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October 26, 2000
[w/ Connect Four Orchestra]
We watched this game before we played, down in the Tap bar. It wasn't much of a match. Funny the things you remember.
It rained. Were you there? It poured and poured and poured. That made the turnout even more surprising.
The place was packed with happy, wet and warm punters. The C4O were a happening and the beer was cheap and sweet. The music was a shambles, but it sounded like a duvet. Everyone crawled in and snuggled up.
PS, I found this marvelous review, tucked away on thumped.com
“The Jimmy Cake, The Connect 4 Orchestra The Cobblestone, 26 October, 2000
The Connect-4 Orchestra’s absence was keenly felt during the summer, as was the absence of a number of other bands to whom we were treated to regularly at the start of the year, the C-4O, The Redneck Manifesto, Bambi, Female Hercules, the list goes on. Never having been in the Cobblestones before or at the Smithfield market, my excellent and uncanny sense of direction got myself and Ali there just as Connect-4 took the stage. This is a band that has not disappointed me yet. The only thing I was disappointed with was the sound. It was much too low even for a band who can be as mellow as the Connect-4 Orchestra. They are one of those rare bands who have the capacity to catch your breath, make your heart beat faster or slower according to their music. Because their was a sound limit, it meant a band who, at the Blond Redhead gig, played out of their skins, were relegated to just background music over which you could hear people’s voices almost clearer than the music. Given what was to come later, that was a travesty. That’s not to say Connect-4’s music was bad, on the contrary, it was excellent and a lot of people’s heads turned when they played the songs people were familiar with, but the teeth had been taken from their music and to their credit, they coped well and managed to sound damn good. They sat down and played like it was no different from any other gig. There was a real jazz club feel to the place. There were curtains hanging with lovely paintings on them, low lights and the ceiling could have been altered a little to allow people up to dance, perhaps it was a little more reminiscent of Cabaret. There was no Michael York or dancing girls though. It’s unfair to any band with the talent the C4O have, to be playing the jazz club version of muzak, as the level of sound rarely rose above that. It was hard for the crowd to get enthusiastic and for the band to put a mark on people, to make them think next day, ‘ They were good! ‘ Like the first time they played. It’s also hard for a band, even though they have a fan-base, to try reach out to people when this happens. I was disappointed that the bass sounded like it was coming from my crappy stereo and wasn’t hurting my ears. I can’t wait to see them with Cerberus Shoal, hopefully where the soundman will give them a proper accounting. I’m going to get myself into a lot of trouble here and may Jebus have mercy on my soul if they ever find out who I am, but the Jimmy Cake are one of the worst bands I have ever seen. There actually very little I want to say except that instead of just the guy sitting on the floor wearing the clown nose, they all should have been wearing them. I can stand a lot of things but there are some things I can’t. For example, recently in a shopping centre whose name shall remain nameless (Dunnes Stores), a young eighteen year old girl sat at the cash register with her sixteen year old friend packing bags. The conversation went something like this. ‘ The parties they have here at Christmas are great. Did you hear about last year? ‘ ‘ No, tell us! ‘ ‘ You didn’t hear? About me and Greg? ‘ ‘ No, tell us! ‘ ‘ I can’t here. ‘ ‘ Aww, go on, tell us! ‘ ‘ You didn’t hear I was with him? ‘ ‘ No, tell us! ‘ ‘ I can’t. I’ll tell you later. ‘ ‘ No, tell us now, there’s no one listening. ‘ And I’m standing there listening to this, and on and on it went in the most whiney and nasal of voices. I can’t stand that sort of thing. . The Jimmy Cake I couldn’t stand either. They were the musical equivalent of this conversation: annoying. It was mutton dressed up as lamb. I saw them once before in Eamonn Doran’s and when I left, all I could think of was I couldn’t wait to get my hands on the new Godspeed You Black Emperor album to hear it done properly. I like jazz, a lot of experimental music, old industrial, not the Slipknot type, Skinny Puppy’s Last Rights kind of ear bleeding music, but why so many people would get on stage and play what they did and smile afterwards, is beyond me. This, of course, is only my opinion, some people obviously like that sort of thing, they do or they wouldn’t play it, and I have no doubt I will be slaughtered for saying all of this, and after all, this is Dublin and I’m not allowed to have an opinion. And my opinion is that they should have paid us to listen to them. It reminded me of when I saw Luc and the Platelets, we all thought they were tuning up or sound checking but they were actually playing. At least you could have a laugh about that. It seemed that they were perpetrating an elaborate musical joke at our expense, and worse, it was an in-joke. A lot of things were said to me that night and I wish I could say I came up with them but I didn’t. One was about the guy who looked like Krusty the clown, ‘ No, ‘ someone said, ‘ He’s just a clown. ‘ Or the second best one, the first is unrepeatable, which was a crack about the admission price, which was a steep £5, ‘ I hope they’ll use the money to finish their music lessons! ‘ Unkind? Possibly, but I have little sympathy, perhaps they were trying to stimulate us intellectually, ‘ You didn’t understand it! ‘ Your damn right I didn’t. One of the members of the band was over heard saying ‘ We’re fake jazz. ‘ Fake ass more like! Yes, the musicians should enjoy themselves, they be doing what they do if they don’t enjoy themselves. But at the expense of the audience? That’s a joke taken too far, but more, these guys were. Give me the early 1980’s Einsturzende Neubaten, there was music you could bang pots and pans to.”
Great days
