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August 7, 2006 | by  | in Music | [ssba]

No Love Lost, OneBadWeekend, Deathray Soiree

As we drunkenly stumbled through the door and accidentally paid the charge even though we were on the door like probably half the audience, New Plymouth’s finest, OneBadWeekend were about to wrap up their set of hard rocking skate punk to the biggest gathering of the No Love Lost Appreciation Society I have seen in a while. Make no mistake, this was a love in. They put on a good show though, plenty of veins-a-poppin’ in bassist/vocalist Dean Humphreys’ neck. OneBadWeekend have a forthcoming EP on Harbour City Records, check that out if you wish the 90s hadn’t ended and the Fat Wreck Chords logo stains half your CD collection.

Those of you following the current punk trends, you’ll like the sexy man meat squeezed into black jeans that make up No Love Lost. They look like they should be in My Chemical Romance, but probably do not play World of Warcraft or used to be fat like Gerard Way. Musically? Well, the band is made up

of two punks, two metalheads and a goth. Which is pretty much what they sound like. It’s been a while since they last played a show, locked up recording their debut album; this gig was raising money to fund the release. Expectations are high, I’m hoping their infectious mosh-inducing metalcore riffs survive the transition to disc and that those lyrics aren’t too cringe worthy when I actually figure out what they are. Though I’m guessing the punk leftover from guitarist Ryan Laracy’s older songwriting efforts ‘Pretty Little Discharge’ will still probably raise a wry snigger. They seemed especially tight on this occasion, the mosh was righteous, but keyboards are great for hiding any fuck-ups and for the most part they were playing to the converted. Hopefully the album will draw in some new faces because this is a band firing on all cylinders.

I hate writing live reviews, unless something particularly interesting happens, or you’re so intimately familiar with the music that you can compare every performance of a song. You hope for a good story or you’re left clutching at straws

and hoping for a few little witticisms to save your arse (did you like the line about “firing on all cylinders”? I thought it was especially cliché-tastic). But I did notice in the shower the next morning, through blurry vision that my bruised knuckles were in fact dripping blood. There’s my review. Go team!


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