Meat Puppets

Meat Puppets are a hairy band these days, with long white beards and long hair aplenty. They start their hour and a half set with a few dainty plonks on the keyboard sounding like See Emily Play, followed by some filthy feedback, and in a way this was the perfect overture for what was to come. First song proper was the footstomper Comin’ Down, perfectly balanced thrashingly drunk drums pounding away against blissful harmonies. An amazing guitar solo rushes us along to the end. This is already a memorable experience, watching an experienced band play without arrogance or assumption, but with confidence and joy, even after all these year. Meat Puppets are a down home act, a mix between the romp and stomp of ZZ Top (one of the band’s favourite acts) and sound walls and wails straight out of Pink Floyd or My Bloody Valentine. Oh, of course there’s also the tender vocal harmonies and tunes from the world of folk and country, especially the Californian 60’s gang. It shouldn’t all work together, but it really does. Oh Me has a powerful wrenching middle section and a grandiose finale. Other songs are dark grunge sludge which makes me think of Kurt Vile’s material, whirlpools of sound reminiscent of the very best psych, and Up On The Sun develops into a huge, warm psychedelic jam session lasting about 10 minutes that builds to an orgasmic end and leaves us all melting into the floor and cheering. Lake Of Fire is brutal and angry with a keening guitar solo, and the evening ends with Breakwater, their biggest hit and a lovely indie singalong song it is. Meat Puppets were always going to be worth seeing, but I didn’t know how worthwhile until I did. Legends, proper legends.