A Flea In Your Ear

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It's not a bad bit of skirt, actually. Nice pair of legs too. A shapely ankle and a comely thigh. Cute little dimple at the knee. Not sure about the smelly trainers, though. And the forest of black hair all over the shinbone isn't such a turn-on either. Still, that's an unprofessional drag act for you, eh? Cecil's Flea Circus are entirely masculine and may also be completely heterosexual, but for one night only, they're parading in style—cocks in frocks resplendent in chintz, suave in mock Chanel, rocking in Laura Ashley. The make-up is severely smudged and those hair grips are already sliding out of position. Brian Molko needn't worry just yet. But don't be fooled by the fun fur on the guitars, cause they still make a fearsome racket.

Welcome to the upstairs bar of Morrisons in Belfast. It's a Friday night and the Stereo(type) club is in full session. In the old days, it was a Sunday night gig, and the audiences were often muted. But this is the jubilant part of the weekend, and your hosts, Colin and Vanessa, are at their best, fanning the entertainment, handing out plastic toys to the indie kids and looking proud as this particular theme event, Boys Versus Girls, reaches its proper conclusion.

Earlier in the proceedings, we'd witnessed the girl band Ariadne, safely betrousered, cutting the coolest of poses. They sounded like something that had escaped from the Fort Apache studios in Boston—fractious like The Pixies, acute like The Breeders, and with the pop-savvy of Belly. Pretty good, then, even if the band's inexperience was manifest at times. But it was still a promising show, and the novelty cover of "Walk Like An Egyptian" (complete with whistling solo) capped the frivolous side of the session.

Between acts, there was a chance to see a film show, as Tony Hart gambolled with the plasticine Morph, and the Trumpton firemen doused a few flames. We were amused, and it set the expectations for the evening's headliners.

Cecil's Flea Circus are notorious for their rendition of the A-ha song, "Take On Me". They are also partial to those crummy keyboards that you wear around the neck, like a guitar. That is, if you're a sad, '80s noodler or a Nik Kershaw fan. Anyway, CFC jump around plenty, change the tempo often, and cause raucous fits amid their growing number of fans. We're trying to keep the word "zany" out of this review, but it looks as if it just sneaked out by accident.

Regarding the Cecils, there are two schools of thought. Some defenders of the method suggest that they're the Nordy answer to Super Furry Animals: madly creative, more intelligent than you'd originally suppose. This argument also holds that when the band eventually hone their art, and we all perceive the method behind the mayhem, then tremendous success will beckon.

The other theory is to be unmoved, to snort that "is all my bum", and to dig up some old records by The Cardiacs as a cautionary lesson. Whatever, Cecil's Flea Circus are highly active in the north, and may well buzz Dublin in the coming months. You may have seen them already on the BBC talent show, Let Me Entertain You, when they basically made a hames of it, alongside the usual rancid boy bands and Celine-alikes.

Beyond this gender-bending occasion, Stereo(type) has a few special club nights in the coming months, such as appearances by Snow Patrol, Looper and an acoustic set by Dan from Watercress. Much of the club's energy is due to Colin Murray, who famously set up a grotto in Morrison's before Christmas dressed as Santa, and dispensed sweets and rice crispie cakes to the kids. Murray has been a considerable presence up here for the past few years, as a newspaper columnist and a co-founder of the magazine Blank, which then merged with dance publication Bassline to form BBm. Apparently there were differing views over the editorial policy, and so Colin took to freelancing at That's Entertainment until that magazine went bust.

Undeterred, the guy is now working for Pioneer Promotions, checking out new talent, throwing fresh schemes together, getting it on. He's working in this capacity when you meet him again at The Elms Bar in Belfast.

It's a launch party for Tear It Up, an initiative that's sponsored by Tennent's lager. The plan is to run local music for 90 nights over 18 weeks, in five different venues. Importantly, it's also designed to take the music out of Belfast; to Calico Jack's in Bangor, the Earth Annex in Derry, Traks in Portrush and Central Park in Newcastle. Some of the bands that are scheduled include Desert Hearts, co.uk, Throat, BASIC and Fine American Blend. Undoubtedly, it's a good thing.

"The local music scene has needed a professional set-up for bands to come and play and for people to come and watch them," Colin explains when you ask him. "What Tear It Up aims to do is to provide that, not just in Belfast, but across the whole of Northern Ireland. There's so many people who can't just come into Belfast to see bands playing. Outside, there's really been nothing. Yet it's been proved before that anytime the likes of Central Park in Newcastle has run live nights, it's attracted upwards of 400 people.

"So we want to service that. We want to prove that within our own back yard there is that talent there. That there is a good night out for everyone without having to go overseas, y'know? The emphasis is on quality. There won't be a band playing that isn't good."

And off Murray spins, chasing another possibility, another variation on the theme of northern uproar.