[B]Scott Blixen[/B] scans the crowd furiously....
Scott Blixen scans the crowd furiously. He stops playing his guitar, just to see if anyone notices and listens – visibly seething – to the deafening chatter. “Shut the fuck up or go home,” he snaps, before storming away to his dressing room, leaving high-pitched feedback squealing in his wake. No-one even realises he’s gone.
Tonight, somewhere between the beautiful hushed murmur of opening song [a]Afternoons[/a] and the hollow tedium of ‘East Winter’, Scott 4 lose the plot. What starts in beautifully understated fashion (they must be the first band in history to ask for an [I]acoustic [/I]guitar to be turned down), rapidly degenerates.
Perhaps determined to silence the yapping media whores at the back, Scott 4 feel obliged to show us what they can do. But rather than let their obvious love of strung-out country take over, they beat it to death with disco beats and irritating keyboards. It makes songs like ‘Troubles 1-2-3’ sound like a bizarre clash of the Human League and Johnny Cash, grating and annoying.
In the end, you can’t blame the talkers for wrecking the night. They were just trying to block out the racket.