To celebrate five years of ripping up stages all over the UK, Lacterilla teamed up with local promoters Pity My Brain to put on a party with a stellar line up in the legendary Clwb Ifor Bach.
When Wales play rugby at home, the streets of Cardiff can often resemble a scene out of a Zombie movie. And tonight was no exception. Navigating Westgate Street to get into the car park at the end of Womanby Street was a challenge to say the least. I pity the livers, never mind the brains of the numpties wandering around oblivious to traffic. I have seen cattle on Llantrisant Common with more road sense.
We eventually managed to get to Clwb just in time to catch Not Since The Accident say goodbye and thank you. We can’t comment on how good they were, but the already respectably sized crowd seemed to be happy with their shift.
The early kick off for the rugby meant that a good crowd had assembled by the time the first band came on and some of them were sufficently lubricated to be making plenty of noise.
With a quick shuffle, Wales’ number one power rock trio, The Biggest Thing Since powdered Milk, were hitting the stage with their heads down no nonsense mindless boogie.
These guys are big favourites of ours here at Iguana HQ. Whilst their sound is definitely rooted in classic seventies rock, they are named after a song by welsh legends Budgie after all, they put a modern twist on things. They are anything but a retro metal band. They groove and they grind and they rock. They shake their thang in a way that allows us to forgive them for having long hair.
Tonight they are on form, its pedal to the metal all the way, they leave nothing in the tank and leave us wondering how on earth any band could follow that.
After break to recover and get fresh air, Cybernetic Witch Cult are up. They are a plutonium rock band from the Gagrakacka Mind Zones – AKA Cornwall. They often step in when Disaster Area are unable to play the Restaurant at the end of the Universe.
Mixing tripped out psychedelic spaced rock with back projections of scenes from science fiction B-movies, they manage to take an art form that can all to often venture into embarrassing pomposity and keep it real and keep it fun.
They manage to pick up the baton passed to them by Milk and keep the gathered masses happy and keep the freak flag flying.
And then – the reason for the gathering – Lacertillia.
We have been catching these guys live since day one and it never fails to impress how they just keep improving every time we see them. The have drive, passion and energy. They are loud, they are in your face and relentless.
If the Cybernetic lads provide the soundtrack to the end of the universe, Lacertilla are the house band in a sleazy post-apocalyptic biker club. Not quite Mad Max, more Mad Taff.
Their usual intensity has everyone shaking. But then things take a turn towards the exotic when two scantily clad young ladies climb up on stage and shake their booties, sending some of the crowd crazy with lust.
The boy Fry does his usual trick of walking into the crowd to break down all the barriers between crowd and band, but on this occasion, pulls something out of the PA and we lose vocals. He climbs back on stage and the band Fire up the Engine of God, but without the usual vocals. At first it seems odd, but the lack of vocals just drive the boys on to give an added intensity to the number to make up for it.
For a finale we get the band one by one surfing their way out over the crowd as the party comes to an end, we wander out into zombie land, which suddenly looks quite sane.
Let’s hope they have another five years in them.
