Cardiacs
The Wedgewood Rooms, Portsmouth. 7 November 2005
I had never seen the Cardiacs before and found myself looking at an old man with close cropped white hair wearing a black coat and tie. Haughty, disdainful, regal even. But what I heard was a perverted ear-splitting ritualistic chant, an extraordinary twirling cacophony. The ferocity of the intricate melodies was stunning.
On bass was another old man, joined by three or four impassive-looking women singing and beating drums, a zombie Elvis on guitar and a drummer lurking somewhere behind a gargantuan kit.
But it was Tim who held my attention. When he wasn’t shrieking vocals or grimacing through a guitar lick he appeared faintly bemused. The crowd loved every second. They were dedicated, possibly fanatical. They were satisfied and I have been converted to their cause.
James Holland.
