The Creeping Nobodies
Wee Red Bar, Edinburgh, Wed 15 Oct
Back in the dark(er) ages, The Creeping Nobodies were an imaginary indie band immortalised on a demo tape which adorned the typically slap-dash front cover of The Fall’s 1980 Grotesque (After The Gramme) album, addressed to ‘A Famous Ape’. Well, praise be to Smithsonian music biz pre-cog, because 28 years on, a combo of the same name have become flesh in the guise of this Toronto-born boy/girl quartet, who, on their first sojourn here, beguile, bewitch and bewilder in equal measure.
For sure, initially their bass and tom-tom heavy scritch-and-scratch actually resembles Salford’s finest circa 1983 if Mark E Smith had been bumped off and the (No)bodies of Valerie Uher and Sarah Richardson had been possessed with the quietly hissing spirit of Kim Gordon. With Chuck Skullz on bass and wiggy recorder solo and Dennis Amos pounding out the beat, the studiedly spindly result is ooky, kooky and insistently ethereal. In a set drawn largely from 2007’s Augers and Auspices LP, they reference Hungarian folk songs, incant obliquely and loosen up enough with a captivating presence that suggests they may yet be famous apes.