Live Review - McMoth / Thirty Pence
- Norris Green Social Club
by Alan Metcalfe
Many years ago, my favourite
weekly activity was getting down to Terry
Fields' boozer, The Mayflower, for their 'new band' night on a
saw loads of groups, over the summer of '85 in particular, some
bad, but all at least getting up on stage and doing their thing.
Column', Come in Tokio', 'The Persuaders', 'Edelweiss','Perfect',
Opera', 'Hello Sunset'(who went on to become moderately successful
'Space'), all gave me some pleasure during those heady post-league
championship and Cup Winners Cup weeks.
Twenty two years on, I still delight in non-arena type gigs, and
be found trawling the Echo's 'live pages' for news of bands I'd
heard of. And so it was that I found myself at the Norris
Club for a showcase by two clubmoor-based acts, goth/boy-band 'McMoth',
and rapper 'Thirty Pence' (described by the 08 Culture Company as
'Liverpool 4's own Marshall Mathers'). In front of a packed
Lacoste Shellies and Lowe Alpine hats dominating - Thirty Pence
proceedings. It may not be everyone's cup of tea, but his
life in the Townsend Lane projects was brilliantly portrayed -
particularly on 'Wayne Rooney' and 'I've got a brand new sawn-off
firearm'. Modest to the core, requests for an encore were
met with a
blushing, 'fuck off, like' from this local hero.
McMoth had a difficult act to follow, therefore, but met the
head-on. They stormed through a blistering nine song set,
'Be true to St John Bosco' (a cappella Beach Boys tribute)
'Swear down ter yer, lad'
'The devil wears George at Asda'
'Arriva dirty, Royal Oak Muirhead Avenue'
'East Lancashire Road Revisited'
'I wanna be your dog and gun'
'Shites on Broadway'
By the end, I was ecstatic. Think Stiff Little Fingers at
or The Skids at Rotters (incredible but true, 1980). Rock 'n
Roll in its
truest sense and purest form. In these days of My Space,
uploads, shed-loads and shit-loads, though, it is doubtful where
arguably niche act, such as McMoth, can fit in. A
slot with The Maybes? might give them that foot on the ladder; we
hope. As it was, the Nogsy and Crocky mobs left the venue
arm in arm. A
smile on their face and a spring in their step. When the
ghettos rock, they will sound like this.