The Hunter Gracchus
Grinderman's support act in Manchester in 2010 was a group called The Hunter Gracchus. The lights went down, and collectively we in the audience gave them a polite welcome as they took to the stage.

They picked up their instruments and began a free-form noise piece.

Fair enough, seemed to be the response from the crowd. It's a risky opening gambit for a first number, but we're all terribly open to new musical experiences: let's see how this goes.

The free-form noise continued. There were screeches, hoots, bashings, and the occasional caterwaul.

Hmmmm, we began to think. Maybe it's about time they began to do something else. We all like a good blast of white noise now and again, but five minutes into the set, that's all we've had.

The free-form noise continued. More screeches, hoots, bashings, and caterwauling.

And so it went on, for half a hour without any pause. Constant screeching, hooting, bashing and caterwauling. Oh, for sure, there was variety. Sometimes it was loud, and sometimes quite quiet. Sometimes one of the people in the band would put down the instrument to which they'd been doing something unspeakable for the last few minutes, pick up another, and begin to do something unspeakable to that instead.

They looked very serious about what they were doing for the whole time. If they'd looked like they were enjoying themselves, that would (probably) have been OK; but they didn't. They looked like they were working.

And then they stopped, and left the stage.

There was applause. It was half hearted at best, and I don't think that we really knew why we were applauding... except that I have a theory. Explorers in the 17^th and 18^th centuries would tell of exotic people who would make as much noise as possible during an eclipse in an attempt to drive away whatever demon had tried to steal the sun. I can only assume that the primitivism we'd just witnessed had driven us into a similar kind of state, and we had been reduced to making as much noise as possible in an attempt to ensure that the three ear-splitting demons were chased from the stage for good. Years of socialisation in a disenchanted, rational, and scientific world meant that we didn't quite believe it ourselves, and that was why the applause was half-hearted. And yet we couldn't quite stop ourselves either.

Meanwhile, the three members of The Hunter Gracchus must have been backstage in the bar, thinking about the money they'd get, and trying to come to terms with the fact that they'd got away with it. Again.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Mon 29 Jul 2013, 12:41, 2 replies)

This should win.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 29 Jul 2013, 12:48, closed)

I'm not voting for anyone without a qualification

(sittingduck Attention seeking, bullshitting fuck-knuckle, Mon 29 Jul 2013, 13:37, closed)

Racist.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 29 Jul 2013, 14:19, closed)

you bastard my mum died of racism

(sittingduck Attention seeking, bullshitting fuck-knuckle, Mon 29 Jul 2013, 16:15, closed)