PCPC is made up of members of Parquet Courts and PC Worship. Like McBusted gone bad.
Cramped on the tiny stage they started with a wall of noise and feedback from which we waited for a tune to emerge.
Two gorgeous girls made their way back from the stage and left stony faced. We should have seen the writing on the wall.
More feedback, some what sounded like tuning up. A bit of playing random notes in random orders. They’re experimenting. Trying stuff out under a pseudonym.
Some more people left.
The band – 4 guitars, a sax and drummer – glugged liberally from bottles of wine and cans of Red Stripe. I thought that might be the key to it and got us four more Red Stripe.
Then came the Beat poetry.
First the singer recited the stoner ramblings from his notebook. When he’d exhausted that line he grabbed the nearest magazine, it looked a copy of Yachting Times, and started reciting that too.
I’m afraid we got the giggles at that point.
Andy, who organised the tickets, refused to take payment.
The worst gig I’ve ever been to. Brilliant though.