Thursday 13/04/06 The Insomniac's Ball @ seOne, London

Festival-going can be a complicated business – there’s a tent to sort out, sleeping bag, travel, clean clothes (optional), consumables (legal/illegal), waterproofs etc. etc. – the whole thing can be a stressful affair. Imagine the relief therefore when Gigwise heard about London’s first indoor all night festival, The Insomniac’s Ball! No need for Wellington boots or makeshift binbag ponchos, we went along to London’s seOne to check out some of 2006’s hottest acts.   

Bollocks, a combination of minor setbacks (a mile long queue on the door, a fight to get a glimpse of the ONE advertised line-up/set times, and lack of cash machines within 800 miles of the venue) means that the wonderful Pipettes play to a half empty venue, a set that unfortunately Gigwise misses altogether. But fear not, in the true spirit of a festival, there’s loads of other stuff going on to soften the blow.

Unfortunately, however, Battle don’t fill the void. A little less raucous than their name suggests, the local London lads heave their way through a lacklustre set. Curiously, in places the band sound really ace - notably, songs such as ‘Wicked Owl’ and latest single ‘Tendency’ are fantastic combinations of emotive, powerful choruses and mesmerising verses which soar around the vast chasm of the main room. But these moments of beauty don’t hide the fact that, frankly, nobody is really listening – as the ‘festival arena’ continues to reach it’s capacity, and fun-hungry revellers explore the different rooms, Battle’s set passes without many crowd members sticking around to see out an entire song. This, combined with the downbeat nature of Battle’s indie numbers, makes for a rather sterile atmosphere, and aside from pockets of dedicated followers, the audience doesn’t really seem ‘up for it’ at all. A somewhat boring 40 minutes of samey guitar dirge ensues.

When recording their album, White Rose Movement were well and truly ‘Epworth’ed (if it’s not in the dictionary, it should be), and predictably, the genius producer did a fantastic job. There is the danger that the layered, atmospheric feel to ‘Kick’ could be lost live, and to an extent, it is – Taxxi’s swirling keys are hardly audible this evening, and the echoy edge that embellishes singer Finn Vines recorded vocals is sorely missed. However, what WRM live lack in electro-finesse, they more than make up for with a raw, filthy rock undertone. The fantastic ‘Girls in the Back’ is driven by thunderous basslines, and choppy, distorted guitars and Vines has an onstage demeanour to suit – a swagger here, a distant stare there, he works the stage like a pro, oozing the confidence of a ‘man of the moment’. Or maybe it’s just the pre-gig ‘Dutch courage’ (“Are you ****ing pissed yet? I am” he slurs). As the room somehow gets even more rammed, a sub-low synthesised bassline and tribal/disco drumbeat signals the beginning of single, ‘Alsatian’, Vines wielding a striking white Fender that can be seen for miles around against the all black uniform of the band. Mic stands begin to fly about on stage; beers are thrown in ecstasy from a surging crowd – a raucous end to an energetic set.

“Hello cockneys” cries Black Wire’s cheeky scamp of a lead singer Dan Wilson. “Hello” we cry back. And with the pleasantries out the way, the drummerless three-piece blast into a rowdy 30 minutes. Sometimes electro, sometimes pure rock, in places, even a little bit ska/punk, Black Wire turn the tiny room into a heaving pit of dancing fools. “Has anyone here got an ASBO?” asks Wilson. Looking around the room of middle-class, well-groomed scenesters this seems highly unlikely, know your audience Dan. But he seems happy enough, and celebrates with a funky dance.

The band’s debut single ‘Attack! Attack! Attack!’ sounds a venomous as ever, with energetic, thrashing guitars and well-placed handclaps that are quickly imitated by the sweat sodden audience. But it is as the band fly into their upcoming single ‘Hung Up’ that things begin to reach an anarchic boiling point. It’s not long before Wilson is on top of the speaker stack - cue the first of many stage invasions of the night – as bodies flood the tiny stage, Wilson throws himself into the remaining crowd. Bodies are squashed, shoes are lost, but nobody’s complaining! Nobody that is, except for the meathead **** security at seOne who do their best to kill one poor lad simply for climbing onstage. Black Wire wrap up what has been an ass-kickingly brilliant set, ruined only by immoral, thuggish security staff. Boooo.