EDITION 017
FEB 2005 LIVE REVIEWS
Kaiser Chiefs
Tsunami Benefit @ Joseph’s Well
Second Hand Review: Everyone in Leeds has seen the Kaisers, probably, by now. This is a faithfully transcribed description of one of Sandman’s founding backroom father’s debut gig experience of the band, albeit with some handy adjectives thrown in of which the speaker might not even know about. NB. Mark is not one of nature’s excitables, Jan is. Jan writes this.
We do the gig listings for all of Sandman’s far flung magazines. There was one in December which cropped up, Orlando Pirates / Duels. It pricked up ears in the Sandman office, Duels supporting someone we’d never heard of in their own city? Odd. Orlando Pirates: foreign sporting team? Sounds like? Of Course!
A couple of phone calls rendered some embarrassed mumbling so we booked up anyway.
Meanwhile and beyond anyone’s control the world turned itself upside down and all gigs became pocket fests for the Tsunami fund. People are OK, aren’t they? Anyway.
A bus ride to Leeds from Sheffield (it’s good there, try it out) to the Tea Time Shuffle at the HiFi just catching Drat’s last song before iLiKETRAiNS, to use local references remind of Sheffield’s Corleone or Rotary Ten and Leeds’ This EtAl but with additional pictures – a lonely trumpeter burning film as its threaded through the projector, a grand effect spoiled only by the screen onto which it’s screened being obscured largely by the band itself. Enjoyable I’m told.
A wayward jog onto the Well (it’s easier to find if you know where it is) where despite the doors opening at 7ish and it being 9.30 there is still a handy 30/40ish queue outside. Inside it takes three trips to finally hit the bar meaning Duels were missed not to mention the sulphurous Robochrist. This place is heaving.
People talk of local bands and Kaiser Chiefs are certainly that, so tonight amongst a few gigs where people note the Chiefs as one of those bands who live round the corner and are yet a proper, pay more than a fiver in an obscure city / get played on the radio / mean something to someone you’ve never met / someone else’s obscure band gambit that’s going to make them look very sage or very silly shortly type of band.
Direct(ish) Quotes: “They took a while to come on stage. When they did the audience spent the night on the stage too. When they played, every single one of their twelve or so songs was a tune, if you know what I mean. A great singles band (bearing in mind the album’s not out yet). They’ve got a style, a bit retro but nothing to hang them for. Critiscisms? Um, some album filler in there possibly?
Mark Roberts grunted a few responses to a pissed Jan Webster who took ‘em and ran with it.
pic: Danny North
Dustbowl Central
@ The Vine
Opening act 9 Volt Shot are a tight, funky rock / metal outfit. Is there ever a right time for a Reef revival? They covered Another Brick In The Wall, which only sealed the impression they gave of a crowd pleasin’ pub band, playing to their mates. Too many geetar solos, but entertaining enough and will always go down well in that kind of setting.
The next band on, The Alamo, seemed to have an identity crisis. They started with a similar sound to the previous band, moved on to punk-pop and ended on noise. They were proficient enough, especially the drummer, but no damn choruses and a bit too indulgent for my tastes.
Dust Bowl Central are a different prospect altogether. One day DBC found themselves without a drummer, and brought in a drum machine. Instead of just using the box to fill in for a 4/4 rock drum sound, they used the dance music capabilities of the machine and worked with them. There are plenty of guitar bands around at the moment who employ a bit of synth and a bit of a groove, but the Dusties have their own sound. They’re not monkeying it up like Kasabian, or tarting about with a bit of Pulp-age like the Killers. There’s a hint of Depeche Mode, but less goth and more anthemic.
It was all good from the start – the beat kicked in for Dictionary Word and I had to imagine the laser light show, but it was all there. Hooks, good lyrics, a bassist who knows how to move, a static Chris Lowe-style keyboard player and matching outfits (kinda). The set was brief but hit-packed, and ended on their best song, Spiders in the Streetlamps, which will surely be a hit when a label picks up on it. It’s fabulous to dance to, tells a story and Andy is one of the few men capable of managing deep low vocals and a controlled falsetto without going growly and then a bit Bellamy/Buckley/Yorke about it. Excellent singer, excellent band, Dust Bowl Central deserve to break out of the York “ghetto” and I reckon they can do it.
Penny Broadhurst
Rose
@ The Wardrobe
A second date at The Wardrobe saw an explosive performance from one of the most in demand session singers in the country. Lara Rose, supported by her electrifying 7-piece, certainly knows how to get her groove on with soul stirring selection of groovy R‘n’B hits from a forthcoming new album. And man, what a voice! I haven’t seen a crowd as drawn to one person in a while and typically, she, together with an ever impressive mob of pro- groovers received a standing ovation on exit. Sure, I may have spent a large part of the evening trying to remember where I had seen that bass player before, but it was a captivating display nonetheless; and everybody in the whole place couldn’t resist a little boogie. Even those guys who just stand at the back holding their pints were tempted into a little jive time. It’s not hard to see why she has been in cahoots with the likes of The New Master Sounds and JTQ. Followed by a classic funky styley DJ set, this certainly was a stay on the dance floor kind of gig. Hey, anyone who plays James Brown, Sugarhill Gang and Jamiroquai back to back has my vote. Good times…
James Price
Nerve Engine / The Fobia / Vatican Jet
@ Joseph’s Well
A decidedly quiet January night at the Well. When you’re imagining what being in a band is like it’s not this, is it?. It’s not that there’s no-one there to join in when you give it your all, it’s just that’s there’s not enough there for a fragile and shy, hand pocketed audience bereft of guitars to swing and monitors to lean against to feel that they can give it all back to you.
There’s some odd contrasts amongst the first two bands here. Vatican Jet we miss a fair chunk of the set, and apologies to you, but we catch enough to note the gloriously haired rock god singer , vest topped and possessed of a pretty handy voice fronting a beige jacketed and sounding indie band of the solid rather than igniting version. Most strange.
This reviewer is clutching his Thor’s Amulet when The Fobia come up next. Alongside the distinctly normally heighted geezers at the front is a jolly green giant dimensioned Norse God of Thunder. Complete with huge swinging hair. Naturally he’s playing bass. The Fobia are a pretty good band as it goes. They play metal dating pretty much exactly from the point immediately between the albums where Metallica went from standard duel guitar, very serious vocalising striding metaaaaaal to the rapid fire thing we’ve known up til recently. About 1986 I reckon.
Nerve Engine are a different proposition, All in black (One of those is from the Deftones which gives an entirely fair reference point to a reviewer) and all in one neat, neat, neat drive. They are completely modern in output and do it very well. Halfway through though, and this is no reflection on the band, this reviewer isn’t carried by the pit to heights of fumy, sweaty oblivion. He’s leaning against the wall in a nearly empty venue fancying a bit of a chat round a table with other people. Other people, sometimes you just can’t beat them.
words: Jack Tractor, pics: Danny North
The Somatics /
Sound Development Agency / Solo
The Engine Room @ Brudenell Social Club
The Somatics are a band that has been constantly recommended to me throughout the Fall in Leeds, but for one reason or another, their show dates continued to elude me. During the past Sandman editorial meeting, yet another recommendation for the Leeds trio was exulted, giving me the extra kick in the ass I was looking for to make an effort to go and see the band in action. The Engine Room, a monthly, popular independently promoted showcase at the Brudenell Social Club provided the stage and armed with a handful of accolades and a few beers at hand, I finally met the Somatics.
Firstly, young Leeds alternative rock quartet Solo opened the night with thirty minutes of extremely tight, yet redundantly mundane garage rock. While the singer was a raw talent, possessing a soulful, down home howl that compares to the greats of the genre, the rest of the band fell flat, opting to stay within familiar territory the entire set rather than jumping the course and setting sail to lands that would do the singer’s voice justice. In addition, the superfluous and amateur bassist kept the set ordinary, constantly hindering the sound as the singer kept tried to raise the bar that was implanted to the ground. Solo has potential, but without some risk taking, and an obvious name change, their destined stage will remain their rehearsal basement.
Glasgow’s Sound Development Agency was next, and were the complete antithesis of Solo; a band that was tight and flawless instrumentally, with a great name, but was plagued with a useless, almost disjointed singer. The standard guitar/bass/drums trio did their job, busting out danceable rhythms that Chris and Rich Robinson would applaud, but the singer was trapped in his own mediocrity, like he was locked out of his own really good house party. He never attempted to remain symmetrically conjunct with his bandmates, opting to wail incoherently instead of riding the rails of the upbeat, funk laden melody. The Sound Development Agency is yet another promising act where one member needs to listen to his bandmates, rather than himself for the entire collective to move to sunnier skies. Now if only Solo’s singer could sync up with Sound Development Agency’s instrumentalists, then we would be in business.
Cue up the Somatics. The trio, billed as progressive rock punkers was anything but, coming off as melodically engaging as the Pixies and aggressive as Sonic Youth all at once. Obviously owing spoonfuls of influence to both the aforementioned, the Somatics cleanly and engagingly polished off forty-five minutes of tight, aggressive art-rock, tinged just slightly with enough prog, alt and punk to raise them above the average early Indie-rock tribute act. Sounding like they practice consistently and consciously accentuate their influences with their own uniqueness, The Somatics were fresh, composed and most importantly, they salvaged the night from the other two acts.
Lately I have been noticeably cynical towards bands that are employing older ideals into a modern medium whilst claiming that they invented a new style that in actuality is just clever recycling. Bands like Franz Ferdinand, Razorlight and other NME-types have just made me want to delve more and more into my old Velvet Underground, Sonic Youth and Television records, instead of venturing off and trying on something new. The Somatics, on the other hand, are a band that has reminded me that originality comes in all shapes and sizes. Good thing for recommendations, because The Somatics were the exact sonic antidote I have been searching for.
Shain Shapiro
Juma
@ The Primrose
After seeing this band perform on New Years Eve, in what can only be described as the roughest pub in Harrogate, and winning over the hostile locals, with their funky indie rock set, I was intrigued to see them perform acoustically.
Speaking to Mike, Juma front man, he informs me that this is one of the first acoustic sets they have played and to go easy on them. I didn’t need to. They performed a small set which can only be described as effortless.
Usually seen as a six-piece outfit, tonight they were reduced to three, but non the less played brilliantly, all proving to be talented musicians and not just pretty faces.
The music reacted well to the acoustics of the pub and the opening song of “Morning People” was a strong test of voice which was little short of amazing, and this theme continued throughout the set, despite Russ the guitarist having flu, he still managed to create part of one of the most beautiful harmonies I have heard in a long time on the fourth song of the evening, “Ostrich.”
With the final song of the evening, “This Is Not A Revolution,” which ended on a high note, I came away satisfied that one of the best local talents we have can only improve, and become little short of outstanding all-rounders on the music scene.
Victoria Holdsworth
Motormark / The Echo Chamber
Bad Sneakers @ The Faversham
Two bands, four members in total, no drums, lots of backing tapes. Very confusing. Would I sound old if I professed a certain wariness when it comes to backing tracks? I would? Well I’m going to do it anyway. The way that The Echo Chamber used pre-recorded material made me question whether they’d be better doing a DJ set than a live show. On stage were two young men, resplendently dressed, but with only two mics and one guitar between them. Somewhere from this they conjured the noises of drums, bass and keyboard, alongside shimmering guitars and harmonised vocals. There were walls of feedback, lots of effects peddles and a lot of noise. There were occasional moments of joy, but far too many moments where glancing at one’s watch seemed like the most interesting use of time.
Backing tracks are the missing link between The Echo Chamber and Motormark. Thankfully the big difference between the two bands is energy. Whereas the support band were intent on sounding intelligent, Motormark seem more intent on having a good time. Front-people Mark (shouting, guitar and bass – not all at the same time) and Jane (shouting and keyboards) are there to be noticed. Jane is sporting peroxide hair and a green ballerina skirt, Mark is wearing a rather dapper shirt and tie combo and jumping around the stage like a loon. They are almost ideal front people, they look good, they can both sing, and they seem to have few inhibitions when it comes to dancing around in front of a crowd. There is one big problem though, they seem to have left their songs in Glasgow. Each song is noisy (in a good jumping around way, not a “what the hell’s this mess?” way) full of riffs and tight synthesised beats, but none of them have any hooks, at all. As such I walk home chatting to friends trying to pick out an exceptional song (either good or bad) and I can’t remember a single one. Who’d have thought that style could overcome substance?
Tom Goodhand
Vib Gyor / Cardboy Cowboy / Drat / iLiKETRAiNS / The Smokestacks
Tea Time Shuffle @ HiFi Club
Some lucky guy managed to pull tonight, much to the amusement of both Vib Gyor and an audience of hundreds. We’ll come to that later, as first there’s the matter of Ranaboy, who’s on first.
He obviously has some Damien Rice CDs at home, as his take on the singer/ songwriter genre is vaguely familiar, but still a pleasant experience none the less. Hifi Club was pretty much empty though, so his pastoral melodies fall to but a few.
The Smokestacks jump on stage next and pump out some good time jams, guaranteed to warm the heart and have the head nodding. Nice and catchy, it sounds like loads of 70s rock bands thrown together, but in a good way.
Drat are like a mix of Weezer and Snow Patrol. Chugging guitars and monotone vocals are their main asset, but they pull off the melodic rock thing off pretty well. Could’ve been more upbeat, but y’know, it wasn’t that bad.
iLIKETRAiNS shuffle up to the mic, and rip through some awesome post rock, complete with stuttery cine camera footage projecting by the side of the stage. Their melancholic guitars and subtle vocals are a highlight of tonight, as is watching someone other than either Jimmy Page or Jónsi from Sigur Rós play guitar with a bow.
Cardboard cowboy give the audience a good ol’ knees up kind of set, with bar room piano, stomping beats from what has to be said the happiest looking drummer I’ve ever seen, and some snappy guitars. It goes down well, as everyone’s jumping and jiving away.
Vib Gyor though, steal the show, like they do with so many. Here’s where the aforementioned couple got busy, much like that Sonic Youth video for ‘Dirty Boots’. He’s up front dancing like a drunken fool, and she just can’t resist. In front of the band, the crowd and the zillion cameramen zipping up and down the front row, they get together. awww... anyway, music wise, it’s much as we’ve come to expect from Vib Gyor- epic, rocking, grandiose, and all those other superlatives that really can’t do justice to the fact that this band is fucking awesome. Right, find me my wallet; it’s CD shopping time.
Gavin Miller
Marianna Prjevalskaya
@ Leeds College of Music
Turn off the guitars and step out of the dark, smoky corner of the boozer for a while. The Venue at Leeds College of Music has been built for the sole purpose of enabling the ear to focus directly on the sound of music. There are no dark smoky corners to hide in. Most Wednesday lunchtimes the place quietly fills up and people sit and listen to someone making music. For example, one Wednesday in January, Marianna Prjevalskaya, a prodigiously talented 23-year-old Russian concert pianist, stopped by and played two pieces by Chopin. The music suggested a composer filled with a troubled, nervous urgency, which is hardly surprising since he suffered from TB most of his adult life and died of it at 39. But I’d like to think that Marianne was putting something of herself into the way it sounded.
Of course, being raised on pop songs and advert breaks, I have the attention span of a gnat. So it wasn’t long before I was looking at the roof and wondering which poor bugger had to get up there and change the light bulbs, or scanning the audience and deciding I was actually, for the first time in a long time, part of it’s younger contingent. Still, I broadened my musical horizon just a little bit more, and it cost nowt to get in.
Johnny Ersatz-Culture
Pylon / Milloy / The Mercy Suite /
That Fucking Tank
@ The Jockey, Wakefield
For the Love of the Game returns to the Jockey for another night of Wakefield’s finest. At first glance That Fucking Tank appears to be one fella on stage playing guitar along to a DAT tape. On closer inspection there is actually a drummer in the pit thrashing away to the one man’s mixed guitar and bass efforts. The lack of vocals (not that that matters) leaves behind a range of grungy riffs and heavy basslines with powerful drumming.
Featuring ex members of Dropnose and Astream, The Mercy Suite base their sounds on that of nineties skate punk, for example Lagwagon and Millencolin. Powerful vocals from the threesome ensure the larger than usual crowd keep moving along to tunes from the EP ‘Credis Quad Habes et Habes’.
Milloy are growing too large for this venue. Their energy and catchy melodic power punk needs to be viewed on a larger scale, and they fill this stage! Described as Samian meets Leatherface they played favourites ‘Astro Zero’, ‘Comic Sans’ and ‘Spiders’ from their ‘Belt Up’ EP, amongst others. Watch out for them playing in Leeds in February at the Fenton and supporting their heroes Hot Water Music at the Cockpit. Their Wakefield fan base is out in full force tonight to catch them and fellow Wakefield band Pylon. With good harmonies and great melodies coming from an electric piano the swelling room were in for a treat. This Fugazi influenced indie rock performed by ex-Chopper members ensured the wakey lads are here to stay. Why these two bands are not signed to a major label I do not know, as they deserve to be.
words and pics: Danielle Millea
Motormark / The Echo Chamber
Bad Sneakers @ The Faversham
Two bands, four members in total, no drums, lots of backing tapes. Very confusing. Would I sound old if I professed a certain wariness when it comes to backing tracks? I would? Well I’m going to do it anyway. The way that The Echo Chamber used pre-recorded material made me question whether they’d be better doing a DJ set than a live show. On stage were two young men, resplendently dressed, but with only two mics and one guitar between them. Somewhere from this they conjured the noises of drums, bass and keyboard, alongside shimmering guitars and harmonised vocals. There were walls of feedback, lots of effects peddles and a lot of noise. There were occasional moments of joy, but far too many moments where glancing at one’s watch seemed like the most interesting use of time.
Backing tracks are the missing link between The Echo Chamber and Motormark. Thankfully the big difference between the two bands is energy. Whereas the support band were intent on sounding intelligent, Motormark seem more intent on having a good time. Front-people Mark (shouting, guitar and bass – not all at the same time) and Jane (shouting and keyboards) are there to be noticed. Jane is sporting peroxide hair and a green ballerina skirt, Mark is wearing a rather dapper shirt and tie combo and jumping around the stage like a loon. They are almost ideal front people, they look good, they can both sing, and they seem to have few inhibitions when it comes to dancing around in front of a crowd. There is one big problem though, they seem to have left their songs in Glasgow. Each song is noisy (in a good jumping around way, not a “what the hell’s this mess?” way) full of riffs and tight synthesised beats, but none of them have any hooks, at all. As such I walk home chatting to friends trying to pick out an exceptional song (either good or bad) and I can’t remember a single one. Who’d have thought that style could overcome substance?
Tom Goodhand
The Pretty Machine /
Electric Mud Generator
@ The New Roscoe
The Pretty Machine like to surprise their audience. This trio of polite-looking guys stroll onto the stage, pick up their instruments quietly, and then proceed to bang out an insistent, epic rock opener. The contradictions keep coming; in ‘Roll Up’, the band switch between a fast, shouty verse and sing-song chorus. They keep their melodies simple, but so effective that I’m still humming that chorus now. The formula is repeated in ‘Faith in Me’, which swings from clean, twinkling verse guitars to a crashing rock chorus.
Onstage, The Pretty Machine gain their strength through the combined powers of their twin vocalists (one on guitar, one on bass), who strut, howl and growl in captivating unison, all to the backing of their crunching riffs. Mid-set, The Pretty Machine dive into a cover of The Beatles’ ‘Come Together’. That famous, chilled bass line is replaced with a squealing lead guitar, while the vocals are growled with a passion never given to this song before. The last song of tonight’s set best shows off The Pretty Machine’s talents. A fast, riff-heavy rock number, it stomps along before breaking down into a delicate, almost U2-ish guitar interlude, and then rising back up for a truly epic close. This is a great band, who will never ever allow anyone to be bored.
Electric Mud Generator promised, at first, to be a standard rock-metal outfit. Their opening song was composed of powerful, simple riffery, sneering vocals and… Hang on, what’s this? As if on a whim, the hard rock crumbles away to reveal a low, atmospheric synth and spaced-out guitars. This momentary trippy section in turn is blown away by the sudden onslaught of a super-fiddly guitar solo, reminiscent of a more aggressive AC/DC.
This is Electric Mud Generator’s style. Their instrumentals wander between joyously powerful rock and dark, synthy goth. They can be lengthy, but are saved from self-indulgence by never doing the same thing twice. Sadly, I had to leave after the second song (blame the trains), but I would definitely have stayed, if only to see what happened next.
David Appleyard
