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Photographers
have known about this trick for a while. When you
really want something to stand out against an everyday
grey background, wrap it in a black border, and that's
close to the graphic stance the Comsat Angels have
taken.
Preceded
by a droning quantity surveyors outing called MiniPops,
and a disappointingly ordinary set from the Del
Montes, they stood in the centre of a shadowy
stage with a dark wire thrown around the music and
pulled taut.
Crisp
and drilling from start to finish, they limbered up
the audience via a hard as nails organ blast through
the PA.
Natty
on stage chatter they're not - ''you don't want to
hear me talk, do you?’’ quizzed Stephen Fellows
- but the songs are akin to being pelted by ice cubes,
each one stinging the skull and raising a mental bump.
Real
Story was early into the set lifting off from
uttered background vocals and a roar of noise dead
centre. Stephen Fellows sounds miserable,
so they say. Whilst he’s not exactly throwing posies
to the crowds, the low held and angry vocals are ideal
spokes to hold the arrangements out on a tight rim.
Mik
Glaisher's drumming is a fascination. Every piece
of percussion has its own place, rarely are two drums
played together, they each have a specific slot in
a rhythm.
And
that accounts for the uncluttered but unrepetitive
drive of the Comsat songs. Where other bands would
pound incessantly, the Comsat keep the pace but not
the monotony.
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