TWO YEARS OF TUTTAGE

Almost two years ago, for a Kate Nash show just off Plymouth’s grubby and well.. a bit stabby.. bus station, a force of nature was about to enter my life. I go to quite a few gigs and that means quite a few support bands, a lot of whom can just pass you by. The Tuts are not here to pass anybody by. Ok, I admit it, I am quite partial to a woman in dungarees and here was THREE of them. Instant glamour radiating from this most shabby of surroundings. But it’s much more than that, it’s the things that I’ve grown to love more and more over the past two years.

– The energy and conviction of their show.
– Hair whipping. Seriously, don’t underestimate the power of hair whipping.
– The madness that usually follows them about like a shit crazy bat.
– The image. They not only look like rock stars – THEY ARE ROCK STARS. They’re glamorous AND kick ass. Neither afraid to be too glamorous or “normal” for want of a much better word. A lot of male bands I love have dabbled in femininity (Manics, Mansun, Placebo etc) and I used to myself when I was skinnier!. The Tuts project a “This is us, if you don’t like it sod off” vibe which is refreshing in this climate of mundane fake soul boy singers.
– Their willingness to stand up for what they believe in, be it sexism or hatred of the Tories. YES, FUCK THE TORIES.
– The eye wateringly hilarious interviews. Honestly. Comedy gold.
– The fact that, for all the fun they are deeply ambitious. They want people to hear them. They want to sell records and play to loads of people. Why did that ever become a shameful thing for bands to admit? It is music, it is MEANT for ears.

 The legend himself

The second time I saw them in Gloucester they had a fourth member, Fernando. a blow up doll. He didn’t really add to the dynamic but it was still sad news be told at a later date that he’d passed away before having the opportunity to be sacked. Rest In Peace Fernando, rarely a day goes by when I actually think about you. Sorry. And so, in 2013 I saw them another four or five times, my personal highlight was when they OWNED Shepherd’s Bush Empire. Or they did until a dull man band killed the vibe. What were they called, anyone remember? Now they DID pass me by.

A random drunk man in Exeter. He never became a full-time member

As a result of Tuttage (this is now a real word) I’ve found out more about ‘Dovetown’ and all it represents (the magnificent Colour Me Wednesday) and discovered an exciting DIY scene (Perkie, Block Fort, Ay Carmela!, Martha, Onsind to name some).

Last Saturday I made my way to Bristol in a last minute bid to see them supporting The Selecter. I had no ticket and no way of getting in. Half an hour before The Tuts were due on stage someone on Facebook contacted me with a spare. What with travel, I ended paying £30 to watch them play a 30 minute set. A pound per minute. And you know what, it was worth it. Yes, I may be a twat but I was a happy twat.

After a gig last year, Bev asked me why I liked The Tuts. Now, I’m not the quickest thinker on the block and that mixed with being filmed at the time resulted in a shy,  rubbish “I don’t know” response. I do know. Of course I know. I really should have said “Because they’ve got the tunes and the attitude. 2015 badly needs them – it just doesn’t know it yet”.

So there you go Bev, there’s your answer.

 

The Tuts – Hatchet Inn, Bristol

If you can’t be won over by a band who heckle Boris Johnson by singing “NEVER TRUST A TORY!” to him in a library then you may just have a heart of stone. Wherever The Tuts go things happen. Good things, funny things, crazy things – sometimes all at once. On this, the bands first (literal) invasion of Bristol they tried to break into the nearby O2 academy and blag their way onto the bill for the Jamie T gig. There lies an ambition and fire in them that bursts out much bigger than any library or, in tonight’s case, what feels like a living room above a pub. Which is fitting because if there’s any justice they should one day be playing Academy sized venues themselves as headliners.

The band take to the stage looking spectacular in Halloween themed costumes and as soon as singer Nadia fires up the guitar and crashes into a punky, catchy version of ‘Beverley’ we hear that full on, chaotic intent realised into one three minute pop song. What follows is a powerhouse of what sound like instant hits.’All Too Late’ flows with it’s Liberines-esque earworm melody, ‘Worry Warrior’ is both a call to arms for all the self doubters and a kick in the teeth with it’s “I though you were strong-aah” (officially the best pronunciation of the word stronger in any song ever, and no I haven’t researched it, there’s no need). At one stage a member of the audience is almost beheaded* by Nadia’s flailing guitar. Told you, things happen with these guys. ‘Loving It’ is a joyful but all too short two minutes of riffs and the only flaw tonight is that they didn’t play it twice(!).

Harriet and Bev are a rhythm section having fun, full of smiling glances and gleefully taking their chances to shout things like ‘TUT TUT TUT!” and “ALWAYS HEAR THE SAME SHIT!”, the latter song an assault of punk attitude which though it could be about a person could easily be a tirade against a stale, sexist music industry (“You’ve got no substance, its all just hype”). Closer ‘Back Up’ also has that arrogant streak, a joyful racket preaching “we’re gonna bud and blossom, spread our pollen to the people, make our sound truly ripple” over a frenetic noise and signing out with a truly Tuts-like philosophy “How do you know if you don’t have a go?”. These DIY warriors** are having more than a go and they are getting better and better all the time. Accept defeat, let The Tuts conquer your town too – it’s going to be one hell of a fun time.

 

*Perhaps beheaded was a bit of an exaggeration, more..

** Not these kind of DIY warriors