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Posted: October 29th, 2002, by Will Cayto

Hello, I’m Will Marshall. Who the fuck are you? Send me shit now so’s I can hate it. And bundle it into stormdrains. And give it hug. Because everyone needs their mother. I am the human pendulum of knasty knives and huggy fur. Love me. Hate me. We need balance, damn you.

I manage band called Cayto -enough! Self imposed rule of non-caytopoitation on diskant begins here. Wouldn’t want to be a caytobore now, would I?

This week playes host of weath of great gigs in support of the Rock Mess Monsters compilation, and the ‘mini-in-the-city’ Musicworks. Plus fugazi play Glasgow for the first time in, like, years. So I’ll have some good to rant about soon. Lately everyone at diskant seems to have got a life. Not I! Busy slaving away am I. What IS the outside world?

Finally did something fun last week that wasn’t Cayto related. Took a trip through to city of smoke, and magnanimous crust: Edinburgh! The cavernlike Bannerman’s played host that eve to Fighting Red Adair, Par Avion, Sam’s Hot Car Lot, and Torqamada. Yeah. It’s rock. We like rock.

I like Fighting Red Adair a lot. I consider them to be close-personal-friends-of-mine. I reality they pushpins up my fingernails and shit in my shoe in my sleep. They have also been known to send sane people on the downward spiral by an elaborate sleep deprivation act that involves thee intense discussion of gay Transformers. Nice lads. Their music reflects this: grumpy, sleazy, puuuunnnnkkkROCK with tales of human weakness, embittered characters, wrapped in a dry, brutal sense of humour. This band is cursed. Never have I seen the play without technical mishap. Tonight was typical. Broken strings all over the place but they laugh it off and throw themselves about a bit to compensate. Band as an amimal: hawk.

I want to like Par Avion more than I do. The tunes are there and it all SOUNDS good. But they are totally soulless I the flesh. Sadly they are doomed to be ‘great on record’. Band as an animal: some fucking porpoise.

I have a problem with Torqamada. Namely, there are the opposite of Par Avion. All fun and bluster live- Calling everyone ‘Mutherfucker’, and pretending to be from Texas. Fast and furious punk rock. No song over 2m 30s! Their recorded downtime shows them up for what they are. Stoopid punk Rawk. Ramones/Stooges/Thunders punk rawk. But damn they’re fun live. Rumour has it that Poptones are interested. They will fit I well with the NME trend for prettyboy garage punk revivalism. See ’em now before they are on the front cover and you hate them properly. Band as an animal: hyena.

Last time I saw Sam’s Hot Car Lot I wanted to mow them. To cleave them. To rain fire down upon therm. Anything to bring death upon them in thee most heinously old testament way. I did not like them. Drunken foos playing derivative pish REALLY REALLY LOUD. I should pay more attention really. I could have swore there was four of them and they were dreadful. Now they are three. This has my foot taping and head bobbing. I am liking this. Change is good. Two songs in and somebody tells me we have to catch a bus. And just like that, we’re gone.

Will Cayto

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