– THE RUBY LOUNGE, MANCHESTER –
In the parallel universe in which Guitar Wolf reside, time has not stood still, but in fact, permanently loops round between 1958 and 1978. The mothership jettisoned Guitarwolf Seiji, Basswolf UG and Drumwolf Toru in sealed crystal caskets to preserve the purity of rocknroll from the Planet of the Wolves.
The mission to bring the purity of unadulterated raw rocknroll to the rock cliché-ridden masses of earth began in Nagasaki, Japan in 1987. Playing as loudly and as fast as possible seemed to be the best way to transmit this message.
At the Ruby Lounge tonight, it will not be a night enjoyed by tinnitus sufferers, and mission support Hopper Propelled Electric are on message and crank out some protean swamp blues garage rock. It’s a shame there weren’t a few more early birds in to get them. Buy their 7inch, it’s killer.
Bones Shake are also pummelling the lugholes of the collective Guitar Wolf acolytes tonight and if I squint I can see a Birthday Party era Nick Cave stalking the stage.
If you have a message keep it simple, if you’ve travelled from a place where English and clichéd rock don’t exist, actions speak louder than words, and to emphasis the message, play it really fucking loud.
There’s a big Fender bass amp on one side of the stage and Fender Guitar amp on the other, Guitar Wolf warm the valves up by improvising along to Rockaway Beach. As Seiji begins to channel the power though the guitar, pick held aloft like a piece of technetium, the wall of feedback pierces through your vital organs.
‘Jet Generatio’n begins in typical GW style “one-choo-free-four!” and Drumwolf has cast his leather jacket off as he rapidly reaches operating temperature, roughly the same as that at which book paper spontaneously combusts.
Seiji anoints the crowd with his own rocknroll sweat, as ‘Wild Zero’ blisters and crackles, white hot shards of garage punk penetrate our puny earthling bodies.
‘Summertime Blues’ follows and Seiji thumb wrestles various members of the crowd , which must be the alien equivalent of a fist bump. An ‘apprentice’ is dragged out from the front, Guitar Wolf hands him his red guitar, and instructs him in the ways of channelling the feedback/white noise. At the end of this master-class, he is told to cut his hair, and he stage dives into the relative safety of the venue floor.
By way of an encore/finale a human pyramid is piled up, upon which Seiji eventually clambers atop finishing the song from the gap between the bodies and the low ceiling.
They call it Jet Rock, I call it mission accomplished.