A Certain Ratio Glasgow Rooftops

. . . (honk) . . . (squawk) . . . "OK, you try and get a percussion solo out of one of these things then!!"

OUTA THEIR GOURDS

A CERTAIN RATIO

Glasgow Rooftops

IT IS a rare thing to soak up the atmosphere before a gig and be driven to despair by it thinking pessimistically that if they play 40-minute percussion solos that I will die of boredom and then being overwhelmed by a really excellent set.

This was mostly—no. totally - due to the fact that A Certain Ratio have almost forsaken that awful Latin thing and returned to hard, driving (thank) funk. Their first number 'Sounds Like Something' was, well... downright foot-tapping despite their typically dour-faced Factory delivery. This is a Serious Business for them getting rid of the well-known 'Shack Up' early in the set they go on (and on) to illustrate in the most extreme way their homebred brand of Muso Ability, A Certain Ratio never let a smile break over their faces (although I saw a couple of twitches from time to time) or an instrument stay in their hands for too long a time. They swap madly - guitar to drums to trumpet, guitar to bass, clarinet to percussion - with a sort of look-Mum-no-hands bravado.

Swamped as I am in a simple pop philosophy of good songs and good singers, I should loathe A Certain Ratio because they have neither. Despite their obsession with expertise it seems appalling that the vocal lines are soooooo Factory - laconic, unmelodic and, let's face it, boring. But they spare us the ultimate boredom of 'let's funk it up to this groove baby' by playing with a dedication and energy backed up by sheer proficiency, making their fiddling about with grooves, solos and bits of ideas surprisingly absorbing.

Even blistering, as in the guitar solo in the excellent 'Wild Party', and even moving, as in the certain/uncertain lyrics of one of the brand new numbers they played "Only together/Always together/We will find a reason for living".

I could have left at the last number filled with surprise, enjoyment and admiration for this band but I made the mistake of staying for the first encore too. 'Si Fermir O Grido' was what I had been dreading, a seemingly endless percussion thingy that made the audience dance and my eyes glaze over, except when I was laughing at the facial contortions of their dorky clarinetist. He seemed to find shaking a gourd excruciatingly painful - indicative of the only slight flaw that this band have, they are a little too earnest and decidedly under-abandoned for their musical style. But if their noses are in the air, at least their fingers are in the right place.

Andrea Miller