F***ing Roadtrip, Empty Lungs - Bunatee Bar, Belfast
F***ing Roadtrip, Empty Lungs
Bunatee Bar, Queens Students Union, Belfast
Friday the 12th of August
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After a last minute shift of venue, the good folks of, ahem, "Effing" Roadtrip have finally set up camp in the Bunatee Bar at Queen’s Student Union. A temporary PA has been constructed slap-bang in the middle of the floor, and various artsy and affected types float around the room.
Across the Line has turned up unfashionably early, ie. in time to catch the opening act. Empty Lungs, encompassing members from the Lobotomies, Snitch, and Bomb City 7, play ponk rawk, as you’d imagine. Only in this case it’s a refreshing break from the more cartoonish spit and safety pins norm. Empty Lungs owe more to the American post-hardcore bands of the turn of the century, Rival Schools and Glassjaw the first names coming to mind.
There’s a refreshing lack of pretence, the band managing to rise above the sometimes ‘whiney’ nature of this genre by steadfastly refusing to sing in an American accent, the lyrics delivered in a formidable, yet tuneful Ulster gulder. There’s a convincing racket delivered by the three piece, melodic and competently played. Some of the local buzz bands could definitely learn from Empty Lungs’ example – learning your instruments is not selling out, and ‘tune’ is not a dirty word.
Speaking of dirty words, Effing Roadtrip seem to almost stumble onto the stage, a tad nervously for a band with such a pedigree. Some of the younger members of the audience were barely in primary school when several of these players first took to the stage, while everyone else fondly remembers the days of Torgas Valley Reds, St Dudes, Gaju, and Los Cabras.
The first track has us worried. It’s a noisy thrash, somehow muffled and featuring some spirited shrieking from Karen Kinghan, but the sound is muddy and the song is unfocussed. However, once you make your way down from the raised bit of the bar (the sound is terrible, through no fault of the soundman, who’s clearly having to earn his keep tonight) and soak up the energy on the floor, it’s hard not to get carried away.
After the first tune, the band seem to get settled in and start producing some seriously heavyweight tunes. It’s like Sonic Youth, seen through the eyes of pre-Boatman’s Call era Bad Seeds – bags of atmosphere, screens of feedback, and at times an almost louche threat.
Getting an audience like this to react can sometimes be an uphill struggle, yet by the midway point Effing Roadtrip have everyone onside, heating up an already stifling basement bar. Calls for an encore are politely refused – the band is clearly spent and just don’t have any other material to give.
One takes away the idea that Effing Roadtrip are doing this not because they have to, but because they want to. No-body’s got anything to prove, there’s no threat of the ‘Next Big Thing’ burden and the band clearly love being on stage. Take note, pretenders.
Shane Horan
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