Saturday 11 June 2016, 8pm
“I picture Ali and Dylan grinning like demented educators as they pour the wine of confusion from a great height just to see what patterns will emerge. You can be damn sure that I will continue to lap up that sweet berry juice cause it tastes so fine.” – Luke Vollar, Radio Free Midwich.
Constance, Nyoukis, Duff and Robertson ring in the Scottish central belt's gala season atop a float's worth of amplified confectionary, pitless pit village grumbles and the ecstatic bad feeling most common in the drunken wee small hours of another grey summer. Only 50p to chuck a wet sponge at your headmasters.
A romance of free sounds that has no time to be chivalrous. A poetry eager to be done with the yabbering so that it can get onto the smooching. Concrete ballads spill rhythmically from spools of magnetic tape as the couple pucker up to a different frisky beat and lean in for The Kiss plus all the phlegm that entails.
In a birthday nod to outsider Karen Constance, Point Turning Hinney's Gruntled come out of the shadows, to bring her hallucinatory artwork to life, toing & froing, bobbing and weaving, heaving and rolling in a fine, hot mess.
Token millenials perform a score of their own devising. May well concern topics that hold relevance to Gen Y's weirdo division. Power Rangers nostalgia? Slipknot retro? Contemporaneous pockets of resistance via social media? Whatever.... For sure they can teach the auld team a thing or two.
Spawned from the wilds of West Yorkshire. Growing up on a secluded farm, he nourished his brain with strange tales from the moors, stories of golden men, Barguest, Trolls and the Halliwell Boggle. He headed out into civilization in the early '90s and quickly fell in with The A Band and their sonic rabble rousing. An Edinburgh man for over two decades now, he fronts his own improvised unit The Y Bend. This evening he may well treat us to a set of squeeze box delerium, foot stomp and guffaw.
