There are those, such as Iggy Pop, who choose to run naked around the stage and stand on top of the outstretched arms of the audience while being covered in peanut butter, with the occasional urination on said audience if he so feels like it. There are those, such as Gorillaz, who choose to play behind a screen at gigs so that the audience can’t see them at all. There is those, such as GG Allin, who attacked members of the audience and, if legend is to be believed, shot himself dead onstage. And then there is Bob Log III, resplendent onstage with a space helmet covering his face and dressed entirely in a blue polyester jumpsuit.

Described in some quarters as “psycho-delta blues”, the man has just finished touring with Franz Ferdinand and the Kills across the UK. Hailing from the Wild West of Tucson, Arizona, Bob the III is here to show the audience he means business with a headline date.

But first we have Comanechi, a duo featuring Akiko on drums and vocals and Simon on guitar (no bass). On Loose Lips Sink Ships records, and out airing their 6-track EP 'One Pervert Knows Another', their sound thunders across as a sludgy, Sabbath-like version of Christina Martinez-vocal Pussy Galore but with shrieking Japanese vocals struggling to be audible over the overdriven, dirgy-like guitar. Frankly, they give me a headache.

Their presence, together with the Gin Palace, would explain the presence of members of promoters Artrocker in the audience, who have put on all three acts tonight in the past at their weekly night at the Buffalo Bar round the corner from the Garage. Like Comanechi, the Palace (I suppose we must) play intensely loud, stripped-down raw blues driven garage rock with no bass (what is it about every garage rock band at the moment not having a bass player? Or, if you’re The Dirtbombs, having two bassists and two drummers.)

The difference between Comanechi and the Gin Palace is the presence of Meaghan Wilkie, a livewire frontwoman all of 5 foot but with a decidedly large set of tonsils, who commands the audience’s attention to the point where people slowly edge more and more towards the stage as the band engage in some BASTARD ROCK. Featuring Jon Free, a former member of London sleazy-garage-noise-blues-in-suits types Penthouse on guitar, they whip up a serious storm, with the drummer’s kit seemingly comprised solely of a bass drum, a snare, and cymbals, the latter of which he hits pretty much constantly. So not much prog rock here, then. Meanwhile, Free’s guitar revs like a motorbike down the motorway as Wilkie twirls in her Cinderella dress and spits out lines like “beer-swilling, tequila-drinking, knicker-sniffing, stripper-licking low down SON OF A BITCH!!!” (from the immortal 'Things I Used To Love About You') at the audience while grabbing someone’s pint from the front row. One song simply mentions the word “drinking” a lot. Cool.

Bob Log III also likes drinking a lot, as he reminds us numerous times during his set from behind his ludicrous helmet. Despite only being a one man band, the genius of Bob Log III live is in the delivery. Putting any religious preachers to shame, this man would make a great orator. Clearly the audience at the Garage has attracted some devoted fans, enough that two women venture to sit on his knee during one song (that if I’m not mistaken is called 'Clap Your Tits', which he invites people of both sexes in the audience to do) while he plays bottle-neck blues and engages with the audience via a telephone transmitter in his helmet that’s connected to the venue PA. The effect is like having a spaceman from Mars, or the alien in 50’s sci-fi films like 'The Day The Earth Stood Still', personally delivering a speech to the audience that extols the fun of drinking, while tossing off such songs as 'Wag Your Tail Like a Dog in the Back of a Truck', 'Bob Scotch', and 'Land of a Thousand Swirling Asses'- not that any lyrics can actually be made out in the crackle of the transmission.

His guitar playing is extraordinary, as he simultaneously coaxes some spellbinding slide work, utilises a drum machine, and plays a bass drum all at once (again, there’s no bass guitar). Somehow he manages to not only do all this but keep up his playing with the frenetic rhythms emanating from the machine inconspicuously located near the back of the stage. That he allegedly lost a hand in a childhood boating accident and now has a “monkey paw” instead, is testament to the man’s genius. And all the while looking austere with his helmet emotionlessly regarding the audience.

How long he will manage to keep this up is a matter of debate, and the shtick does begin to wear out as the set draws to a close. But his raw talent in undeniable, and he went down a storm during the aforementioned tour with Franz Ferdinand. Despite the inevitable similarity in nature between most of the songs, there was certainly no sign of him running out of steam on this date, neither of the audience ever becoming bored (I haven’t been to a gig with such audience devotion as this for quite a while). To experience the true rampaging madness of Bob Log III, you truly have to see him live in all his surreal glory. And without a single bass guitar in sight.











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