I was thrilled to take another trip down those dingy stairs on Oxford Street to the basement of the 100 Club last night. Actually no, I wasn't. The 100 Club is one of those venues that's supposed to be tremendously historic and exciting, but is in reality a bit seedy and rundown. A large sign on one wall by the (smelly) gents toilet lists all the bands who have played in the place - Metallica, The Jam, The Clash, The Sex Pistols, The Rolling Stones, The Who, The Yardbirds, Siouxsie and the Banshees... the list goes on and on. Somewhere in the middle, however, they mention with equal emphasis "Chas and Dave". As I walk around the slightly tumbledown environment, that certainly feels a lot more believable than any of the other names, even though I know for a fact that all the people mentioned did play there.

Whilst the surroundings were less than wonderful, the occasion was a good one - I was in the venue to watch David Cronenburg's Wife, a band who attracted my curiosity last year. Part of the UK Anti-Folk scene, DCW are actually nothing like as easily bracketed as many of their peers. I've noticed that there's a tendency when writing about them to compare them to "early Fall records" and leave it at that, which seems unfair. Sure, they rely on the same snarling repetition, and the same pounding, almost Krautrock inspired rhythms, but nonetheless this still sounds like its coming from its own disturbed netherworld. There's hardly any bass in their sound at all (either live or on record). Instead there's a treble-heavy, clattering rattle to it all, like a bunch of urban kids kicking shopping trollies filled with spanners outside Tescos in time to a Can record. It's an insistant noise which at first almost aggravates, and then slowly becomes appealing.

Lyrically they're curious beasts, too, singing about prostitutes, dirty old men and booze. One country-tinged number reveals the fantastic lines "If I asked you to marry me/ to get closer to your teenage daughter/ I'd hope you'd say 'He is what he is'/ and not shout at me like you oughta". You'll have to search hard to hear such bizarre romantic sentiments in a tune again during 2008. It doesn't stop there - the lead singer asks us all at one point to consider what type of people we are - people who upon seeing a train imagine jumping in front of it, or pushing somebody under it. "There's only two types of people," we are quite sternly told. There are moments where they overdo the bleakness and end up sounding as if they're trying far too hard to shock (a common problem with the margins of popular culture in the noughties, I've found) but it's frequently gripping stuff.

As for me, I'm presently offline at home (thanks to those Gods of incompetence Tiscali, who still haven't sorted the age old problem out) so be patient when emailing me, it might take me a bit of time to reply.

The flurry of UK anti-folk singles continues with the new single from David Cronenburg's Wife emerging on 30 July. Whilst you're waiting for that double A-sided platter to drop into your local indie store (or iTunes, as the case may be) here are videos for both the tracks "I Couldn't Get Off" and "I'm On The Booze, Mama":





On the subject of anti-folk singles, there are a few mutterings of appreciation over at AntiFolk UK HQ about Kate Nash's "Foundations" single climbing to number two in the charts. Whilst not an antifolker herself per se, she has nonetheless toured and played with a number of the acts, and her sudden rise to fame has apparently come as a pleasant surprise to many.

I hate to be the party pooper here, and I'm sure she's a lovely person, but I really think her track (known as "I Wish I Could Fly, Right Up To The Sky But I Can't" in my household) is dire. It's come to a sorry pass when lyrical observations that seem as if they belong in a teenage photo love story get written about as being "witty" and "clever". I'm also afraid to say I've always found people from quite comfortable backgrounds doing very obviously false Cockney accents in songs very, very trying. Why do they feel the need?

Add that irritation on to her career story ("I wanted to go to drama school but they wouldn't let me in so I thought I'd become a musician instead") and it's all a bit suspect, really. Call me old fashioned, but I prefer my pop stars to be people who have only ever dreamt of being pop stars, and whose lyrics, eccentricities and charisma over-ride their backgrounds to the extent that they don't need to pretend to be "street" to score glamour points. It's not too much to ask for, really. If somebody who would have been just as happy being in an episode of "Casualty" gets to number two in the charts with a wet blanket of a record that's supposed to be quite "edgy", I just get a bit depressed, I'm afraid. "You said I must eat so many lemons 'cause i am so bitter/ I said 'I'd rather be with your friends mate 'cause they are much fitter.'" Rubbish! This should never have passed!