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Friday, 16 May, 2008
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Trencher at The Portland Arms, Cambridge
05/03/2008
Trencher / Spin Spin the Dogs / MicroPenis The Portland Arms Cambridge March 1st. The ‘hilariously’ moniker’d Mircopenis are a boy/girl duo who make noise using vox/bass/drum machine. They’re a sort of post-modern, performance art, piece, with lyrics like “I’m in love with the communist war machine. Supersonic. Sex. Attack”. The problem is that singer Louise has very little stage presence; she mainly stands in one spot looking like she wishes she was somewhere else, which doesn’t really help when delivering lines like that. I don’t know if you’ve seen the ‘Bad Uncle’ episode of Nathan Barley, but Micropenis sound like the girl from that fronting a Big Black tribute band. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing as they’re quite enjoyable, assuming it’s all a little tongue in cheek and, dare I say it, ‘ironic’. Spin Spin the Dogs are another interesting spectacle. The singer can only be described as ‘eccentric’ as he stomps around the stage as if afflicted by some sort of petit mal, and barking (no pun intended) out lyrics, whilst the band play something akin to neo-jazz in a similar vein to Mr. Bungle. Sadly their frontman is no Mike Patton and his attempts at being ‘zany’ are a turn-off; introducing each song with an anecdote before running out of steam and demanding his band play the next song. Considering how ‘normal’ the three young men that form Trencher look, it’s surprising how evil they sound, especially considering their sonic arsenal is comprised merely of drum kit, bass and a tiny Casio keyboard. They tear through a set, comprised almost solely of tracks from last years Lips album, and it’s enough to make your skin crawl. Aside from myself, and a few other brave souls, the rest of the audience watch from the back of the room; secure, safe and trying to avoid having their ears flayed. Quite a shame as they miss an incredible display by all three musicians. I never thought it possible to create so much dread from so small a device but singer/keyboardist M.Shit manages to do just that. His fingers are a blur as the machine spits out what can only be described as a ‘dark carnival’ sound; like the Pied Piper luring poor children to their doom. You’d be forgiven for assuming that Drummer ‘Lock Monger’ ( Trencher obviously don’t use their own names) were some sort of multi-limbed demon, unleashing an assault on all parts of his kit. The dirty, fuzz-bass, grooves, which are wrenched from Pox’s instrument, are enough to send a shiver up your spine as you try twitching and contorting to the music. A particular highlight is Nightmare on Crack St, a lurching beast of a song, akin to a merry-go-round gone horribly wrong. They finish their set in the manner it began, all screams and noise, and I wander into the evening, my ears ringing delightfully and my soul slightly stained; but all the better for it. Words: Andy Devine
tags:
| trencher |
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Transient at The Horse and Groom
29/02/2008
Transient The Horse and Groom Shoreditch February 16th Spray-painting a lime, silver and blue logo here, there and everywhere, Transient showed the party had arrived in style at The Horse and Groom; their Valentine’s soiree an intimate evening of good music, laid back lovers and speedy drinks. The Horse and Groom proved both a warm and inviting venue, with leather sofas and ambient lighting making the evening an unpretentious affair; the sunglasses thankfully left at home. Resident DJ Dan Kinasz warmed up the Groom, getting the feet agrooving and the atmosphere atingling with the infectious 'Albertino' by Guido Schneider. Ad Jones literally worked all and sundry into a fevered frenzy with his aptly named reproduction of ‘Fever,’ a deep, sexy, woman’s voice perfectly pleasurable to the steamy crowd. Guest DJ Tom Taylor (one half of 2020 Vision’s excellent Electric Press) continued to satisfy, perhaps more so, with his unique mix of deep house, techno and funk, well received by The Horse and Groom faithful. The evening was an ideal combo of laid-back boogy and party-hard, without the pub turning into the usual Shoreditch sweat box; considering the popularity of the night, quite an achievement. So the next time you’re bungling about wide eyed around the East-End of London tahn, take more than a Transient look for the party that invites you to get involved, and get involved. Words: Hannah Wiltshire
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| transient |
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Les Savy Fav, The Astoria, 10th February
22/02/2008
Les Savy Fav The Astoria Sunday 10th February I would like to preface this review with the following admission: I love Les Savy Fav and have done for many years. This confession may lead you to believe that what you're about to read is steeped in personal bias and narrow-minded self-interest. I assure you it's not, you have my word. Having played together for 12 years the musical arm of LSF is incredibly tight. The music sounds pitch perfect. However, they're not afraid to demonstrate their improvisational skills, allowing set closer '(Rome) Written Upside Down' room to breath and adding in their own technical flourishes. I've seen this song performed live six times now and it's always different. Never the same. Despite their musical brilliance lead singer Tim Harrington is (of course) the man to watch. His boundless energy, wit and showmanship are worth the entry price alone. At the start of their set he bemoans the barriers at the front of the stage keeping audience and band separated. This doesn't stop him from plunging into the crowd at any given opportunity, allowing the baying fans to take the mic during the wolf howl section of latest single What Would Wolves Do? (I urge you to check out the video for this song, already a contender for best music video of the year) and generally mucking in with the dancing and sweaty crowd. I have to say there's nothing quite like watching a band in the middle of a group of people, who are all as excited as you are, and who are also singing along to every word. It shows how much attention Harrington commands that on his frequent trips to the back of the Astoria the entire crowd are watching where he's going and not the band; although they don't let this phase them. Les Savy Fav play a set which relies heavily on latest album 'Let's be friends' (naturally) but this is by no means a bad thing. 'The Equestrian' is a rollicking beast of a song and 'Patty Lee' begins the first sing along of the night. Follow this with the decadence drenched 'Raging in the Plague Age' (sample lyric "draw up the drawbridge draw down the blinds everyone inside is getting high tonight") and you have a powerful brace of song. The band still delve into their back catalogue and songs like 'Reprobates Resume', 'The Sweat Descends' and 'One Way Widow' are received like old friends. Les Savy Fav play each show as if it were the most important one they've ever played. There are no shortcuts or half measures. Tim Harrington's frequent costume changes add to the show rather than detract from it and never come off as contrived, or 'try hard', as could be the case with other bands. The fact that he's a slightly corpulent fellow, with a balding head, huge beard, and demeanour of an ADD afflicted child, helps add to his charm. After playing an exhausting hour long set the band still come back on for a four song encore. This includes a cover of The Pixies ‘Debaser’, which has the worn out crowd using the last of their energy reserves to dance along to it. It's a sign of a great band that as soon as I've walked out of the Astoria I want to listen to them on my iPod; Les Savy Fav definitely rock the party that rocks the party! Party! PARTY! Words: Andrew Devine
tags:
| les savy fav |
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Levi's OneToWatch at Camden Barfly
21/02/2008
Levi's OneToWatch Camden Barfly Tuesday 19th February Levi's OnesToWatch took their ‘breaking new talent’ type shindig to Camden’s Barfly on Tuesday 19th. Cazals and Cut Off Your Hands were the main bands on offer; the first time I’d seen any of them play. First up we had the support band, Ox.Eagle.Lion.Man, who seemed pretty impressive. They were a lot heavier than first predicted, granted, but not bad really. Dark, brooding, that kind of thing; sort of Nick Cave style... I can’t honestly say a lot more than that. I know, I know - that’s pretty lame - but don’t shoot the messenger, right? I have an excuse. See, I was ordering a drink downstairs when the band kicked-off, and obviously in Barfly the bands play upstairs so I missed their set. But it was jammed up there, and a lot of people seemed to be getting down to their music, so that suggests that they’re pretty damn good. Next up were Cazals. Now, I’m going to lay to rest the old adage about journalists being all professional. I mean, this is music for Christ sake. You can’t go to a gig and write a review without getting involved in the whole sha-bang. Alas, as always, a wee bit of drink entered the equation. Unfortunately, I still didn’t feel totally comfortable getting involved in the music. I guess that’s the problem when you’re all alone. Anyway, by the time Cazals kicked-off I decided I quite liked them, which is weird because originally I had a preconception of them being a bit crap. Anyway, the point is, I wanted to get up and join the rest of the masses. Go mental; dance like a prick. That kind of thing. That was the effect of the band, you see. Basically, Cazals really surprised me; really, really surprised me. I mean, it was good music with semi-good lyrics. Take ‘New Boy in Town’ for example. I immediately felt a kind of kinship with the band when they started to play it, you know? I thought I’m “the new boy in town because I don’t really know anyone here”. Anyway, the Indie kids were loving it; bless ‘em, and that’s enough for me. If people are responding to the music its all good, even if the vocalist does have a sort of bum-fluff moustache/beard thing going on. But I do too, so there we go, I could relate to him instantly (as well as his music). In fact, he was quite a presence on the stage, a real performer, no doubt about it. Anyway, as I say, I wasn’t totally professional on the night and I lay the blame solely on Cazals, because they made me want to express myself to their music and that. But, from what I recall, the band were pretty friggin’ sweet. One of those mass-appeal kind of Indie/rock/dance outfits, or ‘grapes’ as I like to call them. Everyone loves grapes right? Whatever man, they were good... The final band was Cut Off Your Hands. Now, the name made me think that their music would be all depressing, like “slit your wrist” music retagged for ‘08. Anyway, I was wrong, which was good because I was starting to feel the urge to get more involved in shenanigans. The singer looked quite young, sort of like a pretty-boy scholar. In fact, the band generally looked posh, well-to-do types. Anyway, their music was surprisingly good. I mean, crowd surfing kicked in, I got an elbow in the mouth, and everyone was going mental. Which says a lot, really, doesn’t it? In a nutshell, Cut Off Your Hands are a pleasant band; so take that as you will. Fast paced, energetic, and pleasant. I briefly remember a tambourine, which is always good. Verdicts? Ox.Eagle.Lion.Man: I didn’t see enough of them to really comment but I heard that they were a-okay. Cazals: I liked the lyric - “All I've got is vices knocking at my door” - because it seemed pretty relative. Plus, they’re music far exceeded expectation. A thumbs-up from me. Cut Off Your Hands: I liked them. Even though they looked like well-to-do types, they had the masses kicking-off and their music was pretty impressive. The night ended with me serenading some blonde chick with Bohemian Rhapsody and being rugby tackled by some guy with no hair. The chick disappeared. The rugby guy brought me a drink. I left a happy man. I reckon a big chunk of that was down to the music. Nuff said. Words: Dave Dryden Photography: Cazals – New-Noise / Cut Off Your Hands – Rae Pinx
tags:
| levi's onetowatch |
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Athlete with support from Boy Kill Boy
29/01/2008
Athlete Supported by Boy Kill Boy January 2008 Now that their hotel room trashing days are behind them, Boy Kill Boy, on tonight’s evidence, have settled into a lazy melodic groove. Chris Peck’s vocals retain their dramatic, lofty thrust, as is especially evident through ‘Civil Sin’. Energy levels rise and “Whooo-hoos” are let out from the masses, as the digitally toed ‘Suzie’ hits home. An unspectacular, but catchy warm-up seems to do the trick and Boy Kill Boy are now trying to catch attention onstage rather than in hotel rooms. This is undoubtedly a step forward for the East London four-piece. Five Charlton Athletic fans, whose combined thrust makes up Athlete, stride into view led by the bearded and bright singer/guitarist Joel Pott. Immediately they show pride in their latest and third album ‘Beyond The Neighbourhood’. By settling comfortably into the sturdy drum driven ‘Tokyo’, with percussionist Stephen Roberts immediately taking control and showing his worth to the group. Rumours that Joel is “giving his all on this tour”, seem to be well-founded upon the airing of the full-bodied, second album stomp, ‘Half Light’. Between songs, jovial graciousness and light humour demonstrates that the lead man has given a great deal of attention to stage presence. This seems to be paying dividends tonight. One of the most striking elements of the new approach to song construction, displayed on the recent third album, is the swerving key-led prominence. This is illuminated through the melancholic ‘Best Not To Think About It’ and Pott’s vocals become laboured; almost to the point of painstaking. This lower key approach seeps into the keys and acoustic dominated, old favourite ‘Beautiful’ that is nudged along by a swooning crowd chorus. Pott encourages audience participation and warns the enthralled balcony dwellers that they cannot stay sat down all evening. When the full band returns, bassist Carey Willets steps up to dominate the floor shuddering, bass pushed ‘Wires’. This nifty number brought success and attracted a wider appeal to the second album and, as always, its impact steps up in a live setting. An Editors type climb to ‘Twenty Four Hours’ is greatly appreciated. It serves as yet another example of the continuing vocal power of this quivering quintet. As the main set draws to a close the whole room is beckoned to their feet and little resistance is shown. An encore inclusive of the jam frenzy, poetically punchy ‘Flying Over Bus Stops’ puts the lid on a bracing evening. Words: Paul Hall Warrrington
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| athlete |
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DJ Krush @ KOKO
22/01/2008
DJ Krush at KOKO London . 19 January 2008 When Krush steps to the stage, there's a powerful aura that radiates off this iconic Japanese DJ as he rests, poised, behind the turntables, his hood up and the synths beginning to swirl into that unmistakeable sonic Krush vortex. The big news for his first London gig of 2008 is that Krush has left his records behind and is using a laptop instead. This may be the norm for many DJs these days, eschewing the heavy record bag and leaving the jockey sluts chasing some skinny indie guitarists, but for Krush, the move represents a quantum leap. He's the man who brought hip hop to the Japanese, making vinyl his passion and selecting, his art. Despite the absence of wax, it's clear Krush's signature touch has by no means waned as he adopts the mantle of the digital age. He doesn't quite take the deep journey he carved out at his Koko gig last year, but his selection is heavy and suitably tenebrous all the same, throwing in classics 'Kemuri' and 'Only the Strong Survive' to keep the crowd happy. Perhaps his soundscapes sound a little flatter this time as he's preceded by Memory 9, a man called Gadi Sassoon who's stupidly adept at the sampler, mashing up everything from techno to hip hop with a well-timed flick of the wrist. Vadim's there too but sadly fails to tear the roof off like he's done at previous parties. His set's essentially a One Self gig, and the tunes are sounding a little tired ('Bluebird' is the only one still standing strong), only very subtly hinting at the production power this man's capable of. Listened to 'The Soundcatcher' lately? That's what we're talking about. The Herbaliser round the night off nicely, playing a friendly set including Das Efx and a wicked big band version of the Jackson 5's 'ABC'. It's danceable. Fun. The ring of Krush's enigmatic soundscapes getting fainter with each samba step the drunk couple on the balcony upstairs fumble through, while spilling pints of numbers over each other. WORDS: HELENE DANCER
tags:
| dj krush | koko |
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The Courteeners w/s from Lead Balloons
18/01/2008
The Courteeners plus Lead Balloons @ Academy, Manchester Ah… The Courteeners: Live! Proof if proof need be that Manchester has firmly brandished its sword and sliced Sheffield from its crown as the new music capital of the UK. Lead Balloons were the first band to perform from a city still in mourning over Vera Duckworth’s passing to the great bingo hall in the sky, and went some way to cheering the Mancunian masses of their loss. The four-piece support act grew out of singer/song writer Pierre Hall’s ability to pen expanding, layered pop songs, far too big for one lowly soldier to carry-out alone. Attention is fixed on the red headbands, sported by two of the band members, and the songs that build around the elastic and striking conjoined vocals of Hall and Craig Marchington. The latter, low key character, manages to produce bounding bass-lines that add versatility and vim to proceedings. At times they conjure an impact akin to The Proclaimers, singing into a megaphone, and backed by the haunting-beat of Joy Division. Forthcoming debut single, ‘Somethin’ You Say’ draws out Hall’s subtler-song building; a hint of desperation unleashed through pleadingly delivered lyrics. Percussionist, Scott Jackson, switches the pace and tempo with adroitness between songs, putting in the effort of a marathon runner wearing concrete shoes. An ever growing mass of new music-spotters emit a glowing range of enthusiastic responses upon Hall and Co’s stage exit. If this performance is anything to go by, watch this space. Swaggering into view, beer in hand, oozing the now-famed Madchester cockiness, The Courteeners take to the stage. Frontman, Liam Fray, assuredly acknowledges the crowd before firing off into the opener; help at hand in the dominating, shuddering percussion drills of Michael Campbell. Beer fills air; the bands energy matched blow to blow by the expectant and excitable crowd, appreciative that the band are living up to their boisterous, crowd cajoling live reputation. The cocky stomp of ‘Aftershow’ has each word sent back from the masses with relish; ‘classic’ written all over it with a thick-black marker. Giving a glimpse as to how their March-due debut album may take shape, The Courteeners mould together Jamie-T style vocal poetry, instrumental Stone Roses breaks, and droplets of The Smiths; especially in the lyrical snap and cocky self-assurance of frontman Fray. The yet unreleased album is already being penciled in for Mercury Prize glory; which goes some way to assessing how full-frontal the band are live. Current B-side ‘Slow Down’ represents the more adventurous nature of the new pretenders, with an essence of dub-funk about it. The exit of all band members but Fray and his guitar, brings the euphoria down to an intimate level, the mood of the masses drastically changing. The stunning ‘An Ex Is An Ex For A Reason’ is the smoothest vocal performance Fray puts in, and the frontman has an air of striking dignity about him whilst performing it. It doesn’t take the remainder of the band long to pick up the pace and energy on their return though; the crowd throbbing like a virgin’s cock in a brothel. The introductory snippet to previous single ‘Acrylic,’ a tune that introduced the lads to many in attendance tonight: “You’re just like plasticine, molded into a libertine dream,” brings out jigging spasms in all and sundry, summing up the mystique and punch that Fray and friends stand for. Given that the bulk of 2008 will be spent on the road, the commanding front man takes time to lay down a few ground rules. He berates an exuberant fan for pushing others; threatening to walk off stage if he continues in this disrespectful display. ‘What Took You So Long?’ provides the fiery finale and extends the onstage time to an hour. The Courteeners appear more than ready for the big year that lies ahead of them. The next big thing? Maybe… just maybe. Words: Dave Adair
tags:
| the courteeners |
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Camden Crawl
23/08/2007
Camden Crawl, London At times, wandering through Camden on weekend afternoons can resemble a trip to an indie-Disneyland. Streets are overflowing with suburban youths wearing their tribal colours, groups of tourists walk along gawping and dealers hang out on the bridge trying to con students out of their money for bags of oregano. Shops and stalls trade in amazingly unwitty t-shirts and unpleasant food. If during the day it can be irritating, then at night try just downright unnerving. But the bottom line is that Camden is perhaps London’s musical heartbeat. This is where the young bands cut their teeth, this is where the kids create the buzz around them and this is where all self-respecting music fans come to check it all out. However, repeated visits to Camden to see the next ‘next big thing’ could get draining. How often can a person with even a modicum of regard for their own hygiene and safety return to Camden before they eventually flip out and head off out to Surrey in order to live in a hermetically sealed anti-bacterial box? As much as the organisers of Camden Crawl would have you believe that the whole thing is a showcase for new bands and a celebration of live music, there’s still the sneaking suspicion that it’s really about reducing the need for extended and prolonged exposure to Camden. After the umbrage taken due to the excessive queuing that many people had to endure last year, the Crawl was extended to a second day to give people the chance to see all the bands. However, problems arose when it turned out to be two of the most beautiful days London has seen all year. People weren’t surviving in Camden, they were actually enjoying it. People jacked in queuing for gigs in favour of sitting by the lock sipping cold beers, or making new friends in old drinking dens like The Good Mixer and Tommy Flynn’s. Camden was in danger of looking like a place that you wouldn’t actually mind hanging out in. Still, Amy Winehouse in the back room of the Dublin Castle had over-eager punters keeping the queue, as did The Charlatans and Travis at Koko. However, the real treats were to be discovered in the quieter corners of the Crawl route with incendiary sets from bands like upcoming Oxford outfit Foals. Call it math rock, call it the work of the devil, either way they had a crowd in The Underworld indulging in some stage-invading and truly awful dancing at 4 in the afternoon, which is surely the Crawl’s real magic. If Foals were the underground darlings then a brief glimpse of what is destined to be one of this year’s breakthrough acts could be seen at the Electric Ballroom in the form of Air Traffic. Ash may have been headlining but after the epic theatrics of these young rockers, there was no doubt that an exciting new prospect had arrived. A quick stumble from there to The Enterprise revealed perhaps the biggest treat of all. In a small and sweltering room before a densely packed crowd, Birmingham’s singer-songwriter extraordinaire Scott Matthews played an acoustic set accompanied only by a cellist. Working his way through a repertoire of some of the most delicate and breathtaking pieces of music to come out of this country in recent years, it was little wonder that his attempts to leave the stage were blocked and the poor chap was forced to play a total of three encores. As memorable as all of this was, it collectively paled into insignificance when compared to what happened to Camden over that 48 hours. A breeding ground for this country’s finest and most innovative music, undoubtedly, but a place of friendliness and charm? If the Crawl manages to land such fine weather next year and thus bring out everyone’s more affable traits, the place may actually be known for something other than its music. At a time when numerous music venues in the capital are being closed, it’s a wonderful sight to see the cross-section of Londoners that make the city’s live scene as marvellous as it is uniting for two days of indulgence. If the developers and city planners were to see days like this, perhaps they wouldn’t be quite so keen to start erecting even more empty office blocks. After all, without the joy of Camden during the Crawl, what the hell would be the point of living in London anyway?
tags:
| camden crawl |
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Bloc Weekend in Pontins, Great Yarmouth
23/08/2007
Bloc Weekend Pontins, Great Yarmouth There’s something endearingly straightforward about Bloc’s shy hedonism; hiding behind a simple logo stamped on a garish red flyer, this was the very first weekender. Making no great claims to relevancy, immediacy, to being a festival, exploration or suchlike, nor being curated as a celebration of any one vein of electronic music in particular, Bloc is simply an opportunity for the punters to coalesce and celebrate. They were confronted with a line up of impressive depth and breadth, and while it was a superficially homogenous crowd of aging ravers and East Anglian crusties, it was refreshing to be transported to an external scene, spared the day-glow face paint now so ubiquitous in London, Edinburgh, Manchester, and every other city I’ve danced about in lately. Though the event had decided to sit heavily somewhere between techno and dubstep, the highlights were undoubtedly the live performances from old school heroes. As Newcleus morphed into AUX 88 and then Kool Keith, Friday night saw the parabolic development of a particularly American electronic sound, and in those three hours it was possible to watch hip hop crawling from the crackling swamp of early electro, and gazing towards its turbo-charged and slightly unhinged future, 2001, with synths instead of bones. On the other hand, Autechre, for whom there was a palpable buzz the whole weekend, brought a tangible chill to the proceedings. About thirty hours into the weekend, I stood to the side and watched a motionless crowd absorb those trapped beats and ponderous low-end murmurs, and wondered why they bothered. By that point everyone had been staggering about like sharks, moving to breathe, waiting for their second wind, and somehow, right when everyone was crying for entertainment, this intelligent vacuum had sucked it all away. They were not the only acts molested by the hand of dull; Mary Ann Hobbs played one of the most egregiously boring dubstep sets I’ve ever lacked the energy to walk away from, while Mrk 1 & Virus Syndicate were so much uninspired Brit rap posturing, which seemed bemusingly pathetic following Kool Keith. As Saturday night hammered ahead, you got the increasing sense that you weren’t going to witness anything revolutionary, that the weekend had already peaked the day before - Two Lone Swordsman, Kool Keith and TTC all having been so supremely fun. Luke Slater was impressive, plucking and twitching at a complicated array of sequencers to great effect, while Alex Smoke played a nice set, though perhaps a little early, preempting as he did a truly pedestrian offering from The Advent. The night proper ended with a pair of masterful performances, the first an uncompromising display of Detroit virtuosity from Rob Hood, followed by CJ Bolland. The heavyweight Belgian provided what was in my opinion the best hour of the evening, between five and six on Sunday morning, reaching several frenzied crescendos, the best of which, during ‘Erotic Discourse,’ drew many audible and thoroughly appropriate sighs of physical delight. It was engaging to watch this man, this toddler scaled up to the size of a gorilla, nodding his head metronomically throughout a set of high rhythmical complexity, as if there was really nothing to it at all. The next ineluctable frenzied high was dealt with so unassumingly that not for the first time was the crowd’s attention directed inwardly. The whole weekend in fact was so pleasantly free from DJ worship, there was never any real need to gaze towards whatever unlit area of the stage each in turn set up on. You could focus entirely on the often quite challenging music and get carried away dancing between the three enormous rooms. In the true spirit of ‘rave’ rather than ‘club’, this was about the punters and not the performers.
tags:
| bloc weekend |
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