Warmduscher at the Windmill

The Windmill

If like me you landed in an other dimension and spent a night in Brixton's The Windmill (again) you would have been witness to the carnage of both bands Good Sad Happy Bad and Warmduscher, as well as being disappointed that the real Lady Gaga wasn't there (and neither was band Goat Girl). Hosting the night were the illustrious Warmduscher celebrating the return of Saul Adamczewski from the the land of the free and the home of the brave, and oh boy do they know how to throw a welcome home party.

Good Sad Happy Bad

Before Warmduscher took the stage, threesome Good Sad Happy bad performed their version of music. Formerly known as Micachu and the Shapes (after lead singer Mica Levi's stage name Micachu), this trio create music that seems to regurgitate a distorted version of the sounds of an angsty teen after a night out, and appear to represent what it is to be good, sad, happy, and bad all at the same time. After composing the soundtrack of major motion picture 'Under the Skin' as Micachu and the Shapes, it seems that their re-branding as Good Sad Happy Bad is the trio's attempt at getting back to basics, and their performance makes this assumption believable. Going back to their make-shift music roots, Good Sad Happy Bad perform as raw as their newest single sounds. In fact they were so back-to-basics that lead sing Mica apologised when something went wrong. Although their music may not be to everyone's taste, and they sound a little like they just rolled out of bed with a hangover, their performance was both amicable and popular and spurred a unified crowd jig and the consumption of a pint.

Warmduscher

Following the trio came the sordid liberators Warmduscher. Welcoming home their beloved band member Saul, the foursome performed a setlist that encouraged the secretion bodily fluids and the throwing of punches. For Warmduscher it would appear that during every performance they manage to catalyse some kind of social butchery, where every moral and social norm is blocked out by the drone of guitar riffs and pounding drums. Wearing a jacket coated in gold, which suggested that guns, bling, and ganja are integral to satisfaction, lead singer Clams Baker and the guys performed classics Uncle Sleepover and The Salamander, as well as new track The Sweet Smell of California, displaying that despite what their name suggests they are anything but wimps. Before finishing the show Clams once again left the mic to the audience during the final song (clearly a signature move), expressing that for Warmduscher the revolution is a collective effort and it all started in the windmill. 

The night was rounded off with a DJ set by 'Lady Gaga', however, if you believed it was the real one you were sadly mistaken. However, giving a four hour set isn't easy so hats off to you DJ Lady Gaga, it's just unfortunate that most were too busy gurinin' to notice. 

Warmduscher X Meatraffle at The Windmill

The Windmill

If you were in the whimsical watering hole that is The Windmill on the 3rd of June you may have found a band who comes with a trumpet and a postpunk attitude, and another who's name needs to be typed into google translate in order to correctly pronounce it. With their roots planted deeply within the dirt of the weird and wonderful, Meatraffle and Warmduscher have come together to create a double-sided single that's so degenerately unorthodox that it deserved a party that embodied that very notion.

If you arrived fashionably late, you may have missed the first three acts of the night: NoFriendz, Fake Fur, and Suitman Jungle. However, that does not mean that you couldn't see them, on the contrary. In fact you were most likely to be moshing next to the singer of NoFriendz, who was unmissable given that he had pegs in his hair, and no doubt you also saw the singer from Fake Fur, as she was later on invited back on stage to give a second display of her lungs (and boy does she have a good pair).

Warmduscher

The first band, out of the pair of headliners, to greet the stage was Warmduscher. The band is made up of trio  Jack Everett and Saul Adamczewski (although he wasn't there on the night) from the Fat White Family, Ben Romans-Hopcraft of Childhood, and Clams Baker. It didn't take long for the mottly crew to prepare their set, nor did it take any time for the crowd to emerge from every crevasse to form an audience just as equipped for mayhem as the band was. With neon lights clouding their vision and anarchy coursing through their veins, it came as no surprise that the crowd became engulfed into the trippy dystopia that is the world Warmduscher.  And whilst it may take a certain kind of person to find solace in the sounds of Warmduscher, what they create is undeniably something special. Why, not just any band can successfully embody the dysfunctions of our morally diseased society and still make digestible music; however this trio can. They say you have to see it to believe it, and The Windmill definitely saw.

Meatraffle

Following Warmduscher were the mutinous Meatraffle, made up of a bunch of uncanny aliases, such as Zsa Zsa Sapien, Tingle Lungfish, and Fats McCourt, and whilst their names may be comical, their message is not and neither is their following. As almost a band in residence, Meatraffle are a beloved name around the South London area. Musically, the band refuse to be categorised, so they sit on the outside able to replicate the collapse of civility and morality as we know it. Their overtly political stand point and music, made for a performance that encouraged riotous behaviour whilst reminding you how important the dentist is. Their setlist was an entrancing amalgamation of sounds copy and pasted straight from their album to the stage. They are a band like no other and put on a show that everyone should see in their life time- APART from the Yuppies of course, you fuckers stay out.

The single launch was nothing less than success: the bands saw, came, conquered, and left everyone drenched in the expulsion of the socialist orgasm that the musicians created.

Buy the single here and reach the same climax from the comfort of your own home: Meatduscher.