ColdRice!
With live music and Djs playing thru the night

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SCROLL DOWN FOR COLDRICE and COLDRICE UNDERGROUND EVENT DETAILS.

PLEASE NOTE: All events are subject to line-up changes, additional acts and even cancellations.... we do our best to keep the website as up to date as possible so make sure to check here regularily to stay informed.

NEXT COLDRICE EVENT:

FRIDAY MAY 9TH 2008

ColdRice monthly with
BLACK MEKON
THE LUSTS
plus
WONDERLAND CLUB DJs
and ColdRice DJs

This month, bastard blues from those sex sicko convicts all the way from Christ's Gasoline,
BLACK MEKON

Influenced by the sounds that came thru their prison walls (Bassholes, The Screws, Pussy Galore, Doo Rag) the Black Mekon twins bribed a lawyer and found a loophole that had prevented them from spreading their filth outside their native land. Teaming up with a fellow bluesman on the lam (Stunt Pussy), they bring us blues as it's heard in Christ's Gasoline. Serve It Up!

Support comes from snotty psych punk upstarts
THE LUSTS

Showing the current crop of garage fakers how it should be done, these fuckers twist our nipples so hard we hope to put a record out by them as soon as we can.

PLUS!
Black Mekon bring with them friends from their latest venture in Portugal
DJs LADY BAMBI & WITCHELL

After rocking THE WONDERLAND CLUB in Lisbon and Porto, Black Mekon decided these cats had just the right amount of sleaze n' grease to provide their soundtrack for tonight.

£5
9pm-2am
@ The Hare & Hounds
Kings Heath High St
Birmingham


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The ColdRice Underground
Will Not Be Televised
The ColdRice Underground
Will Not Be Televised
The ColdRice Underground
Will Not Be Televised
The ColdRice Underground

Will Be Live

Rock & Roll Nunca Muere.
VIVA COLDRICE UNDERGROUND



REVIEW OF COLDRICE UNDERGROUND:
SATURDAY OCTOBER 21st

ColdRice 5th Birthday party with
Dan Sartain
The Sugars
The Dexateens
The Grease Monkeys
Copter
The Big Bang
Swampmeat

I'll let Artrocker explain...

ColdRice's 5th birthday bash boasted an almost too good to be true line up. So fighting almighty hangovers from an excellent Dirty Water club the night before, me and two friends lined Richard Branson's pockets and took the Virgin Express to Birmingham.

An undisclosed industrial estate in the West Midlands may not sound like party central, but for one night only, the people at ColdRice Underground transformed Copter HQ into the best club in the country. The bar was a table by the loos stacked with cans, the security was a charming young lady giving out plastic fangs and badges and the crowd was the friendliest, most up for it bunch of rock n rollers you're ever likely to meet.

You can rely on Copter to get any party started. Five men with a Hives-esque penchant for matching attire and white shoes, they kicked off the evening with a break neck set of pumped up, stripped down raucous rock n roll soul. Singer Steve pulls some fine Ian Svenonius and Jon Spencer moves, chucks in some fancy float-like-a-butterfly footwork of his own and yelps and drawls down a telephone microphone.

Guitarist Dave and bassist Dr Warren trade riffs that find the elusive but glorious mid point between The Meters and The Devil Dogs while drummer Mark winds it all up tighter than Sly Stone's pants on the cover of Fresh. And if that's not enough, keyboard + percussionist Stef adds an icing of Moog squelches and cow bells to Copter's already rich and tasty musical cake. I've never seen a better band open a show - there were so much promise in the air by the time they finished that you could have bottled it to sell to people who never have enough belief in anything.

There was just time to congratulate the boys on their awesome performance, before Glasgow's The Grease Monkeys kicked up a storm in room 2. The intimate surroundings with amps turned to 11 and audio enhancing carpet on the walls suited the band to a tee. Their full on brand of raw garage rock with more hooks than a fisherman's hat kept things moving along nicely and ensured that the lovely Cally behind the bar got a breather.

Pause. More drinks. Blurt out 'this is fucking superb'. Then The Sugars are playing in room 1. The arrival of this striking threesome from Leeds raised the overall sartorial level of the proceedings immesurably. Immaculately attired and perfectly coiffed, the band must have poured all of their scruffiness into their dirty riffs and low down rhythms.

The swapping boy/girl vocals and head to head stance of Anna and Matt reminded of The Kills but with much better tunes. The raw bluesiness and lack of bass was White Stripey too but with a more romantic, reverb laden sweet nostalgia washing through it. If David Lynch ran a club, The Sugars would be the perfect house band.

I love The Dexateens. I love country music and I love rock n roll that's played from the heart with energy and spirit and The Dexateens provide all of it in one superb southern fried package. I'm not afraid to admit that we stalked this band around the country. If we could have afforded the fare to Glasgow the next night, we'd have followed them up there too.

Tonight was of course all about the rock n roll. The Dexateens understood this, racing through a 100 mph version of Cardboard Hearts to open the set. Right from the word go, Elliot and Nickolas's twin lead southern rock riffing, Matt's Entwhistle lead bassing and Sweet Dog's lead drumming proved that they're all stars. As Elliot blurred the line between performer and audience, there was a drunken stage invasion - or more accurately, invasion of the piece of carpet the band were playing on. They finished the set as sweaty and as exhilirated as we were, with a happy punter passed out up against the bass drum.

The Alabama baton was then passed to Dan Sartain, about to whip up a storm in the next room. Honestly, having so much talent all at once is such a small space was almost too much to take. I felt like I was starring in my own punk rock version of Viz's Spoilt Bastard strip. Sartain's Rockabilly from the Crypt sounded even more vital than on his excellent LPs. 'Leeches' and 'Got Myself to Blame' were some of the standouts, with again, the surroundings and the audience playing a large part in the overall effect. Everyone crammed into that room was aware they were witnessing something very special, as each tune raised the roof that little bit higher.

It's my sorry loss that I was too wasted to properly squash my way into a packed room 2 to see Swampmeat and The Big Bang bring the club to a climax. From the happy, satsified faces of those pouring out of the room towards the bar at the end of their set, and from listening to their tunes on myspace I realise that I really missed out. What a twat. I'll have to make the effort next time.

OK, so reading back through this review, I realise it comes across like the over excited spunkings of a gig going virgin. But it really was that kind of evening. The audience was as important as the bands - with everyone committed to having the best time possible. It was a healthy tonic to the sneery aloofness that can sometimes blight too-cool London shows. Afterwards - Stef from Copter pondered whether someone had spiked the cans of Carling with ecstacy. I'm trying to find things to fault and I can't. Even the unexpected blackout was somehow fitting - reminding us that despite the quality of the evening, this wasn't some slick club but DIY rock heaven at it's best.

I feel privileged to have been there.
Dave Taylor