Live review: The Colour Pink is Gay, Winters, Fiesta Minor at Tut’s, 29/8/13

Tonight Tut’s plays host to three bands that each provide a noisy meditation on screaming and its place in music.

If Fiesta Minor were to hold a dinner party, it would be an interesting affair.

Themselves, Godspeed! You Black Emperor, and Philip Larkin would all be in attendance, with no food but alternating between Talisker malt whisky and Diet Coke.

Albert Camus would have been invited, but would have feigned a headache-he would know that his existential concerns would have been less for discussion than the material, social worries of Fiesta Minor’s lead singer.

Bertolt Brecht would never have been invited at all: the self-consciousness needed for his brand of aesthetic perfectionism would have seemed uncouth given the company.

Looking as though they were fresh out of school (and with the later discovery at the merchandise stand that they are fresh out of school) you could forgive them a jarring awkwardness or even some superficial poetry.

Fortunately you don’t have to, they are measured and in control on stage, with genuine musicianship building soundscapes, which at times seem reminiscent of Sigur Ros that are punctuated carefully by the articulate, angst-ridden screams of their lead singer – unaffected disaffection at its best.

Screaming normally leaves me feeling pitifully out-of-place, it’s often used as a substitute for lyrical or musical depth, and the idea that the performers believe that volume and manicured outrage can replace content usually inspires a deep feeling of resentment.

Unfortunately Winters are the embodiment of most of this negative style.

If we’re not to tolerate a tuneless falsetto, why should we embrace the most pretentious of snarls instead?

That being said their stage presence is the strongest of the three bands, and their self-assurance goes some way to winning over doubters

It isn’t often you see people so preoccupied with the meticulous care of their levels during their set that they comment several times to each other and ask for changes to be made.

The main event is The Colour Pink is Gay, who has been doing the rounds in Glasgow for a while now.

Their first song, ‘Rudy’, begins with a voiceover that brings to mind the interludes on The Holy Bible, and the screaming here reflects the legitimate fury of the singer, set against the ambivalent styling’s of a band whose craft is well honed.

Whether or not it is actually about Rudy Giuliani, the mayor of New York whose “Zero Tolerance,” approach dropped crime almost as successfully as it divided the city; it gives a distinct flavour to the rest of their performance-angry but without real expectation of change.

The band-singer mismatch is especially poignant here, and speaks to a level of political consideration not often seen.

The rest of the set is enthusiastically delivered, and the crowd are as receptive of TCPIG as they had been supportive of the other bands.

A six string bass is a rare enough site to whet the appetite of any frequent gig-goer and it was in the hands of someone who clearly knew what they were doing.

Here there is the combination of Fiesta Minor’s musicianship and the stage presence of Winters, with a good measure of experience and fury, enjoyable and thought provoking.

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Words/photos: Simon Jones

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