Hole's House Party. Chicken Shack Gallery, London, Saturday, April 18
It’s Sunday morning in the wee small hours, and NME is huddled into a corner below a chicken shop in Dalston. This is the life, eh? With its pitch-black alleyway entrance and rickety stairs leading to the main basement space, Chicken Shack Gallery is certainly not the most glamorous of venues (next week St Lucia, yes Reviews Ed?) but tonight, for this intimate appearance from dark London noiseniks Kasms, somehow it works.
The room – a stark white art studio and full-time abode of some kid called Andrew, whose birthday it is tonight incidentally – is packed full of excitable fashion types and faces from the East End scene. The invitation told us to avoid pissing in the shower and to “PLEASE CLEAN UP” if ingesting illegal substances in the toilet, so we’re expecting a pretty interesting night – and Kasms don’t let us down.
The foursome look more than a little worse for wear as they clamber over clumps of bed linen to get to their instruments, but as soon as they unleash their squalling riff-fuelled clatter people go wild; careering into each other, flailing around on the floor and at one point dragging
NME’s photographer into a scuffle.
The sound is badly muffled, seeping out from amps and pitifully tiny speakers, and as a result singer Rachel Mary Callaghan is practically unintelligible every time she attempts to speak. But the energy sparking off her is compelling as she shrieks from atop the bass drum, all bright red bob and ripped tights, wrapping the mic chord slowly around her neck before collapsing into a group of baying boys. Fan favourite
‘Bone You’ is unsurprisingly the closer; a discordant, brilliant and belligerent anthem for the debauched and unruly, and tonight, a thoroughly fitting finale.