The Hair

The Hair Live @ Fibbers:

Mainman Sam Robson bounds on stage yelping like he's got stubble rash behind his eyelids - The Hair have obviously been busy polishing their perculiar blend of angular strangeness and are essentially new-wave and baggy madchester combined in much the same way a potato and a fish are combined to make fishcakes. The set ends with all four band members leathering the shit out of the drumkit. Superb.

The Fly Magazine. July 2005. Page 92.

"The Mixing Tin is a new kid on the block as far as Leeds music venues go, and it’s already a firm favourite with many, thanks to the relaxed and friendly atmosphere, and the "underground" nature of the venue, which can lend either a cosy or a clubby feel to a gig, depending on the people and the music.

Tonight it’s clubby, as the beer flows unstoppably, occasionally hitting me in the mouth. Saturday nights here are called “Where Angels Play”, run by the effervescent impresario Jack Simpson of Vibration magazine...

...While waiting, I chat to Ryan, The Hair’s manager. He doesn’t big up the band to me, which is nice: he leaves the schmoooozing for the A&R reatures. I also notice the drumkit: upside-down crash in unmissable position, xorbitant 18” ride, and the toms seem to be quivering with fear.

The Hair are onstage. Boom ksch pow! BIG samples and drums open the floodgates. Then in comes the wacka-wacka funk guitar, dripping with liquid sleaze. “Oh my god I can’t do anything right” comes the singer’s desparate wail (he seems to have a distortion effect on his voice, but actually I think his larynx is set to overdrive!), and later when his flawless falsetto floats over the punctuated backing, it’s even nicer.

Full marks for chapter one.

The second song starts with piano, soon joined by a humping bassline and the drummer’s hard, crisp style. This music oozes pleasure.

Versatility is the name of the game: the third track is noticeably much heavier, with the keyboard player taking hold of the singer’s guitar for this track. The next song is bouncing funk. The singer’s distinctive voice, always shrill and impacting, is the linking thread between the stylistic shifts. Then it’s Madchester indie, replete with “whooooas”, and to make so many left turns and never get back to where you started is a rare and lovely thing. When the bassist joins in with the drummer on mercilessly abusing the toms, I can’t take any more fun and promptly explode.

However, on the song with lots of stops in it, the keyboard sound is really nasty. This ruins the whole gig. One star. Just kidding!!"

The Music Guru - Article - June 11th 05 @ Mixing Tin, Leeds based webzine.