A strange evening. Getting lost on the way to the gig, almost missing Gene Loves Jezebel completely because Mr. Spencer (bless 'im) told me they were someone else, and then discovering that they dance like Neil from The Young Ones. 

The audience certainly seemed to be treating the Jezebels as if they were someone else - the bar remained packed all through the evening and the reaction to the band seemed muted to say the least. 

The music of Gene Loves Jezebel is unsettled as opposed to unsettling. Sure, they work at it, there is muscle and enough darkness and light - but to pin them down is no easy task. Like an angry Marillion, they bob and weave and follow their noses and sometimes come up with an end result, sometimes not. 

"They sound very insecure," said my friend (where would I be without her?), and the very goth-glam crowd in attendance clapped politely and left the hall in a flash after the first encore, so missing the second. Gene Loves Jezebel returned and played anyway. Perhaps 'half-empty' summed it all up. 
 
 
 

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