The Switzerland Traveler

I do not buy CDs at concerts. In fact I don’t even buy CDs.

That all changed last Monday. Little Fish, a two-piece band from Oxford played at The Abart.

There are now two CDs in my flat and I bought them both on Monday night. One studio demo (“it’s rare mate”) and another with three tracks live. I didn’t care that the tracks were probably the same. If there was a possibility of a note, even a breath, being different, I wanted it. I needed it. I even checked iTunes when I got home to see if more is available; it’s not. Downloads on the MySpace page? Nope.

What was so special? It’s hard to distill; maybe the sheer violence that Nev (we are old friends now) puts into his drumming? It certainly made me wonder at the engineering prowess necessary to make a drum kit. How can it stand up to that punishment? How do those clips take that beating and yet remain adjustable? How long can those skins last? Why doesn’t the whole thing just tip up and fall over?

There were times when I watched Nev, times when I watched the drums or even just the pedals, but more often than not I watched JuJu. It doesn’t hurt that she’s young and cute of course, but the sheer anger in the face, the range of tones in the voice are mesmerizing. She’s one of those people that treats a guitar like a whole range of instruments; percussion, bass and guitar all in one. Able to extract delicate notes or violent screams interchangeably.

JuJu is funny too, with a range of put-downs that Frankie Boyle would be proud of.

As a girl/boy two-piece band, comparisons with Jack and Meg are obvious. But they also manage to combine elements of Patti Smith, The Sex Pistols, PJ Harvey and the B52s all rolled into one, but still managing to sound like, er, Little Fish. Catch them at a small venue while you can.

Photos courtesy Little Fish

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