Honestly, I am a journalist.

Frsrs proofs right here:

‘Like most people, I normally do anything other than arrive to a gig early to catch the support. This time, however, I decided to break with the norm: I sauntered in, the oldest person in a sea of adolescence, and pulled up a wall-seat at the back. It’s probably worth noting at this moment that WedgeWood Rooms, Portsmouth, is famous for being the only tin-can version of Noah’s Arc in the world – worth going along just to marvel at the ear-splitting quality of the acoustics.

Having blithely assumed I could ignore the support acts, I wasn’t paying too much attention during the opening set by Hounds, an Essex based mixture of Europe and Incubus. Fronted by a Johnny Rotten lookalike they were mildly entertaining, but not suited to crowd that was building up: young and old, but all indie. Next up was Paris’ finest indie-art-eletronica-rockers, Fortune. Looking at my notes all I seem to have written down is “genuinely quite interesting”, and that must have been true because I bought the album apparently. Definitely worth checking out; in fact, at the close of their set – a guttural electronic screeching reaching a fantastically contagious climax – I was afraid that their set would eclipse the headliners, Does It Offend You, Yeah?. I was wrong.

For those of you who are not at home to this Reading-based punk-indie-electronic outfit, you can probably sum them up favourably by saying they’re decidedly interesting. Their debut offering, You Have No Idea What You’re Getting Yourself Into, dripped in and out of the mainstream indie charts, and it has been almost three years since that release. Lead by the disarmingly infectious James Rushent, the band play a mix of shouty-trance like beats and cacophonous dubstep, electronica and others. It’s an interesting amalgamation that isn’t done justice by studio work: it needs to be loud, and it was. “This was the first song we ever fucking wrote”, declares Rushent, before launching into an insane frenzied version of Battle Royale; the pace is frenetic and the strobe lights beg for seizures – but it doesn’t slacken. For an hour and a quarter they jump about, playing a combination of ‘classic’ tracks from the first album, Weird Science, Dawn of the Dead, etc., and some new offerings. As with the début, the soon-to-be-released album will probably fail to live up to the live standards; and it certainly won’t include satirical genius such as introducing a song entitled Attack of the 60 ft Lesbian Octopus with the words “This one goes out to Bill Hicks.”

Does it offend me? In every way imaginable, but my god it was fantastic. A show is a show is a show, and a show this was.’

Link.