Watching Dogs Die...

Here comes a big catch-up, considering that I haven’t added anything for a while. Being a new month, I’ll start a new colour, and tell you about my escapades in three sections, starting with a pop concert, followed by a potential fashion disaster and ending with a mind-expanding (hah) way of ending a bank holiday.


So back to last Thursday, when I ventured to Koko in Camden (or the Camden Palace as it will always be in my mind). This fine venue recently closed and reopened, and I am at a loss to see exactly what is different. The confusing maze of walkways, mezzanines and sublevels remains to help drunk patrons to get lost. The original old theatre styling hasn’t changed, and the mixing desk still juts bizarrely out of the balcony. Fortunately, the best thing about it – the fantastic sound system – is also just the same as ever. In fact, even the clientele was the same: not the specific people, of course, but the fact that absolutely everyone else in there was younger than me. By some considerable distance. As it was last time I was there. Ten years ago…
Anyway, I’d gone to watch Dogs Dies In Hot Cars, who sound like they should be a Norwegian black metal band but are actually a jaunty Gang of Four/1980s copyists, as is the current vogue. I don’t quite know what I was expecting: they’re hardly one of the leading lights of the new wave of new wave of … new wave scene; however, they were absolutely storming. I can’t recall going to a gig when the band sounded as accomplished as this. No doubt helped by the acoustics of the place, they were note perfect, without being sterile. After the disappointment of the diabolical Do Me Bad Things last month, this was a return to form for my gig going. Surely, if your full-time job is playing in a band, then getting it right shouldn’t be beyond you. And DDIHC gave a masterclass in Doing It Right.


Frankly, all I can do is suggest that you go and purchase the album. Well, go on then…