It’s a shit business… (PART ONE)

On a cold, wet night in April I made my way to deepest, darkest Totnes to catch a local label showcase as part of the annual South West Sound conference. Some of the music industry’s most important movers and shakers – and me – crammed into a school hall watching raw, unadulterated regional rock mayhem. It doesn’t get much better than that. The bizarre choice of venue lent the whole affair a warped Smells Like Teen Spirit college rock-gone-wrong video vibe – but without the sexy anarchist cheerleaders…

After a couple of cans of Fosters in the foyer (no drinking allowed inside!) I edged into the ‘arena’ – leaving the damp blazer-wearin’, red wine-swiggin’ moguls in the lobby trading anecdotes about having their drinks spiked with rohyphanol at the Mercury Music Prize Awards. I missed the punch-line, but who needs man-rape when you’ve got Nixon and The Burn?

For the uninitiated, Nixon and The Burn is a terrific three-man pop-apocalypse. Without doubt the South West’s best-kept rock secret; and it is absolutely criminal that they don’t have a record deal. As they are so routinely-overlooked it leaves me to lumber them with the not-entirely-accurate “the new Muse” tag. Nevertheless, geography aside, they also share an ability to create an immense, fearsome three-piece noise-cocktail with Matt Bellamy and co.

Their scuffed-up-preacherman-primal-grunge-fuzz-blues-pop-racket carries an ear-bleeding, lung-bursting intensity live, and they sound a hell of a lot more like The Pixies than on record. Other reference points: early-Idlewild setting fire to a circus; the White Stripes sexually-assaulting Muse in a church… Feel free to add to the mix a scraping of the Ramones dead-skin cells and half-a-mouthful of Nick Cave’s phlegm.

Any finger-on-the-pulse A&R men hoping to discover the new Franz Ferdinand would be looking in the wrong place. Anyone hoping to discover the new Nirvana on the other hand…
Let the bidding war commence!

It’s a shit business… (PART TWO)

Two days later, erstwhile Nixon frontman Steve was spotted being manhandled by a policeman - in front of a crowd of 38 disinterested morons – after attempting to invade the stage during a set by gravely tribute-pensioners The Joe Cocker Experience on Paignton Green. Elderly frontman – Cocker – if that is his real name – looked visibly shaken as certain elements of the crowd (drunk and pissed-up on booze) screamed 'COCKER!” at him between songs. (Well, he ruined our night – hopefully we ruined his...)

Moments later, shortly after witnessing some children having sex underneath Paignton pier, Steve sat on a surly teamster’s lap and smoked drugs. The rest is a blur. Anyway, Cocker’s threatening to press charges and Steve’s looking at some fairly serious jailtime for his involvement in this rather ugly incident – why not help to cheer him up by buying a copy of Nixon’s superb new EP? He’s got drawers full of them. Take one – what harm can it do?

Review by Tom Leins
www.nixonandtheburn.com
Read Joyzine's interview with Nixon and the Burn

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