On 1 November the AB celebrated the birth of the Coca Cola Sessions, a project to promote rising musical talent in collaboration with – yes, you guessed it. Our fellow countrymen Waldorf and Customs were first cabs off the rank in a 10 part concert series.
Waldorf, the band based around singer/guitarist Wolfgang Vanwymeersch, got into things with not so evident, yet exciting, guitar power. I particularly liked the drive with which the band members got into their music and let themselves go, with their instruments. Such exertion is not only enjoyable to watch, it also produces dynamic photos.
Then the guys from Customs bore completely different behaviour on the stage of the sold out AB-Club. Their performance was, just like their music and outfits, tight and clean. Even though they had every reason to celebrate effusively, as their new single ‘Justine’ had conquered first position in the ‘Hot List’ just a few hours before. No, the guys from Customs don't appear to be revelers and you could hardly accuse them of merriment, but they did celebrate their growing success in style and for an enthusiastic audience. 
On 3 November The Big Pink were once again guarantors of a sold-out AB-Club. I'd heard nothing but praise for singer/guitarist Robbie Furze's vocal abilities, from various people, but if those abilities were there then they were rather neatly bricked up behind a wall of sound. What's more, the band had minimal lighting and was safely embanked in a cocoon of smoke. Disastrous for photos and a shame for those who wanted to catch a glimpse of the cool Asian lady-drummer in the background. Interaction with the audience was then also inversely proportional to the number of decibels and the amount of smoke. Furze was only to be heard when he requested that the one sober spotlight occasionally throwing light upon him be turned off, what immediately meant the end of my futile attempts to take a top-shot.
In a review, I read a reference to ‘shoegazing’ and I can certainly identify with that. Characteristic for this genre is that the musicians stand and stare at their shoes, immobile, while producing particularly high decibels. I don't really have a problem with that, per se, but if I'm forced to stare at my own shoes, due to a lack of musical stimulation, then I object. Even if it were only because I am then confronted with the fact that my shoes urgently need a clean! To their credit, the rest of the audience apparently wasn't bothered by that.
Fortunately, I was already blown out of my shoes earlier in the evening. The surprise even originated from Belgian soil, although you wouldn't think so from the band name. The Germans could be heard loud and clear with their short but powerful set. Their name may well call up images of battalions of regimented German soldiers but bearing a (musical) harness is clearly not applicable to this band. As photographer, there's no need to expect a light show full of cheery colours with this experimental noise- and krautrock. A yellowy brown mire of smoke and light suits the theme better and that's what I had to make do with. 
After that experimental guitar and electronica power, I anointed my ears with Spanish songstress Luz Casal. You can save yourself an evening of heating costs at the same time when you offer this charming lady a stage, as her brilliant voice and taking personality are so warmly received by the audience that the room temperature quickly rises to tropical heights. The only cooling was provided by the cold-chills that regularly ran down our spines. Luz Casal's repertoire contains many demure songs but she swings right at you sometimes too. At the end of the concert, the fifty-one-year-old even surprised us with a portion of headbanging but unfortunately I couldn't capture that in a photo.
