Dirtbox Disco, Sick On The Bus, The Tendons, The Dilenquents.

Lev 2 Esquires Bedford. Saturday 7th November 2015.

Considering the lack of good old fashioned punk gigs in Bedford these days, tonight’s show by The Pad Presents is one that has been eagerly anticipated by many people. Four different and varied denominations of this seventies based genre are on show. These broadly consist of horror, filthy nudge-nudge, breakneck speed and pantomime. A large crowd has assembled to give it a great atmosphere.

Back with vengeance and in this barren punk town now more relevant than ever, are THE DILENQUENTS. Armed with a confident swagger, these cads offer horror punk. Complete with their familiar and distinctive logo. The five piece haven’t played that many shows this year, but their support slot to Calabrese at The Craufurd Arms (MK) a few months ago is one that I remember fondly, with original members Rich and Jason at the helm, they are bolstered by drummer Adam and guitarist Dazz. The amazing sight of Mash’s keyboard wobbling antics was I admit better for it. Things really begin to thrill with Zombie Government and in no time you’re reeling from the suckerpunch that is Roadkill. Bassist Jason offers his thoughts on the set, “We’ve been Dirtbox Disco, you’ve been The Dilenquents, tomorrow is another day.” With this party loving gang, it most certainly is!

The next band to feature are THE TENDONS. Down the years and with various line up changes, its staggering to think that this ‘nudge-nudge’ punk quartet were formed way back before some of the people attending tonight were even born. Fronted as ever by the irreverent and outrageous Jon Bateley, it’s all filthy, fruity fun. It sure doesn’t take long, as Life’s Shit is especially dedicated “To the guy who’s been sick in the toilet.” With the many Bedford Girls looking on with a smile, the naughty Morecambe seaside shenanigans of yore are reflected upon with Dettol Dick. Although he is wearing his usual ‘banana splits’ shades, Mr B makes a pointed comment about the ultra bright stage lights, “It’s like the desert, he remarks. We know of course what’s coming next, its I Love Famine. They might write some very questionable lyrics, but as a band they are musically tight. Floyd domineering on drums, Rob, skilful on guitar and tonight the return of bassist Jon Andrews. Mr Bateleys song introductions continue aplenty with “Abusing the wife’s minge” for Fishy Fanny and then Hairy Area, of which Jon concedes that he “Likes it shaved.” While on the following Fuck Her To Death, the livewire vocalist admits that he “Will attempt later.” As per usual, nothing musically changes with The Tendons, thank goodness.
With a shaven head and a cheery cherubic smile, plus miles of tongue coiled up his cheek, Jon Tendon makes damn sure of that Trendy Wankers are not invited.

For me and I’m pretty certain most of the paying public attending tonight, the undoubted highlight is an extremely rare mainstage appearance by SICK ON THE BUS. It’s always a top event when this Northamptonshire based band hop back over the county border, to remind Bedford of just how good they are. Their brand of punk is played at a fast, breakneck speed, full of irresistibly catchy songs. Featuring Tony on guitar, bassist Brian and with Skum thumping the drumkit. It’s the dark haired, leather jacket wearing vocalist (and guitarist) Biff, who offers a most warm welcome by announcing, “We’ll be Sick On The Bus and doing some shit.” It’s been a long time since they last played on level 2, infact it was as far back as October 29 2005. Except for a couple of gigs downstairs in the bar, the wait proves to be more than worthwhile, patience is indeed a virtue. Gritty working hooks and snotty guitar riffs spat out with shout aloud, singalong vigour. Slab after slab of high octane clatter, with barely a pause for breath. Repeatedly, they punch out some thunderous tunes, namely Loser, Never Enough and I Don’t Care About You. Midway through, there is a pause for thought, as Biff asks everyone to raise a drink to the memory of the late Paul Blaber. He was one of SOTB’s former drummers who at an early age, died of leukaemia. Service resumes for Slut, which is dedicated to their mates, The Tendons, Go To Hell revives one’s thoughts of their 2002 album. A firm favourite of mine, namely Some Kind Of Idiot, is riotously played. With a boozy mangle of riffs, the charismatic frontman recons he can hold his beer better now. Their attitude is absolutely soaked in hellraising punk; it’s a good job Skum has a towel close to hand, as he is covered in sweat. Sick On The Bus are the real deal, the formula never changes and that’s the secret to their underground appeal. The original blueprint is still in working order. It’s a gripping blast of Ugly Noise! Be Alone sums up their mantra “To old to carry on, to stupid to stop.” They offer high tempo tunes, as they blaze through their back catalogue. Let’s hope it’s not to be another ten years before they grace level 2 again.

OK so now my mood changes. On what has been up to now, such an absolute crackerjack of an evening, culminating with an exhilarating set by Sick On The Bus I am to be severely defeated by a headline appearance from a band called DIRTBOX DISCO. Their forty or so minutes show was most certainly ‘no fun’ pantomime, puerile, puff-pastry punk, by a band who looked as though they had arrived a week late for a Halloween evening. I admit I really felt as though I was far too old to be watching this pathetic stuff, which spluttered along on such many forgettable songs. Infact living up to their tacky bandname, most of the compositions could have been written in that short period of time between wiping ones arse and washing ones hands! At one point in the proceedings. The persistently belching frontman complained vehemently that the room “sounds like a library,” Sir, that’s hardly surprising given the fact that Dirtbox Disco are so boringly mundane. I know that the original punk bands of the seventies were not exactly lyrical geniuses, but no amount of “woah, oh oh’s” and “Nana na na’s” can take away from the fact that this was one of the weakest headline band’s I’ve seen at Esquires on the mainstage for some quite considerable time, later on in the set, a few people who might have seen them on their previous Bedford visit at The Corn Exchange, jump around sporadically at the front. Dirtbox Disco can dress up as silly as they want, but their pedestrian punk was poor and one to forget. A real shame that the evening ended on such a low note.