Word to the wannbe wise. Watching a film for 90 minutes while lying on your back on a cold concrete floor in a yurt in a warehouse in Digbeth is never a good idea. If you then follow this by cycling home from the MAC around midnight on what turned out to be a -8 degree night, meaning you had to scrape a substantial amount of ice, not frost, ice off your saddle you know there's going to be trouble.
Urrgh... Sunday's Flatpack Festival schedule has been a write off. Thankfully I already had tickets for Bang on a Can's performance of Brian Eno's Music For Airports at Symphony Hall so couldn't back out of that. It was very good. Much better than I was expecting.
The first half consisted of pieces that weren't by Brian Eno. Steve Reich's Electric Counterpoint consisted of a guitarist playing alongside a recording of himself and was very good. David Lang's Sunray I remember liking but don't remember much about. Don Byron's Show Him Some Lub and and Dark Room were okay but didn't quite work for me. Finally Thurston Moore's Stroking Piece was superb, sounding just enough like Sonic Youth to be interesting but not too much to be obvious.
After the break the entire Music for Airports album was recreated with predominantly classical instruments in four acts. I've somehow never heard the original electronic recording so this was fresh for me. I liked it a lot. At times it repaid rapt attention in spades, at others it allowed my fuggy brain to float away. By the end I didn't really want to go outside where everything was normal, though I couldn't really figure out why.
Bang on a Can is an American music festival where lots of interesting things related to contemporary music happen, such as 12 hour marathon concerts. This manifestation, also known as the Bang on a Can All-Stars, comprises of six members playing piano, clarinet, percussion / drums, cello, double bass and electric guitar. The guitar player has very impressive hair.
Oooh, Bang on a Can have stuff on eMusic. Not MfA unfortunately but probably worth a dig.
Also of interest are the program notes for MfA.
(Big thanks to Gareth for getting the cheap tickets. Pic nicked from the Bang on a Can site)
Kings Heath, January 13th
Saturday saw The Destroyers playing The Station in Kings Heath. I wrote a bit about them on Created in Birmingham but suffice to say they're currently one of my favourite musical acts in the city. A must see.
The Station is an interesting venue. A very traditional looking pub with wood beams all over which continues into the back room, usually a sparse affair at venues. Really nice atmosphere. Apparently they have live music there regularly on Saturday nights, usually in the folk vein.
Barfly, Birmingham, October 6th
Got a bunch of negs back from Lord Gareth of the Dev yesterday including my shots from the Psychic TV gig in October which came out fairly well. (Set, slideshow.) For some reason I didn't write about it at the time but the gig was tremendous - one of those landmark iconic occasions with the added bonus of having some really fucking great music. Excellent stuff.
[Update: Here's an excellent review of the gig. I love it that I just don't need to write gig reviews these days - others will do it so much better.]
Jug of Ale, Moseley, November 12th
Full set of 24 photos
Went to see Dufus on Sunday. They were very good indeed as were the support Mr Bones & The Dreamers who I intend to check out again on the 30th. I'd seen Dufus supporting Jeffrey Lewis last May and wrote about them here but that review can pretty much be discounted as representative of this gig as the lineup was completely different. Except the drummer. I think he was the same. Looking at their recent CD I realised that Dufus is basically lead bloke Seth with about 24 other musicians who come and go so every tour is probably different. Last time they were a bouncy bloke-heavy party rock band. This time they were more of an intense, performance art-ish folk-rock band. Maybe. Definitely on the odd side of the spectrum and in a really good way. The monstrous beard that Seth has grown in the last 18 months only added to this dissonance and it was only when they played songs I recognised from the Ball of Design CD that I was 100% they were the same band. It was a terrific set lasting for what seemed like a good hour or so and I'd highly recommend seeing them again, whatever their construction.
This was also a slightly different gig for me as I'd been asked by Mark of Iron Man Records to take some photos of the band in return for some quality schwag, the closest I've gotten to a paid shoot in this regard. I've done gig shoots on a pro-bono basis before but this felt different somehow. Kinda professional and very enjoyable. It helped that Dufus were a very photographable band but I'm really pleased with the results (slideshow). Of course I can't take all the credit. The new 50mm lens did most of the work and I took 580 shots so the chances of them all being shit was slim, but even so I think some kind of corner has been turned and it's got me pondering. This, of course, is assuming Mark is happy with them.
King Heath, November 3rd. Full set.
Friday was the much anticipated Enablers gig at the Hare and Hounds. It was terrific. They are if not one of my favourite bands then definitely one of my favourite live bands ever. Here's RussL's GDFAF report and I should also note I finally met Russ and he's a good man, if a little tired. But I understand that, having been there before. The middle of Going Deaf For A Fortnight is always the hardest. You're knackered from the first week, the second week looks horrifying daunting but you've still got sufficient mental faculties to feel the fear. I was amused to hear he's ending with a Motorhead gig. Now that's brave!
Was also good to meet Lisa who had put the gig on for no other reason that she felt it a necessary thing to do. Folk like her, operating outside the usual circles of promoters, are an inspiration, especially when it results in gigs like this. Support from Last of the Real Hardmen was great and while they only played one song it was a long one that built from simple guitars and tricksy drums into a pounding roar of feedback and loops. More from them next time please.
The Enablers were stunning. Nuff said really. I took a shitload of photos, going with the "whack open the lens, point the camera a click 300 times" technique which seemed to work fairly well with 32 making the grade. I'm still torn as to whether there's an art to gig photography or whether it's just luck, but I have to say watching Simonelli through what is essentially a telescope is quite thrilling.
Three free mp3's are for the taking here. Go get them now.
Last Saturday was The Photophonic Experiment at the MAC. At that link you can play a couple of tracks which should help put things in context, maybe. Here, also, is an article in the Guardian which gives a little more background and is where I stole the photo on the right from. I didn't take any photos because it was in a theatre with very clear signs saying "no photos", and I was sitting in a chair. But that wasn't a problem in the slightest (though I would have loved to). There's also a couple of blog posts from the Oxford performance and, last but not least, RussL's GDFAF report which pretty much does the job for me.
I was initially drawn to this due to the involvement of Pram, a somewhat legendary local band who've always been on the periphery of my experience, something I've wanted to rectify for a while now, and then fully drawn in by the promise of weirdness that couldn't quite be described in print from new-to-me outfits Project Dark and Blissbody. I'm developing a rule that if the description of an event makes absolutely no sense whatsoever then it's worth attending. There's always the risk that it'll descend into pretentious twaddle but I've learned it's a risk worth taking, especially where music is concerned.
So what was it actually like? In essence it was a bunch of folk messing about with home made electronic light-based machines which made sounds. But it was much more than that. First the theatrical aspect - very formal, no talking, meticulously staged - gave it a gravitas but on top of this was a conscious desire to make the event musical (which is presumably where Pram came in) with actual tunes bridging the look-at-this-mad-thing moments. More than that I cannot say because it's slightly beyond my capabilities but it was terrific, well worth the £14 ticket price and above all inspiring that there are people out there doing this sort of stuff and doing it well.
Unfortunately the tour finishes tomorrow in Colchester (do I have any readers in Colchester?) but here's hoping they do a reprise at some point.
Really couldn't make a decision on where to go tonight based on the bands so I went for the "who else is going" system which pointed me towards Misty's and Kate Goes at the Barfly. I'm sure Schwervon et al at the Jug were superb but one can only be in one place at one time. Anyway, met up with Matt M and posse and naturally Andy Pryke was there.
Top gig. KateGoes are really tight now, streets ahead of the last two times I saw them yet still completely out there (for want of a suitable term). Hard to believe they've only been going for less than a year.
Misty's Big Adventure, as ever, were tremendous. Every time I see them they seem to improve and they've been at the top of their game for a while now. New songs were great and some of the old ones have had a rocket shoved up their arses, especially A Dog Like You which fucking rocks now.
Photos were taken TTV style.
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One of the advantages of living in a shared house is you can announce on your blog that you're going away safe in the knowledge that you're not leaving an empty honey pot for web surfing burglars. My sister and her brood are moving to New Zealand next month (yes, my family is slowly transferring itself to the other side of the planet) so I'm going down to Banbury to help them sort shit out. Not sure if I'll have much net access or time to do anything so things might be quiet for a week. I also expect another wave of spam returns to clog up my peteashton.com email when I'm gone making webmail impossible so use the gmail.com with peteashton in front of it if you need to contact me.
Flapper and Firkin, Birmingham, October 13th
Took the TTV machine to a gig last night for the first time (as opposed to a more relaxed festival). Fairly successful, I think. I also brought along a flash gun, which made the contraption look even more absurd, but the results from that, while occasionally inspired, we're quite so hot. Long exposures and luck seem to be the way forward, especially in the terminal gloom of the Flapper. Here are the photos.
Bands seen were Untitled Musical Project who were a little shambolic thanks to two guitars breaking down and then their amp dying. It was Friday the 13th after all. Nice to see them again though. In the middle was The Gravity Crisis who were good but suffered, in my jaded mind, from sounding like a lot of other bands and didn't quite grab me. They were tight though. Headliners were The Big Bang who I'd heard good things about in the last year and they didn't disappoint. Comparisons to Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster are there with a splattering of glam and it was nice to see a rock-type band playing stuff you could really dance to.
The venue was packed - a rare sight for a £4 local band night - and again Zoot put on a solid trio of bands. Top value.
Artsfest is this weekend in Birmingham. I'd never noticed it in previous years which was, in retrospect, somewhat foolish of me. Given that the Birmingham Flickrmeets group is officially photographing the event (photos will go here) this year I've naturally been somewhat more attentive and By The Gods there's a lot on! The program, which you can pick up in town, runs to 60-odd pages and it's jammed full of events covering an absurd gamut of mediums, styles and genres. I'll be there for all of it from Bangrafest on Friday night to the post-event Flickrmeet on Sunday evening.
I can't begin to recommend most of it as there's so much to get my head around but there are a few live music events I'd like to point you towards. In Chamberlain Square (the steps outside the Library) you can catch post-rock noisesmiths MotherTrucker at 1pm on Saturday, which should be wonderfully context-warping. A little later at 4pm in the same place I can also recommend The Devil And Casey Jones who are a lot of fun in fucking mental kinda way. Actually most of the bands on that stage should be good. On Sunday in Centenary Square (outside Symphony Hall) I'd urge you to witness The Destroyers at 2.30pm who, quite frankly, kick monstrous ass with their 16-piece gypsy-folk-esque extravaganza.
On Saturday, over in the-area-now-known-as-Eastside, Capsule and 7 Inch Cinema have gotten the keys to the old Curzon Street Station.
Sorry that needs an emphasis.
They've got access to THIS BUILDING:
Which alone is fantastic but they're also putting on loads of interesting stuff inside including the aforementioned Destroyers playing along to "traveling film shows" from the 1900s and Modified Toy Orchestra member Mike In Mono doing what I believe the kids call "a set". Details of Platform 9 are here (and worth printing out as it's not in the booklet.)
Above all, all of the stuff this weekend is free. That's free as in no-strings free. God bless socialism!
Now if you'll excuse me I need to finish work on TTV Contraption 2.0 (shorter, sturdier, more productive). There's a bit of a light-leak in my top-camera slot.
Some gigs and things I'm going to in the near future.
This Thursday is Jeffrey Lewis at the Jug of Ale, Moseley. The last time I saw him his guitar was about to explode and the History Of Communism had reached the Russian Revolution. Support is from The New York Howl and Will Tattersdill, aka Faceometer, who, as it happens, was supporting Lewis when I saw him in May 05 and I'd been wanting to catch him again ever since.
Next weekend, being September 2nd / 3rd, is the Moseley Folk Festival which sounds terribly tweedy but should, I think, be rather awesome. Most of the acts I don't know (not historically being a folk fan) but those I've recently seen (The Destroyers, Circulus) have impressed no end. Tickets are pricey (£38.50 for the weekend) but what the hell.
Way in the distance on November 9th is The Flaming Lips at the NIA. Tickets are £23.00 and are available here but watch out for the 37.5% booking fee, the buggers. Still, it'll be well worth it.
It's also my intention to check out A Slice Of The Pie, an intriguing gig/club/event thing held at the Rainbow pub in Digbeth on the first Sunday of each month. Here be some photos.
In photography land the Birmingham Flickrmeets group has started stretching its wings with a couple of impromptu meets. On Saturday we're doing a night shoot with tripods around the Brindley Place canals and then next Friday afternoon we'll be shooting the Midlands leg of the Tour of Britain cycle race as it ends in Birmingham.
The big one, however, is Artsfest, a weekend of free arts events in central Birmingham on September 8th-10th where the Flickrmeet group have been invited by the organisers to documents the event with press passes and everything. Which is, of course, fucking cool. The photos will be in this group after the event.
And that's about it for now.
Brief notes on the acts I saw at Supersonic, the music festival organised by Capsule at the Custard Factory in Birmingham on Saturday 22nd July 2006.
Una Corda - Very good set from the local post-rock boys (disclaimer - I live with one of them). They're always good value but the size of the stage and the sound, not to mention their obvious pleasure at opening Supersonic, really brought out their best. Good crowd reaction too.
Hanne Hukkelburg - A complete switch of gear with this eclectic Norwegian band (instruments included saxophone, flute, accordion, violin and a bicycle. Yes, a mic-ed up bike) fronted by a diminutive singer with a beautiful voice and powerful presence. I liked a lot, especially the divine cover of the Pixies "Break My Bones". Lovely.
Circulus - "Medieval Neo Acid Psych Folk" said Capsule and that'll do as a description. I only caught the end of the set but it was hugely enjoyable with an old-worlde hippy-nerd vibe and very danceable. I need to see them again
Michael Gira - Think Johnny Cash in a really fucking bad mood. Okay, that's a superficial description. Solo acoustic from the singer of Swans, one of the more aggressively negative industrial rock bands. This set was more subdued but still relentlessly dark and quite hypnotic. I was a little scared.
Modified Toy Orchestra - Previously experienced in November this was one of the acts I was most keen to see and they didn't disappoint. On reflection the performance is as important as the music itself but it's all tremendous fun with five guys in spiv-suits making strange noises with plastic toys they've fucked about with.
Broadcast - The legendary Birmingham band who epitomize that late 90's era of retro-electronica experimental bands that Brum produced and who I'd never seen before, something I was determined to rectify. I'm a something of a loss to describe them but the sound they made was great, creating strange noises with great control, while singer Trish Keenan exuded indie-goddess power and attitude. I was rapt.
Isis were the post-rock / metal band I was keen to see on recommendation and they didn't disappoint, giving me that anger and raw energy I love live (but can't be bothered with on record - go figure). They were evil, they were loud, they were absurd, they were intelligent. For half an hour or so I was in love.
Zombi - I only caught a bit of their set but liked what I saw. Initial impressions were 70's prog keyboards with drums, but it was more than that. The music was kinda techno-ish but the live drums really brought it all out in a kinda Math-rock way, maybe.
Rother & Moebius were the sort of act Supersonic was built for - two 70s electronica musicians who are legendary to the select group who filled the Theatre space. They were on about midnight and I was feeling a little tired so I lay down at the front and let their beautiful music wash over me while heavy metal raged outside. For a moment the ICA was in Birmingham and it was a good thing.
Shy Child - Another drums and keyboard act, this time more happy dancey than Zombi, they were the last act on and I liked them a lot. They're playing the Sunflower lounge on August 24th and I think I might check them out again in a slightly less frazzled state.
As you can see I liked everything I saw and I didn't see half the acts. Supersonic was tremendous and a credit to everyone involved.
On a personal note it was good to meet up with fellow photographer Stu (aka harri b) whose Supersonic shots are here. I got to play with his Through The Viewfinder contraption and think I might be hooked. Anyone got a defunct twin lens reflex box camera they don't want?
There were, as expected, hoards of photographers at the festival, most with their fancypants DSLRs and monster lenses. (Here's the Supersonic Flickr tag in case any of them feel like sharing.) I went with a manual SLR and 3200 speed Ilford film and it was good shooting bands in a very different way as I've gotten bored with gig photos generally. It was especially nice to be able to shoot in the dark at 1/60 f8! I also got a few comments as I stood at the stage changing lenses and winding on the film - "kicking it old school" was my reply. Here's hoping the results, due in a week or so, are worth it.
I also bumped into Suzi, my old chum from Uni days who I thought was in London. Turns out she's now in Nottingham and might be moving back to Brum, which was keen news. She's the theremin player I've mentioned on this blog in the past.
So, a top day and no mistake. I'll be there again next year for sure!
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Thanks to Blippity Fling-Flang for helping put the indescribably wonderful into words. I may write a proper review once my head stops spinning but don't hold your breath. Gig of the fucking century!
Saturday's gig was at the Jug of Ale in Moseley.
Devil and Casey Jones were very enjoyable and, as tends to happen whenever someone is bouncing around the stage in a hyperactive, yelpy, nerdy kinda way, evoked Devo in my mind. There was a lot of guitar going on (three of them) but it wasn't overpowering and the band complemented singer Alex's madness very well. I was particularly taken with his use of a chair for standing on and sitting in the audience, not to mention the climbing on top of the amps. It was all very entertaining - suddenly he was up against the ceiling, then he's running into the middle of the crowd, then he's sitting on the guitarist's back - and on top of the theatrics the music was very good with much dancing potential.
Alex said at the start of their set that judging by the soundcheck this was going to be a mismatched gig but I felt they complemented KateGoes... really well. Sometimes it's enough that even if the bands sound completely different they share the same kind of spirit and while I'm not sure I can explain the connection it was certainly there. Possibly something to do with enthusiasm, I dunno.
I'd seen KateGoes... back in December at their first ever gig when they didn't have a name yet and that went so well that this second gig was going to be interesting. Was there enough there to sustain them into a "proper" band or were they just a nice idea at the time? This uncertainly (on my part, I should emphasize) wasn't helped by their somewhat fanatical fan base drawn from the local Misty's Big Adventure army. By dint of their only having been around for a very short time there isn't a whole lot of substance yet so these people are getting enthused by an idea which has great potential but has yet to be born out. This could all go horribly wrong.
Rather than worry about such things the band seem to be taking the right approach, figuring what works by trying everything, throwing ideas around with gay abandon and seeing what sticks. There were moments when I felt things might tip from inspired genius into tragic embarrassment but it never quite happened. It occurred to me that Novak, Dog Food, Misty's and other Birmingham bands of a kitchen-sink experimental bent were probably like this to begin with, ignoring the "right" way to do things and developing their own uniqueness by doing stuff no-one else dared to. It'll be very interesting to see where KateGoes... are in a couple of years because I'm sure they have no idea. And that's a good thing.
As for this whole experimental thing being a little trying I was accompanied for this gig by my chum Leon along with is dad and step-mum, none of whom knew much about the current Birmingham music scene, and they were completely won over and thought it brilliant.
So two bands to keep a close eye on there. Devil and Casey Jones are at the top of a game they know isn't over for a while yet while watching KateGoes... develop is going to be fascinating.
Coming soon: What Bearsuit were like.
Do you get that thing where your social life putters along like a crippled shrew for ages and then suddenly bursts into relative madness? Saturday there were two gigs running nearly sequentially in different parts of the city and a pub containing friends. It was originally my intention to do all of them. Then, realising I'd perhaps bitten off a bit too much, it became my intention to do a couple of them. In the end, however, I did them all.
First up was that Gigbeth thing, a series of free entry gigs in the Digbeth district of Birmingham spread over three days. Like a lot of these things it just seemed to spring up from nowhere but it was certainly well organised with a lot of the better local bands from most of the main promoters. As such it's a good focal point for the local scene, tying everything together and, of course, giving those not involved something hefty to kick against, so here's hoping it's repeated next year. I might even make a more concerted effort to attend.
As it was I bumbled along to the Sanctuary club at a little after 5pm (the event started at two) to see what was what. The Sanctuary is one of those old theatre / music hall type venues spread over three floors that's been converted into a nightclub (along with the Barfly gig venue behind it) and even in the afternoon with the daylight creeping through the dirty windows it had that 2am feel about it. Nightclubs are best experienced late at night when pissed and so it all felt a teeny bit wrong to be there in a daytime sober state, especially as many of the punters were acting like it was a club. Or maybe I'm just getting old, I dunno.
I wandered into one of the smaller rooms where a trio were playing some very competent rock-blues but something wasn't working for me. I was on my own, for a start, which is always odd at gigs and this club vibe kinda amplified that but, to be honest, the music wasn't really doing much for me. Competent is a fair stretch away from interesting. I checked the listings and the bands I really wanted to see were on at 7pm so I did what any self respecting person would do. I went to the pub where my mates were.
Suitably refreshed I returned as Distophia were starting their set. I'd seen them as part of the Going Deaf For A Fortnight Project and had rated them highly so it was good to see them again. Unfortunately there was something about the main stage at the Sanctuary that wasn't working for me. It could have been the way the lights, not really set up for a gig, were shining not on the band but in the faces of the audience, it could have been the cavernous size of the room, it could just have been my state of mind but while everything about the band was spot on and perfect I couldn't quite get into it. Need a smaller, more intimate venue methinks. At least I do.
Next were the headliners (or at least the last band on) Misty's Big Adventure who, as you'll know, I've seen numerous times before but never outside of the Jug of Ale in Moseley. The last time I saw them at the Jug in December it was utterly rammed leading me to suspect they wouldn't be able to play there again lest all their fans die of heat exhaustion. They did play there again (I was away...) but this was the first time I'd seen them elsewhere. It was, as you'd expect, somewhat odd.
On the plus side there was a lot more room to dance and there was plenty of dancing. And there was more room on stage for the band which has got to help. On the downside, well, that venue again. There's ostensibly nothing wrong with the Sanctuary. It just has a weird kind of vibe, like the gods of clubbing are looking down and shaking their heads at this invasion. Still, Misty's are nothing if not accomplished at the moment and any doubts about where I was were quickly pushed aside. (At least until Gareth introduced The Wising Up Song as about every bad clubbing experience he's ever had.)
A new song was premiered, Lots Of Money, a humorous story of a band who buy a bunch of records in a charity shop, copy them, get signed, make lots of money, get copied by 50 other bands, lose their popularity and get ripped off their manager. I don't think subtext is the right word. In fact it brought home how hard it is to describe Misty's to someone who's never heard them. (I went for "Leonard Cohen / Ska Punk / Jazz" in the pub before the gig and Metcalf justifiably declined to join me.) But the fact that they can only be described in terms of other bands who are impossible to describe is a good thing, and this was a good gig leaving me in that usual sweaty positive state. I was thinking I hadn't seen them for ages yet it had only been three months. That says it all.
(One advantage of the Sanctuary was I did manage at last to get some nice photos of them.)
The day before Jez had emailed saying he was wanting to go to my other planned gig in Kings Heath but due to work-related fragility didn't want to go alone. Having already bailed out of a gig on Friday I was lowering my expectations so told him it probably wasn't going to happen, so he went to the aforementioned pub. Misty's had finished a little earlier than I was expecting so rather than hang about I dashed back to the pub. If we left now we could get there in time for it to be worthwhile, but we had to leave now. Jez thought about it for a minute and suddenly we were in a taxi heading for the Hare and Hounds.
Sequential gigging in the same evening is strange. The ritual of arriving at the venue, getting a drink and going upstairs (it's usually upstairs) isn't supposed to be done with a sweaty t-shirt and ringing ears. That's supposed to happen at the end. "I though you were at another gig tonight" said Andy. Been there, it was great, when are you on? "Five minutes or so."
We'd missed the first support but, as said, were in time for Una Corda who I've now seen an embarrassing number of times. As always they were very good indeed and appear, to my ears, to be pushing their music in new directions. What those directions are I wouldn't like to say, but this lack of complacency is a good thing. Jez liked them too, which was nice as I'd hoped he would.
Kings Heath is a fairly nondescript area of Birmingham and the upstairs room of the Hare and Hounds is a pretty average sort of place, something between a community centre and school hall, only smaller and darker. It has a glitter ball. It's not the sort of place you'd expect to see a San Franciscan poet of the Beat variety accompanied by a power-trio of soaring post-rock. Unless, of course, you've been to the Hare and Hounds a few times in which case you won't be surprised at all.
Enablers consist of Pete Simonelli speaking his words accompanied by guitar, bass and drums. The music veered from fiddly syncopated jazzy stuff to full-on hefty rock while Simonelli evoked a cross between William Burroughs and Captain Beefheart in my mind, yet with the craggy intensity of Tom Waites, maybe, and told his stories of, well, I'm not sure exactly as it was all a bit loud, but it was certainly something dirty, decayed and romantic. As the music rose Simonelli transformed into a psychotic preacher and we were no longer in the upstairs of a Midlands pub. We were transported elsewhere to a place of myth, an environment that is universal yet utterly connected that seam of Americana.
In many ways what they were doing was nothing new, but "new" only has so much value. The tools for this sort of thing may be well established but it's what you do with them that counts. Enablers took the usually disparate mediums of spoken word and post-rock and combined them in a way that made perfect sense, the music giving an intensity to the words which in turn drove the music to new heights. It was, in a word, stunning and I'm surprised more bands don't do this sort of thing. But then in order to pull it off you'd need someone like Pete Simonelli, the likes of who are few and far between.
There are three mp3s on this page and I highly recommend you listen to this half hour session on WFMU (RealAudio).
And so it was off to the Custard Factory arts complex in Digbeth, Birmingham, for a Capsule gig. And a very good gig it was too.
First up were local boys Una Corda who I've seen a couple of time already. They appear to be on something of a step-up in the wacky world of post-rock, doing a fair number of support slots for Capsule and with their first London gig on Friday / tonight (at the Camden Underworld with the same lineup as here should you be in the area and fancy it) which is good and in many ways deserved as they've got a good thing going on.
The set was a little scrappy but not in a bad way and the band seemed to be enjoying themselves a lot. Bassist Paul (in green) was bouncing around with glee towards the end and this is one of the things that marks them apart from the usual crop of intelli-metal instrumental bands who just stand there all dull-like - Una Corda actually have a personality, both in their music and their stage presence. Musically they were very enjoyable with some new pieces and I suspect that, while this genre is not a massive one, they're on the cusp of going somewhere within it. But of course I'm biassed. I live with one of them.
In the middle were Made out of Babies who I'd describe as a bit like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs but more metal, less art-rock. Standard four-piece with guitar and bass on the sides and a diminutive female singer pacing around the middle. Which made a change, having someone interesting looking to photograph at a rock gig, so I did.
It was very refreshing to see a band who, while their music was of-a-type, actually had some kind of "act". And even though the whole neurotic girl thing wasn't 100% convincing there was enough conviction and passion behind it from the whole band to draw me right in. Very good stuff and a keen example for other four-piece bands of how to do the stage thing. Me liked a lot.
And then the headliners, Red Sparowes who, as I said before, I wasn't expecting a lot from. I'm a stranger in this scene, to be sure, but I'd got the impression that in the world of soaring post-rock the Brits don't take it too seriously while the Yanks take it very seriously indeed. Pelican, another American post-rock band seen last December were technically brilliant but didn't do anything for me really. Red Sparrows, on the other hand, were somewhat fantastic.
After I took the photo shown here I was tapped on the should and told the band didn't want any flash photography, which was fair enough (and I only tend to use it when I see others doing so) but they were playing with the lights completely off and just a film projection above their heads. So that's knocked the photos on the head then, I figured, and went to the back to take in the show. Initially I wasn't overly impressed as the music did the complicated quiet-loud thing but then something clicked and I found myself getting into it. And then I found myself getting tired as my legs gave way and I needed to lean against the wall. Eventually I was sitting on the floor nodding my head to the music, and it's not like I'd had a busy day - got up at noon, went shopping, made a curry, went to gig - but I was really knackered. I've got no idea what it was that did this. Yes, they were loud, but it wasn't like I was being beaten by the sonics in an aggressive way - more that it was punching me subtly from the inside. Or something. By the end I was utterly drained though I had no sense of what it was that had drained me. I was, in effect, a boiled frog, albeit a happy one.
The playing in the dark with projection thing was an interesting move, acknowledging, perhaps, that the band on stage were utterly uninteresting to look at. For the last couple of tracks I moved to the front with a good view of the stage from the side and the guys were just milling around, swapping instruments and twiddling with effects peddles (and something that looked like a high-tech zither). They were more like lab technicians than rock musicians and while the live performance was utterly necessary it wasn't necessary to see them do it. That said, I'm getting more and more jaded with the projections you tend to get at gigs. The general theme here was decay with old newsreels of buildings being demolished, post-war cities in ruins and curious medical experiments. If the Belsen photos had cropped up I wouldn't have been surprised and thankfully they didn't but it was all kinda uninspired and I preferred to shut my eyes and really experience them in the dark than be distracted by the magic lantern show. It's a very tricky line to tread between doing something meaningful but chilched and plunging into tedious irony and very few people manage it, possibly because while the music has been refined over many years the film show is often done as a extra, often by someone not intrinsically connected with the band so it doesn't quite mesh. However, like I say, I'm naturally cynical about these things - maybe most people appreciate them, who knows.
So all in all an excellent gig that left me happy, tired and not that bothered that I'd only got a few photos.
Capsule have a shedload of gigs scheduled for April and in theory I'd like to go to them all. Maybe I will. April shall be Capsule month. At the very least I'll be looking to see KK.Null on April 8th cos I'm a sucker for Japanese experimental noise and Noise Noise Allore! (previous gig review) supporting some foreigners on April 16th.
I started writing a post about my adventures in music in 2005 and while it didn't really go anywhere (thanks to my not really keeping track of the absurd amount of tunes that came my way) it was clear that Misty's Big Adventure were my band-of-the-year. For a local I was something of a late-comer, only hearing about them in 2004 and not actually seeing them perform until April, but after that I was 100% sold and saw them another three times, confirming myself as A Big Fan. I've evangelised them like crazy and even wrote the bulk of their Wikipedia entry so it was kinda fitting that on December 23rd my final gig of the year, the last two months of which have been somewhat gig-crazy, should be seeing Misty's play at the Jug for the fifth time.
It's been quite a mad year for them too, pushing the tricky transformation from quirky local act to national phenomena and thanks to a punishing touring schedule (at least 100 gigs) along with an excellent new album they look like they might just achieve this because anyone with a soul can't help but be converted to the cause once they've seen them perform. It's rare that the modern world allows such a thing to happen but it appears to be happening for them, and that is a good thing.
Of course this success does have one downside and that is, after years of playing at the Jug of Ale in Moseley, their "spiritual home" really can't contain them anymore, which is a big shame as seeing them play in any of the larger venues in Birmingham would just be wrong, so unless they have a massive popularity drop in the new year (along with hell freezing over) this could well have been the last time they play there, not just because they sold out to capacity but because everyone, and I mean absolutely everyone all the way to the back, was dancing like a monkey and it was hotter than hell.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. The support tonight was interesting. Misty's always seem to pick their support acts but the two bands playing tonight really seemed to be part of the Misty's extended family and it felt a little like the audience was getting on stage. The first band were a five-piece doing their first ever gig and didn't even have a name so I'll call them The Kate Thompson Experience, since, as I found out later, that was the name of the lead singer. They set up looking kinda nervous, giving he impression of a baby band taking their first faltering steps, but what they produced was quite astounding. Given that they were part of the Misty's posse they had many friends in the audience who whooped their support but as the set progressed this applause increased as everyone was completely sold on them. The songs ranged from sweet little ditties about love and fluffy things to pieces that brought to mind The Dresden Dolls, mainly for Kate's astonishing voice, and the band were incredibly tight for a first gig, bringing in clarinets (two of them) and toys to the mix with aplomb. But what really made the set for me was Kate's reaction to the audience's reaction - with a massive grin she was completely taken aback. I really hope Kate and her band do many more gigs in 2006 as I think they're really onto something here.
Next up were Dog Food who I'd heard of before but never seen. I could be wrong but I'm pretty sure they've been around about as long as Misty's and certainly share a bouncy ska-esque vibe along with being a little silly with hats and wigs and, yes, toys that make sounds. But on the whole they were musically accomplished and very danceable. As they came on I was sure I knew the singer from somewhere and put it down to a similarity to someone I know from the small press comics scene but it still bugged me. A couple of days later I realised I'd seen him at the front during other Misty's gigs and even have a photo of the back of his head from September.
The biggest problem with seeing these two bands was that, good as they were, and they were stunningly good, really setting up the evening perfectly, any memory of what they sounded like was smurshed from my memory by what followed. After so much touring Misty's have perfected their performance to an incredible degree and while this is a wonderful thing it does somewhat negate the idea of introducing other similar acts to their fans. It does mean I have an extra motive to see them again but it occurred to me that when lead singer Gareth's new album is out (The Party Sounds of Grandmaster Gareth - see his MySpace page for samples) a neat idea would be for him to host an evening, playing his Minute Melodies between the acts and introducing them, so I throw that out there... Wadayathink Gareth?
So there's not much I can really say about the Misty's Big Adventure that hasn't been said before. They are at the height of their powers and while seeing them playing to a home crowd is apparently very different to when they're supporting other bands around the country, it's hard to imagine where they can go next. In the meanwhile, though, you really need to see the live, preferably at a sell out gig in the Jug of Ale, Moseley. Can't be beat!
Thanks to the packed and pulsating audience photos were somewhat hard to come by but the best of the bunch can be found here, mainly taken perched on a rickety chair which I then couldn't get down from so proceeded to dance upon. Thankfully it didn't break...
No more gigs until late January, thank fuck!
And so it was off to the Custard Factory in Digbeth for the Capsule Xmas Party gig for a wodge of rock with two locals and a US import.
Una Corda were the first support and it was interesting to see them so soon after Moff Fest. They were still superb and rattled through the set to a room that rapidly filled with new converts and by the end got a rapturous reception. I think they've become my favourite band at the moment, surprisingly beautiful music for such a heavy band, and they have that rare stage presence you often don't get with guitar-based instrumental outfits. Lovely stuff.
During their set I spotted a lot of people with chunky cameras - at least four, maybe five - doing the rounds. I'd noticed this at the last Capsule event I went to as well. Most of the gigs I go to have one or two "professional" camera people (I use quotes because having an expensive camera doesn't make you a pro by any means) but these Medicine Bar events seem to attract them like flies. It's a kinda weird experience, checking out other people's kit with, well, let's be honest, envy really. Don't get me wrong, I love my camera, but standing next to some guy wielding a DSLR with a fancy lens and flash does lead to penis analogies. Speaking of flash, they were all using it so, since I wasn't getting the results I wanted I abandoned my no-flash rule and joined in, with quite spectacular results. I think I might be sold on this now, though it will have to be tempered. Despite Andy (who, being the most active guy on stage, was beaming like a strobe light) saying he didn't notice the cameras I'd imagine it can be fucking annoying having all this going off a couple of feet from your face. But I found my hit ratio increased dramatically so a balance shouldn't be too hard to find. I'd also be curious to see the photos these "pros" are getting, if only so I can learn from them. If any stumble this way, might I point them towards the Birmingham Live Music pool on Flickr, which could do with some more members. Or of course I could just say hello.
Anyway, back to the gig. Next up were Mistress, a local band of the hardcore thrash metal variety. I moved forward but the room was getting rammed so couldn't get to the front, finding myself pretty much in the middle. Suddenly, as the second song kicked off, there was an explosion as the chap right in front of me instigated a mosh pit, joined in a split second by about 10 others who had been waiting, coiled up, for this moment. As they moshed and moshed hard I quickly buried my camera away in its case and took a few steps back. But these few had created quite a space and I noticed a slot right at the front under the singer, so after waiting for a rare quiet moment I marched through (receiving a mere elbow to the mouth) and took my position. I was later informed that being at the front for a Mistress gig is considered somewhat hardcore and while this was probably a mild one for them, what with most of the crowd being here for the less raucous Pelican, it certainly had that war-zone vibe.
Now I'm not a huge thrash metal fan and to be honest wouldn't listen to this kind of thing at home for fun but I fucking loved watching Mistress live, especially at close quarters (there ain't no zoom on those photos). The power and fury they generated was utterly intense and they seem to understand that what they do is vitally important yet has to be fun. And did I detect some tunes in-amongst all the roaring? I think I did, and a thick grin was plastered over my face when it was all over. Magic stuff.
And then to the headliners, Pelican from Chicago, USA. I again found myself right at the front, though this time slightly to the side, right by the speakers that look like fighter jet exhausts, so having been warned that Pelican were loud I put in my ear plugs for the first time at a gig. It was a very strange experience, like being there but not being there, swimming through the physical shock-waves of the dull audio. Not ideal for the listening so I got my photos and moved back to appreciate them properly. Pelican were good, but something wasn't really working for me. There was plenty of power and musicianship going on but it didn't really go anywhere and after about 20 minutes I was starting to think I'd maybe had enough. Maybe I was missing something, I dunno. I was standing next to Doug from Una Corda who reacted to something with a "C'mon!" and raised fist and for the life of me I couldn't figure out what had prompted this.
Fortunately the catching of the last train home saved me from an hour of this stuff, though I did feel a slight pang of regret in not seeing what the guitarist would do with the violin bow I'd seen him wax up. So, a mildly disappointing headliner more than made up for by some stellar support. More Capsule events will be attended next year for sure.
Decided against seeing Drongos tonight but they're playing at Edwards on Jan 19th so all is not lost. Friday is Misty's at the Jug where I imagine a fair number of my readers will be in attendance, along with podcasters Shaun and Kats who are traveling up specially. Now that's dedication!
Saturday and I'm back at the Hare and Hounds for more post-rock frivolities at Moff Fest.
Five bands playing instrumental guitar/drums-based music after a long day at work and I think I'll be forgiven for saying it all kinda merged into one after a while, but then I'm not a hardcore intelli-rock aficionado and this evening was for those who most certainly are. It was also a full on DIY event, the first gig organised by this chap Phil and done purely because he wanted to do it, which always makes for the niceness. You could tell it was his first gig because he'd booked five bands and organised a laptop-powered projection show for each one but the gods were smiling as it all ran smoothly with no over-runs or technical mishaps - no mean feat when you're dealing with bands with a lot of kit and the desire to sound just right.
Of the bands, Burnst and The Hubble Constant didn't make a huge impact on me, which is not to say they were sub-standard in any way - they just weren't my cup of noodle-rock. I really liked Cornish Tin Miners, the opening act, who, if memory serves (such is the curse of the opening act) were a drums/bass/guitar three piece who did a delicate, complicated almost jazzy set that made me think "ah, so that's math-rock!" Unfortunately their set was very short but I'd like to see them again. Kinda in the style of Tortoise and that's a good thing. If they have a website or some music online I'd like to know about it.
Mothertrucker were a lot of fun, though they were the closest to trad-rock of the bunch so I was probably able to connect with them easier. You can't go wrong with a good solid thumping riff and they had plenty of these. On a more superficial level their background projection was quite inspired. While the other bands had random clips and images accompanying Mothertrucker simply had a DVD of Duel, a movie I've inexplicably not seen before. It started with a giant truck pummeling down the road, which was kinda obvious, but halfway through moved to a tense and paranoid scene in a diner. The projection stopped being a distraction (sorry, but I'm not a fan of this sort of thing on the whole) and suddenly merged with the music creating something quite large despite the band being unaware that they'd be playing against it. A lovely piece of serendipity, but even without this Mothertrucker were very good and I'd recommend seeing them if you like rock of the stoner variety.
And then to the headliners, Una Corda, who I hadn't seen before despite one of my flatmates being in the band and the drummer having been a friend for a year or so. I've alluded to it before, but Una Corda are mountain men, giant slabs of hair and bloke who you can imagine driving 18 wheelers or wrestling cows for the fun of it. When I opened my front door to the other three for the first time I felt strangely intimidated, as if the psychic power of their manliness threatened to bring my inner mouse to the fore. And hey, I used to hang with hairy bikers in my youth, not to mention some of the characters I've worked with via the temp agency, so this is saying something. Of course they turned out to be lovely people but their collective size, especially when compared to the predominance of somewhat nerdy glasses wearing skinny chaps on this scene (which, I have to say, I like), bears mentioning.
As for their music, I was somewhat blown away. I'd heard their EP, Proper Position for Floating (review), and what with living with one of them knew they'd be pretty good, but I had no idea they'd be this good. Comprising of two bass guitars, two lead guitars and drums you'd expect them to make a lot of noise, and they do, but it's incredibly controlled and subtle, taking the established norms of repeated layers of riffs and quiet-loud build as the base from which to develop some complex ideas and emotions. The lack of a vocalist is more than made up for by having each player lead at different times, but not in a cheesy solo way, more that they actually lead the others into one direction as part of a coherent whole. No disrespect to the other bands but Una Corda really felt professional - they had a control over their songs (and they were really songs, not tunes) that was precise yet not clinical, complicated but accessible, and they put a big grin on my face.
And then that was it. I think Moff Fest was a success - at least everyone seemed to enjoy themselves a lot and it all went very smoothly. Even though this isn't a genre I'm heavily into I had a good time and it was good to see this sort of DIY event taking place fueled by a real passion. I was going to put post-rock to one side for a bit but by golly there's another one on Wednesday (tomorrow!) - the Capsule Xmas Party with Pelican, Mistress and, oh, Una Corda. See you there?
A combination of poor light and blokes playing guitars not being that visually exciting means my photos from the night aren't that stunning but I'm dead pleased with this one, taken during a burst of strobe light:
Other pre-Xmas gigs include seeing my old mate Dek Baker in his classic punk band Drongos for Europe support GBH at the Academy on Thursday and then Misty's Big Adventure at the Jug on Friday. Three gigs in a row! How will I cope? Oh yeah, this is me...
Saturday night was at the Hare and Hounds in Kings Heath for my first proper gig since the GDFAF fortnight featuring a roster of bands of the Gringo Records stable from around the country plus one from Birmingham. Our genre for this evening was uncertain but veered towards the intelligent loud rock end of the spectrum. In fact I learned a new genre this evening: math-rock, being music that consists of rapidly changing time signatures and patterns yet remains heavy, the meeting point between jazz and guitar-based rawk, if you like. This wasn't an exclusively math-rock event but there were plenty of blokes in glasses in the audience, and I was one of them.
Actual music and performances aside, this gig exemplified the music scene's utter inability to deal with the concept of time. The flyer said 7.30, the poster on the door said 8.00 and the doors actually opened at 8.30 with the first band starting nearer to nine. We had four bands to get through before closing time (no late licenses here) so this was going to be tight...
First up were Soeza from Bristol who immediately intrigued by having two drum kits along with french horn and euphonium (yes, I had to look that up...). Their music was a smooth flowing thing with a complicated undercurrent bringing to mind Broadcast a little bit, though somewhat heavier. And with two drummers. I wasn't entirely sold on them but this was probably because they were a little ramshackle performance-wise with a couple of false starts and technical issues (due to the late running sound check perhaps?), but others in my posse were highly impressed, and I have to admit that quibbles aside they were doing interesting things. Having the brass player sing into the bell of his euphonium with a mic dangling inside was utterly inspired for example and I'd certainly see them again.
Next were Lords, a three-piece from Nottingham/Leeds/Derby who impressed no end by having the drummer at the front of the stage with the singer/guitarists on either side. This turned out not to be some novelty thing but utterly essential as this guy really was the leader of the band, playing the most skillful and complicated drumming I've seen (with the possible exception of Acoustic Ladyland), managing to maintain the role of rhythm section but with the personality and uniqueness you'd normally expect of a singer or guitarist. He also had the cheekiest monkey-grin face, possibly an inconsequential feature but it added a lot to my appreciation of them. Meanwhile their music was incredibly loud. It started loud and got louder and eventually the whole room was filled with sound of such volume that it became a physical force. At one stage it seemed to overwhelm my senses and break though some kind of barrier, like the roar of a jet engine that suddenly goes quiet before it booms. But this wasn't an uncontrolled noise - there was a delicate beauty to it which exemplified what this whole math/post/intelligent/whatever-rock is all about. If "normal" rock is a scud missile and orchestral music is a majestic ocean liner, this is the space shuttle.
Our third act were Bilge Pump from Leeds and with a name like that they had a lot to live up to because it is unquestionably a very nice name. And yes, they were good, but something didn't quite click for me. Unfortunately I wasn't taking notes and can't quite remember what it was, but suffice to say they didn't blow me away. Which isn't really a criticism and they did put on a good solid set. On the superficial side the bass player had a very nice red shirt and the drummer a most impressive Ramones-style haircut - these things matter to me in the world of gig going for some reason. Overall I'd see them again I reckon and I wonder, if they'd had a less interesting name, would I have been so hard on them?
And then to our Birmingham based headliners, Noise Noise Allore!, previously seen at the Melt Banana gig a month ago. This was the band I'd really come to see and at twenty to eleven it was touch and go as to how much we were going to experience. But to be honest, while more would have been great, less was more than sufficient. This is the sort of band that so easily could be terrible, but thanks to a combination of musicianship and audacity they pull it off with aplomb. Lead singer Biff set up his little Moog and promptly vanished as the rest of the band got ready, returning at the start of the set dressed in pale-blue tight shorts and a figure hugging white cotton shirt with tie. Combined with the pencil mustache he looked like a seedy games teacher or parody of a 1940s army fitness instructor. In the context of a generally blokey rock environment seeing this character on stage is very odd indeed. It fits, but it's coming at such a strange angle that you can quite place why it fits.
And then they start playing, and it's all quite wonderful. Mainly this is due to the other three members of the band being very accomplished musicians who appear to be using the oddness of Biff to really push the boundaries of their skills, bouncing around a staccato rock that threatens to fall into freeform jazz but never does. Meanwhile, at the front, Biff is stealing the show so all credit to the others for letting him do this. His vocal style is high-pitched yelping like a demented castrato (though thanks to the shorts we knew this wasn't the cause) or a speed-fueled tellytubby punctuated by what can only be described as spastic dancing as he throws his body around the stage and moments of jogging on the spot. Contrasted with his normal banter between songs this is all quite shocking stuff, and when you think about it, quite close to the bone. We knew it was all an act but parallels to the mentally handicapped were certainly there. I don't think this is a problem but it illustrates the power of making your audience feel ever so slightly uncomfortable about enjoying themselves so much.
And enjoy it I did. I found myself at the side of the stage torn between needing to take as many photos of this spectacle as possible (196 as it happens - the pick of them are here) and to just stare, mouth agape, at the glory of it all. At the Melt Banana gig I'd been at the back of the room, here I was a few feet away. It was astonishing. What's odd is that, despite being in existence for about a year, they don't have anything recorded and no internet presence. Apparently (and this is just word of mouth) they all have commitments to other bands and this is just an experimental side project that isn't really supposed to go anywhere, but I think it could go far. Musically and theatrically the whole package is there and it'll be something of a crying shame if more people don't get to experience it.
And then, the final song having been played with the house lights up, we dashed off with our ears ringing to catch the last bus home. Sure, I was tired after a day at the car park with three hours sleep the night before, but I was having trouble processing exactly what I'd seen. As my flatmates enthusiastically discussed the evening, bringing in references and pinpointing key moments, I realised I was a mere dilettante in this world. I can enjoy it and appreciate the glorious complication of the musicianship but I can't open the case and understand the inner workings. All I know is that it is excellent stuff, and at £4.00 in, incredibly good value.
The next gig along these lines is also at the Hare and Hounds. Moff Fest, on Saturday December 17th, allegedly starts at 7.00pm which it better do as there are five bands on the line-up - Una Corda, Burnst, Mothertrucker, The Hubble Constant and Cornish Tin Miners. Four of them are local and the second and fifth are described on the flyer as "math-rock", more info is here and the whole thing costs £3.00, which is slightly absurd really.
GDFAF #14, the last in this series of sequential gig going, was at the Actress and Bishop in Birmingham's Jewelry Quarter. This was my first visit and it's quite a nice little venue. Above what appears to be a standard biggish city centre pub (I didn't dawdle) is a small (but not too small) room with a stage slapped in the middle. To the right of the stage is a cluster of sofas with a row of high tables and stools in front of the performers meaning you don't get that awkward chasm of floor when people don't want to move forwards. It's very cosy with a somewhat random assortment of occasional lamps, if a little disorienting when you first come in from the cold and are thrust into the throng, but I liked it a lot. It's probably the closest I've come to going to a gig in someone's living room.
This was another Unsigned Band Night but it felt different to those held at the Jug, Flapper and Bar Academy because this venue could really only put on unsigned bands. Given the space and the amount of furniture the capacity was probably no more than 100 if that and even though it wasn't packed tonight it still felt busy and alive. Transplant this gig to Bar Academy and it would have felt empty and dead. That's not to say this is a lesser venue - the sound was good and the atmosphere no less professional - but the "club house" feel of the place made it perfect for this type of event. As for the crowd, and bearing in mind how woefully inaccurate these assumptions are, it seems a little more hipster-ish than at the other venues. Maybe the cosy nature (and low lights) of the place was bringing out the best in them but people of both genders seemed prettier, and not in an "oh look it's the fucking beautiful people" way either. Of course I'm feeling somewhat stale after 13 gigs so maybe it was relative, who knows. Anyway, on to the bands.
First up were Strange Time who are what is known in the trade as a "baby band" - relatively freshly formed and finding their feet. They were also the first local band I'd seen all fortnight with women taking the fore (they had a male drummer) which was notable. The Birmingham scene does tend to be very bloke dominated and while I'm sure most other cities are the same this does strike me as a shame. But back to StrangeTime and I immediately found myself thinking of PJ Harvey and Elastica, followed by my thinking how fucking predictable of me that was, but then most new bands are aping someone as they find their own voice so it's probably fair. The vocals did have that angry PJ feel to them without slipping into moaning for the sake of it and there was a real strength to the whole band with a steady beat rumbling under the slowing songs. My only criticisms would be a lack of movement on stage and that the set, while very competent, didn't build and seemed to me to keep the same level throughout. But otherwise very promising.
I got over comparing StrangeTime to PJ Harvey as soon as the next band, The International Karate Plus kicked off as they sounded exactly like Dinosaur Jr. And that, in my book, is no bad thing. They produced a controlled cacophony of noise but held it together very tightly with some interesting flourishes along the way. I was particularly taken by how all three of them sung including the drummer who made a valiant attempt to play with his sunglasses on. Apparently they're from Cardiff and a flyer shoved at me showed a pretty extensive national tour had occurred over the summer which would explain the good stage presence they've honed, though it did make me wonder about the economics of traveling to a gig like this. Maybe they were already in the area, who knows. Overall they were good, very competent and enjoyable to watch, and I liked the sounds they made.
Our third, and for me very final, act were I Am Zeitgeist who I suspect were a little drunk. Not that it affected their playing at all but they seemed to be having a little bit too much fun up there. I was most taken when the non-singing guitarist played a series of high pitched notes at the beginning of the first song that sounded like a Nintendo game and there were a few interesting moments like this scattered around the set. Even though there was a distinct touch of the Oasis about the vocals (often a kiss of death for me) I won't hold it against them too much. They brought it a whole gamut of influences to a pretty funky beat and some nice melodies and at the end trashed their equipment in the most delicate manner I've seen, except for the drummer who went for the big kick and scatter.
And it was all over. Fourteen gigs in fourteen fifteen days. Blimey.
Permalink | Posted in GDFAF, Gigs, Music on Saturday, November 19 2005 | Comments (12) ?subject=[Weblog] 191105: GDFAF14: I Am Zeitgeist, The International Karate Plus, StrangeTime" title="email me about this specific post">Email
GDFAF #13 was at the Flapper and Firkin for the same new local bands evening as last Thursday. There are at least three tiers of bands on the small gigs circuit. First are the bands on national tours who probably have an album or two out or at least a good following. Next are the local bands who have proven themselves over the years as able to hold their own either headlining or as a solid support for the tourers. And then a the bottom are the "baby bands", recently formed (frequently from the ashes of other bands) with a set's worth of songs and a desire to get up there and see if it works. Nights like this at the Flapper (as well as the Jug and Bar Academy) are where they do it, playing for at best a share of the door if they're lucky. The venues and promotors know that they'll bring their friends who will pay to get in and buy beer which makes it cost effective, the bands get to hone their live performance and network with other bands (thus sustaining the scene) and occasionally, just occasionally, genius will be revealed.
I was running a bit late tonight having slept in 'til 7.30 so had the strange experience of standing at the bar with a pint of cheap bitter half an hour after breakfast, but such is the life of the serial gig reviewer. Thankfully the night was also running a bit late so I didn't miss anything, though this wasn't to prove fortuitous for the final act as we shall see.
An Untitled Musical Project were our first act and before I go any further that is a possibly the best name ever. Even if it gets tiresome (which I can't imagine it ever doing) it can be abbreviated Carter-style to UMP which is possibly even better. And thankfully they lived up to their nomenclature being unassuming nerds who play fast shouty punk, shouty in that controlled machine-gun vocal style that reminded me of Big Back era Steve Albini (the track Bad Penny to be specific where he goes "I dunno what a liar I am...") and be aware that I wouldn't invoke the Albini lightly. There was also something else more British in there but unfortunately the Big Black thing kinda took over my mind. Musically they were very intense, especially the guitarist-singer (the bass player also sang) who's face was positively elastic and eyes the poppiest I've seen for a while. But inbetween the songs (which had titles like "Why Isn't Paul McCartney Dead Already?") they showed their humility as if they were surprised at the noise they'd been creating let alone that anyone was actually listening. They'd been having issues with their guitar apparently (though this didn't affect the performance) and at the end this was ceremoniously tossed across the stage, an act that can seem contrived but felt genuine here, producing a wail of feedback that was oddly segued into the Flaming Lips "In The Morning Of The Magicians" by the sound engineer. As you can tell I liked UMP a lot. They're doing their own brand of loopy punk seemingly in a bubble with no obvious pretensions to greatness, which means they might actually succeed. One, as they say, to watch.
As with last week this was an evening of contrasts. Earlier on I'd heard one of the bar staff warn her bar staffing colleagues that one of the bands were under age so to check for ID. The Twang (another top name, as it happens) appeared to be that band as a bunch of agitated kids scuttled around the side of the stage. As they came on two of them stood at the front with mics but no instruments. Uh oh, we could be in for some rap here, which would be a first and made me think that in two weeks of semi-random gig going I've oddly seen nothing of the Urban genre. Behind these chaps was the usual guitar/bass/drums setup and they kicked into a song which I assume was called "Push It", partly from the lyrics but also because they musically riffed into the Salt'n'Pepper song of the same name and got away with it. The band settled into a sound that was very reminiscent of U2, though not in a particularly bad way, giving a solid backing for the main singer to do his stuff.
This guy was a cross between Mike Skinner and Shaun Ryder, a skinny, intense chav with an aggression that threatened to spill out of his songs and into real life. The songs were Streets-style heartfelt paeans to the unfairness of modern life but his delivery of them was superb, stomping around the stage givin' it all dat with his arms. After seeing so many bands who just stand there playing song after song this was most refreshing, especially his foul mouthed banter with the audience. I started creating a (probably inaccurate) story in my head of this young kid who'd been hanging out the gig scene for a few years making trouble while gathering together a bunch of mates to form a band just so he could get up there and lovingly insult everyone who'd been telling him to put his money where his dirty mouth was. They were having a great time but musically they were very together and I came away impressed.
Sadly the evening ended on a low note, one played on a broken piano in a damp basement. Astilla had turned up late and hadn't been able to sound check plus they were having "equipment issues". After an extended set-up they suddenly launched into the usual noisy metal which would have been okay except they were pretty much playing to themselves. Yes, the room was emptying (partly because most people appears to have come to see The Twang) but they really were playing to themselves, all turned in towards the drummer creating a huddle. The thing about this sort of basic metal is if you're going to make it work you've got to engage the crowd. It's the foundation from which you project your attitude and if you ain't projecting...
They weren't too bad to begin with but it all started falling apart (literally with the drums) into a shambolic mess and by the end I was starting to feel a little sorry for them, to have gone through the stress of actually getting here for naught. Some bands are shit but have no idea - these guys were fully aware of how badly this was going and presumably they could do much better. As everything ground to a halt the lead singer finally addressed the nearly empty room: "what a shit gig" he confessed. Yeah, a third of it was. Shame about that.
Permalink | Posted in GDFAF, Gigs, Music on Friday, November 18 2005 | Comments (1) ?subject=[Weblog] 181105: GDFAF13: Astilla, The Twang, An Untitled Music Project" title="email me about this specific post">Email
GDFAF #12 was at the Barfly again on what can only be described as an arsingly cold night. I mention this because most venues tend to be somewhat on the warm side and I've noticed a few American acts commenting on this, as if venues in the States have radical things like air conditioning. The problem for most Birmingham spaces is they tend to be in residential-ish areas and we have laws against people enjoying themselves at high volume (which on the whole I tend to agree with) so the doors and windows have to remain tightly shut. And they don't have air conditioning. Stick a couple of hundred excited people in there and the ceilings will sweat. The Barfly, on the other hand, is in Digbeth and to the best of my knowledge there ain't anyone living there so they can leave the door open. Since the venue is essentially a huge basement said door is near the ceiling and all the heat just rushes straight out. This is terrific on a club night (I remember seeing steam pouring out of that door like a boiling kettle one night) but at a relatively sparsely attended gig it's rather strange to find yourself dancing in your coat. Must be lovely in the summer though.
Like I said, not a huge turnout for tonight, although this might be more to do with the venue as it is a huge room and there were a good hundred or so people in there by my reckoning. No problems getting in - the bouncers just waved me through with no bag check leading me to suspect my face has been spread around the bouncer network as a non-threat. Either that or I'm starting to give off regular gig-going vibes. Possible tip for people going to the Barfly - when you're asked which band you're coming to see say the one at the bottom of the bill and you might get in cheaper. I was meaning to test this only my mind went blank (too many band names whizzing around my head at the moment - I haven't got a clue who I'm going to see) but give it a go. I'm pretty sure it'll knock a good 50% off your entry.
On to the bands then. First up was Paisley Riot, the local band supporting the headliners and their touring support. It's here that I wonder if I'm getting jaded when it comes to guitar bands from the Midlands as while they were very good I find I have nothing really to say about them. They were tight and their hat wearing singer had a nice intensity to him but there was nothing to really make me sit up and take notice. But don't read too much into my appraisal. I think I'm starting to recognise vocal tics amongst the Brummie / Black Country bands, not in their speech but in their singing which implies I'm getting a little too familiar with the scene. Can't put my finger on it exactly though. Oh, and this doesn't just apply to Paisley Riot by any means but bands, when announcing your name and especially when you're saying your web site address, please speak clearly! I was starting to think this was impossible but Breezer managed to lodge both in my mind last night so it can be done.
Next up were The Rumble Strips and I'm going to stick my neck out here. Of all the bands I've seen I think these guys could actually break out and be huge. Firstly they have a look that is unique but quite nostalgic, evoking scruffy 80s bands in a kind of new wave drab way. Secondly their music is a nice mix of styles bringing in keyboards, guitar, saxophone and trumpet in a very enjoyable, dancey way with some key anthemic moments. But most of all the lead singer is a revelation.
He stands there with his drab grey coat and scarf hanging off his sloping shoulders, his hair tussled at the back like he's just got out of bed and his small guitar seemingly rescued from a charity shop. His huge eyes stare into the room with a permanent squint and he looks both angry and resigned. And yet when he opens his mouth it's astounding. My immediate reaction was Specials era Terry Hall, but that's probably the brass pushing that out. There was something else I can't quite pin down (Billy Bragg maybe?) but the greatest revelation was this guy can actually sing! I don't just mean he was in tune - his voice had a power that was not assisted by the amps, nor was it mere volume. There was a controlled strength and range that you so seldom see at gigs, his singing primal and raw yet quite quite beautiful.
Backing up this incredible voice was some very competent musicianship that while not afraid to blast it out also knew the value of less. The trumpet and sax players smoothly alternated with keyboard and bass guitar respectively giving them the range of a larger band and the music flew between up-tempo beats and emotional climaxes with ease. They've got the whole package and from what I can tell it's genuine. I really hope to hear more from this band in the next year.
The only downside was a noticeable level of audience chat during their set, to which I can only say shut the fuck up you wankers and recognise genius when you see it.
The headliners, The Young Knives had to compete with this for my affections and all credit to them but they didn't quite make it. Actually that's unfair. They were very enjoyable and much better than the audio clips on their site imply. This was mostly to do with their stage banter which pretty much consisted of looking like embarrassing parents and subverting it, playing shouty heavy punk and being quite rude and funny in between. I enjoyed the show a lot - and big joke humour is a tough thing for bands to pull off - but, and this is the big one, after each song I couldn't for the life of me remember what it sounded like. This was worrying me somewhat as I knew I was going to have to write about them but, nope, nothing stuck. What on earth had a just been bouncing up and down to then? All very odd.
Permalink | Posted in GDFAF, Gigs, Music on Thursday, November 17 2005 | Comments (9) ?subject=[Weblog] 171105: GDFAF12: The Young Knives, The Rumble Strips, Paisley Riot" title="email me about this specific post">Email
GDFAF #11 was back to Bar Academy where I feel like I'm spending rather a lot of time this fortnight even though this is only the third visit. Read into that what you will. It's kinda interesting going to the same venue to see different acts. In some ways the room does have an effect on the experience but on the whole it's the band and their audience which make the place their own. This time, however, the room was laid out slightly differently, with tables and stools scattered around the place evoking some sort of sparsely furnished late night lounge bar. Combined with the headliners being some kind of jazz-fusion thing this looked like being a kind of chilled evening. Not so.
Oh yeah, more adventures on the being-searched-at-Bar-Academy front. Last time I was there my camera was passed apparently because it was digital. This time the (very friendly, it must be said) bouncer wanted to know if it had a flash. Yes, but I don't use it, I said in a manner that implied "like I'm the sort of foolish amateur that would use a flash." I used to use flash at gigs until it was pointed out to me that bands find this sort of thing fucking irritating, so I stopped, relying on a steady hand, long exposure and loads of shots (about 150 per gig) which I think makes for better photos. But I digress.
The support were Breezer, a local band of some quality who blew away any preconceptions about the evening being laid back with some robust pop-rock. On the face of it this was pretty standard stuff - four guys, three guitars, melodic vocals to a solid 4/4 beat - but either through skill or perseverance they've managed to add something onto this formula, little flourishes that didn't get in the way, raising them above the bar while still keeping them very accessible. Unlike some bands they know what their guitars are for and use them well with moments of subtle genius amongst the noise. They were very tight, rattling through their songs with no faffing even with a broken string and toppled mic stand. I should be finding this sort of thing rather tiresome by now but I came away impressed. Nice one.
Acoustic Ladyland were our headliners and like many of the higher priced shows I've been to they had a small but loyal following. As they were setting up people started staking out their pitches near the stage to the extent that I became worried about getting a good view for photos and wound up sitting right at the front leaning against a speaker. Just before they started I spotted the band drawing on the condensation in the window behind the stage, as bands often do, and was surprised to see the drummer writing the most delicate words with his drumstick. This artistry followed through to his playing, making him the best drummer I've seen at a gig. The complexity of his playing was stunning, dipping in and out of double and tripple time, and seemingly effortless as he gazed off to one side.
This extreme level of musicianship was born out across the group. It's so rare to see a bass guitar being used for more that providing a steady rhythm and this guy produced sounds I didn't think a bass could make. Meanwhile the keyboardist veered between virtuoso jazz piano and pounding noise terror with ease. And then up front was the saxophonist, the epitome of craggy rock cool with a gloriously dull sax that had obviously been with him for a long time. The sax screamed the role of vocalist with ease and added so much more.
After a couple of tunes the folk sitting at the front were motioned to stand, which they did, and it all kicked off with limbs flailing as people tried to keep up with the changing time signatures and gave up, just letting the music drive them. My plans for taking photos were ruined as I found myself enveloped in hyperactivity with a wall of people behind me, but it didn't matter. This shit was good. The sax lends some obvious comparisons to Morphine but I found myself thinking this was what jazz was supposed to sound like - aggressive, experimental and above all exciting. It helps that Acoustic Ladyland pay homage to the New York punk scene, something which is further enhanced by this not being at all apparent in their music. A tune was announced as a tribute to a composer I didn't know (and can't remember) and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs but there was nothing blatantly "punk" about it - they just channeled something and made it their own.
Interesting to note that, unless I'm forgetting someone, this was the first band I've seen that had no singer. The whole set was instrumental, and yet they felt more intimate than many of the bands I've seen. The technical musicianship could so easily have made them aloof while the desire to tear it down and rock out could have resulted in a shambles, but they trod that delicate line with confidence and passion. Wonderful stuff.
Permalink | Posted in GDFAF, Gigs, Music on Wednesday, November 16 2005 | Comments (3) ?subject=[Weblog] 161105: GDFAF11: Acoustic Ladyland, Breezer" title="email me about this specific post">Email
For GDFAF #9 I was sailing blind. Wanting to cover as many small gig venues as possible I phoned up the Hare and Hounds in Kings Heath to see if they had a band on on Saturday. Yes, the bloke replied. Do you know who it is? No. But it's definitely open to the public and involves a band playing music? Yes. Okay then. So I bimbled along on my bike with absolutely no idea what to expect. This was how it should be - no research, no going for the safe option - just putting my fate in the laps of the gods of rock and taking whatever they dealt me. And boy did they deal me a doozy. The lurid pink poster on the way in promised the Dave Kusworth Group and looked kinda dodgy but I wasn't going to make any judgments since in this post ironic age you never know which way it's going to swing. In fact I put the notion of Dave Kusworth, about whom I knew nothing, completely out of my mind. It's a gig, that's all I need to know.
The Hare and Hounds, a grand old pub built in 1907 (and grade 2 listed), is possibly one of the oldest venues in Birmingham for live music, at at least it has that feel to it. When I mentioned I was thinking of going there I was informed it was a "fighting men's pub" which struck me as a little odd but then I'd only ever been there once before back in 1998 so what did I know. But a pub with a reputation like that is usually a perfectly safe place to go, I find, as all the wankers keep away lest they get twatted. The unspoken threat of violence keeps everything in order and no-one ever starts anything. Since I got there half an hour early I was able to check out the bar and yes, it was that kind of pub so I immediately felt very much at home.
Upstairs, then, to the venue where an older lady in a hat took my three pounds and stamped my hand. Being first in the room was still pretty empty so I sat down and took in the place. It's a bit like a school hall, quite large for a pub with a dance floor by the stage and tables laid out like a mess hall towards the bar. Unlike most venues the stage is a proper stage - a decent size and a good two feet off the ground - and the place hadn't changed a bit in the seven years since I was last there. Okay, maybe a spot of paint but the 7 inch records behind the bar were the same. There was a mirror ball which was turned on before the gig and I liked this a lot. As cigarette smoke rose it created shards of light through the air - if smoking is banned at venues the magic of the mirror ball will be somewhat diminished. Of note was a "headless" motif with two cardboard skeletons on the walls and a mannequin sitting atop the speakers, all decapitated. Very odd. I think it's probably the best venue I've been to so far in terms of potential. You could put pretty much anything on here and it would work.
As the crowd filtered in I was struck by the ages of them. Half were grown-ups. Like, real grown-ups, meaning they were at least 20 years older than my 33 years, most of them looking all respectable with a smattering looking like they never really got over whatever subculture they were in during their teens (or had dressed up special for the evening). This, presumably, was Kusworth's fan base. But who were these kids who made up the other half? And when I say kids I don't just mean anyone younger than me. I mean people too young to drink legally. There were loads of them, mingling around the dance floor like playground butterflies. Some of the adults were parents of the kids which was kinda weird and I was wondering if I'd stumbled on some kind of party. Turns out it was a lot simpler than that.
The support were All My Souls, a punky five piece who must have been local lads as suddenly all the kids rushed forward and danced like crazy. At one stage they carried one of their members aloft as they moshed like fools, having a tremendous time. As I was searching for the band to compare them to so as to give you, the reader, a broad idea of what they were like the only thing that popped into my head was the Sex Pistols, or at least late 70's DIY punk, and it was the audience that really brought this home. Here was a really really local scene of about 50 kids with their own band (who, I should add, were in their 20s). Yes, there are lots of gigs where the band brings along all their mates but this seemed different and somehow purer. While perfectly competent and in places very good they were not reaching for anything more than playing solid music to people they care about. It was quite refreshing.
And then, Dave Kusworth. Some keywords: tall, skinny, hair, headband, craggy face, scarf, hair, leopardskin-style shirt, tight jeans with laces up the sides, hair... Oh. My. God. He's a 100% genuine member of the Keith Richards school of Rock. Just looking at him on stage you knew there were stories, hundreds of stories, lying beneath that headband. This guy had obviously spent many years on the rock'n'roll rollercoaster and here he was in the Hare and Hounds in Kings Heath. His band consisted of a bassist and drummer of about the same age, both of whom kept their hats on during the show. I don't know why I mention this but it seems important.
After a slightly shambolic start with much rock posturing to the crowd, the music developed into some pretty catchy R&B but the kids, who had started off attentively watching this old guy who'd let their band play, soon drifted off into the other room leaving about 10 people standing with another 30 or so sitting at the back. I took a load of photos, listened for a bit and contemplated leaving. I'd seen enough and this wasn't really working for me, plus I fancied getting home before my flatmates went to bed for a change. But rules are rules. I had to see it through to the end.
And thank god I did! During his first song this guy, who looked like a drunk nutter, had got up and sung along with Kusworth for a minute or so. As the last song picked up - a kinda punky number - this guy lept on stage taking Kusworth by surprise, grabbed the mic and started screaming along to the music: "No fun! No fun!" He stripped off his shirt and waved it around, demolishing the mic stand. The band carried on as this monster went mental and I sat there gobsmacked at the glory of it all. This was really good stuff! The drunk spilled his beer over the stage as he danced and managed to disconnect the mic in his frenzy, but the music found it's tightness and the kids suddenly streamed back in, marveling at this wonder. With all seriousness I would love to see this guy front the Dave Kusworth Group for a full gig. Honestly, those five minutes were one of the best moments of the fortnight.
When I got home Andy and Alex were still up and I regaled them with my story. Andy vaguely recognised the name and popped on t'internet to check. Turns out Kusworth, a Moseley native, was one of rock's nearly men having been involved in the formative stages of Duran Duran and Dogs D'Amore amongst others. His online biography is a chronicle of periphery but proves that he never stopped believing in what he did. This gig tonight, for those who remembered those days with nostalgia, doubled up as a showcase for a band that probably had the same spirit Kusworth did in the late 70s, who thanked him at the end of their set for letting them play.
Characters like Dave Kusworth are easy targets to take the piss out of but I've come away with an incredible sense of respect for the man and I know for certain I'll never forget that gig as long as I live.
Permalink | Posted in GDFAF, Gigs, Music on Sunday, November 13 2005 | Comments (3) ?subject=[Weblog] 131105: GDFAF9: Dave Kusworth, All My Souls" title="email me about this specific post">Email
Continuing the genre dance, GDFAF #8 was Anti-Folk. What the hell is Anti-Folk, you might well be asking. At least everyone I've spoken to about this gig responded in that way. I guess it's like Alt-Country in that it's an appallingly stupid name for music done by young urban people in the style of old countryside people. You start off with "real" folk music done by genuine musicians with buckets of authenticity. This then gets watered down and blandified into something tedious which the young punks reject wholesale, but then someone stumbles upon the old recordings and realizes there's something to this whole folk thing and gives it a go, but they can't call what they're doing "folk" because folk sucks, so they call it anti-folk and eventually everyone gets used to it, the young punks get older and everything goes full circle. Oh, the wacky world of neologisms. What can you do...
So it was back to the Jug for the third time this fortnight so far. The first two were local band nights with sparse crowds mainly made up of friends of the groups but this was different, two bands from the States playing as part of their UK tour and the gig was pretty much sold out. The venue room at the Jug is relatively thin so if you actually want to see anything you've got to be near the front. Thankfully I'd come armed with a bunch of mates and, given the fears of a sell out, we'd got there nice and early so were able to secure a good pitch. There were also some of those lovely people who insist of sitting down at gigs and while this isn't the most efficient use of floor space it does mean more people can get a good view lending a slightly bohemian atmosphere to the occasion.
First up were Schwervon, a girlfriend-boyfriend duo with Major Matt Mason on guitar with Nan Turner on drums and both of them singing. Yes, "White Stripes", but ignore that shit. They looked strikingly normal, which seems a little odd as a lot of the bands I've been seeing have looked like they just walked off the street and picked up some instruments (occasionally they sounded like that too) but there was something refreshingly unpretentious about Schwervon. They could quite easily be your mates, which isn't to say they didn't have their quirks. Mason didn't shuffle so much as very carefully move around the stage as if he might break something or (as chum Jez put it) had once had a really bad altercation with a guitar lead and didn't want to repeat the experience, but still managed understated flourishes - at one stage he gently bent one leg behind him to emphasize a particularly notable riff which had the same effect as if he'd started swinging from the speaker stacks.
Their music was a very loud variation on the guitar/percussion thing with both of them taking lead vocals with the occasional conversational duet. Mason's vocal style had that slightly nasal wine similar in some ways to Stephen Malkmus while Turner's took me a long time to pin down, quite powerful with an attractive crack, it reminded me vaguely of Kim Deal or Kristen Hersh, but those are kludgy comparisons. Another stupid thing to say would be that most of their songs started off like Roadrunner by The Modern Lovers, but it did cross my mind a couple of times. Above all they had their own thing going on and it was good, if a little subdued compared to what followed. (mp3 clips here)
This was the third time I'd seen Jeffrey Lewis play at the Jug (reports here and here) and the sixth time he'd played there and he's certainly built up a large following in that time. As I said, the room was packed to the gills and pretty much everyone knew his stuff inside out, which always surprises me, partly because I have this irrational sense that Lewis is mine and nobody else knows about him (patent nonsense of course but I'm sure you've had this feeling about a band) but also because, outside of his gigs, I never seem to hear anything about him, online or off. I wouldn't be surprised if his success is purely down to word of mouth and that everyone at that gig can trace their being there back to someone who was at one of the earlier gigs (if you get me).
If you're not familiar with Jeffrey Lewis he has two modes, quiet solo songs of maudlin but good humoured self depreciation and loud full-on punk rock. This was more of a punk gig since he was with his full band - his equally talented brother Jack and their drummer David Beauchamp - playing a mix of new songs and old favourites. What really struck me was how tight they've become over the years, developing a real stage persona, and there was much less chatting than I'd expected - just a solid plough through the tunes. Of note was the live performance of "The History of Punk on New York's Lower East Side 1950-1975", a nine minute lecture in rhyme with snippets of the songs discussed pastiched by the band until "the whole thing moves over to England, England steals all the credit, that's how it goes". He also did a couple of his live videos, standing on a table and turning the pages of his sketch book as he sung. These are always a highlight and I'm delighted to say the "History of Communism", a work in progress that gets longer with each tour, has reached the Russian Revolution. In fact it now spans two books and threatens to eventually take over the whole set.
Lewis kept having to tune his incredibly beaten up guitar between songs and apologised, explaining that it was about to fall apart. Completely covered in stickers the front was peeling off, held on by many strips of duct tape. As it peeled the strings slacked so he had to tighten them which made it peel even more. He'd considered borrowing a different guitar but decided it would be cool to see if it exploded in the middle of set, but it didn't. Maybe the audience at one of the other gigs will have that pleasure.
This was a slightly different gig in the GDFAF scheme of things as I was not really discovering anything new. Schwervon, being from the same New York scene as Lewis, slotted in nicely and I just sat back and enjoyed myself with all the other fans. The gig was a success, playing right to the end without an encore (which is always tricky - the audience have got more music for their buck but they still feel a bit cheated when the band don't do that going off and coming back on again thing) and everyone went away very happy.
Permalink | Posted in GDFAF, Gigs, Music on Saturday, November 12 2005 | Comments (4) ?subject=[Weblog] 121105: GDFAF8: Jeffrey Lewis and Schwervon" title="email me about this specific post">Email
GDFAF #7 took place at the Flapper and Firkin round the back of Brindley Place in town. I'm not familiar with the strategies of whoever owns the Firkin chain these days but I was under the impression that all those Fandoogle and Firkin pubs had gone the way of all faddish brands. Not this one though, probably because the name has resonance as one of the main gig venues on the Birmingham small gigs scene. Back in the 90s, before the Academy was re-opened on Dale End, this was where you came to see up and coming bands that were working their way up the hard way. It was also home to the "We Brought Our Friends" collective of experimental bands like Avrocar and Magnetephone who would put on cozy gigs where everyone sat on the floor, often including the band.
Most of the gigs were organized by Zoot who started promoting there around 1994. I saw Arab Strap for the first time at a a Zoot run Flapper gig back in 1997 or so. It's probably relevant that they'll be playing later this month at Bar Academy. It's a shame but pretty inevitable that a slightly larger venue (capacity 300 compared to the Flapper's 150) run by the Academy group would take much of the touring trade leaving Zoot with predominantly local bands, partly because the Flapper itself is really nice. A cavernous cellar with slightly sloping ceilings, it's intimate but not too claustrophobic, the perfect place to see a band like, say, Arab Strap. Birmingham had needed something like the Academy complex for years but for the Flapper it's a case of be careful what you wish for.
It's also a really nice pub upstairs with a beer garden right on the canal, should you be in the area and need to escape the awfulness of Broad Street. In fact I spent half an hour sitting by the canal, reminiscing about gigs I'd attended here (Add N To X, Ten Benson...), while waiting for the door to open tonight and very pleasant it was too. Would the gig also be pleasant, a fitting continuation of good times past? Or would it be a sonic nightmare like Saturday at the Jug? Thankfully it seems the Zoot people still have good taste and, while not particularly revolutionary, this night was pretty top all told.
We started with Listen To Johnny who came over as a good-time pub band with a soft edge and a taste for pained love songs that you might find in a film soundtrack. The beat was quite up tempo, reminding me a teeny bit of the Boo Radleys (don't ask me to specify which era) and a lot of their songs started with very familiar riffs that developed into more unique songs. On their website they describe themselves as a Britpop band inspired by Ocean Colour Scene and Oasis but as a live band I think they're selling themselves a bit short. There's the elements of some lovely singer-songwriter stuff there. In spirit that is - I'm not saying they should jettison the band who were pretty tight. As a sidenote, they had a drum solo, which was a shock. I wasn't expecting two drum solos this fortnight, especially from this band, but I won't hold it against them as I like drum solos. And oh look, they have a MySpace page.
The thing with these new band night is unless the promoters get really lucky you're going to get some aesthetic clashes, and this was such a night. After the melodious pop of Listen To Johnny we had The Superglue Queens who were metal. The lead singer played a Flying V guitar! With exhaust ports! Really, there were four metal pipes poking out of the base of his guitar that served no purpose unless it really did take off like a rocket. I'm no great guitar aficionado so maybe such things are common in the world of the Flying V but it took my breath away. The aesthetic was hair and tats and they put down a solid set of rock. For a first gig they were very tight and nicely segued the first two songs together, something I'd like to see more bands doing.
(Sidenote for new bands: when you're playing a set, taking long breaks between songs kinda ruins the flow. Everyone's getting into your music and rather than build on that you let it deflate when you stop to faff about every five minutes. Give people half an hour of constant music with minimal gaps and you'll blow them away, I promise.)
Not only have I had two drum solos in my first week of GDFAF, I've also now experienced two bands with people from Finland in them. The bassist was a Fin - apparently he heard the band's music and flew over specially to join them, which may be bullshit but it's also strangely plausible - and this guy knew exactly what was expected of him, immediately putting his foot up on the monitor and posturing like a pro. Musically they were doing nothing new but they were doing it very well and I was as impressed as can be expected.
Superglue Queens were the band that brought all their friends, which makes for an interesting evening as I often feel like I've crashed some kind of family event or party, watching the group dynamics at close range and forming utterly inaccurate and spurious opinions about them. Unfortunately, this pattern of lots of people coming to see one band makes the audience slightly uneven. When everyone's come to see the headliner you can expect a nice build towards the end of the evening when everyone goes mental. Our final act, however, didn't seem to have as many friends and so reaction to them was more muted, which was a shame as they were in my opinion the more superior band.
Killing Zoe channel the spirit of Iggy Pop through a fat man. There's not other way to say it. They are old school punk with an aggressive attitude and no messing about. While his guitarists stood like warriors beside him, one craggy punk, one statuesque rocker, the singer jerked about the stage like, well, like Iggy Pop really. In fact at the end he praised Iggy, which was a shame as I was thinking I'd been really clever and made a subtle connection when in fact it was all premeditated.
But they weren't a pastiche or homage - their music was their own, even if their songs had titles like "Licking My Pistol", and the thing about doing an Iggy is you've got to take it all the way. This guy did, stripping off, hanging from the rafters and lying flat out on the floor. I half expected someone to produce a jar of peanut butter.
But sadly they didn't have the audience they richly deserve, and I have a inkling they're not the sort of band to do that self-promotion thing (I can find no mention of them online, though that might be to do with the slightly catastrophic decision to use a film title as your band name - second sidenote to new bands - Google before committing...). I think they could be on to something here. There are too many skinny punks about the place - Killing Zoe show what happens when you stick a bit of weight behind it and it is good.
Permalink | Posted in GDFAF, Gigs, Music on Friday, November 11 2005 | Comments (1) ?subject=[Weblog] 111105: GDFAF7: Killing Zoe, Superglue Queens, Listen to Johnny" title="email me about this specific post">Email
I was accompanied for GDFAF #6 by Andy and Doug from Una Corda, a Birmingham based post-rock band the members of whom have been around the local scene for a while now. As we entered the Custard Factory in Digbeth they immediately started recognising people they knew. It was like a gathering of the tribes with a good chunk of the crowd in some kind of band or other - every conversation I overheard was along the lines of "where're you playing next?" or detailed expositions on tortuous projects. This was, of course, a good sign. When the luminaries of Birmingham's experimental music and intelligent rock society descend upon a gig you know you've chosen wisely. They hadn't just come to see Melt Banana, they'd come to pay homage and to learn.
This was the first gig organised by Capsule that I'd attended. Capsule are easily the most interesting promoters in the Midlands at the moment, if not the country. Using the cushion of the Custard Factory arts complex they put numerous gigs of an experimental bent, often combining international artists with local talent, both audio and visual, to create Events rather than mere events. I've always wanted to go to one but had been put off by their relatively high prices (compared to the average small gig that is - they're actually quite reasonable for what they do) and the fact that I'd often never heard of the people they'd booked. Their emails would come through like something from a delicious alien world full of wonder and confusion and it was about time I did the right thing and attended one of them.
As for the venue, the Medicine Bar is similarly impressive and nondescript. As a bar it's quite lovely, all staircases and glass looking over the Custard Factory square with its fountain, while the actual venue is just a big room with a stage, perfect for moulding into whatever you want be it a gig, club night, art show or something indescribable. It also has the most daunting speakers I've ever seen, towering over the room like the intake vents on a jet plane. They're also shockingly well placed above head level so the sound carries and doesn't murder anyone standing in front of them.
But enough of all that. You want to hear about the bands. First up was Noise Noise Allore, a relatively new band made up of four long time members of various post-rock and metal bands but utterly different to that sort of stuff. Fronted by a short chap with a pencil mustache and white shirt and tie they evoked Devo with an element of Sparks. To a heavy speed-pop backing the singer sung in a high pitched yelpy staccato, jerking in a confused, nervous fashion punctuated by sly winks to the crowd. During the tracks he thrust the mike into the palm of his hand and held it out to the audience as if it were a dangerous thing. They were quite brilliant if very hard to describe but they're playing more gigs in the area which I certainly intend to attend.
Next was Brian Duffy and The Modified Toy Orchestra consisting of five guys in suits making strange music with, as you'd expect, modified toys. If Kraftwerk look like robots this British version look like geography teachers crossed with spivs. I couldn't get close enough to see properly but their equipment consisted of music-related toys that had either been altered to make different noises or were being fed through effects machines and a doll that had been converted into a satanic controller with small metal plungers protruding out of its head that when pressed triggered odd sounds. Duffy himself was very charismatic, which was something of a shock since I had Kraftwerk on my mind, and I found out later that the drummer (I suspect he was hitting something odd with his sticks) was Fuzz Townsend from PWEI and Bentley Rhythm Ace, which came as no fucking surprise whatsoever! Their set was very short but again they're local chaps so will no doubt be playing again and I will be there, at the front, with my camera. Musically they combined the carnivalesque blips and bloops of the toys with a dark throbbing beat that was most refreshing. I like blippy electronica a lot but combined with this undulating bass it took on something quite new and special.
So the support was from two local bands of very high quality. This is what I wanted to see. Along with Distophia on Friday and The Klopeks on Monday I'm starting to build up a nice overview of the quality end of the Birmingham scene. I knew it was there - a band like Misty's Big Adventure don't emerge from a vacuum after all - but now I can put my finger on it and unlike most scenesters I'm not one to keep such information to myself, be sure of that.
The gig was pretty much sold out, as you'd expect for a band of this caliber and reputation, and lit with dark red lights, most annoying if you want to get any decent photos. Also a lot of these guys in bands are quite tall - I mean, I'm not exactly short but I was having more trouble than usual seeing the stage. So as the Toy Orchestra cleared away I went right up to the stage and stood there refusing to budge. I'm not usually so belligerent about being at the front but I had an inkling this was going to be one of those life changing gigs and I didn't want to experience it with any visual impairment.
Melt Banana were fucking awesome.
Oh, you want more? Christ, where to begin. Well, we could start with the look, an androgynous lead singer in a scrappy hoodie that looked like it was adapted from a straightjacket, a guitarist with a protective mask duct-taped to his mouth, his hat pulled down right over his eyes, but that doesn't really help. You might be familiar with the sound they produce from John Peel's show, short speed-core metal songs with an incredibly high-pitched vocal screaming over the noise and yes, this was most impressive, especially as most speed-metal doesn't really do much for me. The relentless rhythm, with drums and bass morphing into one beast, tore through the room as the utterly insane guitar created waves upon waves of beautiful discord. Sounds that seemed like they were coming from behind me popped out like distorted lions. The suddenness of their set takes your breath away as songs kick off without warning and yet still manages to build and build.
But what really made it was their presence. While the intensity of the music that came out of them seemed extraordinary it was also perfectly reasonable. They owned this stuff in the sense that you can own the weather. God, that sounds awful, but the final song illustrates it perfectly. As the music poured out, singer Yako stood rigid at the front, moving her eyes from side to side with the beat. By this time I'd moved to the back of the room but I could have been inches away. She had the whole room completely in her power having converted her ferocious voice into a stare. It was astonishing.
Permalink | Posted in GDFAF, Gigs, Music on Thursday, November 10 2005 | Comments (6) ?subject=[Weblog] 101105: GDFAF6: Melt Banana, Brian Duffy and The Modified Toy Orchestra, Noise Noise Allore" title="email me about this specific post">Email
And so it was for GDFAF #5 that I returned to Bar Academy for my fifth gig in this series. It was raining hard so rather than cycling I put on my leather jacket and took the train, which was apt as it was a leather jacket sort of a gig. I seem to be going through a nice variety of genres at the moment: Sunday was J-rock, Monday was ska, tomorrow is whatever the hell Melt Banana are, Friday is anti-folk and tonight was apparently "death rock". We're in the world of heroin-chic, romanticised suicide, moody pouts, smoke machines and the ability to call your band The Warlocks and still be taken seriously.
I got there early thanks to the gig scene's utter inability to deal with the concept of accurate advance information and as usual had my bag checked. Since I wasn't cycling there wasn't a bundle of hi-viz and bike lights in there so the bouncer saw the camera and asked for a look. I'd always assumed they were on the lookout for anything resembling professional kit for copyright reasons and my camera does look kinda pro to a novice, but it would appear they're more concerned with concealment of illicit substances. "Digital?" he asked after turning it over a few times and let it pass, neglecting to check the 14 pockets on my person but what the hell, at least I wasn't smuggling drugs in an SLR body.
I've found sitting around at gigs on my own a strangely uncomfortable experience, especially as I'm not drinking overpriced beer for this fortnight, so having seen someone reading a paper last night I brought a book and settled down in the corner. As the room filled I saw a girl reading a Diane Arbus monograph. Hmm. Highbrow crowd tonight. A couple of guys came over and asked if I wanted to be on the Warlocks' mailing list - filling these out consists of me writing my name over and over and always feeling slightly pretentious next to all the hotmails and yahoos - and offered a badge. I ended up with six.
I heard a guitar being tuned and moved to my now usual spot on the benches to the right of the stage, but nothing seemed to be happening. Then a guy with a strange accent started talking to the audience in between setting up his gear, offering people his pints of beer which, being British, no-one accepted. This was Dead Combo, our support for this evening, a Finnish duo with guitars, a laptop serving as a drum machine (and god knows what else) along with the crustiest old Moog you've ever seen. They were an odd looking couple, vocalist (plus guitar and Moog) Nuutti Kataja looking like a skinny Lemmy with his clean shaven guitarist chum Harri Kupiainen beside him. Looking at their tour dates on MySpace they're on an incredibly intensive tour across Europe and it showed.
My limited experience of Scandinavians (specifically Norwegians) has taught me that they are kind hearted, generous folk but with a mildly psychotic edge. Roll the term "Finnish Rock" around your head - it's both exciting and slightly disturbing. I was trying to pin down exactly why the audience were so wary of this genial monster offering his bottle of poppers bought from the sex shop next door ("we don't do designer drugs, we prefer novelty drugs") and it struck me he was behaving like an amusing tramp. You're entertained but you want to keep your distance.
When they actually got down and played they were quite astonishing with grinding guitars and vocals riding a steamroller of pounding drums and that fucked up Moog that reminded me of Big Black in terms of relentless power, but everyone still kept their distance despite rewarding with rapturous applause. Everyone except one young woman who stood on her own right in front of the stage. I'd like to see Dead Combo again when they have an audience that's brave enough to interact on their level. I suspect it would be a most entertaining evening.
While they were endearingly shambolic tonight an mp3 from their site shows they can put it down on record to great effect, like My Bloody Valentine with enormous balls.
And so to our headliners, The Warlocks, consisting of two, no, three guitars, bass, keyboards, and that's a rather large drum kit, hang on two drum kits? This band has two drum kits? Without saying hello or even acknowledging the audience they started playing what struck me as shoegazer and I liked it a lot.
This sort of thing is very easy to take the piss out of, with earnest songs about drugs and suicide with miserablist-gorgeous posturing, but when it's done well it's immensely enjoyable. Whether there was a knowing smile behind the mask I'm not sure (I'm reminded of a post-rock guitarist telling me that of course it's all incredibly silly but part of how it works is not to let on how silly it is) but all the trimmings were there, from the back-lighting and smoke machine making the band darker than the audience, to the film projected behind them.
This projection was notable in this age of laptop driven shows. Behind the speaker stacks was a guy with two old-school projectors which he had to use pliers to operate. Into these he fed a number of scratchy 8mm film loops stored in notches on a strip of cardboard. As both projectors played he leant over them, alternately flipping pieces of card over the lens, mixing the images as a DJ would mix records. The images were your standard selection of psychedelia, old movies and vintage porn but to see them manually manipulated like that with such energy and for so long was quite inspiring.
I was again intrigued by the audience. I was expecting a fair amount of goth but there was none to be seen. There wasn't even much leather in attendance - just a room full of pretty ordinary looking people in their mid-20s, early 30s. If I can stretch some comparisons to last night we again had a relatively minor band from the US from a pretty well identified genre playing to what seemed to be a random assortment of people who'd become fans via their own channels. I could of course be completely off base about this but it seems to be the unexpected theme of this fortnight, that easily identifiable tribes and subcultures don't exist any more. People stumble upon scenes that in the past they shouldn't do and mix them up in a manner of their own choosing. It would appear my genre-hopping gig going isn't at all unusual - this is the norm, and I think that's a good thing.
So I ended the night having taken a band called The Warlocks seriously. That's no small feat.
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GDFAF #4 fell on a Monday and Mondays were always going to be a problem. No-one goes out on a Monday and pubs, clubs and venues treat it as their weekend but here I am, going to fourteen gigs sequentially, so I need somewhere to go. Ideally I want to go to small gigs featuring unknown bands so the Birmingham Academy is technically not permitted. However, the gig there tonight was downgraded to Bar Academy, the 300-odd capacity venue next door that is certainly on my map, but the ticket price wasn't downgraded so it was a last resort.
I did try, honest. Having exhausted the internet I even started phoning random pubs to see if they had live music but to no avail. Chum Jez phoned about the Jeff Lewis gig on Friday and together we went through the options drawing blanks until he came across the Birmingham Clarion Singers at All Saints Church in Kings Heath. I'd been thinking about taking in an utterly non-rock concert at some point and report on it in true NME style so this seemed as good as any but we couldn't find any confirmation online (I'm still not sure how Jez even came across the info - possibly a local community newsletter or something) so I popped over on the bike to check it out. The church notice-board was surrounded by the local youths who were being all threatening but I managed to corner a middle aged woman in the car park who knew nothing about any concert tonight and was most perturbed that the potential for one existed without her knowing about it. So I took that as a no and, after checking the pubs on Kings Heath High St headed back home.
Time was marching on so I bit the bullet and headed off to Bar Academy. There was always the potential that they'd have sold out having switched to the smaller venue but no, tickets were still available. At £10. It seems there's a pricing structure for gig tickets where, say, they're advertised at £7, sold in advance for £8 (with booking fee) and on the door for £10. As I ummed and erred the nice lady behind the bar gave me the "c'mon, it's only a tenner" look and I mentioned the 14 gigs in 14 nights thing. She asked why, which was a fair question. I think I might be asking why myself soon, but I explained about the website and the reviews and smiled a weak smile. She asked her boss if he was feeling generous. He thought I was fucking mad but wasn't feeling generous. I paid my tenner.
Now, here's where it gets a little embarrassing - I'm not sure who the first band were. According to the advance publicity the bill was Voodoo Glow Skulls, No Comply, The Klopeks and Templeton Pek. I didn't make a note of who they said they were udring the gig and I have a terrible memory for that sort of thing so I figured I could just go back and check later. According to their site No Comply have cancelled all their November gigs so they can be discounted and some detailed detective work on their MySpace page reveals the second band to be The Klopecs which means the first band was Templeton Pek. Except their photos on MySpace show a clean-cut threesome while there were four guys on stage, two of whom had most impressive dreadlocks. It also says they were playing elsewhere tonight. [Update - I've been informed they were called A Day Called Desire and have edited this post accordingly.]
So first up was A Day Called Desire who were a tight metal band getting a good response from the audience. They said this was the best reception they'd ever had and it was pretty remarkable for a first support. There was even a bit of moshing going on, which foreshadowed the rest of the evening quite well.
I should say a little about the crowd - they were young. Yes, this shouldn't be a big shock but it always takes me by surprise when I'm one of the oldest people at a gig, especially when it's not a particularly hip and trendy band on stage. And there were a lot of them for the relatively small Bar Academy, about half looking all hardcore and cool and half still figuring out how to look hardcore and cool. Occasionally I'd see someone my age but they'd turn out to be one of the other bands waiting to perform or part of the crew. The main reason I mention the age is because these young people, they have so much energy! You think the kids today are all apathetic and cynical but give them the right outlet and, boom, it all gets a little hectic. Brought back some memories, I can tell you.
The Klopeks (another local band I'd not heard of before) made the most of this boundless enthusiasm and milked it to the core. It helped that, like the headliners, they were a ska-punk band with metal-ish undertones, but the huge trombone player diving into the audience and moshing didn't hinder things too much. I particularly liked their obsession with pirates and highwaymen and the way half of them played topless. That's always a good sign. Very mad-eyed and crazed with much interaction with the crowd, you'd think they were headlining.
It was about this time that I simultaneously started really enjoying myself and getting worried about my camera. I'd be interested to know if, during outbreaks of peace, war photographers go to rock gigs filled with teenagers because it was quite unnerving, even for someone who isn't adverse to a good mosh. I was standing on the stools to the right of the stage (you'll know them if you know the venue) mainly so I could actually see the bands on the inch-high stage (you'll know what I mean if you know the venue) and every time I leant down to get the camera out of it's protective case a whirling ball of testosterone would crash into me. If I'd know I would have brought the old digicam, but I was going in blind here. So, not many photos and those that were taken were a little shite. During the Klopeks' set I was wondering, if the crowd are like this now, what will they be like for the band they actually paid to see?
They tore the fucking place to pieces.
The Voodoo Glow Skulls (Wikipedia) have been around for a while as part of the US ska revival of the 1990s (remember The Mighty Mighty Bosstones?) though, as is becoming a pattern in this fortnight, I'd not come across them before. I didn't know they were from California, for example, nor that they'd be singing half in Spanish, or that they'd been around since 1992. I was sort of aware that there'd been a small ska revival in Birmingham last year amongst the student population (or at least I heard it from a student) and it would seem to be not so small after all. This crowd were hardcore fans through and through. From my vantage point I was often distracted from the stage to just watch the audience throw themselves around and while it was never nasty I did feel something close to apprehension at the flailing of limbs. Maybe if I'd not been on my own I would have dived in and joined them, but I'm not so sure.
Meanwhile on stage the Glow Skulls were tight, as you'd expect from a band who've been playing for about 15 years, and their music was fast, pounding through a mashup of ska beats, metal riffs and punk vocals with their own Mexican flavouring. Again I was struck by the age thing, and I don't want to make a big deal of it but most of the band were old enough to be parents of their fans. This was like going to a comeback gig except there didn't seem to be any original fans there unless they were listening to skacore in primary school. I might be reading too much into this but it seems to me that the gig exemplified how young people are doing music these days. I'm not aware of this sort of thing getting any mainstream coverage these days and while there has always been some kind of ska presence on the gig scene this seemed very youth specific (and about 50:50 male to female, which was interesting). One can only blame "the internet" and the way young people get their information these days, via word of mouth recommendation and downloading random music. When I was their age everything came from the NME and Radio 1. Now it's something a lot less specific and uncontrolled, yet capable of bringing 300 kids together to go utterly mental.
Or maybe it's not so complicated. All three bands namechecked MySpace. Think on that.
During a very brief lull in the chaos I got the camera out but the lense immediately steamed over with condensed sweat. I didn't fancy keeping it out to aclimatise so no photos of the Glow Skulls, which is a shame as they were worthy of them, but fuck, it was hot in there. I emerged the sweatiest I've ever been from just standing up for two hours.
Voodoo Glow Skulls - very good. UK tour continues through to November 20th. Go check them out for good times.
Before I go any further with GDFAF #3, a public service announcement about the Barfly venue in Birmingham. You know that door with the huge "Barfly" flag hanging over it on Digbeth High Street that often has a queue outside? That's not the Barfly. The Barfly is around the back of the Sanctuary club so head down Milk St and turn into what looks like a delivery yard. That's your entrance. Do this and you won't miss the first support act, like I did tonight. Also bear in mind that the Barfly shares security with the Sanctuary club so the bloke at the door will treat you like a dodgy pisshead/druggie clubber rather than the fey indie muso kid you are.
So it turned out that I'd actually been to this venue before. It's the back room of said Sanctuary and it's been through a number of changes over the years. I first went there when it was hosting the Gods Kitchen hardcore techno club nights back around 1998, all painted black with Giger-esque faces on the wall. A bit later I was at the Sanctuary itself at one of their indie nights with some old Uni mates and the back room had been painted bright red and incorporated into the club itself as their 80's room. My mates loved it, but they were too young to really appreciate the horror of such things. And now it's black again and serving as a pretty standard but nice and airy gig venue. I quite like it - there are enough nooks and crannies along with a neat balcony and plenty of room to spread out and dance but it doesn't feel like a barn like some halls do.
Like I said, I missed Sabotage Left, the first support, having stood in the wrong place for half an hour and then being blocked by the overzealous bouncer who wouldn't let us in until they'd finished for some ungodly reason. But they're a local band so I may well bump into them again.
The other support, Distophia, were very good. The problem with bands who are very good is it's hard to compare them to anyone else -the reason they're good is because they're unique in some way. Reviews posted on their site cite My Bloody Valentine a fair bit which I can kinda agree with but only at a stretch. I got more of a Husker Du vibe with elements of the Retro Spankees (specifically a tendency to yelp). They produced a robust wall of guitar noise with much twiddling of nobs and feedback but never to excess, along with, well I want to say harmonising vocals but that sounds a little soft for what was produced, more along the lines of American nerd-punk (think Weezer, but only a bit) with lots of shouting amongst the soaring. Which was also their aesthetic, a random assortment of blokes with no unifying style or attitude - very nice. And they frequently moved off the stage and played in the crowd which was a good thing. I like it when musicians do this. Finally they had their drums at the front which was quite refreshing (why, when there's space, do bands stick the drummer right at the back?) and meant I finally got a photo of a drummer that isn't a blurry smudge of darkness.
Distophia are also local and will certainly be mentally bookmarked for as worthy of seeing again. In fact I'm slightly bemused as to why I haven't heard of them before since they've been around for a while. But that's the point of this fortnight - to fill in those gaps.
And so to the headliners, Polysics, who it appears have quite a following, which again made me wonder how I'm managed not to hear of them before. I'm mean, I'm hip to the Japanese new music scene. I know my Pizzicato Five and my Cornelius. I own the Sushi 4004 compilation. How dare they pass me by! I joke - that there are bands of this quality touring the world for me to discover with no media-warped preconceptions is a damn good thing. I confess I was initially drawn to them by the red boilersuit costumes. The last time I saw a Japanese band in dressed in red boilersuits was Yumi Yumi last August who were very good so using that incredibly scientific criteria of ethnicity and attire I figured they'd be worth the £9.00 entrance. I was right. They were utterly brilliant.
The first thing to get out of the way is the Devo influence. Yes, it's there, acknowledged and blatant, and it's not a problem. There's also the fact that they're Japanese which makes them fascinatingly alien - you never know how much is normal and how much is odd, especially as they filter western freak-rock through their Tokyo punk-pop sensibilities. There are layers of subversion that are too complicated to dissect so it's best just to go with it and dance. Which is not a problem as they're one of most danceable acts I've seen in a long time, mashing up pogo-punk with electro-noize and catchy Nintendo-style tunes.
Also refreshing was a well thought out stage presence. To the right is Fumi wielding her bass with attitude (and, it must be said, great hair). Then on the left is Kayo with the synth standing utterly still throughout with the occasional robotic movement. Then bounding across the stage like some manic game show presenter is Hayashi playing up the stadium rock role with glee and getting away with it. The red boilersuits and black-strip shades both add to the slightly alien feeling and made their stage personas stronger giving a sense of spectacle sorely missing from most gigs.
Some highlights then:
- Hayashi collecting rucksacks and handbags from the audience, putting them all on and continuing to play guitar.
- Kayo suddenly producing pompoms.
- Hayashi grabbing someone's pint of beer and downing it in one.
- Hayashi getting the biggest guy in the audience to pick him up and carry him into the throng... while he played guitar.
- Kayo playing the recorder during one track which unexpectedly ended as a delicate duet between her and Hayashi
- Kayo pogoing and hitting a box at her apex which produced a boooiinnnggg sound.
- Kayo singing through a vocorder and a normal mike at the same time.
- The incredible cover of My Sharona. Yes, it's hard not to do an incredible cover of My Sharona but even so.
- and much much more...
The audience reaction was wild. It wasn't particularly rammed but that left more room for dancing which was infectious. But I can't finish this review without mentioning the tiny Japanese girl who stood right at the front completely still just bending her knees a fraction to the beat. When everything got really hectic she nodded her head maintaining a remarkable stillness while everyone else went manic.
Permalink | Posted in GDFAF, Gigs, Music on Monday, November 7 2005 | Comments (5) ?subject=[Weblog] 071105: GDFAF3: Polysics, Distophia" title="email me about this specific post">Email
The first thing that happened when I got off my bike at the Jug of Ale in Moseley was I discovered for the first time in my life I had pins and needles in my bollocks. It's a very strange and not particularly pleasurable sensation and though it went away fairly quickly I mention it purely in the spirit of Gonzo journalism because it might be important. Who can tell.
GDFAF #2 then, which consists of me going to a gig on my own to see three bands I'd never heard of. Both these things were novelties, the latter part of the plan, the former an unfortunate side effect of going out every night for a fortnight. In retrospect I'm not sure why this is such a big deal - if there was a band I really really wanted to see then it wouldn't be an issue, but spending two and a half hours in a pub with no idea what I was going to experience was somewhat daunting. There's also the issue that when I go with someone I tend to be the optimistic one. Chum will say something derogatory about the band and I'll counter that they're not so bad. Without that sounding board I was more likely to just go with the negative, especially when surrounded by people I would be instantly stereotyping as vacuous wankers. So bear that in mind. But don't bear it too much in mind because I'm pretty sure I'm on a road to accuracy with this one.
Consider this: a Saturday night at one of the main small venues in the city, where countless great bands have played brilliant sets. You'd expect something special, or at least a reasonable level of quality. It would seem your expectations should be lowered. Even allowing for the fact that this was bonfire night and most self-respecting thrill seekers were off watching the bangs and lights you'd hope the local music scene (and they were all Brummies) would do better than this. It was a night of skillful mediocrity. There were brief moments of inspiration but on the whole, nah, I wouldn't have bothered mate.
First up were The Tates who played to an audience of about eight people including me and the lead singer's girlfriend, but unlike The Goods yesterday they were gracious about it and thanked us for listening. They played a kind of soaring pop-punk with moments of Oi and they wouldn't have been out of place at a punk festival or biker rally. They weren't doing anything new or radical but they got the job done in an honest, competent manner. And there's not really much more I can say about them.
Next up was possibly the lowlight of my recent gigging career. Sweet Lilly were a covers band who didn't do any actual covers. My first reaction was throwback Manchester rock. I mean, I liked 
Oasis and Cast and especially the Stone Roses at the time but c'mon, is this stuff really still necessary? At one stage they even riffed off The Levellers for christ's sake! Of course it was all note perfect and performed with the delusion that this is the kind of thing bands are supposed to do but there was no spark of originality or wit whatsoever. Also of note was how just before they started the room was invaded by all their mates who immediately left as soon as they'd finished. I guess since these bands get paid a token share of the door if that then playing a gig at the Jug purely to entertain your friends is fair enough. For sure, most bands try and pack in their chums (at least until they get actual fans) but it would be preferable if they'd just hire a room somewhere and keep it to themselves rather than inflicting their asinine tedium on my soul. Towards the end of the set they opened with a Stone Roses riff which morphed into an Oasis vocal with lyrics that said absolutely nothing at all. I found myself realising why no-one goes to gigs unless they know the band - you find yourself at the whim of people who can play guitar but have no idea what a guitar is really for.
So after that abortion the headlining band had better be good. No, they'd better be amazing. I'd braved fireworks and the threat of a light drizzle to come here tonight. The Bleak started with a song that sounded a hell of a lot like Led Zep. They then followed this with a Jimmy Hendrix cover, then a song which owed a fair bit to Pink Floyd. After a while they covered the Beatles' "While My Guitar Gently Weeps".
Ah well...
To their credit they were definitely enjoying themselves and it was interesting to see what were essentially a bunch of kids playing around with this sort of stuff and not taking it at all seriously. I was ready to write them off as another bloomin' covers band when in the middle of one of their own songs the two guitarists stepped off to the side for a drink while the drummer did a fucking drum solo! Not even your dyed in the wool cock-rocking metal band would have that sort of audacity! They then finished up with a big fat instrumental blues jam which was, as you'd expect, perfectly competent and probably the best thing I'd heard all night but is it really headlining material?
I'll say it again - this was a Saturday night at one of the main venues for local bands in Birmingham, a venue at which I have attended some of the best gigs of my life by some of the most interesting groups in the area. As a showcase for Birmingham this was very poor. Maybe we can blame all the fireworks displays for taking the custom elsewhere (the pub was noticeably quiet compared to yesterdays crush) but I'm not here to be generous. I'm going to 14 gigs in 14 days. My patience is limited.
Permalink | Posted in GDFAF, Gigs, Music on Sunday, November 6 2005 | Comments (57) ?subject=[Weblog] 061105: GDFAF2: The Bleak, Sweet Lilly, The Tates" title="email me about this specific post">Email
Okay, this is the start of a 14 day series of posts, Going Deaf For A Fortnight in which I go to a gig in a small venue in Birmingham every night to see bands I mostly have never heard of before and then write about them here. By the end of it I expect to have attained a good overview of the Birmingham small gigs scene, to hopefully have discovered some good tune-smiths and to probably have descended into a nightmarish Gonzo-style meltdown. We shall see.
GDFAF #1 was a pretty easy start as it was a gig by my flatmate's band Plinth, headlining at the Jug of Ale in Moseley. It was also something of a reunion with a good showing of friends not seen for a while who'd travelled up for the event, but I had to tear myself away from such distractions as I was on a mission. The rules of this game are that I have to attentively watch every band performing - no hanging in the bar during the support acts, no nipping into the corridor for a chat - this is business. But despite being amongst friends I was also in a slightly strange place as it was the first time I'd brought the new camera to a gig along with the seems-bigger-out-of-the-shop tripod I picked up yesterday. I wasn't just going to be waving my little digicam around, I was going to be a "professional" photographer, or at least pretending to be one for tonight.
So I made my way upstairs to the gig space at the Jug and secured a nice table near the front, which wasn't too hard as there were only a dozen people up there. I know this number because the first band, The Goods made frequent references to it. They weren't a happy bunch and I got the feeling they'd done a few too many support slots to empty rooms. While I understand this attitude it's kinda self fulfilling - if you come on and moan about how there's no-one there then those who are there don't feel particularly obliged to get enthusiastic. In fact it was one of those sets where the audience reaction became more muted as it went on. Musically they were very competent, possibly too competent if that makes sense. I could tell by watching them where each note was coming from, each guitar working perfectly well on its own but not really coming together to create something new, which is sort of what you expect from a band. Not that they'll produce an amorphous noise or anything but that something special will emerge, something gestalt, if you like. And they sounded a bit like a band who really liked the Stone Roses a few years back and never quite got over it. Nothing wrong with that of course. I'm thinking if they actually gave the impression that they wanted to be there I'd have enjoyed them a lot more, but they didn't, so I didn't really.
I made the huge mistake of going downstairs and offering to buy someone a drink while the next band were setting up which in the Jug on a Friday night is something of an ordeal. I tend to only go there on a weeknight to see gigs so I'd never appreciated how full of incredibly young people it gets of a weekend. It's quite a schizo place with all the yoofs downstairs doing whatever it is they do and all the music-types upstairs being all musicy. But I made it back having only missed a couple of songs by Man In Fridge who were an quite odd band in a really nice way. In fact they were something of a counterpoint to The Goods - what they lacked in musicality they more than made up for with enthusiasm. The large hairy bassist / singer looked like a scary metal-head but came over really sweet and slightly camp between songs, while the other singer / guitarist - a short chap with spiky hair - was a ADD-fueled nutter, rolling around the stage for a couple of songs. This sort of theatrics can go horribly wrong if you're not lucky, like an embarrassing Art thing, but this worked for me principally because they were having such tremendous fun. Musically theirs was a kind of good-time funk-pop thing - nothing particularly revolutionary but highly enjoyable.
And then Plinth about whom I am somewhat biassed but bear with me. The set has settled into a pattern of slow build, starting with some steady kinda post-rock tunes and ending with a couple of tracks where singer Andy channels some kind of primal force from god knows where and the audience is left shattered and emotionally drained. But it's not the sort of pounding dirge you might expect - there's a soft edge to the aggression, a fragility to the rock posturing that brings the audience in. The band were very tight tonight, moving swiftly through the set and maintaining a presence throughout the half hour set and it was the perfect end to Plinth Year One - a good gig amongst friends.
Permalink | Posted in GDFAF, Gigs, Music on Saturday, November 5 2005 | Comments (10) ?subject=[Weblog] 051105: GDFAF: Plinth, Man In Fridge, The Goods" title="email me about this specific post">Email
Plinth had their third gig last night but the lights were so low most of my photos were shit. Plinth weren't shit though. They were storming, more than making up for the second gig nerves last month. There's now talk of publicity and the need to build up an audience that isn't composed of friends and co-workers so I guess another pro bono website is in the works. Next gig is November 4th. Spread the word.
This one came out fairly okay, but I do need to figure out a way of taking decent low-light shots. Might be time to invest in a pocket tripod.
Support was from Issue 22 who were good and fun and the astonishing, though not necessarily in a good way, Raiders of Rock n' Roll who did a kind of 80's hair metal thing without a trace of irony. I was grinning like a tit as the incredibly nerdy lead singer swung his mike stand during a climax and I'm still not sure if I was laughing at them or not. It was kinda refreshing in some strange way. Goodwin was horrified at the clip-art sexy lady on the flyer (see their site) but I like it. They're playing again at the Firkin on October 28th. You never know...
During the gig I was thinking how I only seem to go to gigs of bands I already know and how this isn't the best way to discover new bands, and I had an incredibly stupid idea. Once my tax refund finally comes through I'm going to spend two weeks going to every single gig at the Jug of Ale in Moseley (mainly because it's my nearest gig venue) and when there isn't a gig on there go to one somewhere else where I don't know the bands. 14 gigs in 14 days. And every night I shall write up my experience is as much detail as possible. I'm tentatively calling this project "Going Deaf for a Fortnight". I bellowed the idea in Tom's ear and he grinned with approval, and now I've written it here so it will happen. God help me.
Ooh yes, confirmation appeared in flyer form of Jeffrey Lewis's next Birmingham gig, at said Jug on Friday November 11th with fellow US anti-folk noiseters Schwervon (mp3s) in support. I will be there come hell or high water.
Finally a reminder that I'll be at Una Corda's gig on October 7th at the Jug for flat-mate related post-rock action.
And so it was back to the Jug for the second night of the Misty's Big Adventure residency. Other than some fairly crap shots I gave up taking photos since I already have a fair few and, to be frank, felt that dancing like a fool was more the point (though I noticed my dancing has evolved into just jumping up and down a lot). A whole gaggle of us went along tonight (seven as opposed to the mere five yesterday) including a last minute surprise appearance by Shaun Bark, one of the merry Bonfire Radio podcasters, who having enjoyed Misty's at a gig more local to him decided to drive 150 miles to see them in their home town. He's currently crashed on our sofa. Podcasting - it brings people together, y'know?
Support again featured Bom and his Magic Drumstick who was a bit more shambolic than on Saturday though this didn't detract. I realised I first saw him a year ago supporting Jeffrey Lewis. Even then he seemed like he'd being doing this forever and still he's plugging away with his absurdist stories and indescribable songs. I'm getting curious now - I need to know the Bom story. However, I also fear knowing the Bom story.
Middle support tonight was The Ripps who were very interesting though I haven't quite got them placed. Kind of a happy, almost Brtipoppy sound, though that shouldn't be taken as a criticism. The Britpop thing, that is. Happy should never be taken as a criticism. I'm still not sure what I think of them, though I'm pretty sure whatever it is it'll be positive. Others in the gang were also intrigued and we'll be checking them out again I'm sure.
And then to the main event. The room was less full than yesterday so there wasn't the same rammed sweatbox of noise from the audience but it was still madness. Misty's rattled through the new album track by track then ran out of songs and took requests along with playing some of the new songs debuted yesterday.
What more can I say? Lots of dancing, and some more dancing. A bit of singing along. Additional dancing. At some point I'm going to see a real chinstroker of a band at the Jug and it'll all seem a little odd.
Top weekend - thanks guys. Adding it up I directly or indirectly brought eleven people to those gigs and all of them went away happy. Result!
The first night of the grand Misty's Big Adventure weekend residency at the Jug of Ale was a storming success. They rattled through loads of songs, mainly taken from the first album bringing some old tracks out of retirement and sprinkling in some newer ones, playing non-stop for the full set with no encore. The room was packed and dancing was constant. A very sweaty and grand time was had, so much so I barely took any photos.
Support was the same as the last time I saw them, with Bom and his Magic Drumstock continuing his story (I hope someone's been recording these) and The Retro Spankees kicking major arse with their screaming nerd-rock.
A top night, and it's back again on Sunday for part two. Blimey!
Jez and me went down to London Town on the train to see Mr Bob Mould play a rock concert.
He played some songs I didn't know and some I did. The encore featured old Hüsker Dü songs. Jez moshed. I pogo'ed. It was very good.
We then got the last train back to Birmingham and cycled to our respective homes at 2am.
Rock.
Allowing for the fact that three members of the band are good friends of mine and two of them flatmates to boot, given that sort inevitable bias in my reaction to their first gig, I have to say that Plinth were quite frankly fucking brilliant. Well done chaps.
Andy/Zoop on guitar, Andy G on primal power vocals, Phil on drums
A rare full colour gig photo.
Fave piece of feedback so far (from mild-mannered colleague): "For the first few songs you were just playing with yourselves but in the last two you ejaculated all over the room." Lovely image.
Next gig on the 25th when they'll be headlining. Bring it on!
Photo were okay in a functional good-time post-Wire eyeliner kinda way. Shocked Elevator Family I was prepared to like until they butchered, and I mean fucking killed stone dead, a great Magnetic Fields song, at which stage I decided they sucked balls.
Sunday, May 8th 2005. Another day, another gig at the Jug of Ale, another batch of dodgy low-light, desaturated photos added to my Gigs set on Flickr...
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So, after a long week walking it was off to the Jug of Ale in Moseley to see Misty's Big Adventure perform. And perform they bloody well did. I've been meaning to see them for about a year now and failed miserably, but while I'd rather have not waited it was worth it. Right now they are the best band I've ever seen live.
My companions for this trip were Matt and Marv who seemed a little reticent to go and see one of Pete's weird and probably noisy bands but were convinced by samples from their site ("sounds harmless" said Marv) and after a lovely takeaway-and-heat-up curry (what was that place called again guys?) we moseyed over to the Jug.
The first support were Killer Yogi who were aparently doing their first ever gig and had the entire family in tow with camcorders at every angle. While naively rough, as you'd expect, there was a lot of potential there and the singer, he had a good voice. Next up was the immortal Bom and his Magic Drumstick to whom comparisons to Ivor Cutler could be drawn if you wanted to, though a disservice to both would be done in doing so. I'd seen him supporting Jeffrey Lewis (who, as it happens, is at the Jug on May 8th - woot!) last September where he was telling a story about Tommy the Tortoise and his friends off on an absurd adventure. And now, seven months later, he's still telling the same story. At one point characters from chapter 12 appeared through a time hole implying this story has been going on for a long time. Here's a nice photo of Bom which looks like it was taken in the 19th century:
And so, to Misty's Big Adventure, and my power of superlatives has left me. At the front is Grandmaster Gareth, a long haired balding man who shuffles around like a sad dog. To his left and right are sax and trumpet with a couple of guitars behind them. All four do backing vocals, along with the keyboardist behind Gareth and in front of the drums. So quite the ensemble then, and the music they make is lovely. Then, bounding around all this, and countering Gareth's maudlin doggery, is Erotic Volvo, a six foot lunatic dressed in a red sack with many inflated blue gloves adorning him, who whirls like a delightful dervish. Here's a photo of him:
Somehow Matt and I made it to the front of a packed room and were dancing like fools. I've never seen so many people dancing at the Jug - it's normally more a standing still, tapping feet and stroking chin type of venue. They weren't even playing the crowd in any manipulative way - just producing an ambience that worked, full stop. A tits-off grin-fest indeed.
Interestingly, I'd bought their album a while back and while it's good, it didn't really grab me big time. Listening to it again now, with last night in my mind, it's better but it still doesn't scratch their live performance. It's the sort of thing you just can't get down on tape. I will be seeing them again, and again, and I urge you to do so too.
Mr J Lewis, in sequence.
Okay. Five quid in, three hours, four bands, all great. One day I'll go to a gig and come away disappointed but right now I'm on a streak. I knew cartoonist of distinction and anti-folk superstar Jeffrey Lewis was going to be good but knew nothing about the support, which is kinda how I like to play it. Same went for Dan and Sooz who I'd turned onto Lewis a few weeks back. Tom has decided to come at the last minute, knew nothing, and walked in just as the first support started, approaching us with a big grin.
Permalink | Posted in Gigs, Music on Sunday, September 19 2004 | Comments (4) ?subject=[Weblog] 190904: Jeffrey Lewis + support at the Jug of Ale, Birmingham" title="email me about this specific post">Email
ColdRice does it again - three quality bands on one bill for £3 in. On a Saturday. In central Birmingham. I cannot recommend this night highly enough.
Jen of The Priscillas gives me the finger, pointy style.
Permalink | Posted in Gigs, Music on Sunday, August 22 2004 | Comments (4) ?subject=[Weblog] 220804: The Priscillas and YumiYumi at ColdRice" title="email me about this specific post">Email
I sidle up to the edge of the stage to take some photos. Out of the corner of my eye I see a familiar looking bulk tear into the mosh like an rhino embracing the chaos as Phil finally lives up to the long standing joke that he looks like a young Ozzy Osbourne. Fuck this, I think to myself, and bounce off to join him. Punk never died, it just went all ages, spanning the generations in an orgy of sweat and shoving. Old punks, metallers, young goth industrialists, an alarming number of 12 year olds and every variety of black-clad freak you can imagine staggered around in a seething mass of happy aggression. This was Stourbridge, April 1st 2004. The Dead Kennedys were in town and they fucking rocked.
Permalink | Posted in Gigs, Music on Friday, April 2 2004 | Comments (9) ?subject=[Weblog] 020404: Dead Kennedys, Stourbridge Rock Cafe - a gig review" title="email me about this specific post">Email
