Every town has a pub band that's been doing the rounds for a while. In Bridgend it's the unfortunately titled 'The Blims', proof that the naming of bands is a dying art. Many a new year, summers day or random weekend will have been soundtracked by the boys own brand of mellow harmonising pop.
Unlike Bridgend the Blims are sunny, irreverent and likable - they're the South Wales version of The Monkees. Performances are always packed as they're friendly folk who encourage an entourage. The latest gig at the snug Star pub was was no exception.
So that's what I was doing last night; part of the crowd at the bar, trying to work out what hadn't been sold out (hard drinking fans went through all the soft drinks). Cider retrieved, cider spilled through jostling and elbowing the Bridgend version of the beautiful people - (coke-addled gentry princesses; sort of orange, chunky expensive necklaces and very blow-dried hair, usually paired with surfy, likewise blow-dried, check-shirted chaps). I ended up sitting in a fireplace, grateful for the space (geddit), marvelling at how much the band has developed over the years.Live you can't beat 'em; it's always a good show with a bit of a knees up as befits a veteran pub band. There's also two self produced albums to their name (available on iTunes) and though these sadly don't sound quite as polished there's some gleaming potential on the latest 'Working Class Poetry', particularly 'She Said', 'What I Really Want' and the standout 'Four Letter Word'. Lyrical sources of inspiration are far from profound - friends, family and bumming around in a band when maybe you might be a bit too old for it, sing-a-long potential is high nonetheless.
'Working Class Poetry', although riddled with local references and cheeky asides to friends, is worth a go; easy summer pop that perfectly compliments beers on the beach and laughing with your mates.
Oh and they still don't like Gavin Henson much.....
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