Punk'n'Roll Party, Old House At Home, Milton REVIEW: 'lyrics laid out like roadkill on a day trip to the morgue'

This year has been an awful struggle for bands but much worse for the venues.

This gig was a risk, but it paid off and the crowd gave generously into the bucket as it was passed around, so thanks to all the staff at The Old House At Home, the promoters, the helpers and of course the three bands that have the inner fire to keep it all alive.

The opener was a colourful but slightly sinister harlequin, one-man-band, Professor Baba and the Invisible Band. He put the Bo Diddley back into the voodoo with a rousing fistful of surreal swamp-boogie of his own design, mixed in with some twangtastic covers. The prof’s own songs such as Bed Club, Magic Touch, and Cosmic also had an intriguing sprinkling of Marc Bolan.

A fine opening from this mysterious figure, whose true identity is unknown. Watch this space.

Next up came local legends and crowd pullers, The Media, who first plugged in and fired up in the late ’70s to fair success and who returned to the live circuit last year. They aim a smackdown of still-relevant punk/new wave, and a bloody splash of reggae shapes to all comers.

All of the group are well-seasoned musical warriors, at turns proficient with a bit of shambolic anarchy chucked in along the way. They gave the audience the full scope of their old songs, a few new ones and even some lost gems found under a pile of dead bees in a Portsmouth loft.

They are powerful and flexible with some unusual sax weaving throughout. The vocalist Martin has a clear, strong voice with maybe a bit of hat-doffing to Howard Devoto. Great fun - Tough Love for all - check them out on YouTube.

Headliners, The Dinz are Pompey’s very own well ‘ard Masters of What They Do. Busting loose, sliced, delicately smoked and Pompey through and through, it’s loud, explosive punk.

This is how it’s done. Drawing mostly from their superb debut LP and also shooting off a few rounds from their eagerly awaited, soon-to-come, second.

In your face, their vocalist, Pompey mover and shaker Mark has a wondrous voice. It’s no blurred rant, but finely balanced so that his inspiring lyrics are clear – reflecting all of our social woes, laid out like roadkill on a day trip to the morgue.

In these strange times, the punks rise up like an unmuzzled phoenix. Portsmouth is still on fire.

Be the fuel and support the charge down the hill.

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