 | | The Longcut (photo: Ged Camera) |
Mind you, if you stick Desperate Men in a web search, you鈥檒l be directed to a song by the aforementioned trio, so the fact that they are playing should not be of too much of a surprise. It's well past midnight and everyone has been primed and entertained by an excellent line up that included Autokat and Bromhead Jackets. The beer has been flowing, especially for the cheeky beggar who nicked mine, and the crowd has been relaxing by cooling off between sets in the gardens outside. There's an air of expectation, and it's running high. When messrs Ogilvie, Fearon and Lee manage to squeeze their way past the tightly packed crowd, to the area of the floor marked off with white tape that allegedly marks the stage area, they are wearing a bemused look, such is their amazement at the fervour they inspire.
 | | The Longcut (photo: Ged Camera) |
When their angular, squall of noise ricochets around the small room, it's clear what the fuss is all about as the crowd quickly into dissolve into a writhing, seething mess. The gorgeously dirty sound blisters off the low ceiling, one that is just high enough to allow for the mass outbreak of crowd surfing. As the line (or white tape) between performance and audience vanishes, the sweat laden mess of bodies swamps the "stage" for the finale. Just when you think it's all over, there's a cry of "party at The Longcut's house", followed by a mass exodus. It a tough job, but someone has to do it. | 
