The Kabeedies, Apache Beat, Hexa at Proud Gallery 21 February 2009

Kabeedies pic by Alex Batten

One day (probably the next time I do a review of the year to date) I’ll mention the events that have eventually led to me being at the Proud Gallery tonight. Suffice to say that I’ve just been to Haverstock Arms, a venue that is so ill suited to putting on live acts that many of those booked to perform have taken one look at the set up and refused to play. And that I then accompanied one of these bands on a trek through Camden on an ultimately fruitless attempt to get them on a bill elsewhere.

That excursion having come to naught, I have diverted to Proud for the rest of the evening. The place is heaving, but as I have said of this venue before, bands have to compete with DJs, private parties and all manner of other distractions. The performance area also has the acoustics of an aircraft hangar and acts have to be on top form to make an impression.

Hexa are giving it plenty of welly. And any band that includes three rotating singers and a brass section have the ammunition to make plenty of impact. Which they do.

The band blast out a succession of soulful pop stompers, all of which are relentlessly upbeat. Just right for a Saturday night. It is also to their credit that even though some songs are performed by one singer and others by one or more of the two others, that there is no noticeable dropping off in quality between each lead.

If Iain Sinclair was to do one of his psycho-geographical assessments of Hexa he would say that they perform at the crossroads of Bookhouse Boys and Go Team. (Actually, I’m not sure that he would, but that has enabled me to do the old writers’ trick of saying ‘Band X sounds like Bands Y & Z’ without putting it as baldly as that.)

Next up are the hotly touted Apache Beat. They are very impressive, even if most of the sound that they are making seems not to be leaving the stage, but somehow getting lost in the rafters above.

Singer Christina Aceto has a fine voice and she hunches over her microphone with her eyes closed, lost in music, caught in a trance etc. Next to her brother smashes his guitar around creating a forceful punky racket. Watching them I think ruefully of timing and how some bands hit the mark and others don’t - this lot are good, especially live, but to me they sound like a watered down version of The Sam I Am/Boudica, an incendiary act from Southend who have recently called it a day in the face of indifference from the general music scene. Unfortunately, they didn’t come from Brooklyn and so weren’t deemed hip.

Apache Beat deserve every success; it’s just that they make me a little wistful.

I have no such qualms about tonight’s headliners, The Kabeedies. This is the second time that I have seen them in three months and they are rapidly becoming one of my favourite live acts.

Small but sturdy singer Katie Allard is flanked by two lads on bass and guitar. She is a pocket dynamo, marching on the spot, pistoning her arms, all the while demanding attention.

The songs are short and spiky, twisted pop gems such as ‘King Canute’ and ‘Fuzzy Felt’. The crowd dance and whoop and are really enjoying themselves. The band even seems to have overcome the rubbish acoustics in here.


A very strange and eventful evening, ultimately saved by a trio of strong acts. As for earlier – let’s just say that The Haverstock Arms is a better place for watching football than music.

HeartsRevolution / Death Cigarettes at Proud Gallery

Photo: Lorne Thomson

There are at least three reasons to be here tonight.

First amongst these is the appearance of the ever wonderful Death Cigarettes, about whom I rave on this site whenever possible. The second is anticipation of the head liners Heartsrevolution, and thirdly is the venue itself, which has good and bad points, but which generally creates a special atmosphere.

I still think that £11 is a bit steep for this evening, though.

For those unfamiliar with the place – Proud Gallery is a converted stable block which has been upgraded to cater for lavish entertainment. It’s a lovely environment and great fun, can be a very unforgiving place for small bands to play.

This is because the stage where the bands perform is set in a largish covered courtyard and is separate from the bar and stable areas. Unless you are interested enough to keep an eye on the stage, or are just passing through to the main venue where dance music blares all night, you wouldn’t even know that a band has started playing. On nights such as these, the acts are presented as exotic but incidental attractions in the same way in which girls dance on plinths in clubs in 1980’s movies.

Death Cigarettes thus have their work cut out. But of course they rise to the challenge.

The deceptively innocent looking Maya is fretful because of a large and unnecessary crowd barrier that surrounds the stage. Referring to it throughout as “The Cage” she tries to uproot it, kicks it, bangs her fists against it and generally rails against the injustice of keeping her from her audience.

So, like a mini-Maginot Line, she solves the problem by going round the side. Once among the crowd she can get to business chivvying them around and coyly luring passers by into her web- before grabbing hold of them and screaming in their ear.

The rest of the band mostly stay put, and become the real focal point once Maya has disappeared into the open spaces. The set is strong as ever, and concludes with a dismantled drum kit, guitars flung and an ankle-threatening jump straight over the top of the barrier. Another exhilarating performance and a job well done.

The Bishops who follow, have a much harder time of it. I’m not a great fan of them at the best of times and tonight they seem to have regressed to an embarrassing degree. They are just shouting to make themselves heard and it quickly becomes painful. I temporarily withdraw.

Heartsrevolution come here tonight having already played earlier this evening at ULU in a support slot for Midnight Juggernauts. Singer Lo looks very forlorn as she sits on an amplifier waiting for the two other members of the band to set up.

Once they start playing, they are terrific, although the sound balance is horribly awry, with the drums all but drowning out everything else. However, it becomes clear that Lo is in a lot of distress and has somehow this evening –the earlier show?- sustained an almighty blow to the head. She is clearly disorientated and after a mere handful of songs is unable to continue. It is very unsettling and you hope that she is going to be alright.

By this stage of the evening, the Proud Gallery has come into its own as a lively nightspot. This is what it does best. But they could make more effort on behalf of the bands that play there.