Selfish Cunt @ The Vibe Bar

at Vibe Bar Review

0/5
Venue: Vibe Bar
Gig: Selfish Cunt @ The Vibe Bar
Gig date: 1st May 2005
Posted on 25th June 2007 by bennyboy

The scene at the Vibe Bar tonight is straight out of "Nathan Barley". There are internet-connected PCs set up next to the bar. There’s a guy wandering round in a bowler hat and blazer, chains hanging from his jeans. Another punter sports a huge cowboy hat, loose-fitting vest and trousers rolled up to the knees. We don’t quite spot any men wearing sandals on their ears, but there may be one here somewhere. Though they were parodied on "Nathan Barley" themselves, Selfish C***’s contempt for the scene is obvious, and tonight they cut through the bank holiday bonhomie like a pop-cultural flamethrower. Behooded singer Martin Tomlinson has barely delivered the opening couplet of “Britain Is Sh*t” before losing his temper and roaring at the soundman to turn up his vocals. His request is met, and for the rest of the set our eardrums will jump every time he sings (or screeches) a word. The hood is quickly torn off to reveal a face smeared with eyeliner and burning with rage, and as his bandmates tear through a clutch of songs from their imminent second album – including “USSR”, “I See a Rat” and “Uncle Sam” – Tomlinson basically wages war on us, wading through the crowd and spitting out each line as a direct challenge to whoever gets in his way. At one point, he repeatedly thrusts his microphone into a woman’s face, asking, “Anything? Anything at all?” As he pushes towards her, forcing her back, she drapes an arm round him and smiles, as if expecting him to kiss her. He looks like he’d sooner kill her. In fact, you wonder how far he’d go if there weren’t a burly guy attempting to restrain him. Would he push her over? Trample her underfoot? Watching a Selfish C*** gig can sometimes feel like witnessing a crime and doing nothing to prevent it. This, you suspect, is by design. While the drama unfolds, guitarist Patrick Constable and drummer Bambi conjure a maelstrom of electro-punk noise over which Tomlinson berates Tony Blair and screams questions like: “What are you frightened of?” Unfortunately, not all his pronouncements are easy to stomach. See, Tomlinson’s lyrics find him embodying that which he despises: entire songs are sung from the perspective of a racist or homophobe or fascistic authority figure. The satirical component is generally easy to discern, but he strays into dodgy territory by repeatedly deploying what we’ll refer to as the N word. He’s doubtless seeking to challenge racist attitudes, but it’s impossible to justify the use of that word, even in an ironic context. Still, there’s no questioning the power of the performance or that, on tonight’s evidence, the new album will be another belter; and as your correspondent steps out into Brick Lane to encounter a vicious street fight soundtracked by blaring police sirens, Tomlinson’s depiction of a violent, thuggish Britain suddenly makes a sort of sense. Like the rest of the Nathan Barleys, we’ve been given plenty to think about, and trouble over. by Niall O'Keeffe

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