58. She Made Me Do It
ACES & EIGHTS
15 August 2014
Sometimes, taking a punt on a random gig pays off in ways you’d never expect. The pinnacle of this phenomenon being that time a mate and I ended up at The Black Heart watching John Corabi, the short-lived, mid-'90s Mötley Crüe frontman, drinking bourbon with the man himself whilst my soon-to-be mate, and the support band guitarist was hilariously roped in as the last-minute lead guitarist for the oddest support act I had ever seen. It was equal parts chaotic and legendary, the kind of thing you can’t plan for.
Fast forward to tonight, and it’s that same guitarist, now friend, who brought us out to Aces and Eights in Tufnell Park because one of his pals, Will Crewsden, was playing a gig. Now, I’d seen Crewsden before, without realising it: in Adam Ant’s backing band The Good, The Mad, and the Lovely Posse, which included witnessing Ant fall spectacularly off the stage at the IndigO2, a moment so memorable it’s practically tattooed on my retinas. But tonight was all about Crewsden’s own band, She Made Me Do It, a two-piece pop-rock outfit that promised something less prone to literal collapse.
But first, the support act. Enter Geeta, a singer who delivered what can only be described as a sixth-form drama student’s fever dream of Kate Bush’s early works. So intense were her prancing and contorted expressions that my mate genuinely asked if she had lost control of her face. Out of some mix of pity and morbid curiosity, I bought her CD. The cover featured her in a gossamer dress holding a light bulb, and the album was called Lightbulbs a literal interpretation, like all the best art is. I tried listening to it once, made it halfway through the first track, and now it sits in my collection like some kind of cursed artifact.
Thankfully, She Made Me Do It were much, much better. Crewsden’s guitar was punchy, crunchy and tighter than a pair of leather trousers in a sauna. Their frontwoman, Shaheena Dax (ex-Rachel Stamp), delivered sharp, confident vocals without once threatening to dance into the spiritual realm. Actual songs! With choruses! The evening was back on track.
Popping off to the loo, I quite literally bumped into Adam Ant on his way out. Yes, that Adam Ant, who smiled, gave me a warm “hi,” and then, as if this wasn’t surreal enough, hopped onstage later to perform a full Ant track with the band.
If that wasn’t enough to make you question reality, I found myself bopping along to Antmusic and noticed the person next to me looking... unusual. Strange hair, even stranger outfit. It took me a moment to realize that this odd, otherworldly figure was none other than Martin Degville of Sigue Sigue Sputnik fame. Yes, in the wild. Just casually grooving along like this was a perfectly normal Friday night, and he would be popping home on his Love Missile F1-11 with a short stop to pick up some falafel.
Try them apples.