We’ve always been drawn to the odd, eccentric, off-kilter and vaguely violent at Cat on the Wall – so we’ve kept a finger on the pulse of Will Wood’s throbbing, cabaret-laden appendages.
There’s everything unhinged; everything twisted and uncontrollable in the way he and his gang performs. Even with this in mind, nobody skips a beat or loses a mark. It’s perfectly calibrated, every note laid with the utmost care and vision, gently spread with the fingers… before being cast into a Waltzer for a sensory assault.
It’s seriously cutting edge stuff: there’s nothing quite like it, and for us in the United Kingdom? It becomes a desperate wait, minute by minute, for the advent of a Tapeworms show. It’s a band destined to travel the music world by storm with tacky fairground lights and flamboyant showmanship, but cosmic transportation to our otherwise Earthly realms does so take its time.
Step in Coffee Haus Studios, who give us a little glimpse into the dynamic of the Tapeworms, in the flesh, with their live studio set.
While much of the lecherous behaviour an audience so often provides may not be available here, every bit of the talent – and impeccable sass – of Will Wood himself is laid out to view. Everything here feels like an extension of his personality. There’s such an immense variety, such a strong sense of humour – and a ton of musical talent presented with a wry smile, that it’s unsurprising he’s surrounded himself with such a group of fine musicians or such a strong following.
He manages to make the piano every bit as charismatic and attention-grabbing as a pelvic thrusting guitarist; it’s practically a bio-mechanical addition to his physiology, a natural civil partnership destined for centuries. It’s not just him who seems so organically conjoined with music, either.
Brett Dubin joins the fray with percussion, swaying side to side like a particularly stoned-out Cobra, Mike Bottiglieri seems trapped in the devilish limbo created by his guitar, David Higdon‘s Saxophone follows with what seems like impossible ease and Ben Scardo‘s upright bass practically produces a show of its own, slapping along so casually it looks like it could become a case for assault.
It’s not just a case of interesting, entertaining music – it’s a case of an interesting, entertaining group of people at the centre of it all.
There’s a raw, rambling enjoyment of everything in the performance. Nothing really feels staged, pre-planned or over-laden with pretention and production. It feels very natural – and really, isn’t that what we want from any performance, let alone a studio recording?
Take a seat, ladies, gentlemen and everybody between. Pour yourself a drink, don’t forget to tip your waitress and light up a smoke of your choice. The band’s coming on stage…