A further reason might be the ‘regional thing’. As an Animal Disco organiser reflected, there’s often a difficulty in getting people out to check out emerging, yet interesting acts from other parts of the island. Spending years building a fan base in your home city can often count for nothing when you play ‘up the road’ north or south of the border. Witness the rather good Ambience Affair of Dublin, playing just a few weeks prior in the same venue to seven-odd people and a lame dog called Cliff.

Anyway, as 12.20am approaches, Funeral Suits make their way from Annie’s backstage/ toilet door and hit the stage, unaffected by the small but spirited group that’s assembled. 2011 has been a busy one for the band. They’ve toured extensively, added a guitarist to the mix and have a nice shiny Stephen Street-produced album to push. All the more pity that tonight’s turnout is less than stellar.

“We’re Funeral Suits and this is ‘Stars and Spaceships’”, deadpans Mik McKeogh, before the band launch into an effective and affecting slice of driving psychedelic whimsy.

 As happens when you’re road-honed and battle-hardened, Funeral Suits have clearly toughened and tightened their sound in the past year. The Auntie Annie’s PA notwithstanding, it’s a close-wound and intense burst of sound that they deliver as a band, with McKeogh and Brian James alternating between guitars and keyboards with a seamless ease. With synth-stabs courtesy of Tubeway Army and those chiming, layered guitar parts, they tear into favourites like ‘Colour Fade’ and the always life-affirming ‘Healthy’.



The fact is, even though they owe a self-confessed debt to the ‘big music’ of early U2 and Echo and the Bunnymen, Funeral Suits have enough layered clatter and formula-shuffling nous to make a small space for themselves amidst the crowded “boy division” market. Somewhere left of Abe Vigoda and a couple of drawers down from White Lies perhaps. The newer tracks also impress and suggest a slightly more pop-savvy post-album direction.



They flail and rock about the tiny stage, absolutely self-contained and utterly distracted by their racket. It seems to matter little that there’s 18 and not 18,000 watching. To be fair, the small crowd is vocally enthusiastic, as the lads play on like their lives depended on it. It’s heroically akin to the Titanic House band playing on as the boat goes down. Especially when punters start to leave (it is near chucking-out time after all). An endearingly committed performance from a good band who perhaps picked the wrong week to play Belfast…



Joe Nawaz