Culturedeluxe Live Reviews

Live - Sky Larkin / Copy Haho

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 15:30:00 GMT

The unmistakable smell of new paint passes through my nostrils, meanwhile the "early Libertines" (as our very own Parri Thomas recently described them) sound of Copy Haho fills my ears. But the taste...the taste is pure nostalgia. Yes, welcome to Cafe Drummond`s, home tonight to a celebration of everything that went on before La Roux - or so you would think if you`d opened any music magazine or listened to any daytime radio station throughout 2009. If guitar rock is actually dead then nobody told Stonehaven`s finest (with some excellent 70`s rock posturing) nor their attentive if somewhat partisan audience.

I`m lucky to catch Copy Haho at an exciting time. By virtue of their time touring the UK and a string of exciting early releases, they sit a considerable way above the average support act. Clearly veterans of this venue, their sound inhabits the room in just that way that a band at this stage can, particularly with a well-marshalled sound desk.

Tonight there are loud cheers for former single `You Are a Coal Mine` and new single `Wrong Direction`, even though, as Grandmaster Irony so often decrees, it`s probably the weakest track tonight - which is saying something. The local boys did very well tonight, watch out for shows from them further afield very soon.

As I watch Sky Larkin drummer Nestor Matthews undergro a fairly vigorous stretching routine and with Therapy?`s `Screamager` blasting over the PA as if it were a challenge, I am perplexed to see what looks like the band`s rider (a crate of Stella Artois) kicked towards the stage. Meanwhile, around me, the familiar musk of testosterone-charged young men becomes more than apparent as the assembled lads gather to gain a better view of singer and lead guitarist Katie Harkin. There`s just something about a girl with a guitar that stirs passion in floppy-haired indie lads and Katie`s range of guitar-totin` poses (machine gun, cradled like a newborn, vigourously stroking the fretboard...ahem!) appears not to disappoint all night.

It`s a quick run through breakthrough single `Fossil, I` that introduces both the band a run of sound problems to Aberdeen. Sadly, and not for the first time, the blend of guitar, bass, drums, vocals and occasional keyboard sounds disjoint. However, when they manage to cut through the mire, as on an early appearance for `Somersault` that finds Katie on keyboards and looking and sounding like a cross between Siouxsie Sioux and Rick Wakeman, they`re never short of Yorkshire sass and indie style.

Like a Hello Kitty with knives for hands, there`s something both cute and dangerous about Sky Larkin. Katie`s comments range from a sweet "My Grandma, Jean Harkin, was around Aberdeen in the 40`s, so if anyone was around then she says hi!" to viciously teasing bass player Doug Adams by calling him "David Baddiel". This is a description which perfectly describes their music: the country garden blitzkrieg that is `Pica`, the raw bass buzz of a sugar-coated `Antibodies` and the album-title-referencing, Pavement tribute `Octopus `08` all get good crowd reactions.

New free download only single `Smarts`, however, doesn`t quite enjoy the same reaction. Without the recognition factor of my now well-worn copy of debut LP `The Golden Spike`, this new record comes across a little muddy and incoherent when it has to fight an unforgiving sound desk. With drummer Nestor left panting after almost kills himself through a frantic drumming routine, they finish with a good but unremarkable `Beeline`. Not bad, but definitely a victory on local soil for Copy Haho tonight.

...

Live - Younghusband / Emmy the Great

Mon, 05 Oct 2009 09:17:00 GMT

Pure Groove Records is as near to Foster Nirvana as you could possibly get. A record shop and live venue with fully stocked bar!!! All you need to do is throw in a Krispy Kreme doughnut stand and I would be in my own perfect place, one full of great music, cold frosty beers and chocolate, glazed icing. The venue, however, is not the only surprise tonight. To kick off the proceedings at this launch event (the new Younghusband Idiot Son E.P.), Euan Hinshelwood from the headlining band and Emma Lee Moss, one of the leading lights of the UK anti folk movement (aka Emmy The Great) have decided to do a short, covers set which, although is obviously meant to be a low key part of tonight�s entertainment, strangely ends up as such a non event that members of the slowly filling crowd are more than happy to talk or order drinks over these softly-sung acoustic renditions. It�s not that Emma and Euan do a bad job, far from it, it�s just that the cover choices are either too obscure or lightly played that only the Pixies �Where Is My Mind� and Ash�s �Burn Baby Burn� manage to raise more than an eyebrow of interest from the audience. By the end of the very short, six song set the pair slink off to relatively hearty applause literally minutes before the young Hinshelwood is due back on stage.

And when he does reappear with new band in tow he pulls off the biggest surprise of the night. Up to now the Younghusband live experience has always been about main man Hinshelwood pulling together whatever musician friends available at the time to help bring his lo-fi recordings to life on a stage, which would lead to very hit or miss performances. We now have a permanent band consisting of regular Younghusband Joe Chilton on bass, semi regular Pete Baker on drums and new guitarist Adam Beach augmenting the group perfectly. And what we get, along with Euan`s newly shaven appearance and Edwyn Collins style pompadour, is a band that, to paraphrase Viz, �are as tight as a gnat`s chuff�. Launching straight into the lead tack from their new E.P., �Younghusband Says Relax� it�s becomes immediately obvious that shambolic performances are a thing of the past. �Mass Kiss�, �Black Boots� and �Mirror Man� are dispatched in confident manner with Beach managing to put his stamp on the songs by producing some excellent sounds from his guitar.

Most of the set is pillaged from their two E.P.s to date, much to the appreciation of the capacity crowd, however they do finish off with a new song that hints at a possible new direction, away from the British slacker theme they have built up over the last two releases and leaning toward a more sparkling, post punk sound.

They leave to rapturous applause and Hinshelwood later admits that the only reason they didn�t return for an encore was that they hadn�t practiced any more songs. Well they should start practicing more as the demand for them to do longer sets is surely just round the corner.

...

Live - Offset Festival

Thu, 17 Sep 2009 09:33:00 GMT

Staying on your feet suddenly becomes difficult when Tom Lacey, The Ghost of a Thousand�s lead singer, decides to pick up his mic stand and set it down less than ten feet away from you, right in the middle of the viciously swaying crowd gathered in the hardcore tent. Even more difficult when you�re preoccupied with taking wildly out-of-focus photographs of the whole thing.

It�s nearly the end of Sunday night and we�ve more or less been camped out in the Hardcore tent for the whole weekend. This isn�t great for impartiality I admit, but �there�s no such thing as objective journalism - so don�t bother to look for it here.�

We arrived on Saturday morning about an hour or so later than planned and, after getting our passes, headed over to the campsite. It�s located in a field a few hundred yards behind the main site, enclosed by tall steel security fences, which would at various times throughout the weekend get pushed over by drunks, for fun. Inside the campsite there are grids spray-painted on the grass showing where you�re meant to pitch your tent, and where you�re not. �Anywhere between the white lines,� the security guy said. This was to keep walkways clear throughout the site, but technically the walkways are between white lines, so it would be fine for you to pitch your tent there.

After getting everything set up we headed over to the main site, and this meant getting through �checkpoint charlie�. Security is tight at the gate - empty your pockets, open your bags, get patted down. Ordinarily this wouldn�t be too bad but after trying to pick a pocketful of coins up off a table with a reasonable lip around the edge, I learned you should either pack light or dump everything in your bag.

By the time we�d got in, Blakfish were near the end of their set on the main stage and the guitarist had clambered up the lighting rig at the side. After shimmying over a little and dangling his legs like a child on the monkey bars - classic rock n roll - he got back down. They finished with �Ringo Starr, 2nd best drummer in the Beatles,� dropping their instruments and singing the last couple of lines over and over. The singer made his way into the crowd and sung back at the stage with a few others who knew the words. It was an impressive set and they obviously wanted to be the ones to kick-start the weekend.

Most of the rest of the day we spent milling around, seeing the other stages, stalls, and stands, drinking weak Carlsberg, eating chapatis laced with the driest, hottest spices, and drinking yet more weak Carlsberg. I only knew a handful of bands over the entire weekend, and that meant I was free to wander around and dip into the different tents to see what was going on - and there were more than a few bands that caught my eye.

I�m not a die-hard hardcore fan, so the fact that I kept gravitating towards that stage is probably a testament to the strength of the line-up. I watched the emotionally charged singer of Attack! Vipers! scream his lungs out while the band made leaps from punk rock to post-rock in the background. Rinoa�s epic, drawn-out, mammoth, wall of noise easily placed them as one of the crowd favourites, and I�ll definitely be hoping to see them live again soon. But this was soon followed by the disappointment of hanging around for Dead Swans, to be told after about fifteen minutes that they�d pulled out, or got lost, or just not turned up. These things happen I guess.

The whole weekend�s line-up is an eclectic mix of styles, sounds, and genres, but stumbling into the Guitar Hero New Bands tent at 5pm I think made everyone question their sanity. Lekiddo - Lord of the Lobsters. It was like watching Mr Motivator dancing to �Under the Sea� from The Little Mermaid while singing the Streets� �Don�t Mug Yourself�. At this hour it might be quite tame but you put him on past midnight and I�m certain he�d push a few people over the edge. They�d be murmuring about �bad trips� and bashing their heads against the giant wooden masts propping the tent up. Still, he seemed as happy as a man who could shit gold coins - maybe because some of the puzzled looks had turned into genuine glee, and there were soon outbreaks of lobster dancing everywhere.

Up on the main stage were Pulled Apart By Horses. They powered through their set much in the same fashion as Blakfish, preying on weekend fun like a bunch of kamikaze 9-5�ers on a Friday night. Although they don�t blow me away on CD, their bold, fuck-all set including �I Punched a Lion in the Throat�, and �E=MC Hammer� was impressive because they bound around the stage with reckless energy and at times have a pretty menacing sound. Another band I�d hope to see again in future.

By 8pm, the sun is barely visible and the sky has become a moody backdrop against the warmly glowing lights of the main stage. It�s the kind of time when everyone starts to go a little crazy, like during a full moon, or a Michael Jackson concert. We�d just been to see the Plight thunder through their gruff, swaggering rock n roll and had headed out to see The Futureheads. In a way, the Futureheads are the cool side of the Offset pillow. They�re probably the biggest name here, and they offer one of the very few mass sing-alongs of the weekend, with their inevitable cover of �Hounds of Love�. They�re truly at ease on stage, telling jokes, segregating the crowd and directing them to sing the complementing parts of Kate Bush�s classic. I�ve seen them a couple of times now and they�ve always gone down well. In a weekend packed full of shouting and screaming, pretence, irreverence, and the absurd, the Futureheads are almost like a warm hug.

After watching Devil Sold His Soul play a decent but otherwise rather uninspiring set, we sat, drank rum and went to see some of the DJs. But being relatively ignorant about the names on the line-up sheet we�d been handed when we got our passes, and then finding the music not all that enthralling, it wasn�t long before we headed back to camp to settle down for the night, and perhaps to make a dent in the crate. It was here that we heard the Dead Swans had turned up in the end and played after Devil Sold His Soul - ain�t that a kick in the teeth.

I woke up the next morning thinking it�d be nice to have freshly ground coffee and a big sausage and egg bap for breakfast. So we did. It�s not the kind of thing you come to expect from a festival but something Offset have surpassed themselves with. In fact, I�d go again just for the food. Admittedly at the campsite there�s a standard burger van serving barely recognisable brownish stuff inside barely recognisable whitish stuff, but that�s mainly to cater for the wild-eyed drunks late at night, and once you get to the main site there�s Ghanaian, Indian, Mexican, French, organic, and vegetarian food waiting for you.

Much in the same vein as Saturday, we hovered around the hardcore tent and the main stage on Sunday, like lost children afraid to wander. It�s here that I saw Outcry Collective, one of the biggest surprises of the weekend for me. I almost nonchalantly wrote them off because I thought they carried themselves with the swagger of a less deserving band, the kind with more bravado than talent. But then they start churning out these hooky southern hardcore one-stringers, and the singer tells disarming stories about someone opening the festival toilet door to be greeted with the sight of him squeezing out a number two. I�ve since bought their album, Articles, and I can�t recommend it enough if you like your music halfway between cock-sure and vicious. Second best band of the weekend.

Over in the completely packed out Clash Live stage, Wild Beasts fill the air with their delicate, buoyant music. A swelling wave of bodies with crests of the tallest heads mean, from where I�m standing, the four boys� shoulders are just about visible, and I can see them gently bobbing to the rhythm of �All the King�s Men�. Wild Beasts can catch you off guard - they use simple, cleverly layered melodies over exceptionally dark and often sexually-charged lyrics. It�s not a combination you often find with bands carrying this many fans, but it shows they know what they�re doing. They have a great buzz about them at the moment, and it�s a wonder they�re not playing the main stage. I�m actually glad they aren�t though, because even right at the back it feels intimate. I stick around long enough to hear the hauntingly mellow �His Grinning Skull� before heading back to what I should probably refer to as �home� to see the latter half of Rolo Tomassi�s set.

Rolo Tomassi, to me, sound like a possessed Gameboy but they draw probably the biggest crowd the Hardcore tent has seen all weekend. And while there�s no denying they are an incredibly inventive and very talented young band, I can�t help but think that the attraction here is Eva Spence, like Princess Leia at a Star Wars convention. Because, let�s be honest, the stage has been a bit of a sausage-fest all weekend. Regardless, Eva can growl with the best of them, and I have to admit they put on a good show. (Boy, I hope she reads this.)

Not long after the crowd has dispersed and seemingly gone to watch the Horrors, The Ghost of a Thousand begin their set to a nearly half empty tent. That can�t be a nice prospect for a headlining band but if the Ghost of a Thousand were affected by it, it certainly didn�t show. Instead, everyone pushes forward and the band burst into the ear-splitting �Moved as Mountains, Dreamt of by the Sea�. Forty minutes later, Tom Lacey�s fresh white t-shirt and jeans are a mess of muddy handprints, facepaint and sweat - the result of spending most of the set in front of the stage, rather than on it. New songs like �Bright Lights,� and �Running on Empty� are greeted with as much noise and applause as old favourites like �Black Art Number One,� and �Bored of Math�. It�s truly one of the best shows I�ve ever seen in my life, let alone at Offset.

Listening to the tail-end of The Horrors� set from the rum stand by the side of the main stage, everything just sounds a bit lifeless. I suppose it�s the contrast of having spent most of the day under a tarpaulin where everyone�s leaping around and screaming like apes on hot coal. Still, to me, the Horrors seem like they�ve been debilitated by being so irreverent and cool, as if they�re doomed to a life on the stage when all they want is to go home and eat spaghetti-ohs. Regardless, they were the weekend headliners and, understandably, they draw a large crowd.

Back at the campsite, amongst the midnight revelry, a group of thirty or so miscreants had decided to start up a mobile �tent party�. This entailed pinpointing the largest tents, sneaking up to them going �ssshhhhh�, unzipping the flaps, and then running in shouting �TENT PAR-TY, TENT PAR-TY,� in perfect 3/4 timing. In a bigger campsite these �tent par-ties� would have been harder to find than the infamous Route 36 in La Paz, precisely because they only lasted one bar of the song before a change of venue, but here you can see them a hundred yards off - not that I had a big enough tent to accommodate one of these parties mind.

This was the second year Offset has graced Hainault Country Forest Park. Their stated aim was to join the dots between new music and their inspiration, and I think they did just that - with enough known bands to sell tickets and pull a crowd, and enough high quality new bands to surprise you when you turn up, this is a festival worth checking out. I�ll certainly be going next year, and maybe I�ll even look round the other tents. ...

Live - Tori Amos

Mon, 14 Sep 2009 19:40:00 GMT

Normally Attracted to Tori

Okay so confessions of a reviewer; THIS IS NOT MY FIRST TORI LIVE EXPERIENCE, initiated in 91 this lady and her organ(s) have charmed me over a time period spanning 18 years and judging by my comrades in the stalls, i`m not the only one. And none of us have fermented quite as well as Tori. Looking fairly frail a few months back at the Savoy, I must confess momentary concern that this native tour may have taken its toll. Oh me of little faith.

Clothed in a crouch split gown, complemented with spandex gold leggings and obligatory killer heels Tori`s entrance frankly laughed loudly at any notion the bottle may have corked.
Starting with "GIVE" from her latest offering "Normally Attracted to Sin" Tori commenced her set in the stance that is indisputably her own; legs a kimbo - thank God/ess for the long pants - gesturing with hands placed on body to extenuate the lyrics and those side ways looks to her audience that both captivate and includes them on the nights journey through songs past and present.
Moving swiftly through; "Body and Soul" she delights all with a rousing rendition of "Corn Flake Girl", tempering the mood slightly by following with "Little Amsterdam" and "Hotel". "The Power of Orange Knickers" is played out beautifully but it is the soulful haunt of "Putting the Damage On" that sends chills up the spine - boy it sure is pretty........"Welcome to England" is acknowledged with fierce applause as Tori positions herself in upright stance to simultaneously play key boards on either side, clearly enjoying herself as much as her audience.
Another track "Curtain Call" from the new album, is obviously the lighting engineers time to enjoy himself; however, my own time comes with the jam intro comprising of Tori rocking out with guitarist, Jon Evans and long standing side kick drummer, Matt Chamberlain leading into "Bells for her" followed by another live personal favourite "Mr Zebra".
A slight back drop shift and Tori is transformed into solo player in the Lizard Lounge during which "Ophelia" comes into her own, demonstrating effectively that Tori songs are meant to be heard quite literally (a)live. Now indulge me for a moment here while I share with you the game I play before every Tori concert I have attended. The rules are basic; choose one or two songs that I want her to play, tell my mates, then squeal when she invariably does. Now I know this is pretty far fetched but believe me it has happened on several occasions (and no I`m not away with the faeries!) for example in 2005 she played "Icicle" and "Yes Anastasia"; in 2008 she played "Bliss" and earlier this year it was "Leather". Tonight is no exception. My pre concert choices - "1000 Oceans" and "Marys of the Sea" are delightfully played in succession - now tell me magic doesn`t exist - thank Tori!
One of the best live versions I`ve heard of "Precious things" has the entire front row bopping in their seats and by "Strong Black Vine" they`re on their feet, initiating the surge to the front of the stage that usually occurs at the encore. The closing two songs; "Big Wheel" and "Tear in your Hand" have the entire stalls up and away.
Both Marys willing, this is why the lady continues to reign supreme.

Words by Geri Connolly

...

Live - Wizard Festival 2009

Sun, 06 Sep 2009 23:13:00 GMT

Now into its third year, Wizard - Aberdeenshire`s biggest music festival - proved a big hit last weekend. A shorter bill on Friday drew the likes of The Levellers, The Beat, Idlewild and novelty Scottish act the Red Hot Chili Pipers and, with the weather changeable but largely on our side, a few thousand Scottish music fans reconvened at the New Deer Showground in Aberdeenshire on Saturday 29th August for a full day`s musical entertainment.

With four stages, 35 acts, a well-stocked beer tent and an impressive selection of eateries (including, joy, a stovies van) the Wizard festival delivered all you`d expect from a show of this size and enjoyed one of the friendliest crowds as a result. Here`s a run down of some of the performances we managed to catch.

We arrived on site just in time to catch Mancunian folk act The Travelling Band on the Voodoo Stage, the first of many acts today to have uprooted from Lancashire and aptly, given their name, made the 380 mile journey Northwards. A six piece with more hair than a Metallica moshpit, they initially give us semi-acoustic pleasantries with nods to alt. Country - such as `Biding My Time` which makes an early appearance in a set that constantly sees Adam Gorman and Jo Dudderidge swap lead vocal duties. They dedicate the fourth song in their set to Proud Mary who are waiting in the wings and, although it`s not their best, it builds to an impressive finish thanks largely to the added zing of a Korg synthesizer.

A tentswell has more to do with the inclement weather than the band`s switch to upbeat country half way through but some of the crowd do take the band up on their demand to "get your dancing shoes on". However, for many assembled here this tempo change is unwelcome and their early promise is flushed out by their country rock moments. They absolutely lose the crowd during an acapella section and by their final track (a brief return to form) it is clear that this is a band with a split personality and sadly they seem to favour the weaker one.

Going from one six piece to another, next up is The Ray Summers on the horrendously named Freedom Stage. They are fronted by a guy with a Stuart Cable haircut and have a prediliction towards ska-tinged indie rock. One track which appeared to be called `The Valley` is uptempo, punky fun that turns into Zorba the Greek and is the best representative of their low-bill fayre. However, they project a confident version of themselves and recapture Britpop in the same way Kaiser Chiefs do, albeit not at the same level. But there`s no reason why they couldn`t reach the heights of, say, The Supernaturals with the correct exposure.

Of course, when six members is simply not enough, we find Edinburgh`s BombSKAre who reach double figures. Something of a rarity of the ska revival genre, this band don`t rely on Specials, Madness and Bad Manners covers and their own material stands up very well whether being sung in English or, impressively, Spanish. The singer moonstomps more enthusiastically than someone half his age. Most importantly, they seem to have the time if their lives with every gig.

One song is dedicated to and named after Lloyd Knibb, the drummer of The Skatalites, who they declare is the patron saint of the band. In fact, the only conceivable cover they do play is a few bars of Monty Norman`s `James Bond Theme` towards the end of their final song (cleverly made a medley when they`re told they`ve only time for one more). The hard-skanking audience would have loved more.

Although back in the Freedom tent there`s a serious decrease in personnel for trio The Virginmarys, there is also a monumental increase in decibels from this hard rock outfit. At best, and on a song which appears to be called `Bang Bang Bang`, they sound like a pissed off version of The Who but ironically with really boring, albeit forceful, drums. Unfortunately they fail rather spectacularly to keep a crowd in their tent and it isn`t long before we have to move on.

However, we probably all wished we hadn`t. It`s a wonder Proud Mary have never made it. Despite being talked up by Noel Gallagher and playing the straight, no bullshit rock that they do, they`ve never progressed above mid bill at even the smallest festivals. Their songs are well played yet extremely formulaic and at least their hats are impressive. But that`s largely the end of the plaudits. I guess this kind of music needs the character of, say, the Gallaghers as it simply does not stand out without ballsy charisma. A reasonably busy tent seem happy but they`re unlikely to tell their friends about it.

Somehow it`s amazing that some tracks are just a few notes and a bunch of talent away from the likes of Teenage Fanclub that it can come across as so mind-numbing live. When the pace does quicken, it sound so excruciatingly Lynyrd skynyrd that they may as well just play `Freebird` and get it over with.

Escaping for the day`s first visit to the relatively small Banshee Tent, the next act up are Aberdeen`s local heroes The Little Kicks. The tent is full reflecting the band`s pull in the Aberdeen area and both the band and the sound are on top form. After an unscheduled solo from their drummer which clearly surprises the other members, they kick into what is the best song I`ve heard today. After a series of acts so heavily influenced by Twentieth Century sounds (and some very tedious with it), the Kicks are the first act today that actually make you believe it`s the Twenty-First Century and little bursts of wah wah really help add further originality to the set.

Singer Stevie Milne wears an Ungdomskulen t-shirt and dedicates `Such A Shame That We Don`t Talk Any More` To Noel and Liam Gallagher. The band always seem to move with the zeitgeist and when they`re on form (as they are today) it`s something to behold. The tent empties somewhat when The Cuban Brothers arrive on the Voodoo Stage, but more fool them as the Kicks` set remains strong with the Franz Ferdinand-style `You Can`t Stand the Sight of Me`.

Everyone`s favourite Celtic-Cuban brotherhood are, however, a perfect festival band and you never know how much of their hilarious banter to believe. Certainly the very vocal Miguel Mantovani is hiding more than just his schlong in those gold, sparkly shorts. But there`s no hiding their skill as entertainers. Whether it be figure-defying dance ability, vocal dexterity or sure fire fun, they deliver brilliantly.

Most songs seem to regard going out and having a good time, getting down, showing out and the like. But it`s the excellent in between banter, replete with local geographical knowledge that gives their performance such appeal. After throwing his vest to the crowd, Mantovani gives us a rendition of Q-Tip`s `Breathe and Stop` over Michael Jackson`s `Don`t Stop Till You Get Enough` (a la the DJ Skillmaster bootleg) before a crowd pleasing breakdance routine through Banbarra`s `Shack Up` and DJ Kool`s `Let Me Clear My Throat`. They end with a version of Lionel Richie`s `All Night Long` in only their underpants. Seeexy...

Former Big Country member Bruce Watson, over on the Banshee Stage, is hilariously deadpan...and his set is beset by sound problems. Not only does the sound engineer forget to stop the mix CD when Watson takes to the stage but this is an acoustic show producing unexpected feedback (Jesus and Mary chain unplugged anyone?) Problems aside, what he does do (with co-guitarist and son Jamie) is fabulous frenetic folk. With a backing tape providing percussion and bleeps over his rather Dylan-esque, nasal vocal ("we`re the Hunan League now" he quips) they`re an entertaining act.

Quite a lot has been written about Twisted Wheel (named after the famous Northern Soul night in their native Manchester) and quite rightly as this three piece have a bright future. Singer Jonny Brown drips with sweat, hunched over the mic. He really drives a band which is completed by Birdland-haired bassist Rick Lees and the steadfast rhythmical timekeeping of drummer Adam Clarke. At times tonight Brown is reminiscent of a young James Dean Bradfield and he`s undoubtedly star in the making. Their final track gains a big reaction, even if the crowd is unnaturally small for a main stage act third on the bill.

However, the tent soon swells for tonight`s next band from Manchester, the legendary Buzzcocks and their own brand of "dad-rock". Featuring original members Pete Shelley and a very animated Steve Diggle, they kick off with their early favourite `Boredom` - Diggle playing up at all times to the crowd, pointing out particular members and Shelley all the while giving him theatrical looks of disapproval. As promised, the set is full of former hits: `Fast Cars`, `I Don`t Mind` and `Autonomy` appear in quick succession before Steve pulls a range of age-defying moves during `Why Can`t I Touch It?`.

The tent is packed with everyone from old punks to young bucks enthusiastically singing along, particularly during `Harmony in my Head` where Diggle actually offers the mic-stand out to the front row and the classic "What Do I Get?`. With ten minutes still on the clock they depart for a quick breather and come back with `Oh Shit!` and huge crowd reactions (pointing and pogoing aplenty) for `Ever Fallen in Love` and `Orgasm Addict` which culminates in Diggle throwing his guitar off stage, then the mic stand, then quite probably himself. Punk ain`t dead, it`s just improved with age.

Speaking of old glories, Tim Burgess of The Charlatans has regrown the famous bowl cut of the early 90s and Christ does he look good - even if he clearly dyes that famous moptop. To my delight, 1992`s swirling organ classic `Weirdo` gets an early airing. with Tim moving snakelike to it`s whirling melodies. When `Bad Days` and `Tellin Stories` gets big reactions shortly afterwards, it comes as some relief to realise the band are intent on playing a hit-heavy festival headline slot tonight. I always think bands sound better in small venues and, having only ever seen The Charlatans at big festivals and on huge stages, this is a small personal treat.

Newer material like `Blackened Blue Eyes` sounds so much better up close and, mixed with plenty old stuff, the blend is just right. For instance, a surprise appearance of `Happen to Die` from 1992`s `Tremolo EP` with its orgasmic organ solo sounds fantastic alongside the more obvious highlights from a twenty year career....and when `The Only One I Know` creeps in there`s a huge cheer with tentwide dancing, even though Tim`s vocal has a slightly resigned sound to it. The rest of the band are immense, however, and, yes, it is abridged somewhat. Their biggest ever hits `Hey Country Boy` and `One to Another` follow and are given similarly quick run throughs. But, again, the crowd love it singing back every word.

The Charlatans blew musical forefathers Buzzcocks off stage tonight. This was a brilliant gig by another veteran Manchester act but one with such a full, round sound that it`s impossible not to be caught up in it. Closer `This Is The End` encapsulates what went before perfectly. It`s a rabble rouser that the Stone Roses would be proud of.

Old favourite `How High` starts off the encore. Again it`s played at breakneck speed, even more than originally, before a much-appreciated appearance for `Sproston Green` sends a few thousand Scots home happy. ...

Live - Amazing Baby / Stricken City / Something Like Fire

Sat, 05 Sep 2009 13:43:00 GMT

Smash and Grab at the Proud Gallery is something which holds an almost mystical quality among the hip and happening of London�s over-age youth. Upon attending, I understand, you will be magically transported to an underground magical realism where everyone is beautiful and wearing amazing clothes and you only meet people in really cool bands. Although this is my normal everyday life, I can understand the attraction it would hold for other people. Also, I was astonished to find it was actually true.

Admittedly, my friend Daisy and I didn�t manage to pull off the cool hipster bit at first � it�s very difficult to lounge around looking cool when a) the first room you walk into is deserted, pitch dark and full of dry ice, b) you spend the first ten minutes complaining about the astronomical prices of the drinks, and c) all is forgiven when you realise there�s a dressing up section and you run around squealing like a five year old.

�Daisy! Shouldn�t we be watching bands or looking cool?� I mumble through a mouthful of feathers and sequins. Daisy failed to hear me, as she was wriggling into a red felt and gingham pinafore dress.

Something Like Fire were the first band up, and seemed to have brought a significant fan following with them. Understatedly dressed with a certain geek chic, I suspected formulaic indie rock - I was surprised to find that the first song had an edgy, slightly off-kilter feel to it. At first it was difficult to tell if this was deliberate, or if the sound guys had messed up so that they couldn�t hear themselves. Sounds harsh, but I actually really liked it � the sound straightened up after a few songs, becoming still good but oddly less interesting. Even after subsequently listening to their recorded pieces, I remain unsure as to how much of the unsynchronised feel was deliberate, but to be honest I doubt it matters. The set wandered through spiky guitar backed with trumpety carnival feel, through Bloc Party style guitar solos (one of the fans/hecklers did yell �You�re better than Bloc Party!� halfway through the set. Praise? Nuanced criticism? You decide.) The band was encored � unheard of for an early mid-week act in London, at least in my experience � and interspersed their set with baffling stories with no point. I liked them. I liked them a lot.

Stricken City were up next, with their pineapple (on the keyboard) looking in some very odd way exactly like the hair piled on top of the head of Rebekah Raa, the hypnotizing lead singer. Oddly, the band seemed to suffer from the same problem as Something Like Fire � the first few songs seemed oddly all over the place. The problem could possibly be explained by the inability of most of the band members to stand straight or focus on anything when not actually playing, and I found myself secretly crossing my fingers and hoping that they could pull up and actually play some of the shimmeringly catchy songs I�d been hearing them effortlessly produce on record. Astonishingly, that�s exactly what happened � huzzah! As soon as �Lost Art� kicked in, the whole band fused into a well oiled machine, and the rest of the set was characterised by a kooky professional bounciness which had the whole crowd merrily bopping along. I was particularly entertained by the guy in front of me who was overdoing the dad dancing to impress the hot Japanese girl he was with. I�d say this is definitely a band to watch � refreshing for the jaded, not too challenging for the young and uncynical, and with a charismatic and watchable bunch of folk on stage.

Last up was Amazing Baby, a band I�m not going to spend too much time on as the ultra-indie will already know them and the rest probably won�t be too bothered. The brain-child of Will Roan and Simon O�Connor, they are emerging out of the Wesleyan scene along with bands such as MGMT, but have a definite more West Coast seventies psychedelia feel to them. The guitar is mesmerising, the vocals charismatic, and the overall effect probably not what the current music scene is accustomed to. I get the impression they�re a big shot in their home town, and that fame, for them, is simply a matter of time.

I have my own reasons for wanting this band to become famous however: post-gig, Will was hanging out near the bar looking almost exactly like a guy in a really cool band. Daisy decides it�s a good idea to strike up a conversation, so ambles winsomely over. �So,� she says, fluttering her eyelashes. �My friend came to review the other band, but you guys were pretty good too. What is your band called?�

You should have seen his face. I really hope they go stellar, I could be telling this story at cocktail parties for years.
...

Live - Green Man Festival 2009

Mon, 31 Aug 2009 09:34:00 GMT

Friday

6 Day Riot

6 Day Riot opened the main stage of Green Man with no shortage of gusto, singer Tamara Schlesinger optimistically petitioned the crowd to get dancing, and for their part, her band did their best to soundtrack the feat that this would require when much of their audience were still lubricating themselves for the day with beer and sunscreen. They played an enthusiastic and entertaining blend of calypso, mariachi and pastoral folk. There was no outbreak of mass movement, but they did manage to get a creditable number of feet to shuffle, considering their humble position on the bill.

Broken Records

Edinburgh�s Broken Records brought their much admired baroque folk-cum-alternative rock to the main stage of Green Man. The songs bristled with emotion, with violins that don�t lilt so much as snake insistently, lusting for drama. The way Broken Records channelled the mysticism and bittersweet longing of eastern European folk music made them sound similar to Arcade Fire circa `Funeral`, without the new wave references.

Beth Jeans Houghton

Beth Jeans Houghton drew a large crowd considering they were playing the secondary arena (Far Out Tent) in mid afternoon. They bring smatterings of soul and horns to meet twee folk, and an intense Englishness that brings to mind warm beer and morris dancing. Beth�s sparkly bubble dress and huge blond perm wig emphasised the none-too-serious attitude of the band. Whether the band was too lightweight, or I am just too bloody miserable, this did nothing for me.

Gang Gang Dance

Gang Gang Dance played material mainly from latest album `Saint Dymphna`, which is apparently named after the patron saint of outsiders, taboos and disorder. Thankfully they had the stuff to back up this more than slightly pretentious conceit. They cut a serious dash on stage, singer Liz Bougatos preened and charmed as if the muse to the esoteric sounds enveloping her. Gang Gang Dance mixed African poly-rhythms, techno beats and synths with layers of live and sampled percussion stacked up to form a tempo almost impossible not to dance to. Bougatos is vocally limited but, in the context of the bands guile, this was never a factor, the vocal treatments were reminiscent of Radiohead at their malevolent outr� best.

British Sea Power

BSP were greeted by their usual devoted bunch of foliage-carrying nut jobs, but for some reason outside of this select group the crowd reaction was strangely muted. Yan and co deserved better, frankly, they were wiry, animated and pleasantly baffling as ever, especially when Yan augmented one of the numbers with a strange twitchy and high-pitched chant of �green man�. Gradually it seemed like the stilted crowd got to the band, and a slight needle crept in to the later part of their set - although this may be just my imagination as British Sea Power have never been the most effusive of performers. Whatever the reason for BSP getting lost in translation, a rousing finale of �Carrion� finally animated the inanimates.

Animal Collective

The weight of expectation on Animal Collective was massive, and they were easily the biggest disappointment of the festival. For a band that has delivered arguably the most thrillingly adventurous album of the year, they were badly subdued when it came to reproducing it on stage. The set focused very heavily on `Merriweather Post Pavilion`, but lost much of that record�s panache. The formula seemed to be to extend all the songs by at least half their length, but instead of creating the space for interesting new directions to emerge, this tactic just seemed languid and pale. MPP�s genius vocal arrangements and harmonies were ill-presented too, Avey Tare and Panda Bear sounded lost without the studio flourishes of electronic treatment and withered badly under the stage lights red glare. The extended intro to �Fireworks� cranked the interest well, drawing the focus on the techno roots of the piece, but it was an isolated high in a strangulated performance.

Saturday

Stornoway

Stornoway were second on the main stage with a pleasant, if slightly forgettable, pastoral folk with violin and cello adding depth. They tapped into the lush fecundity of Green Man�s setting, with songs like �Battery Human� espousing the restorative powers of actually going outside for a change. A welcome aural hug for hangovers earned the previous night.

The Phantom Band

How did The Phantom Band not receive a Mercury Prize nomination? Oh yeah, I remember now, because they�re not female electro artists or Kasabian. Right? Well, despite those crushing handicaps, they played a tight set incorporating the myriad influences that went into creating debut album `Checkmate Savage`. Motorik drums were a near constant in holding down the revolving paradigms of The Specials, Morriconne, Beefheart and black-as-the-night folk. This ferocity of invention was sugar coated by a flippant swagger; the use of found sounds and home-made instruments seemed to rail against the fourth wall by hinting at the inherent ridiculousness of such a tall concoction. Or maybe they just have potty mouths. Either way, fans of the boys who made it to Green Man were surely gratified by the revelation that keyboardist Andy Wake is: �A wonderful man and a tender lover. Yet firm.�

Andrew Bird

So, seeing how I am one of the few people in the western world who didn�t feel Bon Iver�s release �For Emma, Forever Ago� was so good it had saved music itself, I opted to bodyswerve him for the magnificent whistling of Andrew Bird. He seemed quite taken with the surroundings of the festival, saying that this kind of landscape was a big influence on the songs of most recent album �Noble Beast�. During his set an argument broke out between me and my friends about whether the spinning double gramophone thing he always seems to have on stage with him was a cool distraction, or an irritation which looked like a pair of fallopian tubes. This seemed like a reasonable analogy to judge the man himself; if you are taken with the idea of a polymath with excellent taste in waistcoats playing several instruments and singing cryptic poetry, then his Green Man set was up there with his usual excellent standards. If however, you saw the fallopian tubes, he probably came across like an insufferable prig.

Jarvis Cocker

And JC may be far more to your taste. For all the talk about his last album �Further Complications� being a difficult record addressing his fears of middle age and relationship breakdown, Jarvis managed to find his usual mumbled charisma for his headlining performance on Saturday. The fact he didn�t play any Pulp songs may have rankled with a few in the audience, but the tight versions of tracks from his most recent album showed a growing confidence in his abilities as a lone showman compared to the performances around the time of his debut album. The mix of ballads and more rocky numbers was well-pitched, and the chutzpah invested in the faintly self-deprecating title track of �Further Complications� was among the best moments the main stage had seen.

Sunday

Rozi Plain

Rozi Plain opened a trio of acts from the Fence Collective in the Far Out Tent with the kind of excellence the label has now become (semi) famous for. Her voice floated dreamily over shimmering, languid guitars and downtempo percussion.

The Three Craws

The gruff humour of Pictish Trail is always worth a listen, and when he appeared as one third of The Three Craws with King Creosote and James Yorkston to riff off, the result was like Fife�s answer to the Rat Pack. When they began the set with a harmonised vocal of �Let�s hear it for the boys from the East Neuk of Fife�, the complex intelligence of the Craws was palpable. KC and co peppered the set with asides and sly winks at each other, which played up to and simultaneously satirised the stereotype of a Scottish folk trio as wiry old coots, with decades of biting sarcasm as a shared bond. The gallows humour continued to the last when Pictish Trail apologised for the band ending their set, saying �Some prick called Pictish Trail is moving things along. Although I hear he�s a lot more handsome than this lot.�

Pictish Trail

When Johnny Lynch took to the stage to perform his own material, he was backed by a kind of Fence Collective supergroup consisting of Rozi Plain on backing vocals, King Creosote on keys and accordion and James Yorkston on guitar and backing vocals. He revelled in this illustrious company and the arrangements for his songs were rich and expansive, sometimes on his own with his drum machine and keys his gigs can seem like something is missing, but this was definitely not the case today.

Dirty Three

Warren Ellis�s non- Nick Cave music project was the best act of the weekend, so I have decided they deserve their own separate review. Click here to read it.

Wilco

Wilco were disadvantaged by following the excellent Dirty Three, as almost any act would have been, but they managed to put on a set which unequivocally showed why they were closing the main stage of the festival. Most of the setlist was taken from �Sky Blue Sky� and �A Ghost Is Born�, although they also played a few tracks from their eponymous new album. I saw it written somewhere that on every Wilco album since �A Ghost Is Born� there is one track which is a big, dumb, rock song, with all the vainglorious dimensions that brings. While songs like �Late Greats�, �Walken� and the title track of their latest album would appear to support this, their performance at Green Man stacked against this idea somewhat. When a band appear live and juxtapose the Sonic Youth-gone-Krautrock of �Spiders�, the Californian FM rock of �You Are My Face� and the bar-room soul baring of �Handshake Drugs� it shows they are confident drawing on disparate influences to follow where their feelings and creativity lead them. This trawl may sometimes takes in elements of rock�s canon that are not fashionable in the eyes of some, but no move Wilco make is anything less than poised and reflective of the great rock bands in history. At Green Man, Wilco played with a skill and stature few bands ever achieve. The kind of stature where bands inhabit the stage rather than merely standing upon it, where the use of stage lights seems like theatre commanded by the industry of the men below them. After a magical 90 minutes in the Welsh countryside, Wilco showed themselves to be one of the best bands around today.

...

Live - Dirty Three

Mon, 31 Aug 2009 09:34:00 GMT

The rain lashes down for Dirty Three�s performance in a way it has only threatened to previously over the weekend. Its pitch black and suddenly summer feels a million miles away from here. But something else is going on beyond the bleak weather. Dirty Three begin with a staggering volume and intensity, incrementally unsettling all assembled as they get further into it. Green Man�s bucolic setting is unfeasibly different all of sudden, and as the rain intensifies in parallel to Dirty Three. Could three (self-labelled) old men from the other side of the world really be responsible for all this? The lights of the main stage too sear into the crowd with a newly malevolent bint, like spotlights from a guntower. For a few seconds, this place was Armageddon.

And then, they break. The relief is tangible when Warren Ellis speaks and puts a human voice to the cacophonous opening. As soon as he does he reveals a rascally wit which changes everything. He is here to fuck with you, but the rain probably isn�t deliberate. Ellis�s between song banter is almost as magnificent as the songs themselves. He covers all the usual chestnuts of baiting Thom Yorke and Sting, complaining about the weather: �Thank you for coming out to see us in this rain folks. I wouldn�t fucking put up with it�, detailing how an acid trip where he saw clouds as flying angels / pigs helped him and the other dirty two get over writer�s block, and offering 55% writer�s credit to anyone who provides them with material to prevent another barren spell. �Help a few old men out will ya? We�re on the way out�of life. Doesn�t have to be many chords or anything�we�re not an emo band, despite what you may have heard.�

In-between showing himself to be the finest raconteur on the post-rock circuit, Ellis careers around the stage like a dervish; leaping around, kicking the cymbals on Jim White�s drum kit, and frequently playing his violin to within an inch of its life. It�s hard to overstate the depth of emotion or ferocity of Dirty Three live, the experience is like listening to a monster with a poet�s heart. After closing with a wonderful rendition of �Indian Love Song�, which we learn was inspired by Black Sabbath�s �Paranoid�: �only shifted down an octave, and backwards, and up a third. True story� it seemed as though not having the three as closing act was a mistake. How could anyone top this?

...

Live - The Staves / The Straw Bear Band / Nancy Wallace

Thu, 13 Aug 2009 10:46:00 GMT

Oh for folk`s sake, what the folk`s going on here? OK now I�ve exhausted plays on the f word in this review it�s safe to continue. Cha Cha Cha is a small music caf� on the edge of Cassioberry Park in Watford and is the perfect, intimate venue to highlight the three different takes on the folk genre on tonight�s bill.

First up is Nancy Wallace who, armed with just a guitar and accordion, spins intriguing tales with a more traditional sound than the bands that follow. Songs like the opening Alan Bell cover �Alice White� show off Nancy�s ability to bring to warmth to even depressing stories of Victorian deprivation. However, as I am not the biggest fan of traditional folk and, although I can appreciate how good Nancy is at what she does, there�s only so much, softly sung, stories of hardship and struggle that I can cope with on a Friday night. The ever growing crowd obviously have a different view and when Nancy finishes her set it is to rapturous applause.

Next up are a band I�ve caught a couple of times before and have been very impressed with. Although The Straw Bear Band set up is as basic as possible (vocals, acoustic guitar, floor tom and snare drum) the songs that the three-piece conjure up manage to evoke the sounds of late sixties San Franciscan folk rock without the psychedelic sounds and backward guitars. Songs like �Maverick You Are� have a captivating, stoned groove to them that cries out for bongo percussion and trippy lighting effects to compliment the jangly hooks and layered harmonies. However, tonight we have to do with vocalist Dom Cooper pacing back and forth behind the mic, like a caged wolf howling at the moon, while Lewis Hill holds the proceedings together with simple but effective guitar work and Nancy Wallace (standing in for Ad Lambert) thumps out hypnotic beats on the stripped down drum kit. At one point Dom helps out the rhythm by hitting a suitcase in time - they are that kind of band. Now there is no such thing as a sure bet in music but a record label would have to be incredibly incompetent not to make a success of the final band of the evening.

The Staves have what friends of mine in the A&R fraternity refer to as �the full package�. Three attractive sisters with melodies and harmonies to match, they finish the night with an extremely polished set which leans toward more �pop � ular� folk stylings. The highlight is a very accomplished cover of �The Bucket� by indie rock band of the moment Kings Of Leon which has �live lounge favourite� scrawled across it in �record company executives pension� ink. So, folks not dead ..it�s just springing up in different forms and possibly coming to a small music caf� near you.

...

Live - Bastila / Sunday Best Party

Fri, 07 Aug 2009 13:22:00 GMT

Bastila are a spunky outfit that draw upon a diverse array of influences from Arctic Monkeys-like spiky pop to The Specials brand of punk-infused Ska by way of The Clash�s underrated `Sandinista!` period. Augment this by a trumpeter, who embellishes the sound and adds a Pale Fountains like elegance and edginess to the proceedings, and you`re pretty much there.

Songs such as �Jackie Boy� and �Come Out Fighting� are reminiscent of Morricione-Ska, firmly ensconced as they are in Hard Fi territory, which would suggest that Bastila are determined to market themselves as the lo-fi Hard Fi. At their best, the band transmit an edgy nervousness which is splendidly driven by the frantic drumming of their Ian Curtis like sticksman, especially on two songs that I did not catch the names of, one of which was like The Jam doing `Precious`, the other locking into a Stone Roses type groove.

However, with so many points of reference it is difficult to form a cohesive identity, and although the crowd, along with several BBC Radio One DJ�s, were highly attentive, this correspondent could not help but feel that, despite his undoubted vocal prowess and self belief, that their front man was somewhat lacking in charisma. Having said that, there is undeniably a lot of potential here, but I fear it is as yet undeveloped. However, if any of the above sounds like your bag, then they may well be worth your while to check out.

...

Live - Camp Bestival 2009

Thu, 30 Jul 2009 15:05:00 GMT

If the sound of happy children cuts through you like a rusty razorblade or the thought of being surrounded by thousands of the rugrats conjures up images of Dante�s `Inferno`, then it�s probably best that you avoid Lulworth Castle in Dorset between the 24th and 26th of July as after the success of this years event, �kid friendly� Camp Bestival, will almost certainly be entered into the diary of permanent annual festivals.

It was only a matter of time until someone realised that the amount of music loving parents was ever growing and that a lot of these would be ex festival goers who have been denied access to many events due to their �responsibilities�.

Now they have a festival to call their own and luckily it�s been organised, not by some committee worried about their bottom line but by Radio One DJ, Sunday Best boss, Bestival curator and the nearest thing to a musical Willy Wonka alive today, Rob Da Bank. So instead of Playstation sponsored arcade tents for the kids or a Starbucks coffee hut for the Mums and Dads, when you enter Camp Bestival you enter a world of �pure imagination�, a world were kids are allowed to climb, graffiti and play at dressing up (as do some of the parents � where else would you see two guys pushing their young children dressed as an elephant and parrot respectively).

The Bestival Oompa-Loompas have again outdone themselves with the overall decoration and the family theme has been extended from last year, as has the magic field, situated behind the castle itself, which has many more fun stalls and a new Spongebob Squarepants tent where the kiddies literally queue around the field to be entertained by a talking, giant, yellow sponge.

Musically the line up was as eclectic as you would expect from a Bestival festival but when you consider that one of the biggest crowds of the weekend was for Mr Tumble (`who?` - out of touch Ed), you soon realise that the bands are just part of the entertainment not the major draw. That said, there were some great sets from Frank Turner and Micachu & The Shapes as well as some heavy dub courtesy of the Trojan Sound System and a surprisingly entertaining turn from housewives favourite Will Young.

Unfortunately due to holiday traffic conditions we miss Friday�s main acts Florence & The Machine, Mercury Rev and Kid Creole and The Coconuts but our disappointment soon dissipates over the rest of the weekend as we are treated to a rare solo set from PJ Harvey (confusingly switching from the main stage to the big top stage for a more intimate setting), The Cuban Brothers breakdancing in their underpants and the ultra funky king of the chuk-chuk-wakka-wakka-chuk guitar, Nile Rogers and his original band Chic, pulling on their discotastic back catalogue to keep us dancing into the wee hours. The only real disappointment for me was Bon Iver as his soft folk and close harmony vocal delivery seemed a bit dull in such a vibrant setting and we drifted off mid set to check out the come dancing set.

Many a band were missed over the weekend due to the fact we were engrossed in all the other activities that this unique festival had to offer, be that eating a fine mutton burger and listening to Hugh Fernley Whittingshall in the River Cottage tent, �getting down� to some �tuuunnes� in the Bollywood dance tent, watching three piece acting troupe �Nabokov�s � play �Is Everything OK� in the Dingley Dell Trail or laughing with/at Marcus Brigstock and co performing the early edition in the big top tent.

The festival eventually had to come to a close and it bowed out in suitable style with a spectacular firework display using Lulworth Castle as a back drop. A fitting fun end to a extremely fun weekend. So parents if you want to get your kids away from their consoles and out playing in the sun during the school hols, next year forget Butlins or Centre Parks and head down to Dorset for a weekend that none of you will forget in a hurry.

...

Live - The Wild Swans

Mon, 27 Jul 2009 13:56:00 GMT

The Static Gallery has tonight been transformed into the set of The Darling Buds Of May, the penny bazaar and fancy goods of the jumble stall doing a roaring trade as Union jack�s flutter under the air conditioning units. After a hiatus of twenty-one years The Wild Swans materialise upon the stage of Liverpool�s Static Gallery to a projected backdrop of lysergic anarchist intellectualism, in the shape of Lindsay Anderson`s seminal film, �If...�. Paul Simpson immaculately dressed as ever in a Portmerion style blazer reminiscent of �The Prisoner�. The rest of the band decked out in demob chic, all sartorial elegance fused to effortless cool. The Wild Swans immediately ignite the venue with an impassioned `Bible Dreams`, effortlessly reminding the stunned audience just how incandescent a band they were, and indeed on the evidence of tonight�s performance, still are.

The magnetic pull of the band has drawn a cast of Liverpool�s finest luminaries and visionaries, an awestruck audience who are thrilled by a magnificent `Northern England` and a furiously propulsive `God Forbid`, the latter powered by formidable drummer Steve Beswick.

The spoken word poetics of `The Coldest Winter For A Hundred Years`, it�s narrative dedicated to the sadly departed and sorely missed genius of Bunnymen drummer Pete De Freitas, is an epic kraut mantra that distils Paul�s experimental weirdness of `The Dream Diaries` and `Skyray�s more esoteric and experiential approaches to sound sculpture. It also features the wonderful keyboard talents of last minute replacement for the sadly absent Ged Quinn, Henry Priestman, of It�s Immaterial infamy and Mike Mooney, whose alchemic guitar patterns charge the air with voodoo static like a particle physicist at a s�ance, momentarily turning the show into a beat happening. Tonight he is a true revelation, as are the blistering guitar wig outs of musical director, vibe controller and show facilitator, Ricky Maymi of The Brian Jonestown Massacre. Or as Paul latterly puts it, "You can never have too many great guitarists", isn�t that the truth?

After a brief respite, in the shape of a flying saucer shaped sherbet communion, hymn sheets are duly handed out in the form of the lyrics to current single of the year, `English Electric Lightning`, a soon to be classic in the making, and a song that sits comfortably alongside older material such as an absolutely brilliant `No Bleeding`, in a night of highlights too numerous to mention. Attention to detail is paramount in Simpson�s world; he is in turns a poet, a visionary, a romantic mythologizer of England, both the good and the bad, and one suspects that he may keep a portrait of his perfect doppelganger firmly ensconced in the attic somewhere, as he has changed very little in appearance over the years. Furthermore, Simpson is a man acutely aware that the revolution was already televised� and everybody switched off! He also knows that the revolution ultimately starts in the head, in the soul, and in the spirit. And so it ends with possibly the greatest single ever made, `The Revolutionary Spirit`, which is not so much a song as a force of nature. An incendiary torpedo encapsulating the rush to articulate all that the potentiality of teenage aspiration and untainted humanity can aspire to.

After a brief intermission the band return for the obligatory and well deserved encore, with tonight�s disc jockey in tow, a certain Mr Will Sergeant, who joins his former Bunnyman and best mate Les Pattinson for a heady sonic m�nage a trios of `Melting Blue Delicious`, `Bringing Home The Ashes` and `Tangerine Temple`. It should be noted that they both appear to be having the time of their lives, leaving Mr Simpson apparently overwhelmed and for the first time tonight apparently speechless.

He wasn�t the only one.

...

Live - The 1234 Shoreditch Festival

Mon, 27 Jul 2009 13:33:00 GMT

Keith Haworth runs the rule over some of the smaller acts playing this years 1234 Shoreditch Festival.

LA Rockets are a Gang of Four-infused punk assault on the senses, noisy and confrontational at times. They are also somewhat typical indie fayre with little original spark other than an American �noize� type ethic that frequently, perversely also touches upon Kasier Chiefs covering �Nation Of Ulysses� as on songs like �Personality�.

Ipso Facto are a nu-wave Goth Simple Minds with strong vocal performances that infuse the songs with an impassioned resonance bordering on eighties epic rock by way of Muse. Despite combating the somewhat muddy sound, the songs themselves shine through. Although, aside from the tasty synth lines they suffer somewhat from repetitive song syndrome. Having said that, they are nevertheless ones to watch out for and one suspects that they may be headlining a bill near you in the not too distant future (`Hmm - not really, given that all the hype surrounding them died down in late 2007!` - Sceptical Ed).

Ox.Eagle.Lion.Man have a weirdly charismatic singer who actually seems to understand the nature of �a performance�. Seemingly from the Andrew Eldritch by way of Jacques Brel school of melodrama, stalking the stage like a Vaudeville villain. Although their songs are too wordy at times, and they undoubtedly need to get rid of the Muse fixation, they have a lot of potential and if they actually allowed their songs to breathe a little every once in a while they could yet develop into something far more interesting.

The Ruling Class are a rather perverse act that left me feeling somewhat bemused, despite an undeniably enthusiastic reaction from an attentive crowd. They appear to be the ultimate distillation of Blur and Oasis by way of The Stone Roses. Each member of the band taking on their designated roles with a little too much enthusiasm, and so drummer Alfonso, who is undeniably excellent, is Reni by way of Keith Moon. Bass player Anton has studiously studied Alex James� nonchalant cool and guitarist Tomas is Graham Coxon by way of Noel Gallagher meaning that, needless to say, vocalist Jonathon is visually at least, a genetic clone of Liam, although one infused with the voice of Damon doing a passable impression of Ian Brown.

The songs themselves are a hip checklist of permutations on �Waterfall� and �There�s No Other Way�, and yet they are undoubtedly a very good band indeed acting as a primer for a younger generation. Perhaps those too young to have witnessed events first time around and who may have been rifling through their parents record collections for inspiration. Who can blame them when today�s crop of independent bands are so utterly abysmal? My girlfriend, along with the huge majority of the females present, appears to have fallen in love with them already, although I remain to be convinced. Having said that, if they could only drop those studious affectations and pretensions to other bands, one suspects that they could yet come up with something truly unique. The Ruling Class have a new single out called �Marian Shrine�, which is currently available on Loog Records.

Lung, Rotter and Seven are, to my mind, the most interesting act of the day. All exploratory electronic experiments and Geek Chic cool, hipper than Hot Chip and, on the evidence of the sound they make, a hell of a lot hotter. I find myself initially bemused, scratching my head and trying to work out where the hell this Kraftwerk-inspired noise is actually coming from, as they appear to shuffle about, laugh at one another and noodle away on Blackberries. However, I am later reliably informed by Barry 7 from the band that they are some new fandangled Japanese gizmo�s (like a Juno synthesiser by way of a Tenori-On). While Lung, Rotter and Seven are not the most visually arresting band of the day, I could not help but feel drawn in by their hypnotic sound, which works for the feet as much as the head, meaning that ultimately they are a band to further investigate.

...

Live - Graham Coxon / Esser

Mon, 27 Jul 2009 08:46:00 GMT

I think Esser has been avoiding me. I�m pretty sure I was meant to see him twice before tonight�s gig but can�t recall the second time � the first was last summer at Kent�s Lounge on The Farm Festival when the act cancelled at the last moment. Since I gave him a positive album review I was wondering how it would translate live, particularly as it may be that Esser cancelled gigs simply because the set up wasn�t ready. His album is filled with nicely interwoven samples and electronic touches that I wasn�t sure would work live but with the magic of a loop pedal I guess you can do anything these days.

My problem with loop pedals, however is that it can take the feeling of anticipation and intensity away from a set. Everything has to be smooth and tight to avoid disaster and the onstage chemistry has little room for change. The majority of Esser�s debut, `Braveface` came across well live except my personal favourite track `Leaving Town`. There was something that didn�t quite click in this song for me � it seemed that the Roundhouse was not ready and the mix was not right. I could hear the bassline above everything else and I was straining to hear the other players. The use of loop pedals makes me wonder if this kind of set will ever work in a stadium environment � currently I�m not convinced.

The Itunes festival, which this gig is part of, has been giving away free tickets for the whole of July. I�m not too sure about how the ticket application works but when Graham Coxon took to the stage clearly a lot of the lucky audience were expecting Coxon to play his earlier, more Blur-esque work such as single `Freakin� Out`. This is also what the promoters must have expected, having booked Esser, with his grimy britpop as support. Due to this, some of the audience were less than appreciative when Coxon began playing his delicate, intricate classical guitar melodies, talking noisily during the set and somewhat undermining what was a skilfully delivered performance. Coxon is one of Britain�s greatest guitarists and has that sense of spontaneity that I crave from live performers. He is casual and low key but brilliant at the same time and I�m currently longing to see him again in a more intimate, respectful environment � perhaps free gigs aren�t the best thing since sliced bread after all!

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Live - Hop Farm Festival 2009

Tue, 14 Jul 2009 16:35:00 GMT

Saturday 4th July 2009

The Hop Farm Festival started for me with a leisurely ten minute drive from my house. That�s one in the eye for all of those who had to travel from far and wide in order to savour the delights that the festival had in store for us and, although many people claim that the campsite provides the very essence of any festival, I was looking forward to going home for a good night�s sleep! After being held up in the guest list queue by some tits who thought they were on the list but quite clearly weren�t, it was off to the press tent for a look at the day�s schedule. Why pay the quite frankly extortionate price of �5 for a guide when a few clicks of my camera phone could do the job?!

All of this meant that I, somewhat predictably, missed the opening band of the day, 12 Dirty Bullets but seeing as how they didn�t seem to be on the pre-festival billing anyway I didn�t mind too much. So the honour of being my first band of the day went to Howling Bells. Out came Juanita and co and launched in to a set that included their most recent singles �Digital Hearts� and �Cities Burning Down�. I have a theory that those Antipodeans put something in their water as they produce some fine looking women. This is a theory that Ladyhawke managed to back up the following day. Unfortunately for the Bells their early time slot meant that they weren�t getting the most out of the crowd but they still managed to hold their own and engaged with a fan with an air horn. Next up were Noah and the Whale, who I can remember alarmingly little about. I have no notes, no photos and can vaguely remember a very enthusiastic, floppy-haired violinist and a big reception for their much loved �5 Years Time�. Maybe my drink was spiked...?

Looking around the site it was good to see a lot of families in the crowd, many with picnics, introducing their children to the joys of live music. It�s refreshing to see a family orientated festival that can still be enjoyed by the older people as well, even if it does mean that we have to endure parents with their kids on their shoulders standing right in front of us!

Keeping up with the no branding, ethical love-in nature of the festival, between all of the acts I was delighted to see a man giving out free hugs and plenty of festival goers taking advantage of his generosity. Unfortunately he disappeared before I could document his activities.

Having refused to enter the photo pit at the front of the stage up to this point because of a severe case of camera envy, the arrival of Florence and the Machine prompted me to throw caution to the wind and enter the fray. I�ve been listening to her debut album, �Lungs�, almost religiously for the past couple of weeks so she was naturally one of the acts that I was looking forward to most and she didn�t disappoint, owning the stage from the moment she stepped out on to it. Many critics have mentioned her �eccentric� performance style but I don�t think it�s too eccentric. People tend to forget that she�s only 22 and she�s just very obviously having a great time. Twirling and dancing her way through previous singles such as �Dog Days Are Over� and �Kiss With a Fist� the songs take on a whole new life and showcase her hugely impressive vocals. "This is `Cosmic Love`" she says, "the name�s kind of lame but it started off as a joke and then stuck" before launching in to the album highlight. Finishing off with current single �Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up)� she leaves the stage to rapturous applause and was one of the highlights of the weekend.

After Florence I set off to explore the site and was impressed by the sheer amount of t-shirts and silly hats that could be packed in to one field. One thing that I was impressed and appalled by in equal measure was the persistence of the girls trying to give out massages. After walking past for about the millionth time they must have recognised me and yet time after time they kept on offering. Maybe they were attracted by the dashing shade of scarlet I�d turned by that point, having been caught out by the sun.

Anyway it was back off to the main stage for every Dad�s favourite: Echo and the Bunnymen. I can�t help but feel that the generation gap was never so obvious, with the exception perhaps of Paul Weller, than when they were treating the crowd to old favourites such as �Seven Seas� and �The Killing Moon�. Despite this fact it was a privilege to watch some true giants of British music. In a complete reversal the youngsters went wild when the Ash strolled on to the stage, barely acknowledging the crowd before launching straight in to a spirited rendition of �Girl from Mars�. Displaying a slightly rawer edge since the departure of Charlotte Hatherly the three-piece proved that they could still make a sound that would put most other bands to shame as they performed a very balanced set of old and new, including the heavy �Orpheus� and �Kung-Fu�. They also showed any Radio 2 listeners how �Shining Light� (covered by Annie Lennox) is supposed to sound and finished up, as always, with their anthem �Burn Baby Burn�, provoking arguably the biggest crowd reaction of the day so far.

I then missed mumbling Scottish rockers The View as I was putting my blagging skills to the ultimate test in order to get a quick interview with Ash after their set (see elsewhere on the site).

Perhaps it was the rush of being allowed in the photo pit because I have slight regrets now that I only stuck to the main stage on the Saturday to see The Pigeon Detectives and The Fratellis complete the day�s music. I would have liked to have seen Bell X1 on the Third Stage and everyone I�ve spoken to have said that White Denim and The Sunshine Underground were both brilliant on the same stage. However, The Pigeon Detectives were great fun to watch with front man Matt Bowman�s boundless enthusiasm leading him to run around the stage, twirl his microphone and just generally trying to combine the frontmanship of the likes of Mercury and Jagger. I�d also forgotten just how many good tunes they�ve put out over the last couple of years and found myself rediscovering them all over again. I don�t really have much to say about The Fratellis� set. Although they�ve been headliners at various festivals over the past year or two I see nothing in them that justifies their billing. The success of the biggest hit �Chelsea Dagger� was down to it being, as I would describe it, �a chant for morons� rather than through any actual musical ability. Even so, the last time I saw them at Radio 1�s Big Weekend last year in Maidstone, they were surprisingly fun but here they were just a bit limp and it was a disappointing end to the day.

Sunday 5th July

I unfortunately missed the first band of the day, That Petrol Emotion, in remarkably similar circumstances to the previous day, but I was able to catch up with them later for a chat about life back together again. After heading to the press tent to get the timings for the day, and being harassed by the massage girls, again, it was off the see The Rifles on the main stage. Lumbered with the same early slot that had plagued Howling Bells the day before the London boys fared slightly better than their Australian counterparts but there were still plenty of disinterested picnickers, which was disappointing considering the very accomplished performance that they were (supposedly) being treated to!

I was slightly, perhaps annoyed isn�t the right word, but disappointed maybe, that I had to miss the first half of Ladyhawke�s set but I did so in order to grab an interview with The Twang, who were due on stage about halfway through the day. However, the few songs that I did manage to see the New Zealander perform were highly impressive. Dressed as a kind of grungey eco-warrier with a Nirvana t-shirt and floral headband she effortlessly floated through songs such as �Paris is Burning� and �My Delirium� and left the crowd wanting more. Next up were Mystery Jets who I�ve never really had much time for but their live show was surprisingly good and certainly gave a new life to songs that just sound plain dull once they�ve been recorded.

After watching the opening songs from The Twang, with double front men, Phil Etheridge and Martin Saunders swaggering around the stage, I headed off to the Third Stage to see a bit of Fight Like Apes, who I�d heard good things about. They certainly were creating a hell of a noise in there but the crowded conditions inside the tiny tent meant that I decided I would be better off catching the end of The Twang on the main stage. However, I got back just as they were walking off stage so I settled down in anticipation for Super Furry Animals who are famed for their eccentric and eclectic live shows. Eventually the heavily bearded Welshmen appeared on stage dressed disappointingly ordinary and the crowd began, for perhaps the first time in the day, to flock as one to the main stage. My interest in seeing how they performed was cut short about 20 minutes in to what was a very interesting, if unspectacular, set when I got a call to tell me that they would be doing interviews afterwards. Rushing back to the media tent to prepare for this (and missing the rest of their set as a result) I was then told that they had changed their mind and weren�t going to do any interviews. Typical! This also meant that I didn�t have time to see Danananakroyd on the Third Stage, but the Scottish girls that I�d been chatting to during the day assured me that they�d been brilliant. Damn those Super Furries!

And so to the business end of the night and first up...Doves. You could feel the excitement stirring the crowd as they anticipated the final trio of acts on the main stage and the crowd erupted as they stepped out. I�ve seen a few places report that Doves actually got the biggest crowd of the weekend but, in my view, that�s nonsense as the vast majority, if not all of the crowd stayed for Editors, and then the biggest crowd gathered for Paul Weller, which was only to be expected. Jimi was in a chatty mood and soon easily got the crowd on his side as they raced through favourites such as �Snowden�, �Winter Hill� and �Kingdom of Rust�. An entertaining side show to their set was Jimi�s constant claims that Helmans Mayonnaise stole the logo from their latest advert from the Kingdom of Rust artwork...�Have a look and see if we can sue them. Boycott Hellman�s Mayonnaise!� Unsurprisingly the biggest reactions of the set were reserved for �Black and White Town� and the set closer �There Goes the Fear�.

I�m an unashamedly big fan of Editors, having seen them about six time previously so they were always going to be one of the highlights of the weekend for me but, having run in to Tom backstage where he revealed they�d be playing four new songs, coupled with The Twang assuring me that the new stuff sounded like it had come from The Terminator soundtrack, my excitement was turned to intrigue and I wasn�t disappointed. The opening synths sounded exactly like The Terminator, which I wouldn�t necessarily have expected to work in a proper song but they managed to create a storming number out of it. In amongst the darker, edgier, heavily synth based new tracks were old favourites such as �Munich�, �Bullets�, �Fingers in the Factories� and the biggest reaction was probably saved for �Smokers Outside the Hospital Doors�, which I suspect may well become the song that they become remembered for. After they finished with the final new track of the day I headed off to the dance tent for the first time of the weekend in order to see the end of Scratch Perverts. I�ve never really seen the appeal in watching a couple of blokes play records of other people�s songs but the nutters in the dance tent were going crazy. I suspect the bar inside the dance tent itself had some form of effect on this! After they�d left the stage I headed back to see Paul Weller walk out to headline the night.

I�ve never been much of a fan of Paul Weller, partly through ignorance of his stuff and partly though ambivalence towards the stuff I had heard but I thought I�d give him a chance given his seemingly near-legendary status. However song after song came that were performed extremely well but just didn�t interest me so, after �Eton Rifles� I headed off to the dance tent again to see what all the fuss about 2 Many DJs was. I was not expecting to see two blokes dressed as James Bond behind the decks but whatever floats their boat I guess. Again, loads of people were going mental and, again, copious amounts of alcohol was being consumed. Alcohol to enjoyment correlation? Maybe. (`Hell no, you should have stuck around, you`d have witnessed one of the true party acts out there` - shocked Ed).

As you can probably guess I decided I�d be better off back with Weller and arrived to hear �Wild Wood� and a couple of other tracks before he came back on for the first of his two encores and the unsuspecting crowd were in for the treat of the weekend as Weller introduced Roger Daltrey to the stage for a version of �Magic Bus�. With Weller on backing vocals and Daltrey rocking out on the harmonica it was undoubtedly the highlight of the portions of the set that I actually saw and I�d argue that the appearance of The Who frontman got a larger cheer than any aimed at Weller. And so it was left to �Town Called Malice� and an impromptu performance of �Whirlpool Ends� after half the crowd had started heading away, to end the festival.

So my first experience of the Hop Farm Festival was a highly enjoyable one and I was impressed with the calibre of the acts and the calibre of the facilities around the site. It all added up to a very satisfying festival experience and I for one will be back next year.

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Live - Sleepy Sun

Fri, 10 Jul 2009 18:20:00 GMT

The music that plays while the crowd wait for Sleepy Sun to come on stage at the Hoxton Bar is an unashamed collection of hard rock. The distinction between this and other, less wiry subgenres seems important. Familiar sounds of Led Zep, Deep Purple and AC/DC can be heard, mixed with more obscure excursions into the psychedelic ends of the leather-trousered spectrum. These are small details of course, and in themselves only a pleasingly relevant appetiser for what everybody in the tiny venue came to see. But when Sleepy Sun do take to the stage, they deliver such a pitch-perfect reading of the music pioneered by the bands we�d just heard, and it�s the small details that make the sextet from San Francisco rock strange and hard.

Everything about the band rocks hard and lean, exactly as you would want it to. The riffs are enormous, the drumming simultaneously inventive and metronome-like in its tempo-setting. Singer Bret Constantino�s paisley shirt and brown cord-jeans, snake all over his tall, bony frame, with the perfect ratio of lounge-lizard to Laurel Canyon acid casualty. He stiffens and jerks his body to the guitar crescendos that intersperse his vocals, fellow singer Rachel Williams weaves and shuffle-skips her feet from side to side, remaining in a near-constant position all the while yet still giving the illusion of movement, or switches it up by turning her back on the audience and bending her knees to wind down to the floor; arms outstretched like a raver at 4am.

All of these strange flourishes seem to make sense in the context of the music they are inspired by, the alternation of hard riffage with Constantino�s harmonica and Williams� angelic vocals add a languid, mysterious side to the band which is a delicious contrast to the heavier moments. Of which there are many; when Sleepy Sun rock out they are loud and visceral, even Williams� honeyed vocals can transform into frenzied yelps when the situation demands. They never lose the sense of the strange when the volume increases though, never dumbing down to stadium rock banality. Its this balancing of the louche with the loud that draws comparison�s with bands like Led Zep.

When bands have a sound which is so readily identifiable with another point in time, the questions of influence and derivation spread all over the waste ground of internet message boards like slugs, so it is worth its weight in gold when an act comes along that blasts through that turgid miasma to reveal the truth that music is either great or its not, and to read any more into it is just gas. Sleepy Sun are emphatically one of those acts. They invest so much of an authentic passion for what they do into their sound that objection pales into inconsequence

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Live - The Soundcarriers

Thu, 09 Jul 2009 22:03:00 GMT

Adam, Pish, Dorian and Leonore aka The Soundcarriers take to the stage of Heaven�s dungeon like vaults as a stripped down four piece, eschewing the stings and woodwind and bristling with confidence after debut album �Harmonium� s deservedly universal acclaim. However, after a somewhat tentative start on �Glide�, due mainly to sound problems, the subtlety of the dual vocal dynamics of Dorian and Leonore begins to gel and to solidify, their guitar and keys combination turning the stage into the trippy Warholian party scene from the classic film �Midnight Cowboy�.

Taking their cue from psychedelic and orchestral pop bands of the sixties such as The Groop, The Free Design and Elephants Memory to name but a few, along with the now almost obligatory CAN, the band really hit their stride with a blistering version of �Caught By The Sun�.

The real star of the night and visual centrepiece is their nonchalant and bearded drummer Adam. A frenetic human metronome who effortlessly exudes an air of cool, while battering seven shades of shit out of his drum kit like a rockier Robert Wyatt or a harder hitting John Densmore, which is, it must be said, high praise indeed. In fact live, The Soundcarriers are a far heavier proposition, losing a little of the album�s subtlety, while simultaneously, as on �Cannonball�, reenergizing the songs to propulsive effect due to Pish�s Axelrod - like plectrum bass assault. There is also more than a touch of Soft Machine�s free jazz workouts about them that is not immediately evident on the album.

They also bring to mind Stereolab�s more frenetic and edgy psych-rock / Kraut workouts. Ultimately though, The Soundcarriers are a laboratory like distillation of all the finest moments of the sixties long forgotten underground history, so it is refreshing to see a band drawing upon a seemingly limitless vein of retrospective inspiration by looking to the past without resorting to the obviousness of the usual clich�d sixties checklist. Like The Fleet Foxes before them, a band with which they have a psychic, if not an audio connection with, they draw upon the past in order to reinterpret the future. Needless to say that theirs is looking very bright indeed.

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Live - Detroit Social Club / The Thermals / Sketches

Thu, 02 Jul 2009 13:00:00 GMT

I`m writing this review one week after the gig while watching Blur rock all in front of them on the Pyramid Stage at Glastonbury. It looks like it`s been a good year for the mud worshippers, what with rock gods and electro-girls leading the way. It would appear that the death of recorded music is leading to a live music revival. It isn`t simply good enough to be great at music. You need a spectacle, something to make you look out of the ordinary so you can pull in the crowds. It`s not good enough to be Mozart or Buddy Holly, you need to be PT Barnum with a gospel choir and laser display board.

Pity Detroit Social Club. Just a couple of years ago they would be huge. They are the band that Kasabian wish they were. Every paper would be on them as the band that will (quite rightly) become known as masters of the indie-verse. Their songs have all the swagger of John Lee Hooker and a drunk Liam Gallagher, with the grace of Sandy Denny and Bats For Lashes. What I`m trying to say is they are very good. Unfortunately for them that isn`t good enough right now. Your singer has a powerful voice, but would he wear a jacket with a strawberry on the back? Or do you come free with a light show that makes Greenpeace wonder if energy conservation is just wishful thinking? Or do you have a dance troupe and skimpy costumes that make teen girls want to be you and old men want to be with you? How about a feel of nostalgia for an age recently gone, a catalogue of songs that an audience can use to remember the good times, even if those good times weren`t really that good? No? Then hope that the wind changes direction by the time you get to Reading. Times are hard and people want jesters, not kings. And that will be the greatest disappointment the world will have this year. Not the death of a bloke who record his best stuff over twenty years ago, but the birth of a band who make future anthems for the next generation that nobody will hear.

This isn`t knocking any of the bands that appeared over the weekend. What I`ve watched has made me appreciate some of the artists in question more than I would have otherwise. It`s just that, well, it`s just that... Well, I want... I don`t know what I want. Beery lad rock? No, and DSC aren`t that. Art rock punk? No, and they aren`t that either. The rush of a fix in a safer musical form? Close but... Yeah, that`s the closest. I want something that will make me feel empowered, even if it`s just for three minutes. I want something that tears holes in my skin and leaves me feeling nervy, excited. I love Little Boots, I get a kick from the Specials reunion, I can move to Lady Gaga, I get butterflies with Bloc Party and Lupe Fiasco. Pendulum are there for pumping mosh pit action. Prodigy is the new dad-rock (and that isn`t a complaint). Status Quo are nostalgic fun. Dizzee is the closest thing to the rush Public Enemy and the Wu Tang used to give me. I want them all. It`s just that I`m greedy. I want more.

The Thermals are a reminder of a previous personal high water mark, musically speaking. When `No Culture Icons` was released earlier this decade it was at just the right time for me to become obsessed with it. The low-fi noise coming from this American trio just clicked with me - as did a lot of stuff at that time. There was a simple, straightforward but enjoyable noise coming from them. Get the song out, play it with passion, move onto the next song. Don`t worry about anything; life is too short (as Too $hort used to say). Just play it fast, let it all out and then get out. Perfection.

Time moved on and I`m watching them perform at one of the smaller tents at Roskilde. It`s one o`clock in the afternoon, which in Roskilde terms means that things have only just started. The Thermals are playing to a fairly small but enthusiastic audience that grows in size and enthusiasm the more they play. Never has a band had such huge grins on their faces as the one I`m watching right now. The waif like lead singer and guitarist, the incredibly cute bass player, the waif-like Cheshire cat of a drummer. The music hasn`t changed a huge amount in the last couple of years. All the elements are there. Fun, power, simplicity, directness. The sound is less low-fi, but that could just be because of where they are playing. By the time they finished playing there are a lot of happy pogo-ers wanting more. I`m one of them. We leave trying to get ourselves another fix.

It`s two years later. I feel like I`ve been dragged face down and backwards over a bed of nettles while being force-fed lard for a period of eight months. I don`t feel good. In fact I feel very uncomfortable. I need a fix. I wonder if it is possible to arrange it so that that I can drink the bar dry of bourbon with only eight quid. The signs are not looking good. A couple of drunk blokes in their forties are getting into the venue. "So, when will this all be finished by?" The tall, thin, bearded scenester behind the counter looks at them with a glance that indicates friendliness combined with doom. "About an hour the way things are going." This is not looking good. I need a fix.

The Ruby Lounge (still notable for being possibly the only place in the world to have hosted a Duffy concert and a late night heavy metal lap dancing club - although not at the same time) is the scene for tonight`s gig. Am I too early? I`ve arrived about an hour after doors opening. It doesn`t look full. This is not looking good. I need a fix. I go to the bar and order a Jim Bean and coke. It`s surprisingly cheap. It`s really good. I take out a book and start reading while I wait for the gig to start. I start to think that I may be able to get drunk on eight quid. I hope that this isn`t my fix.
The club begins to fill up with lots of beautiful youngish people who I`m not going to speak to because I don`t do that kind of thing. I have my Martin Luther King autobiography and my bourbon. Let`s get the gig over and then I can stagger home.

The audience swells to a more than respectable size. The support band takes to the stage. A stage that has a permanent metal barrier in front of it. My guess is that this is where the pole dancing probably happens. I don`t know, never been here for the metal night. I don`t like the idea of lap dancing clubs, or my idea of the type of man who would go to one. To me, it seems like prostitution for cowards. I mean, if you are going to pay for sex then why not go the whole hog?

The support band are called Sketches and they are from Leeds. How can I sum them up? Well, before they came on a copy of Muse`s first album was being played on the PA. Combine that with Crowded House and most stuff by Doves and it pretty much sums them up. It`s melodic indie that is a cut above the average support band. They`ve got a easy going, friendly stage manner. All in all it makes me think that with the right breaks they could go onto do some special. Or they may disappear into the same ether that Grammatics appear to be heading towards. Still, it`s all about the breaks...

When Sketches finish playing I return to the bar, get another drink and return to reading my book. Opposite me there`s a attractive woman looking at her phone. Nobody is with her and she keeps looking up then doing more stuff with her phone. I wonder if she`s writing a review? I return to reading my book.

You can tell the difference between Sketches and The Thermals by the latter`s warm-up mix tape. New Jack Swing, hip-hop, party music. Party music for a party band. As the trio enter the stage they somehow look different than I remember. Kathy is still the pogoing up and down like a whirling dervish (whatever that is). They have a new drummer (although I didn`t know this until after the gig, having to buy a new album) but that isn`t it. What is it?

I know what it is. It`s Hutch. He isn`t smiling as much as last time. He`s being economical with language. He almost looks serious. Good. This may help the gig. Instead of a laid back, relaxed attitude we get a power drive through new tracks such as `We Were Sick` and `When We Were Alive`, as well as older tracks such as `No Culture Icons`. It`s like a Ramones gig. No slack, no bull, just one good song after another. And the crowd respond. A slight initial reticence turns into love and jumping and sing-a-longs. Now I get it. I have my fix.

I`m writing this review one week after the gig while watching Blur rock all in front of them on the Pyramid Stage at Glastonbury. The coverage looks pretty good and the bands seem great. But nothing is a good as being there. And that`s what makes The Thermals and Detroit Social Club so great. You have to be there. You have to be lost in the moment, you have to be in a state of love, where you inhibitions are lost and you want to pogo or dance and sing. It doesn`t matter what size the crowd or how much the records get played. A great band can make even the quiet moments anthemic. DSC and The Thermals can do that without even trying.

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Live - Steel Panther

Wed, 01 Jul 2009 16:42:00 GMT

About two months ago, one of my friends forwarded me a Youtube video of a song called �Fat Girl (Thar She Blows)�, by some band called Steel Panther. �How amusing!� I thought. �Some enterprising old glam enthusiasts have produced a pastiche on glam metal! Most entertaining!� But a real band? Really? You�re kidding, right?

As it turns out, no. Band members Michael Starr (frontman), Satchel (lead guitar), Lexxi Foxxx (bass), and Stix Zadinia (drums) allegedly went missing on the brink of stardom in the 1980�s following some misinterpreted instructions from their manager. Following their non-appearance at their huge press showcase, some support band called Jane�s Addiction were signed instead.

Undaunted by their near miss at super stellar godhood, Steel Panther are back with a vengeance and have hit the UK like a falling anvil on a rotten watermelon. Being privileged enough to see them at Download (where the tent was so packed that a vast number of unhappy punters were left outside), I was doubly blessed to gain entry to their sold-out London show two nights later � a show that had originally been booked for an 80 capacity venue, and hastily rescheduled to a much more accomodating 1000 following staggering interest. I could go into a long philosophical rant about the refreshing wind of unashamed metal blowing away the namby-pamby nonsense we�ve had to afflict our ears with over the last few years, but might leave that to the music historians instead.

With no support acts and a heavily spandexed and leathered up crowd, this was a night dedicated to all things glam, metal, steely and panthery. Exploding on to stage with �Eyes of a Panther�, the band were determined to revel in every moment of their triumphant UK debut. They had seemed somewhat bewildered at Download by the fact that anyone at all had heard of them; now, they seemed to anticipate the response and were graciously pleased to entertain us. It would take an essay to describe the slurry of banter, innuendo, audience participation and sheer filth that followed, so I�ll stick to the highlights.

Justin Hawkins appeared as if from nowhere to join in on �Party All Day�, before borrowing a guitar and launching in to �I Believe In A Thing Called Love� backed by the band. Satchel played a guitar solo. For about an hour. Possibly covering every glam and metal song ever written. Bloody good. Lexxi Foxxx (the amazingly beautiful but airheaded bassist) also launched into an impressive hair solo. During �Community Property�, Michael Starr went into the crowd and dragged a bunch of girls up to dance. After about 30 seconds, there was a cry of �Dude, it�s a dude!� Security were called to escort off (or should that be drag off?) the guy dressed as a girl who had snuck on, but then hovered for a considerable amount of time trying to work out which of the girls it was. I could go on for hours.

All this was along with such everyday byplay as Satchel giving (I was informed by an experienced friend) an incredibly good prison blowjob to the microphone, and suddenly somehow finding myself joining in with the audience hand gestures to �The Shocker�, something which no well brought up young lady would know anything about. Not until she encounters this band, anyway.

Steel Panther encored with a resounding cover of `Kickstart My Heart` followed by `Panama` before rolling off stage, leaving a sweaty, exhausted, but deeply satisfied audience behind them. I can only hope they�ll be back again soon � once you�ve experienced this, ordinary gigs just don�t feel the same any more.

And for those of you who don�t like the NME reviews section, here�s a special treat for you:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RBVxKn7rwpo

Steel Panther�s �Feel the Steel� is out now.

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Live - RockNess 2009

Sun, 21 Jun 2009 23:19:00 GMT

Our RockNess 2009 mini-site is now up and running.

Click here to launch....

Live - Post War Years

Wed, 10 Jun 2009 22:46:00 GMT

The Post War Years quartet may look and sound like a 1979 experiment to clone Lee Mavers and John Power and leave them growing up in an underground lair with nothing but a Lyle & Scott catalogue and the complete works of Gang of Four and Liquid Liquid, but thankfully they`re not. There`s nothing as pedestrian as `There She Goes` in their catalogue, just slick, stacatto bursts of white funk and unyielding rhythm patterns.

Opening with the bass-heavy album spazz-anthem `White Lies` (that effortlessly shows up their contemporaries of the same name) the band begin to impress the crowd, made up chiefly of tonight`s support acts plus their friends, with drummer Fred shaking his head to and fro like Ringo Starr plus 10,000 volts and Tom O`Hare aiming his bass like a Kalashnikov. When they follow this up with the secret agent jazz funk of `False Starts` moderate esteem quickly rises to high regard.

The familiar cosmic twinkle of `Whole World On Its Head` receives a whoop of recognition before album highlight `Soul Owl` brings to mind the sonic wizardry of Holy Fuck and ends with what sounds like a big beat edit of Tom Jones` perennial `It`s Not Unusual`. This is unusual, so is the huge cheer that follows from such a small crowd.

While Post War Years are often, like Holy Fuck, simply producing digital loops on analogue instruments (which they frequently swap around, ditto lead vocals), the textured sound this produces never fails to energize. `That`s All` is one such track which benefits from this `live sequencing` technique and the band`s infallible internal tempo.

Not everything sounds brilliant tonight, at least one track does not quite register and `Death March` (with a name like that it has to sound like Joy Division. It does) is enthusiastically introduced but fails. It seems a disagreement between their vocals and their backing came to a head somewhere around the mixing desk tonight, leaving a slightly clumsy version resonating. However, up against a notoriously unforgiving sound system, they barely disappoint.

The final track may sound initially like their tribute to classic piano house, but is a welcome return to these ears for debut single `Black Morning` which sounds even better than when it was released last year. It caps a formidable performance from this very talented multi-instrumentalist quartet.

With three guest lists, three bands and a meagre crowd, it`s very possible nobody actually paid to see tonight`s gig. Those who did cough up a fiver were treated to a performance they can dine out on for some time to come.

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Live - Florence and the Machine / Golden Silvers

Mon, 08 Jun 2009 16:41:00 GMT

The debut Florence and the Machine album is not out until the 6th July and when the audience don�t know all the words they really and I mean REALLY pay attention to other details that they might have missed if they were playing wild air guitar and miming along in mad aunty syndrome.

So what did the truly observant witness at the Bloomsbury Ballroom? The evoking of the Goddess? There is something undeniably pagan about Florence � not so much her Machine but definitely Florence. The black dress, the bat style sleeves, auburn hair and conjuring arm movements.

Let�s consider Florence�s incarnations as a Goddess. As Lilith, the purveyor of disease, illness and death we witness the angry Florence�s performance of `Kiss with a Fist` and `The Girl with One Eye`. As Athena, the goddess of confidence we bear witness to her crowd surfing � come on, who else is going to do that in a black mini dress?

You may think this all a little strange but as I sat on the Bloomsbury toilet post gig, Bjorks Pagan Poetry was on the PA � it�s all a sign, a sign that...

... some people may have partaken of a little too much mead that evening, perhaps? After receiving the above draft from the writers we despatched to cover Florence and the Machine at the Bloomsbury Ballroom, in all its Lilith summoning, paganistic glory, a decision was quickly made that it may be a good idea to get a slightly less spiritualistic view of a Flo performance and so we set off on a beautiful sunny day to Brighton�s beachfront and the Concord 2.

The gig, as you would expect considering the size of the venue, is sold out and by the time we reach the Concord there is already a considerable crowd watching support band Golden Silvers, who�s slightly psychedelic take on 80�s pop is enjoyable but unfortunately has a disturbing tendency to stray too close to Scouting For Girls territory for my liking. Still, the crowd seem to like them and they leave to rapturous applause.

The stage is littered with floral arrangements, rugs and odd bird cages (sans birds) and, while this tour`s �Machine� make for an interesting spectacle (emo harpist anyone?), it soon becomes clear that there is only one person that the now-capacity crowd have come to see and she doesn�t disappoint.

Wafting on stage a good minute after the band have assembled themselves and launched into new album highlight �Between Two Lungs�, dressed in long a black dress with wing type appendages it soon becomes apparent that Florence Welch is the Flo-show. Forget the lights, forget the stage trimmings, all eyes are on the tall, red haired, wiccan goddess as she loses herself in her own songs, playing out their odd, grim(m) stories in movement. It �s also obvious that Florence doesn�t care if she�s playing to a room full of people or in front of a few buttoned eyed dolls in an attic as she completely immerses herself in her performance. No part of the stage is left untouched as Florence twirls, stomps or launches herself at the crowd who are soon totally mesmerised.

Then we have the songs and that voice, which both put paid to any accusation of hyperbole. Although vocally she has been compared, unjustly, to Adele, in reality Florence has the spirit and ability of Patti Smith, Kate Bush, Siouxsie Sioux and even Bjork pushing her forward, levelling all of the current up and coming female one hit wonders in her wake, Flo-zilla style.

The set consists mostly of songs from her forthcoming debut LP �Lungs�, so we are treated to passionate renditions of �Girl With One Eye�, �My Boy Builds Coffins� and new single �Rabbit Heart� as the crowd look on adoringly but it�s with �Dog Days Are Over� and �Kiss With A Fist� where everyone on stage and off really connect - the latter managing to get a very happy young man a Florence peck on the cheek for second guessing the set list.

Like all the best gigs, it�s all over in what seems to be no time and we are soon cheering at an empty stage, longing for another appearance of our new high priestess of song. Calls of �I love you Florence� ring out and soon, without fanfare, the band are back on for the first encore of the night. �Blinding� unravels itself slowly, building up to a rapturous finale with Florence screaming her lungs (no pun intended) out and swinging a light over her head.

It is theatre at its very best and you wonder how she can possibly top it, yet she does by slipping into fun gear and belting out her version of Candi Staton`s �You�ve Got The Love�, pointing at various members of the crowd whilst singing the chorus. The crowd respond in kind and the whole evening ends with a party feel - it is the last night of the tour after all.

This was, without doubt, one of the best shows I�ve ever seen from a relatively new artist and with performances like this it won�t be long before playing venues the size of Concord 2 will be a long distant memory.

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Live - Mastodon / Valient Thorr / Winnebago Deal

Sun, 07 Jun 2009 18:01:00 GMT

Arriving slightly late in a heavy downpour means Winnebago Deal have come and gone by the time we get there, which is unfortunate as I�ve heard many good things about them.

Valient Thorr are assembling on stage as we arrive, with an eight foot LED backdrop emblazoned with the bands logo, which is the band�s name but in a spiced-up Transformers� type font, shining brightly enough to reduce the five men to silhouettes. When the lights do come up it looks like a chapter of the Hell�s Angels have taken over, but their over-friendly demeanour persuades you otherwise.

Frontman Valient Himself is a skilled raconteur. He talks about �sausaging out� of his shirt because it�s so warm inside, firing missiles of positive energy into the audience, and something about Robocop � it�s bizarre, and I suppose it�s what you come to expect from a band whose Wikipedia page details their �actual history� and their �earth history�, but the man knows how to entertain.

Their music is classic hard rock, replete with intricate solos, balls-out rhythm, and shout-along lyrics. They play with an infectious energy and before finishing Valient Himself has the crowd singing Daphne and Celeste�s `U.G.L.Y.` but with the words `P-A-R-T-Y, we don�t need no alibi. We party! What? We party!` in order to get the headliners pumped up backstage.

Mastodon are about to start an extensive European tour over the next couple of months in support of Metallica, as well as putting in several festival appearances along the way. I think scheduling four headline shows in the UK before it all kicks off allows the band to play a set which wouldn�t work on the European tour. This means playing `Crack the Skye` through its entirety with an accompanying film beaming through the LED screen behind them.

The film is loosely based on the album�s concept, which is (very briefly): a paraplegic boy�s astral projection through space which leads to an encounter with Rasputin who then tries to lead the boy home. As you can probably imagine, it looks like a Stanley Kubrick re-make of Star Wars, but it works.

The band are incredibly tight tonight, their songs� odd time signatures really emphasise how disciplined they must be when writing and practicing (at this point I have to say that Brann Dailor is probably the best drummer I�ve ever seen live, he�s more machine than man). �Divinations� is fast and furious; �The Czar�, relaxed and eerie; the title track �Crack the Skye� is slow and heavy; and �The Last Baron� is all of the above.

The sound is clear and everything you�re meant to hear, you do hear. Often at rock/metal gigs the acoustics can suffer a little. Usually, either the vocals are muddy and indiscernible, or the lead guitar parts get lost in the mix and you have to actually look at the guitarist to see that he�s playing them. Thankfully this doesn�t happen tonight and you can really appreciate the elaborate riffs.

After an hour or so the seven song set is finished and Mastodon leave the stage to a rush of cheering, shouting, whistling, and clapping � everyone is pleased but they�re still expecting the customary two or three song encore.

And so the band return to the stage playing the intro to �Bladecatcher� while bassist Troy Sanders, like a Roman emperor, holds his thumb down and slowly turns it up as the audience erupts. After a few songs it becomes clear that this isn�t really an encore as much as it is a completely new set. Going backwards through their albums this second set includes the heavy grooved �Colony of Birchmen�, the impossibly complex �Capillarian Crest�, and finally �Iron Tusk� leading into �March of the Fire Ants� for the finale.

After fifty minutes and about ten songs they leave the stage once again but the cheering, shouting, whistling, and clapping is about twice as loud. Overall the second set sounds a little dirtier than the first, but the band are much more energetic and interactive with the crowd. They really step up the intensity and crowd responds by doing the same.

Tonight�s show is not only a master-class in musicianship, but also in work ethic and dedication. You may think that this review is so cheery it will give you diabetes, but Mastodon truly earned it. They are perhaps the most important metal band of our generation.

...

Live - Maximo Park / Bombay Bicycle Club / Stricken City

Wed, 20 May 2009 13:27:00 GMT

A stage packed with dust sheet-covered equipment gave Stricken City little room to manoeuvre during the opening slot. On the plus side, they were playing to a rapidly filling room of surprisingly attentive people - attention that they held with aplomb.

The band seem to be going through their `building up stage experience` phase but they`ve got a slightly gawky charm that it`d be a shame to lose. Musically, we`re talking catchy guitar pop with enough quirk to keep things interesting. Oh, plus the obligatory extended percussion sections - 2009 is turning out to be the year mainstream indie rediscovered drum rhythms.

Bombay Bicycle Club are one of those bands that have been on the edge of my radar for a while. I`d half heard a few songs and suspected I might like them if I gave them a chance. However, last night I didn`t think they were much to get excited about. Jack, a graduate of the Thom Yorke School of Dance, mumbled words which were punctuated occasionally by tight bursts of frenetic guitar riffage.

There was never any fear that Maximo Park would get things back on track. With the release of their third album, `Quicken The Heart`, they`ve established themselves as an indie mainstay - something that didn`t look all that likely when they first appeared on Warp many moons ago.

An aesthetic band, there was none of the clutter that the other bands had to put up with. Their stage-set was all about silhouettes, strobes, spotlights and contrasting colours. It allowed Paul Smith to throw as many shapes as he liked - jousting with his mic stand, leaning back to shout through a megaphone and leaping from the front of the stage.

Although I don`t think the new album is as strong as previous ones, the more recent songs were received well enough - peppered throughout a set of established faves, of course. `My Velocity`, `The Coast is Always Changing` and `Books From Boxes` caused a fuss early on, but then Maximo Park are well-oiled party starters these days .

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Live - Saint Etienne / Go Kart Mozart

Tue, 19 May 2009 09:04:00 GMT

The Bloomsbury Ballroom is a gorgeous venue that seems perfect for tonight�s show, a palpable air of expectation emanating from the capacity audience, many of them movers and shakers from back in the heady days of the Balearic era.

Then He takes to the stage, the denim now faded, dressed now instead in a black leather tassel jacket, no longer on ice, the word �KILL� emblazoned upon his back in high definition silver stud work. His baseball cap is pulled down low, a perspex visor shading dark eyes.

He is Lawrence, super-brain and perpetual outsider responsible for records by Felt, Denim and latterly, Go Kart Mozart, the agit-pop band for the Life on Mars generation. Lawrence is a man simultaneously of, and yet out of time, lost in space like Bowie�s disaffected astronaut, he could easily be John Simm as Sam Tyler.

Tonight Lawrence is monosyllabic, nonchalant, coolly aloof and yet ready to unleash pure rock `n` roll at a second�s notice. Now ably assisted by one ex-Buzzcoc and another ex-Primal, each of them bringing an air of theatricality to the proceedings which is quite at odds with Lawrence�s on-stage sedentary stance.

And yet visually, it works to stunning effect, never more so than on songs like `Drinking Um Bongo`, `Listening To Marmalade` and the gorgeously melodic and totally uplifting, `Glorious Chorus`.

They end with an apparently ironic tribute to rock n roll�s own Jean Harlow in the shape of a blistering version of `Wendy James`. On tonight�s evidence Lawrence is back, and even though it may not be in denim, it takes a certain aesthetic indifference to wear a leather jacket like that in this day and age, a wizard performance by a true star.

And now Ladies and gentleman, this is what you�ve been waiting for�

Saint Etienne`s Pete Wiggs and Bob Stanley appear to an all too familiar fanfare, taking up their positions, stage left and right respectively. Their faces are partially illuminated by laptop screens as a montage of black and white film footage is interspersed with all your favourite kids TV Programs circa 1970, cut - up and recontextualized in an hallucinogenic display of ultra vivid colour.

Meanwhile, a white lab-coated technician makes intermittent appearances upon the stage, as if conducting a lesson in alchemical pop 101.

Tonight�s show is a celebratory affair due to the re-release of their classic, `Fox Base Alpha`, still a defining moment in Britain�s poptastic cultural heritage which sounds as fresh today as it did 18 years ago.

Part Trinians schoolgirl, part MILF, Sarah Cracknell is a modern day Jane Birkin, effortlessly eluding charisma throughout the band`s performance. Cracknell truly is the heart and soul of the band, her warm, intimate voice, projecting a pure pop thrill, as the band pump out a metronomic groove, coming over like Kraftwerk on the Croydon autobahn by way of the last night bus.

The highlights are mostly what you�d expect, a fantastic opening of `Only Love Can Break Your Heart`, a psychedelic dub version of `Carnt Sleep` and a heart-stopping rendition of the number one single that never was - `Spring`. Best of all is a totally toe-tapping performance of `Nothing Can Stop Us` - arguably still their defining pop music moment.

There were psychic emanations aplenty, whizzing backwards and forwards, all of them good vibes. Radiating positivity, this is pop music as populist entertainment and communal catharsis. We should cherish Saint Etienne now more than ever, as we may never see their like again.

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Live - The 2009 Camden Crawl

Fri, 15 May 2009 15:57:00 GMT

Well...lets do the time warp again!!

When I first moved to London (in the late eighties), Camden was the place to be for young, music-obsessed, alternative tykes. Many a weekend was spent hanging around the many pubs, our days and evenings soundtracked by 80`s electro and jangly indie bands as we loitered around, taking up most of the pavement much to the annoyance of the locals trying to get on with their daily routines.
Now fast forward twenty years to the first day of the latest Camden Crawl and lo and behold, almost nothing has changed!!

The same markets where you can get cheap jackets, jeans plus lots of other music-related tat, same boutique type shops and eateries, most of the same pubs (although some have undergone major refurbishments), the Electric Ballroom and Camden Palace Theatre (now renamed KOKO) and, of course, the same pesky kids getting in the way of Josie Public as she tries desperately to manoeuvre her double buggy around the inebriated, pavement straddling youth.

Camden is truly unique in the best sense of the word so what better place to hold a two day festival with over 150 artists spanning 40 different venues?

It`s Friday afternoon, the sun is out and so are the kids. Pubs are already doing a roaring trade, especially the ones, like The Hawley Arms that are already holding events, musical or otherwise (there are comedy, magic and theatre acts doing their routines during the day).The first real pull of the night are The Yeah Yeah Yeahs who aren`t appearing at the Roundhouse until 7.15pm, yet the queue for the gig started at around five. Alas, it was far to much of a wrench to drag the beer loving CDX team from their position at the Enterprise bar at that time of day so there were no surprises when we eventually approached the Roundhouse with half an hour to spare only to be told that it full. Hey, we didn`t particularly want to see Karen O and her overhyped monkeys anyway and after all there were still plenty of other bands to see...well, there would be if we could get into any of the pubs to see them. The thing about the Camden Crawl is that although there are over 150 artist, a lot of the venues are slightly on the small size for some of the bands playing which means that if the group has any sort of popularity then the chances of seeing them (without queuing for a few hours) are pretty remote. So our earmarked seven bands we wanted to catch tonight become reduced, thanks to queuephobia, to a paltry three.

After wondering from one overcrowed venue to another we thankfully come across one which we could just walk into. Fortunately for us Tommy Sparks hasn`t the same pulling power as Idlewild who are playing the very tiny Dublin Castle across the road and so the Earl Of Camden is only three quarters full. Their `relatively unknown` status doesn`t stop Tommy and his band from putting on a bit of a show and although they are squeezed into a small corner of the pub they still manage to, literally, illuminate the stage with their lighting props and,umm, leather stage costumes. Kicking off with new single `She`s Got Me Dancing` Tommy`s infectious take on (you guessed it) 80`s electro pop / rock (think a slightly heavier Thomas Dolby) soon has the small crowd moving and doing that `hold and push the invisible box` type of dance thing that the kids are doing these days (`I think they did it in my day too Grandad` - slightly younger Ed).

It`s a good start to our night but, unfortunately, the thought of having to queue to witness some of the other bands mean that we leave Tommy mid set and progress towards the VV Brown gig, which we don`t find and decide to head straight to KOKO instead. This turns out to be a good move as the queue for the classic, traditional theatre was minuscule and we were soon propping up the top bar. By the time we moved to the ground floor to watch The Whip the crowd had swelled immensely and the atmosphere was starting to feel electric. They sound absolutely fantastic tonight with their alternative, electro house whipping (pun intended) the crowd into a frenzy. The problem is (and I know I`m being shallow here) that although they sound like the coollest electro kids on the block, they look like Starsailer with headbands, which is quite off putting. It`s like having a band overdubbed live with a totally different sound - in this case it`s not metter to bix things up!! In fact I`d go as far as saying that The Whip should`ve have traded images with Tommy Sparks, had the three male members stand behind keyboards and do that Metronomy synchronized arm movement thing, then it would have looked, as well as sounded, ace. That said they were very energetic and really got the crowd going with live favourites like `Trash`.

Now although I`ve been a fan of Echo & The Bunnymen on record for a very long time (the first four LP`s particularly), live (seen them a fair few times, including the Royal Shakespeare gig in Stratford) I`ve always found them a bit dull and tonight, unfortunately, is no exception. Despite rolling out a greatest hit`s set spanning most of their career (`Rescue`, `Villiers Terrace` from `Crocodiles`, `Back Of Love`, `The Cutter` off `Porcupine`, `Killing Moon`, `Seven Seas` from `Ocean Rain` etc) and playing all these songs brilliantly, it`s still difficult to get excited about their performance.
Mac the Mouth does his usual Jim Morrison `hug the mic stand` impression, talking to the crowd only once to express his dislike for these types of events, whilst Will Sargent and the rest of the band know their place and keep themselves in the background. The songs sound great, even when we decide to call in a night three quarters in and head toward the exit ...it`s just that I can`t quite shake the belief that I would`ve enjoyed them more in a seated venue with possibly chicken in a basket brought to our table...hmmm.

The fact we only saw three bands tonight was more down to our bad planning and the unforgiving train times out to rural Hertfordshire but for what we experienced, although this review may not convey it, Friday at the Camden Crawl was an absolute blast.

...

Live - Johnny Foreigner

Fri, 15 May 2009 13:14:00 GMT

Johnny Foreigner belong to a network of (mainly Birmingham) bands that like to support each other, on tour on at local gigs. The current leg of their latest tour features Scottish guitar outfit Copy Haho (who toured with Brummies Sunset Cinema Club and Hot Club de Paris last year) and local three piece, Calories. For a band that seems to like supporting its local music scene so strongly, it`s rather funny that singer Alexei seems to bear such loathing for his birthplace; �Usually when we say it�s good to be back [in Birmingham] we�re lying through our teeth but tonight we really mean it� he says at the start of their set.

Old favourites such as `Salt, Pepa and Spinderella` are blasted out and angsty new songs such as `Birmingham Choose a Side or Shut Up` are thrashed out for the occupants of the packed out venue. The new material is received very well, myself particularly warming to a song called `Criminals` (apparently London is run by them).

Early on in the set, a sweaty Alexei announces that the Johnny Foreigner experience is extra special �because each drop of sweat is love.� This love, it seems, is very well received by the packed out audience, who shriek regularly with declarations of love for the band. The energy and atmosphere is electric (and very, very hot), which is just what you�d expect of a Johnny Foreigner gig.

Tour dates for the band can be found here so check them out if you still can!

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Live - Reverend Peyton's Big Damn Band / Neck / Mark Alder and the Baudelaires / Smokey Bastard

Mon, 11 May 2009 23:04:00 GMT

It�s been a long time since I enjoyed a night as much as this one. There were several points in the evening � and I know this will be difficult to believe � when some of the Water Rats crowd were even dancing. Yes, you heard me. The Water Rats. Dancing. I had previously been under the impression that, should a naked, painted madman burst into the Water Rats blasting the chandeliers with a shot gun and screaming �Armageddon!�, he would still be greeted with the same look of bored unimpressedness. That�s what you get when you routinely fill a venue full of journalists, I suppose.

Not tonight! The first act on were Smokey Bastard, a stonkingly lively seven piece Irish-folk-punk bonanza, bringing a smoking new selection to everyone�s collection of electric guitar and tin whistle tunes. Ah, it�s good to see the homeland so well represented by its up and coming youth! It brings a tear to the eye and a song to the heart to see the Irish young bloods picking up from their father�s generation, bringing the good word to all here in this smoky old city! And which part of Ireland to you come from, me lads? What do you mean, �Reading�? Oooh, there�ll be some here who won�t like that. More on that later. In the meantime, they rocked. Punked. Folked. Whatever. How they all fit on the stage still baffles me.

So the next lads up were a considerably quieter three-piece dressed like the ushers at a wedding (at the point when the speeches are over and the free bar has just opened). This would be Mark Alder and the Baudelaires. Turns out Marky is also from Reading, and doesn�t entirely manage to cover up the natural dismay one would feel at having to immediately follow a seven piece band with more instruments than the whole audience could conveniently carry between them. Nevertheless, he launches into the set with a fair amount of confidence and a certain panache. Now, I can see what these lads are trying to do. I really can. There�s an early crooner, Fred Astaire feel to what are essentially rock songs, and a stab at a vaudeville twist. Somehow, somewhere it falls slightly short. The songs only have a middle, and the guitar is bit unimaginative. For this to be carried off, you need something a little bit bonkers or something technically brilliant, and neither quite gets there. However � this guy�s obviously a talented self-promotionist, and I have (rarely) been wrong in the past. We�ll have to wait and see on this one, I think.

Neck are next. In terms of Irish folk punk, these guys have the credentials. For a start, they�re probably Irish. North London Irish, but Irish nevertheless. OK, so they only have a paltry six members, but the frontman, Leeson O�Keeffe, used to be in a band with Shane MacGowan, and lived just down the road from John Lydon. They�re not happy about the �imitation� Irish folk punk band. Oh no. With a friendly smile, O�Keeffe makes a joke about young upstarts from Reading trying to move in on the territory. It�s a universal truth that there�s no accent like the Irish for sounding sinister and genial at the same time. I didn�t see the young lads from Smokey Bastard hanging around after that - coincidence? Anyhow, since these guys don�t know where I live, I�m going to go out on a limb and say I enjoyed the Smokey Bastard set more. This may have had authenticity, as far as that goes, but I found myself more entertained by the byplay. While O�Keeffe was making a grand speech about how Irish music unites all races and colours in harmony (very true, I�m sure), he failed to notice that the banjo player was indicating to the soundman to turn up his banjo using a gesture that looked regrettably similar to one used to indicate a load of wank. Unfortunate: yes. Funny: also yes. Oh yes.

And finally: The Reverend Peyton�s Big Damn Band! How many more can you fit onto the stage than seven, you may say? Three. Drum, washboard and acoustic guitar, and enough personality to fill a dozen stages. By the sweet Lord, these guys are good! The set list doesn�t really read like a set list, more like a series of stories. There�s the song where we�re all told how to make a potato gun out of a PVC pipe and a can of hairspray (and a potato). There�s the one where the good Reverend demonstrates why he doesn�t need a bass player (he has a thumb, don�t he?), then there�s the one about when they saw Breezy Peyton�s cousin on the reality show �Cops� and wrote a song about it (obviously after calling up Breezy�s aunt to make fun of her). And there was the one that sounded like a train. After these and other delights, finally, there was the foot-stomping, audience participation encore, at the end of which the washboard got set on fire. Jimi Hendrix had nothing on this lot, I tell you. Rarely have I enjoyed a set more, but it was short, oh so short. I believe they�re leaving these sunny shores soon, I hope they liked it enough to come back. Hallelujah!

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Live - The Maccabees / Mumford & Sons / The Sharks

Mon, 11 May 2009 22:48:00 GMT

I arrive at the hideous venue that is the Birmingham Academy 2 (it�s a funny shape, awkward, dirty, bad sound�I could go on but I�ll spare you,) to catch the end of first support act The Sharks set. The lead singer, with his Esser style hair is singing an Esser style song with an Esser title - �Bones.� So far so (insert rather obvious answer here).

Next on the bill are the hotly tipped Mumford & Sons and, my goodness, are they great. Simple but effective three part harmonies, banjos, synths and intricate guitar melodies make me think of Ryan Adams with a hillbilly tinge. Throughout the set I have to resist trying to square dance with my plus one! The band can go from sensitive with heartstring tugging vocals from lead singer (and former Laura Marling band member) Marcus to full on foot stomping, in-you-ears chorus in mere moments which literally gets my pulse racing. It is, to sum it up briefly, very, very exciting to watch and hear. The last song, where Marcus takes to the drum kit, whilst staying on lead vocals provides an insight into post-folk at its provocative best. Somebody get me their EP�NOW!

The crowd get stormy as they impatiently wait for The Maccabees to appear (blame the venue, it has that effect on people) and begin to boo, however they soon change their tune to rapturous applause as Orlando and co take to the stage and launch fearsomely into `No Kind Words`, the track off new release `Wall of Arms` that has got all the reviewers talking. It�s a strong start and gets me prepared for a set filled with their darkly-themed new material�however it doesn�t come. Clearly wanting to please their fans the band probably play more old songs than new, not seeming to realise that many of their adoring fans have clearly already bought the new LP, taken it home and ingested the lyrics so thoroughly that they are able to sing along wholeheartedly, not only to `No Kind Words` but also to my personal favourites `Young Lions`, `William Powers` and the latest single and encore of `Love You Better`. Live, the band sound less vulnerable than on record, and this works particularly well with the new material. On record I feel that `Wall of Arms` is a tad �safe� with its production values, however when played onstage it�s a brilliant tour de force of guys and their guitars.

Despite having been on tour for two weeks, the band have clearly not let their energy slide, and are on top, tight form. They also know how to please their crowd with Orlando announcing �We�re on album number two now so we should be taller but we�re not so sorry to everyone at the back!� To be honest, I think the crowd love The Maccabees just the way they are!

Final credit, however, must go to a great tech team. The sound was the best I�ve ever heard it in the Birmingham Academy venue and the lighting for both Mumford & Sons and The Maccabees took their sets to another level.

So er...that Mumford & Sons EP? ...

Live - Juana Molina

Tue, 28 Apr 2009 12:52:00 GMT

Juana Molina is out there on her own. There really is no-one around doing what she is with loop machines and weird folk music, creating a sound that is influenced by the rhythmic patterns of electronic music without ever actually sounding electronically generated.

Hazy paradoxes like this seem apt when discussing the music of Juana Molina, and her performance at the ICA last night proved to be no exception to this maxim. The material Molina chose was like a career retrospective, but all the selections were re-imagined through the more psychedelic filter employed on her last album `Un Dia`.

Whether or not this was Molina�s intention is open to debate, but the tribal drones and extended freak outs of the tracks from `Un Dia` seemed to rearrange the context of everything else, turning excellent songs in their own right into precursors to sounds exploring what lies beyond their boundaries. Context is fluid at a Juana Molina show though, sounds are piled layer upon layer until, without you noticing it, the ensemble briskly steps forward as one and becomes a whole. I�m not sure how much more mileage I can drag out of this extended metaphor for uncertainty, but when I left the ICA one thing was certain: I�d had a bloody awesome time.

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