Take some tight-ass horns, stir in a dollop of kicking rhythm section, top off with good, old-fashioned showmanship: result? Clichés come alive, as the joint literally was jumping, the floor shaking, the good times rolling as outside all was dismal, rain-soaked misery. Buster Bloodvessel’s schtick is as old as ska itself, and from the moment he bounded onto the stage, to affectionate chants of “you fat bastard”, the audience ate from his hand, sang for his mic, and danced as if their lives depended upon it. When even the band are crowdsurfing, you know you’re where it’s at, if only for one night.

Concorde 2, 10 June 2012
Rating:
Pete Langman

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