Smell & Quim, Black Leather Jesus and some other noisy people
Gullivers, Manchester, 10/05/2014
Simon Morris is having a skull covered maraca shoved up his arse by Kate Fear which she then mock shags. Kate Fear is hacking off Stewart Keith’s hair with a gold spray painted kitchen knife that is all but blunt. Simon Morris is covered in what looks like shit but which turns out to be melted chocolate. Smell & Quim are wearing white t-shirts and matching oversized Granddad underwear with words like ‘CRABS’ and CHLAMYDIA’ and ‘SHIT’ written on them. Some members of Smell & Quim are wearing golden masks made by Dr. Steg that are covered in barbed wire and bits of broken razor blades, crosses and lights which nobody can really see out of and nobody can really see through. They are also very heavy. There’s somebody in Smell & Quim who’d never heard of the band until that afternoon when he saw Steg, Morris and Fear at a Keith Dellar book reading in Salford and wondered what the masks were for. He spends the entire set wearing a mask stood next to Dr. Steg screaming his lungs out until they both run out of energy and collapse on the floor like deflated balloons. Steg, Morris and Kate are blind drunk by the time they get there and Steg nearly gets chucked out for turning the Green Room in to an Anti performance by chucking cans of beer and food everywhere. He’s waving a knife about in an alarming fashion and telling Dave that if he hits someone over the head with this cross that he’s made it will definitely draw blood. Dave tries on one of Steg’s masks and cuts the back of his head blood running down his neck. Smell & Quim are all stood on stage drunk and the equipment isn’t working so they all start singing something about buckets of piss. When it does kick in there’s squeals of feedback and a resonating boom as the skull covered maracas are bashed together in quick fashion. Everybody is getting sweaty and the smell of rank lager is strong. The chocolate is melting on Morris’s back and running down into his underwear. He picks up a children’s Top of the Pops annual from the 1970’s and mock wanks to it with is back to the audience. Kate Fear pulls down his underwear and he holds the book in front of his crotch to avoid a Jim Morrison moment. Dave Walklett and Dr. Steg are drinking from a bottle of red wine that they have to lift their masks up to get to their mouths. They then bash their heads together like rutting stags, the barbed wire and the bits of razor becoming entangled. Stewart Keith is kissing all the audience. He’s unrolling a huge sheet of paper that the audience rip to shreds. Rubber gloves are thrown about. A huge THUD THUD THUD emanates from the speakers and continues unadorned for the rest of the thirty minute set. Stewart Keith tries to say something to Dave and gets his face stabbed by Dave’s mask. Outside its coming down like stair rods. Downstairs a drunk is singing along to the Ramones ‘Hey Ho Lets Go!’ to which the landlord shouts ‘Fuck off then’.
There were some other noise bands on too.
Gullivers has had a make over since Smell & Quim played there last year. The pub across the road has bought the place and ripped out the upstairs room, replacing all the quirky furniture and wall plastered posters with nothing. Just a big empty room with a stage at the end. They’ve even ripped out the DJ boothr downstairs and replaced it with chairs to sit on.
Con-Dom and Brut have cancelled earlier in the week and have been replaced by friends of friends and Germ Seed who also cancels. Its all a bit chaotic and the first few bands pass in a blur [I miss the first band, acoustic guitars are mentioned], Now Wash Your Hands with a mock P.E. set is genuinely funny. Someone out of Black Leather Jesus makes a noise, someone out of the Barbarians bashes a roadwork sign and makes some noise but its not until we get to Svartvit and the black leather gloves and the truly monstrous sound of a small analogue synth that pounds the walls and see’s Svartvit drag members of the audience around that the gig really seems to take off. Black Leather Jesus I can not see but theres three of them sat on the floor and the noise they make is full on, barely changing, thick, heavy, sludgy but good and honest and very, very loud and at around the 15 minute mark perfectly judged.
All of that was but mere preamble to the drunken cavortings of Smell & Quim. You will hear about what happened last night in the days to come. Smell & Quim gigs pass in to legend like folk lore via by word of mouth. By next year Simon Morris’s rectum will have been invaded by a full length arm and the ghost of Jimmy Savile will have been seen in the piss stinking bogs, the rain will have permeated the rotten roof and Dr. Steg will have been arrested at the entrance to Piccadilly Station for wearing a mask that is a danger to the public.
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