The Glasgow PodcART

Sundays are usually reserved for holy graces, slow drivers and deadly hangovers. But sometimes, just sometimes, Sundays can be a little bit different.

And last Sunday was certainly this. There were no sermons or senile drivers. There was, however, musical anarchy across the length and breadth of Glasgow – most of which located in the toilets of the some of the city’s esteemed music venues.

It was Detour’s ‘Wee Sunday Jaunt’, an invite-only celebration of Detour and what the podcasters/kidnappers/mad men have done since their inception. In a sort of one-ticket, multi-venue venture in conjunction with Detour’s monthly hosts Bar Bloc, guests had prior knowledge about the day’s venues and bands, but they were promised an extra ’spice’ thrown in for good measure. Tongues were already wagging.

3pm. Brel. Stevie And The Moon kicked off with acoustic rock balladry as fluffy pearl-white droplets rained from trees above. ‘So weird how close it is’ said singer Steve, with an adoring audience decked out on picnic tables – as well as a playful child (now wearing a Detour badge), who gallivanted on the venue’s grassy knoll.

Ally McCrae – ringleader for the day but without absent Detour comrade David Weaver, who was receiving a tan and God, knows what else in Tenerife – was a throat shredding compare, and he announced that the next stop was the nearby Hillhead Subway station. A bag of percussion was handed out on the train as an impromptu samba/jazz fusion jam reverberated from end to end. Apologies to the greyed and grumpy man clutching his subway ticket as tightly as a superhero grabs his mistress dangling over a cliff face whilst long hair and beards concocted musical mayhem.

The shaking and beating stopped like a naughty school kid whose mum has just come into the room as we rolled up to St. Enoch station. The go-ahead was given as the troupe of about 40 people excitedly galloped up the south stairs. The Second Hand Marching Band were waiting patiently before they launched into song, with the hippy-esque folk/brass ensemble eventually leading the crowd in an odd Orange walk-meets-funeral-procession march past gawking OAPs taking photos, beeping cars, unfortunate traffic light sequences and a musician sitting outside The 13th Note banging a drum in time to the music. Their destination was Mono, with onlookers enjoying their Sunday vegan lunch being left a little perturbed.

Next stop was the Mono toilets – first of the day’s water-closet theme – for Rachel Sermanni, a singer-songwriter backed up by two violinists. Her mixed accent and odd guitar progressions alleviated the set from being just being another banal girl with a guitar. ‘It happens’, she said as the urinals started to self-flush, highlighting what would become a recurring yet amusing problem throughout the day.

4.45pm. The Arches. From the smoothed out, rusticism of Mono to the high-on-brand-power minimalism of The Arches, heads were left pondering what would follow. A trip to the ladies, it seems, with Ross Leighton from Energy! perched upon a makeshift stage, resplendent in overhead lighting (since when were ladies’ toilets quite so atmospheric?). The 17-year-old impressed with some heartfelt acoustic musing – even managing to get the increasingly blurry eyed crowd to engage in a sing-song.

Next was The Admiral Bar, whose downstairs is closed for a ‘private function’. The men’s toilet was blocked off, leaving eager males no choice but to seek sanctuary in the urinal-free minefield that is the ladies. Nevertheless, This Silent Forest – introduced by Weaver from Tenerife via wonderful mobile phone technology – brought out the candles, and a cello too – but it’s the surprise up the back entrance stairs and onto Bothwell Lane which really grabbed the attention. Two-piece terrorisers Bronto Skylift waited sheepishly at the edge of the end of the lane before giving the day some much needed distortion. A fang shaped bite cut into drummer Iain Stewart’s hi-hat, whilst one of the drum sticks splintered into two. Biscuits were dished – plain chocolate digestives a particular treat – before a police car surreptitiously slid down the road. They zoomed past in a non-plussed manner as the crowd were ushered past the duo and up towards The Flying Duck.

The venue’s crepuscular darkness inside was eye-shattering after the warm hues of a summer evening outside, but the last band of the day, Admiral Fallow, were anything but dark. They opened on the venue floor before taking the now almost too familiar trip to the loos. ‘Squealing Pigs’ elicited a voluntary communal sing-along from the crowd before falling headfirst into a brass ho-down, jiggery-pokery included. Urinals were used as percussion, guest appearances were made and wide smiles were drawn on every face in the room.

On a day where no money was exchanged between Detour/Bloc, bands, venues and punters – although let’s not forget the money spent as 40-odd people ran the beer taps of Glasgow dry – the jovial sense of community found in the dingy toilets of a venue in Glasgow at 8pm on a Sunday evening was overwhelmingly tangible. And amen to that.

Chris Cope

We would like to say a MASSIVE thank you to Bloc & Detour for the invite and also an extra special thank you to Greig Middlemiss of A Different Light Photography for his shots of the day.

You can see all the photos of the day: HERE! Just enter password ‘glasgowpodcart’