Ubernoise at Cardi Arms

So me and 'er went to see Ed, Andrea and Si officially launch their band Ubernoise last night.

Over the last 2 years, I've been allowed occasional glimpses into the progress of the songs they perfomed last night, and have seen them grow and mutate fromt their origins as uncomfortable and twisted little offerings with a spooky, haunting edge. I was however, totally unprepared for the transformation made by the hard work and considerable input of a recording studio's entire resources. What with Hightone Productions, based at the Soundmill Studios in Burley being Ed and Si's day job, there was no excuse for anything less.

We crammed into the function room at the Cardigan Arms on Kirkstall Road, comfortably equidistant between the studios themselves and the cosy little home that the Heatons share. It was already humid and dark, with the mirrors draped in cloth to prevent the stage lights bouncing, but with tea lights set along the mantelpiece beneath. Combined with Andrea's spangly sequined dress and somewhat severe haircut, the initial impression was perhaps that we were there to witness a techno-seance rather than some dirty-dramatic-electro-trance.

After Ed's rather effusive preamble thanking everyone for coming, they got down to business. In the opening track, Andrea was nervous. She's a theatre professional, but this was different. 'Dear H', apparently a letter to a past lover, is a mixture of angst and accusations. Hard place to start. The room was full of friends and relatives, people who have supported the studio since it was started last year, so the reception was always going to be appreciative. I think people were surprised and impressed at the complexity of the music and the emotions on display though, and the applause was definitely much more enthusiastic than merely condescending.

Over the next few numbers, Andrea as frontwoman and lynchpin of the band emerged from her intial obvious nervousness. The boys, huddled in the protected space behind their instruments, could make jokes between tracks, but it was Andrea who pulled them back to where they should be. The pace and tension rose in a calculated curve, through a slow waltz professing the fragility of love, through a light and pleasant pondering on the freedom of falling (I'd always interpreted the song as suicide) and into the songs that will become the first singles, released through Sugarstar. 'Dirty Vodka' and 'Trash'. By the final songs, the New Andrea was in full swing, grinning behind the mic, feeling the beat and screwing her face up to show it, pumping as much on her feet as the cables would allow.

I was shooting on the wrong film, with the camera on the wrong setting, in far too low light. The last time I shot at a gig, I was using a different camera. If any come out well, I think they should be awesome!

So afterwards. we went up the hill to the house. Dan was there, and we had the best laugh we've had in bloody ages. Tiswas has a lot to answer for - his finger was up my nose and mine his for a few minutes there whilst we were in stitches, as the room of bewildered onlookers gazed in utter incomprehension.

Lovely night, altogether. Me and Mich left the house at around 1ish, and walked up Burley Road in search of a curry. We only found one on the outskirts of town - next to the Fox, which is where we first met, incidentally. We got our curry, got them to call us a cab, got home, filled Anna in on our evening over our curry, and then went to bed. And that's when the phonecall came.

I'd left my rucksack, containing my camera, my phone, my bank cards and Mich's minidisk in the cab, and could I come and collect it asap. The taxi caller had no drivers available or he'd've sent it down, and did not trust the guy who would have taken over the shift at 6am, so I had to go get it before then.

I jumped on my bike and sped (really!) up the canalside, without proper lights, no helmet, no reflectors; collected the bag, leaving many thanks and good wishes behind me with the kind man; and dashed back down the canal again. Made the whole round trip in about 40 mins.

Then collapsed knackered in bed.

So I should have followed Mich's example and kipped until 1.30, but was woken by the local urchins yelling at each other in their customary vocal-cord shredding pitch and banging on a wheelie bin with a tennis racquet at 10 am. Bloody first day of the school holidays. Arse. I decided that I'd be best getting up. Besides, I had to finish Harry Potter.

I did: I sobbed (no more clues).

And aside from watching even more London Tube bombing related mayhem on the news all day, that's about it.

I'm waiting to hear back from a couple of websites to see if I can submit a review of last night's gig, but haven't heard 'owt as yet.

We're supposed to be off to the pub soon, but as Mich has now got her nose into HP6, I'm not that certain we'll make it. I'm not dead bothered. I'm way too tired.

Right then.

I'm off.

C