Chuck Mosley
Thursday certainly feels like the start of the weekend these days. As such, I couldn’t wait to go and see Chuck Mosley and friends down the Owl Sanctuary. For those who don’t know, Chuck used to front a rather well known band called Faith No More in the late 80s before he was ‘replaced’ by Mike Patton, and I’m sad to say that after tonight, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea why. But we’ll get back to that in a second.
First up were zombie-make-up-wearing retro rock band Blood Shake Chorus, who manage to play 50s and 60s songs that you’ve heard a hundred times before in a way that you’ve never heard them played, which no small feat. Think of it as a cross between the Munsters and the Beatles, and you’re half way to understanding why these guys were my favourite band of the evening. Smashing through classics such as Nancy Sinatra’s Bang Bang, the Yardbirds' For Your Love, and the Animals' House of the Rising Sun whilst dripping fake blood and dressed for the abattoir, it was certainly different. And I like different.
Following them were local band Savage Island. When I see a horn section alongside electric guitars onstage, I’m thinking ska punk. I thought wrong. I know it’s kinda my job to tell you what they sounded like, but I’m still not really sure. Trumpet metal? Brasscore? I can assure you that I’ve never heard a sound quite like it. Heavy at times, groovy at others, you’ve got to check them out if you get the chance. Not sure that it’s for me, but there was a room full of people proving me wrong, and they certainly do what they do well.
So, I guess I’ve put this off long enough. Chuck Mosley was fucking bad. Not just a bit bad, and not just ‘not-as-good-as-he-used-to-be’. Just flat out bad. I feel like a right cunt, but there you have it. I met him as well, and he’s a genuinely really lovely bloke, but my heart started to sink by the time he re-started the first song for the third time. Armed with an acoustic guitar, a congo player, a bassist, and a raging thirst for alcohol, he proceeded to stop-start his way through a set that I can only presume he was writing on the spot. Apparently there were some versions of his well-known classics from his FNM days in there. I couldn’t fucking tell you which ones though, and I certainly didn’t care a lot. It’s a sad state of affairs when you’re glad when the congos kick in, just to give your ears something else to focus on. Fuck me, it was awful. By song three, a very well respected member of the Norwich music scene (who shall remain nameless) that knew I was reviewing the evening turned to me, said “fucking good luck with writing up this fucker,” and left. There were a few diehard fans that were into it, but the only way I can describe it was that it was like everyone in the room had dropped acid, but sadly my tab was a dud. I wish I’d been the only one there so I could just lie and feed you a shit sandwich about the night, but there was honestly no bread to be found. I’m not happy writing it, shit, I’m not happy about it full-stop, but it’s the truth. Sorry Chuck, although deep down I think that it should be you apologising to everyone that paid ten whole pounds to see you die on your arse.
2/10
