The flix is in.

Compilation of the 2011 Battle of the Bands.

Pre-eminence of Squid.

Once more unto the 229. This time, we had fire in our bellies. And by fire, I mean Red Stripe, red wine and Jack Daniel's which the hosts graciously provided as a rider. Our performance seemed to strike the right chord with the audience which, admittedly, was the only right chord we struck all night. But that aside, it seems our filth and fury was enough to take the night, the trophy and the slot at Cannes. Allegedly. Checka checka the photos, the video and the review.

Blow by blow.

Here's the whole set, from start to finish.

The Battle of Great Portland Street.

Gig three was an advertising industry Battle of the Bands.

The usual suspects assembled outside the venue.

Preparations were made and messages of support were gratefully received.

Some preparations took slightly longer than others...

There are nearly twenty years between these two snaps.

This picture pretty much sums up the band. These two people do not look like they belong in the same group. Unless, of course it's a group that has both Metallica and Kate Bush in the setlist.

We took to the stage after a startlingly polished indie band.

And full marks to Rich for putting in such an energetic performance considering he arrived at the gig on crutches.

By our final song, the crowd were seeing red. From the drummer's waist up.

Though we were rather surprised to be cajoled into an encore by the audience. So surprised, we hadn't actually rehearsed anything for such an eventuality and had to lurch our way through Teenage Kicks as best we could.

You can read a review of our performance here. Then judge for yourself with this hilariously out of sync video montage.



And here are a few films shot by the crowd.

Cry havoc...

They call it a battle. We call it war.

Preparing for Battle.

Apparently, we'll be playing in an industry Battle of the Bands next week. We don't have a lot of time to get ready for it, so what's the easiest way to prepare? Why, learn a new song of course...

First we run with the Wolf.



Then we blast through a 23 minute set, leaving carnage in our wake.

Ooh, let me have it.

Last week saw us back in the rehearsal room and back to the seventies, trying to chop our way through some tough Bush.