23 July 2007

[gig review] Sniper

Walking along I was, just back up from a day long funk, having met a friend after work for a drink and a ‘lil business transaction. All drunk up and stopped by a favoured neighbourhood church for a spliffkin I was walking her to the train-station so she could head back homewards. Passed by Zync we did, that there place that used to be Sam’s bar way back when (year before last or something? It’s hard to keep up in Cardiff sometimes), and noises did emanate from within. A band was tuning up and sound checking. Even just with random chords and drum rolls vibrating my ear drum I was kinda intrigued. Sounded good it did. “I thinks I go check them out after I drop you off at the station,” I said. “Yeah, They sound okay,” she doth replieded. “Kinda indie rock type stuff,” I returned.

Still, my mind wasn’t quite made up. No money I had. No alcohol could be brought and consumed. T’was truly a conundrum. Outside the bar, Walking beyond the barrier that runs the length of the café quarter, or whatever it be truly called in name not thought up by council marketing-droids, back and forth I paced, still not sure in my head as to whether or not to just go home. Finally, a thought, like a nail, did plunge the murky depths of my mind. I had £5 in yonder bank account. Could I not use that chip and pin thing to purchase an alcoholic beverage? “Well,” I thought, “Only one way to find out!”

So, I did leap that barrier, in a mighty display of barrier-disregard, and into Zync I went. “£10 minimum on card transactions,” did the bar person say. “Bugger!” Did I say. “Pint of water?” I enquired, as the band began to play. Fill glass from sink with ice did he. I rolled a cigarette and went outside. Sat right by big windowless window thing that gave a perfect frame to the band onstage, ‘cept for the singer, who was doing his thing just out of my sight. Clap like a loon, did I, enthused by that fine fine music. “How you all doing outside?” Said the singer between songs. Wailed like a banshee on double-sided Mitsubishis I did. “Why don’t you come inside?” Front man enquired. “Am smoking a cigarette man, be right in.” I replied.

Stayed till the end of their set, drinking my water, first standing near the front bouncing and tapping whilst retaining my dignity. Not drunk enough to throw myself about like I normally might, and slightly stone’d so just kinda digdigdigging the way you do with music when THC be coursing through your brain. Sounded like rockin’ manic street preachers they did, slightly happy Mondays demeanor mayhap. Still, had their own thing to add to the mix, like. Perfect indie rock, it was. These be thoughts that occurred to me as I listened intently and leaned against a pillar. After a while I moved to the back of the bar to sit down. They did finish their set. I did finish my water. Felt like my funk was creeping back; music was gone. High was gone. Time I was gone too.

On my way out the singer did engage me in conversation. Nice exchange we had. Sniper, they be called. From Carmarthen they is. www.myspace.com/snipermusicwales is them. Worthy of at least ten minutes of your precious precious life, they most definitely are. Leave a message on them profile. Tell ‘em Flapperazzi sent you.

- Adamski