.

I did, fuelled by alcohol no doubt, attempt to call out a request for Song of the Lonely Mountain which sadly went unheard, but he did play a request for Love Is All That Remains which, in retrospect, was probably a much better choice anyway.

The gig ended with Better Be Home Soon, the audience singing louder than Finn, and considering it was midnight before we left the Olympia, it was an apt choice of song.  My friend and I did attempt to hang around for some Neil Finn Stage Door Action afterwards, but alas, we left empty handed.  Considering the man had just played a three hour set, we could hardly complain.

So, yes, my own fangirlishness probably gets the better of me here and prevents me from saying anything negative whatsoever about the evening.  If I had to make a complaint it would be that seated gigs just don’t do anything for me in general, and I had to make do with dancing in my chair during tracks that were really too good for chair dancing.  However, as a large amount of the gig was Finn performing solo, I admit it was hardly moshing material.

The journalist Peter Paphides once wrote about “Crowded House moments”, where certain songs have defining moments that stay with you forever.  Not having been a Crowded House gig it’s perhaps a bit redundant to talk about that, but those of us in the Olympia that night certainly had a Neil Finn moment anyway. 

Robert Newman's New Theory of Evolution, Black Box, 7th May 2014

"I’m reading Tolstoy in Russian....just doing the verbs at the moment”.  And that ought to give you some idea of kind of jokes featured in Robert Newman’s new show, The New Theory of Evolution.

That’s if you can call what Newman offers jokes, of course.  It’s certainly very funny, but it’s essentially a very funny Royal Institution lecture.  The basic premise of The New Theory of Evolution is that neocons have distorted Darwin’s theories, with big business-style interests clinging to the idea of “survival of the fittest” as it’s what fits their ideology best. 

In fact, Newman argues, it’s mutual co-operation and not a dog-eat-dog mentality that has led to the evolution of the species.  “Survival of the misfits”, he calls it, or the idea that that all species originate from misfits pushed to the edges of ecological tolerance in tiny populations.  So definitely not your standard Comedy Roadshow routine, then.

Newman has definitely done his research on the subject – and not just watched the Life on Earth box set, he assures us.  It’s a show full of genuinely interesting ideas and scientific facts.  I particularly liked the research cited on nematode worms, who cannibalise their fellow worms and in doing so, actually appear to consume their knowledge as well as their bodies.

It’s all so packed full of ideas, I couldn’t help but feel there should have been an accompanying reading list.  And of course, it turns out there actually is, on Newman’s own website.  Seriously, comedy gigs with reading lists – more of this, please.

I admit, it’s very much the kind of show people go to in order to feel clever about themselves – you can almost hear everyone in the crowd mentally slapping themselves on the back for getting all the jokes. 

Of course, my friend Ian and I probably have to be included in this mental self congratulation too, especially as we’d had three glasses of wine before Newman took to the stage.  The alcohol did lead to a moment of confusion for Ian towards the end of the first act, as he drunkenly thought Newman was leading up to some vaguely homophobic debunking of the “nature vs nurture” argument.  Exactly how this thought came to him I’m not sure.  Through a wine glass, I assume.

Fortunately, I managed to set Ian straight (as it were) before some very unusual alcohol-fuelled and science-based heckling took place.

Annoyingly, people were still taking their seats once Newman began his routine, so clearly not much of a late door policy, then.  One woman sat down next to me ten minutes into the set and, as if to hide her late arrival, began laughing loudly straight away even though she had effectively walked in mid-sentence.

Considering Newman used to be a stadium filling stand-up pin-up, he appeared to be genuinely quite nervous in the tiny space of the Black Box.  Gone was the ever so slightly arrogant (but, you know, sexily arrogant) technique of old.  Instead, Newman was a little bit stammering and distracted, especially in the face of the Black Box’s bright lights (“We’re not at a disco”).

Pathetic fangirl that I am, though, I was pleased to see that his looks have largely remained intact.  He might not be the long haired, Byronic sex god he once was – now he’s more the ruffled but sexy university professor you’re probably not supposed to fancy.  But hey, that works for me.

I’ve noticed that a number of reviews for The New Theory of Evolution have grumbled either about Newman letting comedy get in the way of a good science lecture, or for letting the lecture get in the way of the jokes.  Personally, I thought there was a good balance of both and admire Newman for being so unashamedly clever.  It might not be the kind of routine that sells out stadiums (to misquote Tim Minchin, you could be as clever as Voltaire but it won’t get you nowhere if you want to sell tickets), but it’s Newman doing the kind of material he wants to do and is clearly passionate about. 

Having said that – the ukulele songs need to go.  I’m happy for the show to be a mix of part-comedy gig, part-lecture, but twee songs played on a small stringed instrument don’t really fit either of those moulds.

Still, ukulele aside, listening to a clever, funny person say clever, funny things makes for a lovely way to spend an evening.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a reading list to get through.  Then, as Newman quipped at the start of the show, “we can all spit into groups and discuss our findings”.