Older and Angrier

Chris and I were at the Camden Underworld last week, sharing a warren of bad-tempered bars with an embarrassingly male crowd, many of whom were plainly mourning the passing of Sleazy Christopherson from TG the previous night.

The support band plainly had no awareness of this, as they were two fresh faced Canadian women on a rush from some greasy cross-channel ferry to make the show on time. The name "Pack A.D." didn't bode well, but they were a brilliant object lesson in using every ounce of capability and nerve they possess to exponential effect. The drummer was using her sticks like hammers, and barely played off the 1 and the 3 all gig. This didn't matter in the slightest as she was plainly the social and logistical lynchpin of the group; her compadre was a razor-blade slim guitarist who played deceptively simple chords and riffs, but never the same one for very long at a time. Her singing had the traumatic bawl of a Kristin Hersh and the urgency of Johnny Cash. None of their songs seemed the same, which is always a sign of a great group.

No Means No have a set of songs that don't even sound like songs, which is why we love them so much. A blizzard of contorted, compulsive gestures, tunes and rages, kicking off with a squall of frustration called "Old": 'The older I get/ the angrier I am'. Glorious stuff.