Review: Turbonegro @ Wasted Festival

Morecambe. Ah… MORECAMBE! Actually, make that ARGH, NOOOOO… MORECAMBE! Your typical dreary, grim, god-forsaken northern English seaside town. Where chips and candyfloss are mandatory and the locals actually seem annoyed at incomers visiting their little dump. Fucks sake, with their gene pool they need every visitor they can get! Opposing thumbs can be useful you swabs! But Morecambe it was… and only one thing could drag me back to this particular hell, after a solemn vow made 5 years ago to NEVER RETURN. That same thing that has dragged me to numerous places I would never normally go (and a few I gladly would!). Yup, that six-headed beast known as Turbonegro (motherfucker!). Well okay, there were other good bands playing (step forward TV Smith, The Avengers, Penetration and the Rezillos… back of the queue Max Splodge… back of the damn queue and stay there!). But only Turbo have that pulling power, and pull they did! From the far reaches of deep space even!

So, it’s dropped off/beamed down by the Hawkwind Mothership, collect the chips and candyfloss, refuse the Kiss Me Quick hat and immerse myself in the huge punk rock coffin that is the Wasted Festival. Argh, stupid fucking English licensing laws… I’d forgotten… everything started really early… so no TV Smith, and only two Avengers songs. Bastardos!

A quick venture out to find somewhere to stay led to your classic seaside resort guesthouse thing… complete with creepy receptionist (listen, I fucking KNOW he likes to sneak into your room and watch you sleep… I don’t have to actually witness this… I can just tell!!). I make it past the Hells Grannies ("sometimes there’s two or three of them") waiting on the nights "cabaret" in the piss-smelling bar (if only they knew where the real show was!) and get up to the room/broom cupboard. Suddenly there’s a flash of lightning and a huge crash of thunder. Now for the purposes of making this "review" more interesting I should really say that it coincided perfectly with the Turbo riding into town… those six horsemen of the Apocalypse heralded by nature’s anger at such abominations. But it wasn’t. They’d arrived earlier. Damn. Still, it was a good scene-setter for a Turbo show… well, until I stepped out into the pissing bastard rain. Then it was just crap and wet. Shoulda taken that Kiss Me Quick hat after all…

Into the venue… saw that half of Edinburgh was there… beer/piss purchased, clock strikes twelve (okay, 7:15)… and it was Turbo Time! So, the (slightly disappointing) new intro tape starts… (helicopter noises… woo-hoo, can’t go wrong with that, but the REST of it?) and on come Das Turbo. Now I dunno, maybe I’m wrong but I’m sure I detected some apprehension… or at least not the usual swagger. Perhaps they expected the barrage of plastic glasses that these sorta events usually sees (yes, buy over-priced beer, then don’t even drink it you STUPID FUCKS!). Or perhaps it was playing to a bunch of mainly 82’ers, combined with a fair amount of clueless Oi-sters that were likely to NOT GET IT! Actually, it was probably that they’d all got really wasted (er, again? Sorry, had to!) at the London gig the night before and couldn’t be arsed playing to these fucking Neanderthals. But play they did! And I’m glad to report of fair smattering of Turbo fans had congregated down the front.

So on comes Hank, with his special punk rock leather bumflap, and take-off was to the tune of All My Friends Are Dead. Without going on about the new album (a whole new epic that one… so many ins and outs…ups and downs) I think this is the punkest (and I’m a fucking punk, capiche?) and one of the bestest. A nice wee opener to proceedings for sure. Now, unlike the BoatTrip, I didn’t have my handy Memory Replacement Device (video camera) so the exact order of the set is open to interpretation. (Actually, I’ve since looked it up elsewhere, so it is in order now! Ha!).

I think it was Back To Dungaree High… time to educate the 82’ers in the ways of denim and darkness! And educated they were! What a fucking killer of a song! Those pounding, almost New Rose-esque drums… it’s just a way to stay alive boy, that’s for fucking sure. Now what the Condemned 84 motherfuckers, er, I mean "fans" were making of the sonic assault delivered by these… these… FREAKS! is anyone’s guess. Confusion no doubt reigned (or rained) as they felt deep-seated desires rise up from places they didn’t even know existed. A penny for their thoughts indeed! Nah actually, no, fuck ‘em… Turbo are too good for such cunts! I kinda wondered how Turbo would tailor their set for an out and out "PUNK" festival. Would they try and win over the hordes, or just wind them up? It turned out to be a bit of both in the end. Next up was Sell Your Body (To The Night) which kinda knocked the purepunkset idea on the head. Probably the least-good song on that album, it could well do with being replaced by out and out classics like Ride With Us or Turbonegro Must Be Destroyed. Far be it for me to tell ‘em what to play, but okay okay, it REALLY shoulda been Ride With Us and Turbonegro Must Be Destroyed!!! Kick ‘em in the teeth… then kick ‘em in the teeth again! Then AGAIN!!

A splendid wee bonus in the shape of Just Flesh reared its ugly-yet-strangely-attractive head next… oh man, I fucking love it! Despite the light still pouring into the building, I’m sure it got that little bit darker as this beast was unleashed on the unsuspecting throng. I’m sure even the Lurkers and Red Alert (on the other stages at the same time) even sounded slightly better for about 3½ minutes; such is the power of true Deathpunk! I s’pose that’s one of the good things about pish bands (please note, the Lurkers WERE pretty good in their day. But this is no longer their day) playing the other stages is that it takes away most (but not all!) of the cretins. The truly cretinous of course stood wondering when they were gonna hear some proper Oi! and real skin anthems. "And when did Red Alert start wearing weird hats?"
Speaking of skin-anthems… there seemed to be a lot of additional "oi oi oi’s" getting thrown into the songs by both Hank and Happy Tom… obviously the new streetpunk direction is just around the corner! Surely it’s time for ‘em to drag out the ol’ Cockney Rejects ode-to-just-high-spirits-innit, War On The Terraces one more time?! They know they want to, really, they DO. Fuck 1980’s US metal, 80’s East End of London OiOi is where it’s at!! Okay, not really. I apologise for such nonsensical utterings. Maybe.

But er, yeah, Turbo at Wasted… the second of the three newies cropped up next in the set, in the disturbing shape of Blow Me Like The Wind (though thankfully no City Of Satan! Christ, even I might’ve had to abuse them if they’d played that fucker. Jeez). Hank did his best Spinal Tap routine, Happy Tom sarcastically asking if anyone had the new album, no doubt expecting a chorus of disapproval. The reaction? Well, about zero. I think other than those of us at the front, few of the rest of the crowd had any idea of a new album, or any other album for that matter! "It’s fucking SHITE" was Thomas’s answer to his own question, trying to pre-empt what shoulda been an inevitable reaction from at least one person in the crowd. Hank informed us that "in England you have Class War – in Norway we have Ass War". Aye, and in the Vatican they have Mass War if we’re going down that road…

"I’m back with a bang… I got my own leather gang"… fuck yeah! It’s the Denim Demon! The assholes were gonna be screamin’ !! Now, how ANYONE in that crowd could fail to be blown by this song… er, no, I mean blown AWAY by this song is beyond me. Surely a room full of Turbo converts would be imminent? Certainly most of the people I spoke to after had nothing but good to say… even including the ones with severe taste-bypass. A number of "now I know why you’ve been raving about that band for years" conversations took place, and there were definitely a fair few extra sailors by the end of the night. I say it was Denim Demon that did it! Absolutely irresistible. Outside of society is the place to fucking be, boy.

As usual, there was some of the typical banter between the songs… Wasted Again being preceded by some rather lame reference to it being the Wasted Festival. More apt would be another slice of Turbo goodness being wasted again on a bunch of goons wishing Chas n’ Dave (I fucking kid you not!) had played a bit longer. Turbo were strawberries for pigs! Actually, that’s being a bit unfair… they did seem to be going down fairly well. Or at least, they weren’t getting the abuse usually reserved for the not-punk-by-numbers bands. Very few glasses being thrown… almost miraculous! In fact, more (er, like three or four!) were thrown at ‘em in Leeds a few nights earlier (where incidentally, Happy Tom’s sailors hat hit me right in the coupon (face)… I was holding a beer in each hand, I’m Scottish, so in that split-second realisation-of-hat-trajectory, the decision was naturally made to accept hat/face interaction rather than spill precious beer. Still the right choice I feel).

Mid-set saw Get It On time, and yes, just for a change we liked it, loved it. Though quite possibly a few up the back were merely just quite fond of it in a purely platonic sorta way. The Dictators and Ramones Turbo-charged often sways the swayers I’ve found, and no doubt this was no exception. Not the best song on ApocDudes, it does seem to have a magical effect on many. But! Don’t say it! DON’T! No… no… I got to… M-O-T-H-E-R-F-U-C-K-E-R !! In fact, I got to scream it as they did the "crowd singalong" version. A risky proposition for ‘em in such unknown territory, but I at least got hoarse shouting the third best swear word. Another out and out classic! And yes, the deathpunk fucking burned. Hotter than the fires of hell (I know, I’ve been). Now how anyone present could fail to be stunned by the greatness of this band is truly beyond me! What? Who’s that? ARRGGGHHH… who the hell is this? I’ll fucking tell you! It’s that scourge of Bay City rollers everywhere… the MIDNIGHT fucking NAMBLA! Oh the joy! Ass Cobra classics have been sorely missed from recent gigs (hey, the more records you release… you just play longer alright? Not cut out songs!). Possibly the highlight for me (and not for any "oh it’s old so I like it more" bullshit, fuck off!). It was just the nastiest fucker of the whole night, and exactly what was required! There were a fair few assholes needing nambla’d in this place for sure! Why, it possibly even topped that cousin of ol’ Midnight, the Denim Demon, and man that takes some topping! (insert pizza joke here).

One thing noticeable throughout the set (and at other recent shows) was how much fun the band seemed to be having. Lots of smiles and messing about, particularly between Hank and Pal; the latter being cajoled into a little centre-stage dancing. It must be said it’s good to see ‘em so obviously enjoying it. Good boding I say!Surprisingly, next up was Fuck The World, which kinda took it down a gear (or two). Quite a groovy little number all in all, but I dunno, at this point they shoulda been doing wheelspins over the perfect lawns of all those present, not planting pretty (if highly poisonous) flowers in their borders, but y’know, maybe they needed a rest! Or maybe it was to increase the skull-splitting effect the final triple-whammy was gonna have on the attendees. Oh yes! OH YES! An intro-less Age Of Pamparious saw a pizza-based frenzy amongst the slightly increased throng at the front. Happy shoes for sure! Jesus, yet another song that’s just irresistible! Stage-front at this point was made up of a combination of those already Turbo-charged and the sorta lumbering oafs so fucked they’d dance to the sound of their soon-to-stop drug-fuelled heartbeat. Lumber, lumber, stagger, reel, and push… the dance of the dunce! They were soon joined by people who only seemed to be there to push folk about… I’m willing to bet that any other time they’d be throwing their over-priced beer! Maybe it was the last day and they’d spent all their throw-beer money. A moment of class was when some big lunk picked up this totally fucked guy and used him as an air-guitar. A battered one-stringed guitar that was outta tune I think, but still a joyous moment of utter ridiculousness!

All non-believers were no doubt cowering at this point… unable to understand what was happening (it’s called good music you varmints!). A quick round up and whipping was in order. And that’s what they got! Man, just so many true classics that’ll blow your fucking brains out in the six-shooter that is Turbo! Prince Of The Rodeo came along to whip those suckers into shape good style. Euroboy’s guitar wizardry lit up the skies as usual… though I do seem to recall some sorta glitch that only serves to give us lesser guitarists hope! Oh, and while I remember, reports of the death of Hanks beergut have been greatly exaggerated it would seem… it appeared to be in full bloom on this occasion, rippling in delight at Euroboy’s searing lead. Even some of the lumbering oafs musta been impressed at it’s fullness and body! Quite what these same oafs made of the Rhinestone homo rock n roll is anyone’s guess though! Ah, I love it! Stunned confusion combined with highest-of-octane rock n roll… you can’t ask for more! (Okay, you can, but you get the picture right?).

Lastly, as is usual, it was time for… ERECTION! Not before the crowd was lead in a chant of "blimey" by Hank. A fairly half-hearted reaction it must be said! Most people there had probably already thought "blimey" as the band walked on stage. But I Got Erection saw a fairly good singalong, at least where I was, and it was a grand finale to a surprisingly great show (surprising ‘cos every time I’ve seen ‘em at a festival it’s been ruined by, well, it being a festival… Quart excepted, natch). Turbo had conquered the seething masses with relative ease, for sure. There was only time for the now traditional outro tape of weirdy traditional Greek (is it? I dunno!) dance music. It should be noted that Euroboy, Chris and Pal all fucked off sharpish, leaving only Tom, Rune and Hank with the guts (particularly Hank!) to stand on the stage and dance in front of the confused crowd. Respect! But after a minute or so, off they trailed also.

What a show though. One of those occasions that made me PROUD of ‘em even. And to crowds of mainly non-believers. It’s been a fair while since I’ve seen ‘em as the underdogs at a gig… a sure sign of their steadily increasing popularity. They totally delivered yet again. If nothing else, it showed all the nostalgists just how it should be done. Every other band I saw seemed to be stuck firmly in "then". Only Turbo were "now" (even if some of the riffs are distinctly PRE-"then"!). Never one to recoil from overuse of a cliché, I fucking liked it, I fucking LOVED it! Roll on next time! Yee-ha! Yee-FUCKING-ha! Waking up the next morning with a pissbeer hangover and getting back in the Hawkwind Mothership… not so good for the first 7/8 hours!)

Dave Gin Goblin

(Turbojugend Edinburgh)

www.thegingoblins.com

(pic courtesy of Turbojugend Glasgow)