LIVE REVIEWS
Reverend & The Makers
@ Somewhere Under Sheffield
& Jabez Clegg, Manchester
I can't see The Makers but I can just about see the top foot or so of the Reverend. He's rattling away with a look on his face not dissimilar to how you would look if you'd just seen a dragon and were trying to convince your mates that you're not mental.
We're twenty foot underneath Sheffield in a space that looks like a tiny version of the Cavern Club and there is the sense that it's not a gig but an event.
I'm not a great fan of hyperbole and have got into the habit of binning PR biogs unless there's something specific I need to know. Words get devalued in those things, 'unique', for example, is like soap, the more often it's rolled out the less use it is. I am however prepared to say that The Reverend, all six and a half foot of him, and his backing crew are mint, seemingly having arrived fully formed as a tightarse indie dance collective with a soap operatic cast of thousands, some of whom sound like Jon McClure.
Between them they make a wired, tight kind of rolling funk with no flab and each song is a short story. On Bandits, a note perfect scenario of one man and his fruit machine there are no less than four characters, each with their own voice.
There's hints of The Specials in the stories, melodic nods to The Stone Roses; imagine the Happy Mondays with a stronger moral compass and the ability to get out of bed in the mornings.
During the next week I actually managed to see The Makers thanks to a raised stage at Jabez Clegg in Manchester. They looked familiar. If you've been out to gigs in Sheffield over the last few years you'll have seen most of this lot in various different outfits and they gel superbly. It’s Ed on bass who drives the music, head wobbling like the guy from Scanners moments before it explodes.
It's a Wednesday night and a good one for Sheffield bands as later on Bromhead’s Jacket’s storming set receives its by now customary stage invasion. The Reverend’s a new face in Manchester and this is only their second gig in a venue, but the show attracts some happy attention from the Mancs.
I really, really like this band and the songs they play. If I wasn’t British I might even dance to them. My feeling is this: This year people are going to get to know the songs and get themselves out to the gigs. I predict The Reverend is going to find plenty of converts.
words: Jack Tractor, pics: Andy Brown (Reverend) & Chris Saunders (Bromheads)
The Noisettes / Good Shoes / O Fracas
@ The Vine, Leeds
Sorry O Fracas, I missed you. But we all know by now that you are the apple in Lady Leeds’ eye. Everybody loves you and you are now snow-balling it to stardom. Nice one. Next up are Good Shoes. I started by doing the painfully obvious thing- inspecting and rating their attempts at bejewelling their feet. I wasn’t impressed with the unsettling amalgamation of battered trainers and stylish brogues. Frankly, with a name like that you should have made more effort boys! I bet everyone was thinking the same thing…maybe. Aesthetics aside, there were some good tunes there. Very current. Very tight. Very cool. Very Futureheads. Sorry to be brutal but the influence is unmistakable. I especially enjoyed the creative guitar interplay and call and response sequences. Let’s hope these lads haven’t missed the boat and have struck while the scene is still hot.
And now for The Noisettes. They were mind-blowing and truly groundbreaking. Working the crowd with expertise, we were eating out of the palm of their collective hand. Shingai is the rock’n’roll front person of our dreams. “Wow! Oh my God is there anything she can’t do?” I gush, skipping out of the Vine like an overexcited infant on Ritalin. “I wanna be just like her when I grow up!” My boyfriend laughs (a little afraid) “Well I may have to smack your head against the wall a couple of times first…” I stare at him, vacant and suspicious: “You what?” “Well she’s got a screw loose hasn’t she? Insane! No common sense!” Well that’s certainly true. She hurls herself around the tiny stage, convulsing jolting and writhing like the rock star that she truly is and, oh yes, biting guitar leads. Shingai appears worryingly oblivious (or perhaps recklessly indifferent) to the general consensus that chomping electric cables isn’t really that healthy.
The amazing thing is that she maintains the most soulful punked-up Lady Day vocals (punctuated by the occasional Karen-O squeal) all the while, despite tripping over mic stands and always looking for the next thing to climb on or hang from. This lady needs a bigger stage. So Shingai! Please don’t risk your life for a bunch of ugly kids at The Vine! We appreciate your wholehearted performance but we want to see much more of you and your golden boys! Because that’s the brilliant thing- unlike too many female fronted bands, The Noisettes are not just about the lady. Diva she is but egocentric prima donna she is not. This band is a tripod, perfectly balanced. Dan’s stabbing Red-Blooded-Rock guitar forms an intense bond with Shingai’s velvet vocals while Jamie pounds away with appropriate throbs and pulses. I predict that The Noisettes will be headlining main stages at festivals before long. I picked out at least five potential hit singles in their set and I look forward to their imminent success. Only one thing though… your name guys? Can I suggest a rethink? Mispronunciation can lead to embarrassing green foiled triangle Quality Street jokes. I learned that the hard way.
Harriet Bevan
BFMV / Hawthorn Heights / Still Remains
@ Rock City, Nottingham
Rock City had done the sneaky thing of opening the basement as well as the main room so the place was rammed! It wasn’t a major problem though, most of them came up to my belly button and looked like they hadn’t made it out of nursery yet so I could see pretty well. It did make me nervous - what I had let myself in for, were these bands just going to be the latest sceney gits that tend to bore me to death?
First on were Still Remains. I first caught these guys on the Roadrage tour last year with Trivium and 3 Inches of Blood and liked them then, however they have come on leaps and bounds and I must say like has turned to love. I was amazed at how many people were there just to see them and the 2000+ chanting their name before the lights even went down showed how they have moved on. Unfortunately with this they seemed to have lost a bit of their personality to fit in with the genre that is sweeping over the rock world at the moment but this is obviously the key to why they have leapt so far since last summer. I must say though the noise was great! Superb solo’s with grinding melodies, awesome vocals over the top and a keyboard player that just had fun inbetween his few, but perfectly placed, interjections. It gave the general metal feel more substance and some individuality. They had a new drummer who I must say looked younger than the audience but went like the clappers to produce some headbanging beats that even the mellowest rocker would have given into. The only problem was that their set was too short.
Next were Hawthorn Heights and the obviously image concious members led me to know what to expect. Some of the simplest and dullest guiatr riffs known to man came off the stage (well excluding when they tried to rip off a very famous Metallica song!) with little enthusiasm from the player who seemed more concerned that his fringe was in the right place. The vocalist was talented but what he sang didnt show it. Cliched lyrics, such as “tell me it’s OK to die,” is why the genre of Emo has such a bad name. He also continuously talked over the songs inbetween his vocal parts making sure he was the focus. I couldn’t even comment on the rest of the band as they just faded into the background. They stayed in time, they were in tune and few mistakes were made but it was just every bad stereoptype about emo thrown onto one stage.
Finally BFMV emerge and what an intro! They built up the crowd superbly and when Matt Tuck leapt out on stage the crowd went fucking wild (even though most of the screams were ear piercing from adololescent girls). I only knew a few tracks but found myself edging towards the pit like everyone else due to the pure energy. The guitar playing could easily rival the bigger of the metal bands today with Padge (they’re welsh, not their fault) and well, flying V’s are pretty to look at anyway! The bursts of double bass drum pedals and safe but strong bass lines lead to the band as a whole working perfectly. The only problem may have been Matt’s voice wavered every now and again but for the past 18 months they have been touring non stop so it doesnt suprise me it breaks once in a while. They interacted fantastically with the crowd and although by this point i was annoyed at the lack of brains some of said crowd had (i.e not moshing but starting fights) they kept everyone happy and didnt see anyone without a smile on the way out.
Jenii Scott
Bromheads Jacket / The Yell
@ The Faversham, Leeds
Sheffield- sex city? Well, it’s better than Wakey, let’s put it that way. The Yell are Sheff natives, and they’ve got more than a little of the greasy-spoon glamour and angularity that often seem to infect bands hailing from this city of stripping ex-factory workers. They’re reminiscent of their forbearers in other ways too. They have an intense, yet flippant frontman with an eye-catching barnet, they have songs about schoolgirls and shagging, and they’ll probably attract the words ‘arty’ and ‘arch’ the way small boys attract scabby knees.
Yes, they’ve got a touch of Pulp about them, this lot, but that’s nothing to be ashamed of, and the Yell put an enticingly spiky New Wave spin on things. Their not afraid to swivel their disco hips either, as ‘Party Lounge’ takes a few tips from the Happy Mondays. Best of the bunch for me is ‘Loser’ with its fabulous assertion that bitchy schoolgirls are always cooler than the rest of us. The singer comes across as an affable Mark E Smith. I suspect he was the kid in class who appeared shy and bookish, but the bullies would only attempt picking on him once and never again. Put them on your ‘To See’ list.
Bromheads Jacket are also from Sheffield and they sound like the Artic Monkeys. No, I mean exactly like the Arctic Monkeys. Like the Monkeys they play rattling, slightly ramshackle Libs-style rock with Streets-esque accounts of ‘everyday’ life. In fact, every one of their songs sounds like the bit in ‘Fit but You Know It’ where Mike Skinner stops sharking a minute ‘to get chips and drinks’. So no points for originality. Songs become indistinguishable from each other. ‘Lions on the Prowl’ in no way differs from ‘A Trip to the Golden Arches’, which in turn refuses to deviate from the template set down by single ‘What Ifs + Maybes’. I also find them banal on a lyrical level. There forever seems to exist this bizarre misconception that if a song mentions booze, birds, kebabs and curry then it somehow speaks a profound truth about our lives. Yeah, the same way Nuts does, I would imagine. After singing about a girl ‘with the body of a celebrity’ who messes with your head, lead-singer Tim, tellingly, leaps into the eager outstretched arms of a dozen sweaty men.
And here, I’m afraid, is where the audience and I will have to agree to differ, because the Jacket do in fact whip the crowd tonight into something close to frenzy. Everybody except yours truly seems to know the words to every song, largely due to the popularity of the bands website. However, we must remember that such bands provide an important cultural service- giving avowedly heterosexual men the excuse to rub their bodies together in a big dog-pile. As the Jackets leave the stage the DJ plays ‘She’s Not Leaving’ by the Research, and it’s like sitting through an hour of Sunday school and then getting a blowjob. By the end of this year Bromheads Jacket will be huge. Their success will be unfathomable to me.
Richard Morris
All Except / Atoness / Machines
@ The Grapes, Sheffield
I was very tired when I arrived at the Grapes on Tuesday and it didn’t help that I was welcomed by the opening band ‘All Except’. I also wasn’t particularly in the mood for the kind of music you would find in a teenage horror film. What, I wonder, is the point in lyrics when they can’t be heard over the brash and strident music but then again this isn’t a band who boast about their lyrical content, and I quote, “This is a song about cheese”- amazingly the only word I picked out in the song, was cheese. The drums however, kept the music afloat, they provided the band with an element of funk and enjoyment and hey, you can’t go wrong with a cowbell!
The duo ‘Atoness’ were next up with just a guitar and a synthesizer to accompany them. They began with a funeral come disco tune, all built upon a backing track. More songs followed which made me contemplate whether this band were a comedy act due to their resemblance lyrically to Goldie Looking Chain. Musically though, Atoness were more like a witty Beastie Boys with their rap like samples and prominent electro beats. This band sure are interesting and I find myself rather liking them especially when they end with three more subdued songs which impressed me and caught me off guard when I sensed a hint of emotion. Bravo Atoness!
With the drummer from ‘All Except’ back on drums, ‘Machines’ took to the stage. Oh deary me! Have I stepped back in time to those horrible days when Linken Park and Stained were cool? I must have. Machines were awfully noisy as they thrashed around on their instruments. The singer’s screaming also helped in securing my headache. I was curious as to whether the mud covering the left side of the singers’ face had been purposely applied for attention or whether he’d just had a nasty fall- either way, I pitied him. In their second song, I saw hope; it was here in this instrumental that I actually saw something wonderful. Each musician played their instruments beautifully yet subtly and produced a sound not that dissimilar to Hope of the States, rich and warm but alas, the screaming and thrashing took over and ultimately ‘stained’ the music. I think a technician is needed; clearly these Machines aren’t working very well.
Lucy Hackett
Seed
Cloth Cat Open Mic @ The Primrose, Leeds
I want you to imagine something for me now, ok? You are on the train to work in the morning, surrounded by the usual anonymous gray-suited, paunchy 40-something men. You’re staring into space and minding your own when one of these types sat next to you suddenly and without invitation opens his heart to you and starts bawling about how terribly empty his life is and how unfulfilled he feels. You’d be a bit embarrassed by this unexpected show of raw emotion, wouldn’t you, especially from such an unlikely source? You might even feel like excusing yourself, getting off at the next stop and changing carriages. But it would take a hard soul to turn an unsympathetic ear; after all it’s obvious this guy really needs to get it out.
This is the dilemma I find myself in with Seed. Two brothers who have gone a little, well, to seed, with acoustic guitars strapped over ample beer bellies. The lead singer (and eldest brother) is intent on expressing his dissatisfaction with pretty much every aspect of his life. Jobs, women, debt, Wetherspoons (possibly) all come under fire. ‘Corporate World’ describes people “verbally masturbating” and there’s a fair few references to escaping to a sunnier, more carefree place. It’s hardly ‘Teenage Kicks’. Here’s the thing- this stuff feels like it should be very grown up, but isn’t. There’s actually something determinedly adolescent about Seed. They’re two slightly out-of-puff men chasing yesterday’s dreams, looking back at the milestones of their lives and wondering ‘what happened?’
But hey, maybe I’m coming off like a shallow young ponce and this review seems a little ageist. In which case, le me just say that Seed have every right to be making this kind of musical fair. They’ve been there, lived it and they know the score. But for me, this is like getting in from a heavy session and unexpectedly catching a late-night repeat of Cold Feet. A slightly chilling glimpse of a future self whose possible existence you steadfastly deny.
Richard Morris
Smokers Die Younger / Chuck / Champion Kickboxer / Scarlet Tuesday
Thee SPC @ The Boardwalk, Sheffield
First to take to the stage in front of the packed crowed were Scarlet Tuesday, an interesting mix of indie/rock and school woodwind band. They suffered from a little "wewanttobethelongblondesitus", but all the same they put on a solid performance. One song involves a flute, a clarinet and a recorder which, as you probably guessed, was ace. The main problem was that the woodwind was used very little and the rest of the stuff sounded a tad generic and nothing out of the ordinary; shame, there's a lot of promise here.
Now the first of the heavyweights takes to the stage in the form of Champion Kickboxer. They open their set with hand clapped drums and calm, gentle vocals. The whole set has the volume turned down which, and I don't mean to sound like your parents, isn't at all a bad thing. Their quiet, low-fi sound is something, I feel, we don't see enough of. With harmonies which the Beach Boys would envy, Champion Kickboxer are, in a world, sublime. Talking about the presence of cameras the singer proclaimed "I must be famous", maybe not yet but he should be.
Next Chuck take to the stage, looking a formidable force, each member clearly an individual and clearly a little insane. They open by saying they are good at relating to the issues of youth, before launching into a song about "alien autopsy". With three vocalists, the drummer sings on one song, thundering drums, speedy guitar and frantic bass the Chuck set is a relentless burst of fun. No Not Ah is the set highlight, making several hundred fans stick to hands in the air to a bazaar kind of chant. Chuck seem to have an infinite power to create happiness, everyone is smiling and everyone is awestruck. They end with single Umm Na Nagay a crazy mix of blues rock with, what sounds lie, traditional Turkish music-sounds weird and it is, but it works oh how it works. Amazing.
Finally when you think nothing can make this night better up set Smokers Die Younger. These guys mix heavy rock music, screamed vocals and apocalyptic drums with pop keyboards and soft backing vocals. It's oh so good. One song sees the keyboardist singing "I'm playing the keyboard and not fucking up 'cos I've improved dramatically" another sees them spelling Smokers Die Younger in the phonetic alphabet. The witty lyrics are only one part of what makes Smokers Die Younger worthy headliners, their songs sound a lot like the Research meeting the Deftones, and odd mix, its true, but a match made in heaven.
This gig is the best one I've been to in ages, and judging by the rest of the crowd they loved it too. Four great bands, doing different things and doing them to the best standard possible, in a word, ace! In three words ace ace ace!
words: Jack Goodhand, pics: Lucy Davies
Belle Époque / Colin Kramer / Night and City of Broken Promises /
We Leave At Dawn
@ The Fenton, Leeds
Forget My Chemical Romance. Forget Underoath. Tonight is all about the true meaning of Emo hosted by tonight's line-up of British and European emo/screamo contemporaries. With not a MySpace haircut in sight, Exeter's We Leave at Dawn take to the floor and within forty-five seconds they're your new favourite band. Sure it's sloppy, and in nervous frontman Thomas the band aren't exactly fronted by Axl Rose, but the energy and utter passion resonating from every discordant note and scream is not to be easily forgotten. Genius.
Night And City of Broken Promises take a while to get into the swing of things and it's not an easy job to follow WLaD. Playing a kind-of epic version of early 90s screamo, these quiet types prefer to take on a Mars Volta interpretation of emotional hardcore. Sure it's long and clever occasionally, but it all drags on a bit. Top marks for invention, but with the urgency in the air tonight, their long-winded approach to the genre feels a bit stale.
Germany's Colin Kramer win tonight's "random name" competition and they're genuinely funny and entertaining between the short bursts of intense, brutal emo, not a million miles away from one of the genres classics; Orchid. Simplicity is the key for these guys, and they're the complete antithesis of the previous band so it feels great to have the pace of the evening back to the preferred breakneck speed.
Belle Époque are French. They're also mesmerising, beautiful, chaotic and truly intense tonight. This band seems to touch every member of the audience and it's not hard to see why as their stunning array of passionate European majesty sweeps over us. It's hard to reference these French tykes unless crusty 7"-hunting is your thing but their blend of raw power and genuine melodic greatness will be up your street. If you call yourself a fan of any loud music, this band will instantly appeal, moving from chaotic angular viciousness to twinkly guitar loveliness in a second. Unlike the commercial pap touted about by whatever fashionable magazine, Belle Époque mean every word. No nice jeans or eyeliner, simply stunning songs played with a ferocious intensity, and that's surely worth four quid.
Harry Johns
Pelican / The Swarm / Souvaris
@ Horn In Hand, Nottingham
The Horn In Hand is proving a quality surprise addition to the venues in the city, with good sound, some great acts on, and..erm…reasonably priced wine. Festive jollity filled the air and Souvaris got their yule on, introducing their set: 'This song is about your mum. It's called 'Quit Touching My Ass', then going on to enrapture the mixed throng, who were of a decidedly more metal bent than their usual crowds. The locally-based post-rockers did their sweet old thing as well as I've ever seen them. They are very rhythmically dynamic in comparison to others of their ilk, and a damn sight more frug-inducing. A fair amount of fantastic but subtle guitar histrionics added a rawk sheen to the performance. The highlight was, however, two of the band running from the 'stage', around the pub, banging cowbells like their lives depended on it during a stunning 'The Young Ted Danson'. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the state of post-rock in the year 2006, and it's a state of fear, joy, and cowbell. SIMULTANEOUSLY.
That gave the next lot a bit of an act to follow. The Swarm were laughable industrial drudgery involving projections. They needn't have bothered. Vaguely Nazi imagery has been done and it was never that shocking unless you are my mum. Schmindustrial goth/metal dullness.
My enjoyment of Pelican was perhaps somewhat hampered by downing two bottles of rosé that evening, but I thought they were powerful but ultimately underwhelming. They fall in between two stools, just straddling the subtlety of post-rock and the power of instrumental metal well enough to not fall between the two. Opening with the epic 'March To The Sea', we got most of their latest opus, 'The Fire In Our Throats Will Beckon The Thaw' and a couple from 'Australasia'. Ultimately, they flew but failed to soar. The newer album is fantastic if you're in the mood, but tonight they were decent but not spellbinding.
Craig
Liars
@ The Social, Nottingham
Liars, the band that are THE most arty punk concept band to ever play the planet? Maybe. After a few years they have returned with new material after releasing that last concept record all about witches. That record, which seems to be hated on and which you can pick up for a mere £5 these days, I personally think that everyone will be thinking in a few years ‘why’d I miss that?’ And then eBay will be your only answer to getting the vinyl!
The set consisted of a mixture of old stuff and new stuff, including their most recent single ‘It Fit When I Was a Kid’, which all sounded amazing, but their brief encore highlighted the band for me, not only in sound, but in attitude, and their obvious sense of humour. It was the scrappiest and most screamed version of Nirvana’s ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ I think I have ever heard, but they did it so well, and it was just fun and funny. People went crazy, as did the band to some extent. I was super psyched on them after that. I got the new single and it was shit. Shame really.
Words and Photo: Joe Blanchard
Joff Whitten
@ Royal Park Cellars, Leeds
Who says that the sound of one acoustic guitar and one solo voice isn’t enough to captivate an audience? Well, Joff Whitten does, evidently. Curiously, his exceptional guitar work and airy vocals would be more than sufficient in holding the attention of any group of music lovers, but why be a minimalist? Watching Whitten’s performance is as much a visual treat as it is an aural one, fusing his obvious talent for rather haunting song-writing with a display of technical ability that is vastly difficult to keep up with.
With the aid of a programmable footswitch, Whitten records his own backing tracks as he plays; meaning that those complicated but integral solos that appear on recorded tracks such as ‘Vain’ and ‘Pigs’ are also present in his one-man live show. The music gradually builds up into a crescendo of harmony, various guitar parts and bass-lines and subtly reduces itself in a sort of melodic exhalation. One slip of the finger, one bum chord, could literally ruin a song. Luckily, Joff’s performance is seamless, note perfect and often so mesmerising that it is difficult to fight back a smile or stifle a bewildered shake of the head. The layering effect is incredibly successful; it is an amazing feat for one solo artist to fill a room with so much music.
The highlight of the set was the bouncy ‘Sleepwalker’, Whitten’s current single, with its catchy rhythm and pity lyrics (“Ripping all the wings off insects/Just to see if they will crawl or if they will die”) . Each and every song reeks of originality, something that cannot be easy for an artist who inhabits the current ‘One-Man-And-His-Guitar’ trend. But it’s difficult to place this artist’s influences, precisely because he is so fresh and confident in his uniqueness. Joff’s performance was part of the first of a series of monthly acoustic nights at the Royal Park Cellars called ‘Shut up and Listen’. Indeed, do.
Adam Z. Robinson
Babylonglegs / Darlings of the Splitscreen / The Condor Moment
BrAsh @ The Grapes, Sheffield
We have had Cream, The Foofighters, Gorrillaz. Now Sheffield brings its very own supergroup to the world in the form of Babylonglegs. And with such talents amongst its members as Hannah (of Yamaguchi fame), Dave and Iam (Rumpus), Dan (SWON) and Norton(formerly from Chicken Legs Weaver) how can they go wrong? This gig was only their third, but through their various reputations and a storming set at The Lescar just before Christmas, the ensemble has already developed an enthusiastic following. The other two bands playing The Grapes that same evening benefited from the great atmosphere. This buzz was partly down to Babylonglegs’ appearance, and partly to the enthusiasm of the regulars for this monthly night of exciting and eclectic new local music, called BrAsH.
The Condor Moment amazed the crowd with a combination of lovely keyboard playing interspersed with electro pop and guitar extravaganzas, and what can only be described as the most utterly fabulous beige batwinged ‘sports jacket’ you could ever imagine. And Darlings of the Splitscreen maintained the high standards in couture, arriving in shirts and skinny ties to play an upbeat equally synthed-up set, but with some added ‘ooh ooh ooh’ harmonies for our delight.
But onto the main act. How can I describe Babylonglegs to the uninitiated? They are a little bit skiffle, a little bit Rock with a capital ‘R’, a little bit bluegrass, and a whole lot of brilliant musicianship. If I had have been asked to guess I would have estimated that this group had been together for at least a couple of years, they seemed so natural and at ease on stage. But they kind of gave themselves away at the end when they couldn’t play an encore because they had run out of songs. As soon as they come up with some new tunes we will be there, cheering Babylonglegs on with heartfelt shouts of ‘more’!
Elly Tams
Armor For Sleep / Chiodos / A Destructive Issue
@ The Cockpit, Leeds
Average, average and average. Armor For Sleep are darn average. Why are they average? Good question. On the surface every trait possessed by AFS is matched toe to toe by every other successful emo band of the last three or four years. Perhaps it's the regurgitator effect, the over saturated market was, and is still, full to capacity and casually dwindling, and Armor For Sleep have crawled out of the undergrowth at the arse end of this emo infestation.
On the other hand, maybe Armor For Sleep, on face value, put on a poor, poor, well, okay, mediocre live performance. More on that later.
Impromptu Idiot Pilot replacements, A Destructive Issue kick things off in a much more assertive fashion. Metal is the name of the game in a Bullet For My Valentine, melodic fused with ear catching guitar parts, kind of way and slow start aside, the Leeds locals hit their stride and ultimately impress. Although definitely not fitting into the current indie rock Leeds mini-revolution perhaps ADI do still have a chance on a nationwide scale, especially if the formerly unfashionable metal scene witnesses a miraculous revival of Lazarus proportions as industry murmurings incline towards.
In some ways telling you the next band arrive via Equal Vision records is all you need to know. Chiodos are the next in a long and ever increasing line of angular, melodic screamo post hardcore guitar bands pouring from Stateside to our shores. To be fair to Chiodos, they're up there with the best. Live and on reflection (selling their album on the merch stand for a fiver. Score.) the 6 piece have an added element somewhere within their musical mix that diversifies them from a viscous and hard to pin down by nature genre. 'There's No Penguins In Alaska' and 'One Day Women Will All Become Monsters' are the highlights and Chiodos fit perfectly onto the Equal Vision roster.
Talk about spilling your load too early, Armor For Sleep skulk on stage and unbridle their catchiest, most enjoyable and most immaculately formed pop-rock number first. 'Car Underwater' is over before the crowd even realise the band have arrived, and one of the few moments that the crowd may have been collectively up for getting excited about is wasted. Each band member seems completely detached from one another, they show no signs of collusion or chemistry, it almost appears as if they've never even met before. Frontman and vocalist Ben Jorgensen also has a proverbial shocker.
Lacklustre and tired, his eyes remain closed for the whole set. Bar occasional between song murmurings and an out of character lunge into the front row, a huge invisible force field appears to have been hastily erected separating band and fan. Armor For Sleep do not put on a good show, plain and simple. On album, Armor For Sleep do have a knack for a song, their latest 'concept' album release - What To Do When You're Dead - shows real ingenuity and inventiveness but alas, all is lost in the live format. Off night? Perhaps, but when Armor For Sleep leave stage right as indiscriminately as they arrived, you can't help but think these guys need some serious performance lessons.
Luke Ramsden
Gledhill / Lee McMahon / Tim Pare
@ The Grapes, Sheffield
Thursday down the Grapes, and the Gledhill residence is ongoing. They’ve been playing here every month for what seems like decades. I’m not sure if it’s in spite of or because of this, but the crowd is somewhat minimal. This is perhaps understandable for a midweek slot, but it’s a real shame when each act tonight is so good.
First up is Rotherham singer-songwriter Lee McMahon. The most obviously striking comparison here is with Kelly Jones. The melodies, the voice, the appearance, and the unpretentious romanticism of it all are very reminiscent of the Stereophonics frontman. In fact, it’s a bit much at times, presumably even for people who like the Welsh trio; it really does feel like an acoustic Stereophonics B-sides session at some points. That said, McMahon is very good at what he does, and love songs to Rotherham and bittersweet observations about the state of the town centre on a Saturday night have a real charm. I’m definitely going to make the effort to see him with his live band soon.
Tim Pare (fka: Buugsy) is the best thing tonight, for my money. Another singer-songwriter, he is often accompanied by a cellist, but tonight he plays and sings alone. I’ve seen him a few times now in quick succession. In fact, I’m starting to worry he might think I’m stalking him. The truth is, his songs are simply some of the best I’ve heard for a long, long time. The lyrics tend to deal in different shades of pain and will resonate with anyone who has ever experienced a relationship falter, and the melodies are just beautiful. Given the right exposure, Tim has the potential to be very big indeed.
Gledhill are someone else who could, and probably should, be massive. I have to say it’s not really for me, but their widescreen, bombastic rock could easily fill stadiums rather than the Grapes. It sounds to me like it would go down very well with people who like Coldplay, Keane and earlier U2. In the meantime, they’re plugging away with single releases and playing to twenty people at a time, as module 101 at the School of Rock tells you you should. Good luck to them. One thing though – Mr. Gledhill, please stop talking through Tim’s set. He may be a friend of yours, but I’ve seen you do it twice now. It’s very distracting and makes you look like a bit of an arse. Enough, sir.
words: Seth Tempo, pics: Andy Brown
Tramp Attack / The Playmates
Engine Room @ Brudenell Social Club, Leeds
The only previous knowledge I have of The Playmates before tonight's gig is something along the lines of "cock wielding debauchery", so I was a bit apprehensive to say the least. But, to my pleasant surprise, The Playmates take to stage fully clothed, and begin trying to fire up the relaxed Engine Room crowd. The Playmates sound like nothing new, but I don't think that's their intention. Their intention seems to be having a good time, whilst sounding like the Buzzcocks getting lost in Britpop, which isn't a bad combination in anyone's book. Lead singer Neil Hanson is the energetic front man we all wish we could be, roaming around the venue with a confident swagger, climbing onto people's tables, and, most importantly, getting away with whatever he pleases. The Playmates are never going to be your favourite band, they don't take themselves seriously enough to even want to be, but they're enjoyable, and that's without any cock wielding in sight.
Tramp Attack are the Engine Room's favourite band. We're told this fact just after the glorious Christmas quiz, with Santa Claus and everything. I'm slightly disappointed that Tramp Attack contain no actual tramps, and no actual attacking, other than in a metaphorical musical sense. Two guitars, a bassist and a drummer, all of whom add vocals, make up Tramp Attack, who are one of those bands that you can't help to enjoy. I honestly don't know why though, as I have a near vitriolic dislike for folk and country music, but there is something quintessentially English about these songs that draws me in. Whether it's singing about 'Late Night Shopping' or 'Short Back and Sides', I can't help but break out into a smile, and they even manage to get the normal seated Engine Room crowd up to do the do-see-do. The lyrics verge on being genius or just comedic, with "there's nothing more embarrassing than missing a high five", being my particular favourite, and the Chas n' Dave-esque feel to music is greeted by constant head nodding and toe tapping. Tramp Attack won't be on Top of the Pops or winning Brit Awards anytime soon, and they may not be the coolest band around, but when they make music this enjoyable, no ones going to care.
James Ould
O Fracas / Fear Of Music / That Fucking Tank / Wax Planet
Bad Sneakers @ The Faversham, Leeds
Further proof, if proof was needed, local music is still very much alive and well. The hasty uprising of the Faversham and its current status as indie mothership has been nothing short of miraculous, as are their reliably superb Saturday night offerings. Tonight could be described as the best yet.
I didn't catch enough of Wax Planet to make an assessment but without victimising them, it seems all too easy to throw them in with the Young Knives, Bromhead Jacket escapist indie stakes. Interestingly, the last number is uncannily similar to Motley Crue’s 'Girls Girls Girls'.
That Fucking Tank on the other hand are in a whole dimension of their own. Unrelenting, uncaring, totally undanceable. Those that try, fail. miserably. Pace changes and angular meanderings mean the beat is impossible to pin down. While similar in some respects to bands like DFA1979, they lack the knack of latching on to a hook and expanding on it. As such, especially on CD, That Fucking Tank are difficult to listen to. Good fun though, the two members setting up literally in front of the stage donned solely in novelty cowboy hats and boxers, rip the shit out of their instruments throughout and deserve applause even if the end product is ultimately unfulfilling.
Fear Of Music have a combined age of less than 75, the phrase "good for their age" just doesn't stand true. Fear Of Music are good full stop. They play with as much verve and confidence as a band with considerably more experience and it's almost surreal to see kids of such a young age perform so well, especially Harry Potter-esque guitar wizard Michael Ward and Thom Yorke,/Ian Curtis hybrid protégée in waiting vocalist Joe Rose, who lead the line supremely. Lack of pocket money aside, it will be a miracle if Fear Of Music aren't heralded as the future of British rock by this time next year.
O Fracas are arguably the most underrated band doing the Yorkshire rounds at the moment. Theirs is a deceptively hard to pin down sound. Nowhere near as accessible as the Kaisers of this world yet infinitely bouncy and enjoyable. It's also got a sort of pikey charm to it that marketability wise appears to be quite the attribute of choice at the moment. The technical errors that plagued their Nastyfest appearance in November are thankfully absent tonight and after a slow start, O Fracas really hit their stride with trademark tune 'What Jim Hears', and then when a 4 man drum solo is accompanied by a whole box of random percussion instruments being distributed to the punters, you've just got to sit back and soak in such an all encompassing, crowd participation gimmick. A distinct lack of catchy, memorable songs is in evidence unfortunately, and unless that problem is resolved it's more than likely O Fracas may be brushed aside in the race to nationwide notoriety.
Luke Ramsden
Footloose / Sal Paradise / Rednite Strip
@ The Adelphi, Hull
Unfortunately due to alcohol and not enough sleep the night before, poor understanding of the line up, and a rather enthusiastic starting time for the Adelphi I manage to turn up tonight having missed the first two bands henceforth this review may be a little short. Now to be fair I was running late but then I thought ‘ah! this is Adelphi time’ and I was wrong.
So it is that I therefore still have not seen Rednite Strip much to my frustration as I have heard very good things from all corners so far and I missed Sal Paradise who I have seen and was assured that it was a good gig.
Thankfully the night is not a complete waste of time as just about to take to the stage are Footloose. Pretty new to the scene Footloose appear to be a young, neatly long haired, and if bone structure is anything to go by, brother fronted band who play good clean blues if you can imagine such a thing. The lead singer has a powerful voice that puts me in mind of Eddie Vedder and is supported by some pretty adept musicians and the result is catchy blues rock , that has that very polished American feel. It's the kind you'd expect to hear on an advert for Gap or on the OC or something, each song has it's own riffery action and heartfelt emotion (generally love). At points they remind me of Gomez without the kooky stuff and things get a bit fast and funky. They've got the looks, the musical ability, and a sincere attitude, the songs your mum would like ….. they're a BMG wet dream, they're going to be massive!
Hanna Houghton
Herman Dune
@ The Social, Nottingham
I'd been looking forward to tonight for ages after a dearth of my sort of gigs in recent weeks so I was quite excited as I wandered into the not overly busy Social. Slightly pre-occupied with my mission to buy a t-shirt for a friend, I barely noticed the first support until the monotonous sound came to an end. In fact, I barely noticed the other two support acts either to be honest but I have nothing bad to say about them so they must have been "alright".
And then Herman Düne arrive on stage and I am suddenly enraptured. For their latest UK tour, the three brothers (David-Ivar and Andre on guitars and alternating lead/backing vocals plus Neman on drums) are joined by Dr Sch?nberg who adds his trumpet and percussion skills. Within seconds Herman Düne's special brand of gentle lo-fi antifolk brings the room to sudden life. With over 400 songs to their name, live sets vary hugely but never fail to please. Their influences are clear and their sound reflecting Lou Barlow and Will Oldham in the best possible way. Tonight, the mixture of upbeat folk rock and tender, honest lyricism has us smiling and swaying, aware of the melancholy but caught up in the irresistible charm of that sound. And it is plain to see that the boys are having as much fun performing as they do writing these wonderful songs, with beards, beers and big smiles all round. Their wavering, fragile voices, their sweet harmonies, their guitars and their percussion interlinking effortlessly. Herman Düne are without doubt my favourite thing to come out of Sweden. Ever.
words: Hannah Webster, pic: Lucy Davies
Herman Düne (TG)
@ Brudenell Social Club
You’d be hard-pressed to find two frontmen as different as Andre and David from Herman Düne. At the one extreme, we have Andre; nonchalant, barely speaking to us, almost lethargic. Hardly, it appears, bothered to play or sing at all. Then we have David. His two feet never touching the floor at the same time, turning up his amp so he can play what should be (but somehow aren’t) ill-fitting guitar solos, and occasionally choosing to sing-along with the guitar or trumpet solos. Despite their drastic differences, both are excellent performers. Andre relies on the simple, plain emotion of his voice, whereas David plays around as the slightly unhinged, troubled singer.
The combination works wonderfully here. Not because you are captivated by either band member, but because between them, they write wonderfully simple, unadorned folk music. David and Andre switch between providing lead vocals, or gorgeously understated harmonies, and also between playing bass, electric or acoustic guitar. Behind them their dual percussionists (and occasional trumpeters) provide the constant beat through the varied mediums of a basic drum kit, sleigh bells, bongos, a triangle and various other instruments that I haven’t seen since junior school.
Somehow, much of the audience at the Brudenell doesn’t seem overly keen. This is quiet music, relying on its lyrical subtleties, clever use of percussion and wonderful chord changes. How this can be fully appreciated while one noisily chats away, pint in hand, is incomprehensible, but then they’re the ones who miss out.
Those of us with the common decency to listen can revel in the simple, clever tales of relationships, unrequited love and the like (you know what I’m talking about here - the same themes that everyone indulges in - but Herman Düne do these themes so very well), and be gleefully suckered in by their simple folk melodies. Much of the set appears to be new songs - and from the evidence on display we must really look forward to the next album - which carry themselves care-free (and rightly so) alongside the more well known material from Not On Top.
Of course, for a band that make such good use of the contrasting male and female voices and enjoy dissecting a relationship from both voices, the lack of any female vocals does detract from proceedings occasionally, as does the infrequent need for, perhaps, one extra guitar. But then touring away from your own country is a costly affair, and you can hardly begrudge them for a little bit of thriftiness.
Really, when songs are of such a high quality of ‘Not On Top’ or ‘You Could Be A Model, Goodbye’, any simplicity in their performance can be instantly forgiven when we open ourselves up to the tunes and the earnest vocals.
Tom Goodhand
The Research / Mono Taxi
@ Fuzz Club, Sheffield
The first Fuzz Club of the New Year was a sweet, cosy affair which nudged the indie kids of Sheffield us out of their post-Christmas slumbers and back into the gig hall relatively painlessly. First up was the Anglo-French Mono Taxi, who managed to combine elements of Stereolab, Sonic Youth and The Moldy Peaches, while maintaining Ladytron-esque levels of stoney-faced cool throughout. Pretty singer Ellice's faux-American vocals stumbled nicely across guitarist Antoine's Gallic drawl as the set jumped from indiepop dancefloor fillers to serene synth-led charmers. All fairly unique with the only cliché on show being the French guitarist's striped jumper (presumably he left his beret and garlic necklace at home).
Headliners The Research have been lumped in with this NME-sponsored 'New Yorkshire' bollocks, but stand out a mile from the other bands who are currently standing in the glare of national attention. While the bluster of Duels and Arctic Monkeys are currently the soundtrack to your Saturday night indie disco, The Research are definitely a warm Sunday morning lie-in and a cup of tea sort of band. And not in a bad way. With drummer Sarah joining bassist Georgia and keyboardist Russell at the front of the stage - and not a guitar in sight - the band offer 50 minutes of carefree, bittersweet pop. All three members sing as harmonies are layered upon naff keyboards and it ends up sounding like a stripped down and significantly better version of Belle & Sebastian. The highlight is the splendid 'I Love You.. But' which sounds like Kylie covering a downbeat Super Furry Animals song while suffering from Tourettes Syndrome. All in all, a very good start to the year.
Ste Mills
Ultra Dollphins / Wow, Owls! /
What Price Wonderland
@ Bunkers Hill, Nottingham
After a while, everything gets filtered down. Nothing better typifies this statement than ‘hardcore’ music. The internet is a good place to see this in action. If you want to know what’s ‘hardcore’ and what isn’t, there are plenty of places online where people argue till they’re blue in the face defining the term. So what sprung (in the USA) from a desire to genuinely rebel (as opposed to rebellion-as-fashion-statement that typified most of the British punk movement), is now controlled somehow by the same geeky gatekeeper types that the music sought to give the finger to in the first place.
So you have these amazing early-90s bands who, even now, sound about as raging as you could imagine. Bands whose ‘sound’ originated from really primal things and simple desires like “really antagonizing people” (in the case of Born Against). Basically, it didn’t have a blueprint it just had an intention. Bands like Wow, Owls! work to a blueprint and that blueprint is the bands that came before them to a degree. Except somehow not as exciting, or as full-on or even as necessary for the time. It just seems like gesturing to me or that their choice of sounds is a stylistic one. It all becomes an endless stream of signifiers that tick boxes in people’s minds and confirm the band as being of a certain genre so people watching can feel they belong in some way to something, I suppose.
The same goes for Ultra Dolphins whose wild exclamations and energy seem somehow scripted and generic no matter how much they go for it and how much sweat gets shed. Like Wow, Owls! it’s not that they’re bad, when they open up and ditch the fidgety guitar for something more definite it’s rocking but the way it’s all presented seems like a huge case of déjà vu but with the context all screwed up.
Openers What Price Wonderland at least reference decent stuff but their take on the naked-sounding, rawness of folks like Native Nod or Nottingham’s own Bob Tilton is still just that – a reference, a nod to someone else and to my mind that’s a contradiction. Somehow referencing someone else’s relatively original way of presenting themselves and their emotional reaction to things seems a bit self-defeating - or at the very least a bit pointless. It’s almost like it exists to fill a gap created by bands not being around anymore to play the music they made at the time, so new bands spring up to fill that gap as there is a new audience for those older records. Having said that, WPW showed a knack for a riff that’ll stand them well if they find a way of presenting it that’s their own It seems weird that a musical form like hardcore, which was born of a necessity to avoid rules, should be so totally defined by them.
It’s a weird world though.
Chris Summerlin
Felix
@ The Social, Nottingham
I’m going to review Felix again, because I think she/they are good, and I like writing positive reviews, it makes my heart warmer. Tonight Felix was a two piece mostly: Lucinda and Simmo, and featured in the second half of the set a beat-boxer, unfortunately I don’t know his name. He was a nice guy though. Lucinda played keyboard and cello, with Simmo taking up bass for the first time I’ve seen them, and it sounded really good. A variety of songs from her debut CDR, a few newer ones from her new 3” CDR, and a really good cover of a Regina Spektor song that isn’t available over these parts at the moment.
What I love about Felix is the difference in sound between the recorded material, which is solely Lucinda, and the live sound, which can be made up of various people from around Nottingham. And the songs always develop in each performance. It shows that Lucinda is not excessively precious about her songs like so many musicians are. And this genuinely benefits the music. It’s allowing the sound (and Miss Chua) to develop and take things in an alternate direction. It was a real shame that so few people turned out for this because it was probably Felix’s best performance yet. And she was the best act on the evening by a long way. Inventive, expressive and stylish in a minimalist way and not overly confident resulting in a bland sound like some of the music coming out of the city right now…
Words and Photo: Joe Blanchard
Mantra / Dumpvalve / Macabre Visions
@ The Ringside, Hull
There is not a lot I can say about this first band, Macabre Visions that I haven't said a couple of times now. They get better every time I see them. They are a very heavy Metal band but their enthusiasm and dedication comes across in their performance and they attract good crowds to their 'pit'. The other bands on the bill were at the front cheering them on.
I was less than flattering about DumpValve the last time I reviewed them, but I was glad to see them back on top form. They seem to be coping as a four-piece again very well. On form, this is the best Metal band in this town, with no exceptions. They opened their set with 'Eskimo', an instrumental from their album 'Seven', then slammed straight in to 'Cold and Alone'. Their music is brutal, but compelling and love 'em or hate 'em, you can't ignore 'em.
The final band Mantra is a three-piece with a punk drummer, a female bass player and a dreadlocked lead guitar and vocalist. They play heavy, soulful rock and do a damn good job of it too! I really hope they stick around as I would love to see them again.
Sue Watson
YSN
@ The Love Apple, Bradford
Personally I blame Oasis. In ushering in an era of unfeasibly bland, three-chord, bloke-rock, where herberts in anoraks standing stock still could bang out carbon copies of album tracks to seas of identikit anorak enthusiasts; the middle of the road reigned supreme. It speaks volumes that Blur, a band who's most celebrated hit goes "Woo-Hoo I feel heavy metal" were considered the arty alternative.
YSN have about as much in common with bloke-rock as Leeds based zombie-rockers Send More Paramedics have with Simon Heffer. But although bloke-rock's on its last legs, whilst Ocean Colour Scene still maintain a touring schedule the good work cannot stop. So fashioned from their own image using purest extract of Mercury, essence of Bowie and compound of Liberace, the Gods of Pop have given us YSN. And they've sent them in to finish the job.
Pete Wurlitzer stands centre stage bedecked in white suit and cravat, his head cocked to one side, quizzically sizing up the audience. He's already refused to begin the set unless his on-stage drink (which Sandman has more than reason to suspect might be water) is properly decanted and served in a crystal serving jug with a brandy glass. He charms and heckles the audience and crew in equal measure at one point launching a withering tirade at a hapless "scruffy common oik" who dares to sneak onto his stage to change a faulty mic lead.
"Tonight" he announces in clipped Scottish brogue "we're going to party like its 1899". And with that they launch into a dazzling 35-minute suite of songs, theatre and incidental breaks that takes in everything from Talking Heads-esque art rock to barbershop a capaella to Weimer Republic era cabaret that astounds and confounds in equal measure. Leaving the almost uncomfortably sizable audience grinning like imbeciles.
This is how we should demand our frontmen: Preening, prancing and demanding huge vats of M&Ms with all the brown ones taken out. Who wants to pay hard-earned money to see another everyman shuffle uncomfortably around hollering meaningless platitudes? Its been sometime since we've been gifted a truly formidable frontman, and backed by a band with charisma and enigma to spare, who'd bet against him making a significant stride towards greatness this year.
Rob Paul Chapman
The Landaus / The Cyclones / Conscience / Jilly Hates Willy
BOTB Final @ Polar Bear, Hull
Band Wars final. Four bands playing for the prize of £1000 and what a line up. As I was also one of the judges, I knew this was going to be a tough call.
First band of the night was Jilly Hates Willy. They remind me a bit of L-Seven. The bass player is superb and the drummer did a grand job considering she had one of her wrists in plaster! All 3 band members share the vocals and do it very well. They played very well in the semis, but unfortunately they were not so good tonight. I suspect it was nerves at the enormity of the occasion. I really hope they carry on playing though as there is loads of potential there.
The second band was Conscience. They ooze confidence and stage presence and are technically excellent musicians. They are also very modest and made a point of praising their opponents and saying how humbled they felt to be sharing the bill with them! Their style reminded me of Manic Street Preachers, (without the heavy politics!) with touches of Stereophonics, (only less depressing!)
Third to play was the Cyclones. They play 50's/60's good old fashioned rock and roll and even dress the part. The crowd loved these guys. They are very good at what they do, but I can't help wondering just where they will fit into today's musical scene.
The final band was the Landaus and if the judging had been based on audience support, they would have walked away with the prize. Confidence is one thing, but over confidence can make you complacent and not play to your full potential. There is no denying that they are a brilliant band but I feel they didn't put as much effort into this as they should have.
Conscience took the prize and well deserved.
Sue Watson
The Lodger / Shatner / Samsa / Downdime
Teatime Shuffle @ HiFi Club, Leeds
From what I've heard, the Hifi club will be like The Magnet in Liverpool, sassy, highly styled and soulful. Not only the Hifi, but also the Teatime Shuffle possess these traits in abundance. What is it about a keyboard player that gives a band an automatic boost? Downdime put a smile on a lot of people's faces, they didn't concentrate on writing 'spiky' guitar parts or 'disco-punk' whatever that is, they simply played songs with great verses and accessible choruses.
Downdime seemed not to take themselves too seriously and played an enjoyable set with a lot of crowd support, however on the flip of this were Samsa who took themselves very seriously. There was no communication with the crowd instead the band went about playing their songs with affection. Samsa were tight and coordinated with a certain air of aloofness, which, to be honest, suited them. The lack of a drunken front man trying to 'make funnies' helped you actually concentrate on the music.
After this came Shatner who looked like milkmen but were the most technically proficient outfit of the night. They were experienced and wrote intelligent pop songs; 'Anti-Clockwise' was perhaps the best example, quick and to the point. The compere for the evening was fitting, looking like a young Ade Edmondson, he, like Shatner, didn't dwell and knew how to get the crowd going.
I was impressed by the Teatime Shuffle long before The Lodger took to the stage but after, I was salivating. The Lodger get quite a few column inches and now they'll have a few more, and with good reason. The simple three piece flowed through the early part of the set, playing the fantastic 'You Got Me Wrong' in the process. The three piece were then joined by the compere on trombone and a young lady on trumpet, which just made the night better. The stuffy predictable nature of a lot of gigs was broken and the added brass section gave new impetuous to The Lodgers songs: simple yet brilliant.
The Teatime Shuffle was well worth the entry fee, it was an entertaining night in a venue meant for much grander schemes but managed to retort with its own version of pomp and grandeur.
Lanre Bakare
Huddersfield Contemporary
Music Festival
@ Various venues in The Hudd
Without the luxury of being independently wealthy, nor having the good fortune to work for a magazine with a devil-may-care attitude to its expenses budget (even if it had one), what follows is necessarily an all too brief skip through an event that is always positively tumescent with new musical experiences. So here goes…..
The HCMF has been running for almost thirty years now and has quietly built up a reputation for staging one of the most consistently ambitious and challenging forums for examining the state of contemporary classical music. You won't find much music composed more than 25 years ago and a great deal of it receives a World, European or UK Premiere at the Festival. While the Festival's concept of "contemporary music" doesn't extend to the likes of The Bravery ("Amen" to that!), jazz and, in more recent years, electronica usually get a look in of some kind.
Although not the first event of the Festival, the programme of short(ish) pieces delivered by violinist David Alberman and pianist Rolf Hind (mezzo soprano Lore Lixenburg joined them for two pieces) on the first Saturday could have set out the template for the range of different types of music spread across the whole ten days. Hind's own "City of Love" was an abstract piece made up mostly of small, staccato sounds in varying degrees of volume and attack from all three players. Chris Dench's "e(i)ther" (commissioned by the HCMF and as such this performance was a World Premiere) was a moody dialogue between piano and violin that was reflective and agitated by turns, and had abrupt stops, overlaps and repetitions in much the same way any conversation has. Lixenburg then teamed up with Alberman for Bent Sorensen's "Six Songs for Voice and Violin" which were brief but beautifully brittle explorations of the possibilities of the interaction of violin and voice. Two pieces by Simon Holt followed, both written specifically for Alberman and Hind, for solo violin and piano respectively. "The Sharp End of the Night" had Alberman rasping chords from his instrument and almost riffing (in a classical stylee of course), while "ashes, ashes" was short and brooding. The concert ended with Iannis Xenakis' noisy and anarchic "Dikhthas" which got a suitably climactic reading from Alberman and Hind.
Saturday night had a strong Norwegian theme. The BIT20 Ensemble was established principally, but not exclusively, to showcase the work of Norwegian composers. Tonight's concert featured Rolf Wallin's "Ning" and the composer "had a chat" with Tom Service, the Guest Artistic Director for this years HCMF, prior to the concert. The engaging and not at all up his own intellect Wallin explained that "ning" is a term, borrowed from a novel, that refers to the "cohesive joining force" that drives fish and birds to swim or fly in close formation but incorporating sudden changes of direction and speed. The piece, played by a BIT20 stripped down to a quartet of violin, viola, oboe and cello, beautifully evoked this effect with musical phrases rippling across the ensemble with a nervy intensity. The full BIT20 convened to play Lasse Thoresen's "Lop, Lokk og Linjer", which translates as "Chases, Cattle Calls and Charts", an hour long, five part piece based extensively on bird and animal sounds and Norwegian folk music. The shape of the music shifted throughout its five parts, from long ululations through jaunty, almost carnivalesque passages to near abstract vocalisations of folk singing. Gripping, despite it's potentially bum numbing length.
If you know anything about Norwegian jazz/rock/improv quartet Supersilent, its probably that the members only ever meet to record or play concerts and never discuss what they are going to do prior to either activity. An improbable sounding template for a stunning musical event you may think, but that is just what we got in the late night concert slot, despite the fact the band seem to be missing a member. Two multi-keyboard and PC stations sit either side of a cymballess drum kit, and the drummer plays as much trumpet as percussion. The music begins with breathy wheezing on the trumpet but its clear the band are in agitated mood and it's not long before all three are swapping fierce stabs of noise and juddering rhythm. The intuition between the trio is extraordinary, with accelerations and abrupt stops being negotiated with uncanny precision. The disappointingly sparse audience at the Lawrence Batley Theatre didn't seem to dull the band's enthusiasm one bit, with the climax bristling with Aphex Twin like electronic splutters and jackhammer beats.
Fast forward to mid week for a riot of culture clashing with Japanese composer Toshio Hosokawa providing a full programme for the Philharmonia Orchestra at St Paul's Hall, and a touring ensemble of old and new Russian music under the umbrella of Unorthodox Chants at the Lawrence Batley. In a pre-concert talk, Hosokawa explained that his music draws heavily on his idea that "music is a flower blooming on silence". Sure enough, all three pieces ("Singing Garden", "Interim" and "Drawing") featured crescendo's growing from absolute or relative silence as the driving force of the music. Whilst the music was by no means aural wallpaper, its shimmering suspension in stasis made it appear insubstantial at times. By complete contrast, the Unorthodox Chants programme featured earthy Russian folk songs sung by the 10 strong Pokrovsky Ensemble, accordionist Evelyna Petrova singing extracts from her own "Year's Cycle" selections and string ensemble Opus Posth teaming up with the Pokrovsky Ensemble to play Vladimir Martynov's "Night in Galicia". This last item was a stunning piece of musical theatre that began with the monotone chanting of single syllables by the voices and the intoning of a grand omni chord by the string ensemble which mutated and evolved in ever more sophisticated layers of interaction over its considerable length. Martynov draws on nature sounds, ancient ritual and religious imagery and the development of the piece suggests either the span of a single human life or noting short of the evolutionary journey of mankind. The climax of the piece is a distinctly hymn like song that displays both ensembles working for the first time in complex harmonic unison.
The final night of the festival always features a particular composer and this year that distinction fell to Helmut Lachenmann. On the face of it a stern and fiercely rigorous composer, Lachenmann has embraced complexity to an almost forbidding degree and his scores often instruct the musicians to play their instruments in unconventional ways. For example, reed players will be required to blow as hard as they can through their instruments without fingering the keys or making a conventional sound. In the afternoon concert, Ensemble Recherche played his "Allegro Sostenuto" for clarinet, piano and cello. A tense and quietly dramatic piece, all three players sustained an amazing level of concentration. For the early evening concert, pianist Nicholas Hodges included Lachenmann's "Serynade", an extraordinary display of control and precision where the decaying sounds of chords and notes where manipulated and distorted to create ghostly new resonances and harmonics. The festival finale, at the Town Hall, featured Ensemble Modern's interpretations of two Lachenmann pieces, "Mouvement (-vor der Erstarrung) from 1984 and the UK Premiere of "Concertini". Played by a stripped down Ensemble Modern, "Mouvement" is fast and dynamic and despite its very abstract nature has a cohesion that is often lacking from modern composition. By contrast, the extremely ambitious "Concertini" seemed to rely mostly on the novelty of sub sections of the Ensemble being placed at different locations around the balcony of the Town Hall. Visually it was very impressive but musically it seemed to do little more than offer the composer the opportunity to echo phrases between different sections across the heads of the audience.
Johnny Ersatz-Culture
Chichino / Real Eyes / Erasul
@ Carpe Diem
At Carpe diem, the music is free, and versatile. The building is warm, with its Yorkshire stone floors and oak beam panelling. At 8pm the stage is being set, people are in good spirits. A group gathers round the front of the stage, at the right end of the pub, and the windows behind have been covered with huge cloth curtains.
At 8.30pm it starts. Avery merry MC shouts at the top of his voice to start the night off. Excited, and passionate he instructs the crowd to enjoy themselves and enthusiastically introduces the first band. He hollers after every song by every artist trying to provoke a good crowd reaction, but there’s no need. Everyone’s there for a good time.
A four pieced chilli pepper inspired group opened up they’re ‘Erasul’ or ESL, I can’t tell because they slur. They start things off by calling their supporters motherfuckers. There’s some great catchy bass licks but the vocals are screamed and all about “not giving a fuck”; and the lead singer keeps muttering “it’s just Justin” a la Timberlake. The bass pumps through your chest and after 5 songs of punkified pop the good natured crowd, gives an enthusiastic and friendly applause.
The very merry MC comes on stage again to cheers, and introduces the 3 piece band Real Eyes from Bradford whose topics ranged from the state of music to state of the world. They started by addressing, “A lot of people say bad things about Bradford” which received a entertained rouse drunk to shout out “its effin wicked!” that segued them into songs which they explained were about terrorism, X-Factor destroying the music industry and a cover of UB40 which is perfect for the lead singer’s slinky voice as he played keyboard. The crowd danced to the reggae tinged soulful funk with the two guitarists.
The final act of the night are the big ones the crowd has been waiting for. I don’t know much about Chichino but they have been touted locally. Flyers in the pub scream about their appearance on £adio Leeds and Radio Aire and their good reviews. Their sweet funk pop soul was a sweet end for the crowd.
Everyone was happy. You felt welcomed in Carpe Diem, a place passionate about live music, which was free, just how a pub gig should be.
Selina Ditta
¡Forward, Russia! / Komakino / Kubicek!
¡F,R! single launch party @ Mine
Kicking off the ‘party’ are Kubichek!, another hotly tipped Northern band. They take a while to get into their stride, but after a couple of their angular songs, the fervently loyal crowd is won over. With tracks like the stomping ‘Nightjoy’ and the wonderful poetic ‘Stutter’ in the arsenal, expect big things from Kubichek! in the future.
Komakino must’ve won the chance to be 2nd on the bill after beating Kubichek! in a competition organised between the bands, as it certainly wasn’t on musical merit. There’s nothing wrong with their pop tinged new wave, it’s just that they didn’t really inspire me like Kubichek! did. Komakino If they possessed more songs like their last single ‘Say Something’, a angst ridden Libertines-esque number, then they’d easily be in the same position as tonight’s heroes, but still, the outlooks definitely bright.
After seeing ¡Forward, Russia! play in small rooms to about 40 people, it’s quite overwhelming to see how many people have come tonight just to see them, from the hardcore to the hangers on, tonight is all about the best new band in the UK. Coming on to Van Halen’s ‘Jump’, there is a real sense of enjoyment among Team Russia tonight, like they’re starting to really believe just how good they are.
The pulsating ‘Thirteen’ starts off proceedings as usual, with Tom shouting and wrapping himself up in the mic cable with extra vigour. The multiple riffs of ‘Seventeen’ and ‘Eighteen’ fly off Whiskas’ guitar at a frenetic pace, and there really isn’t a moment to catch your breath. New single, and the real reason we’re all here, ‘Twelve’ creates a sea of flailing arms onto which Tom dutifully dives upon. They even possess a vaguely quiet song, ‘Sixteen’, with Katie taking over the vocal duties, before it morphs into a number shouting metal stomper. Steve Lamacq’s in attendance, so it’d be rude no to play his favourite ‘Nine’, and the set closes with the immense feedback of ‘Eleven’. Of course, that’s not nearly enough to satisfy the baying crowd, who are given a choice of tunes for the encore, with old favourite ‘Six’ picked over ‘Fourteen’, not that it really mattered, as the moshing, crowd surfing and dancing would have happened regardless. As Tom shouts out the lyrics “everybody’s fine at the top of world”, you know it won’t be long before ¡Forward, Russia! find out for themselves.
James Ould
Hot Snack / Benjamin Wetherill / High Plane Drifters / Meat For A Darker Day
@ The Packhorse
The Leeds scenesters were out in their tiny mass – packed into the tiny room upstairs in the Packhorse, one of Leeds most underrated venues. Tonight an array of Leeds artists were to show their talent to a crowd of people that all looked like Graham Coxon and Karen O.
Meat For A Darker Day broke the noise of people munching on free mince pies with the racket of out of tune early Pulp – Johnny Cash sound. An older gentlemen fronted the group and sang songs that were obviously controversial – this guy evidently wanted to be Jim Morrison, screaming about Jesus but without the compassion to put the belief into his own lyrics. Some things are meant to getter better with age, but in the case of Meat for a Darker Day – how about some practice.
It didn’t get much better from there – High Plane Drifters irritated me from the moment I read their name on the running order – I mean, what a bad name for a band. Well, it’s debatable if they are a band, just like it is with the White Stripes – yes the high flyers only have a drummer and a guitarist/singer. Thankfully High Plane Drifters don’t sound anything like the Stripes, for starters, the drummer was really good, but that’s about where the positives finish. They made noise and lots of it, there’s nothing else much to add apart from they had a song that strangely sounded like the Chemical Brothers. Hmm.
Benjamin Wetherill was up next to show off his talents to this pre-Christmas crowd. For you that haven’t heard of or seen Ben, he’s a beautiful looking guy, and projects the idea that he’s from a very posh background and sounds astounding. His first song sound made my imagination run riot – I had images of woodland, fairies and in the background John Cleese and the rest of the Monty Python cast filming the Holy Grail – fantastic. Benjamin has the voice to make you drift to a far away land and the lyrical talent to make you think about everything and nothing.
Headliners Hot Snack – were ok nothing amazing and nothing terrible but quite non descript – the night defiantly belonged to Mr. Wetherill and to the person who brought the mince pies.
Rae Charles
League of Gentlemen
@ Sheffield City Hall
Sitting alone at home as a moody, reclusive thirteen-year-old when the League of Gentlemen first appeared on my screen it was something of a comedy revelation. Unlike other comedy faves (Partridge, Red Dwarf) or fellow sketch shows LOG (and its radio and stage predecessors) not only creates the character and the gimmick but develops them on top of that. The arrival of Tubbs, Edward, Harvey and the rest was incredible, fresh and exciting despite all those irritating arguments with people who ‘just don’t get it’.
Six years later and we’ve had two more series (the last being not so good although with a strange format) and a very fans-only (no probs here) film which gave a little more insight into the weird four men behind Royston Vasey.
The question as to how this would be interpreted on stage was answered with aplomb at the re-opened City Hall. The three actors do an incredible job to revolve on and off stage so rapidly into seemingly ever more elaborate outfits. One minute Jeremy Dyson is waving around a massive plastic cock, the next he’s Hilary Briss as a magic mirror.
Before the interval we’re treated to a mix of new characters and old favourites in a twenty-five minute sketch show featuring the lude doctor, the hideous Harvey and a host of others in quite a slapstick style. The second part is a straight up bent pantomime Pam as the dame, the debt collectors with the magic beans and, you guessed it, Tubbs and Edward at the top of an impressive beanstalk (all the stage design is fantastic). In the end Tubbs and her little brown fish make it to Swansea and we and up and leave without a bad word to say.
Not only are they Gentlemen Genius’ but they’re incredibly professional in their crude idiocy, the script is tight and even the predictable is hilarious. Entertaining and talented and long may it continue.
Alex Lawson
Mantra / Dumpvalve / Macabre Visions
@ The Ringside, Hull
There is not a lot I can say about this first band, Macabre Visions that I haven’t said a couple of times now. They get better every time I see them. They are a very heavy Metal band but their enthusiasm and dedication comes across in their performance and they attract good crowds to their ‘pit’. The other bands on the bill were at the front cheering them on.
I was less than flattering about DumpValve the last time I reviewed them, but I was glad to see them back on top form. They seem to be coping as a four-piece again very well. On form, this is the best Metal band in this town, with no exceptions. They opened their set with ‘Eskimo’, an instrumental from their album ‘Seven’, then slammed straight in to ‘Cold and Alone’. Their music is brutal, but compelling and love ‘em or hate ‘em, you can’t ignore ‘em.
The final band Mantra is a 3 piece with a punk drummer, a female bass player and a dreadlocked lead guitar and vocalist. They play heavy, soulful rock and do a damn good job of it too! I really hope they stick around as I would love to see them again.
Sue Watson
Pointe Blank / Forced To Die / Dead Silver / This Bleeding Soul
@ Josephs Well, Leeds
With a name like This Bleeding Soul I expect the opening act to sing about rising up from ashes with clenched fists and the like. Yeah, I reckon the name suits them. Technically they go about their work decently, but you know when a band seems to be constantly drifting into different songs from one another? Well TBS drift into the same song occasionally. Visually they have the look, but appear to have to concentrate very hard in order to function at all. They fare better when ripping through fast Raging Speedhorn style material, but the shouting is really shown up when they attempt the sweeping guitar epic sections that really need more substantial vocals.
Dead Silver slam into what appears to be their version of ISIS, before lurching through a combination of bizarre cheese rock mashed with Funeral For A Friend sensibilities. It’s sort of emo-poodle rock. All of this is visually lead by a metal version of Jay from Jay & Silent Bob. Their attempt is admirable, but they don’t quite hit it, mainly because they need a vocalist who can sing or scream or shout…or something! Mum’s at the side taking pics. Ah bless. Possibly too eclectic for their own good, they’re obviously young guys having fun in a band. They do need to work at it though or it’s going to wear thin very quickly for us and them.
Forced To Die are a Thrice, Hatebreed, The Used hybrid. You know the sort – Bullet For My Valentine. Unfortunately all these bands are ripped off at some point during FTD’s set. There’s a fine line between being influenced by certain bands and blatant plagiarism. They also appear to love themselves way to much. Trendies for the mini-moshers. It’s all just a bit too posed and self indulgent, especially considering the uninspiring vocals. It’s a shame because despite these setbacks their overall sound is full and powerful, and the guitars work exceptionally well together.
And so to the headline act Pointe Blank. These guys are simply the lovechild of Avenged Sevenfold and Motley Crue. They kick off with some amazing solo work on lead guitar and drums, but the sound means there’s no bass-end and it’s killing them. Fortunately, frontman Jonny delivers vocals that are melodic, mature and swelling – very refreshing on an aggressive bill such as this evening’s. They really don’t need the screaming too as there’s so much personality and passion in J’s voice it’s the only vocal they need. The only problem is that he needs to match it in his stage presence. In fact the whole band needs to demand attention and command the stage a hell of a lot more – looking like deer in the headlights ain’t rock’n’roll boys. Having said that most of the band is very young and the stage presence and personas will come with time. Importantly they demonstrate excellent musicianship well beyond their years. Ears pricked, eyes open, keep tabs on the Blank boys people.
Matt Fraser
Rob Nichols + Micky Kerr + Robert Chew
@ The Royal Oak
In the words of Auden…well… more or less: “stop all the clocks, cut off the ‘phone and prevent that darn dog from barking with a juicy bone.”
What I’m about to present to you requires nothing more than your undivided attention…what I’m about to present to you is young, fresh and exciting and I ain’t just on about its organiser. Ladies and gentlemen, what I’m about to present to you has, in my opinion, the potential to be one of THE hotspots for showcasing talent in the Leeds area. Fact.
It’s 8pm and The Royal Oak pub in Kippax is seething with its usual punters. A few of the Leeds city centre clan are kicking about too, escaping the smog for the night to appreciate the finery of the suburbs and come to the realisation that there is life out of the big ‘L’; and that live music is very much a university to be enjoyed by country folk, town folk and city folk alike.
In its second night of running, the people of Kippax were treated to an infinity of talent courtesy of Robert Chew (à la ‘The Rivers’ fame), Independent Leeds Music Awards Nominee Micky “the Mainman” Kerr and Independent Leeds Music Award winner Rob Nichols. All three lads were on top form with their effortless vocals and accompanying acoustics. And by introducing the odd cover into their sets they didn’t fail to impress and encourage the good ol’ audience participation.
For many in the Royal Oak, it was as good opportunity as any to finally get to see the acts they may have heard being raved about in the city, but which before had not been so readily accessible to them and organiser Robert Chew recognises that the suburbian folk “are not as involved in live music as those that live more centrally”. And if the response on Sunday is anything to go by, they sure as hell want to be! Because as soon as the allotted acts had laid their sets to rest, the open mic became a battle ground for those locals wanting to strut their stuff. But, t’was a far cry from the usual cringeworthy karaoke efforts you see criminalising pubs up and down the country …for the crowd became unsuspecting competition for the main acts themselves!
Venue wise... The Royal Oak fell nothing short of fine. There was somewhat of an ol’ English feel to it, with its wooden furnishings, royal red/gold upholstery and friendly local banter to boot. We were able to enjoy a fine range of hand pulled ales and lagers…some enjoying them more than others…*ahem.* The food was what you’d normally expect from a traditional pub setting….belly satisfying!
So people keep your eyes peeled, your ears open, your dancing shoes polished in anticipation and the first Sunday of every month free from all other engagements because this won’t be the last you’ll hear of The Royal Oak at Kippax…it won’t be the last.
Spread the word people, spread the word.
Sarah Jawad
Sex Beat
@ SoulCircus, Leeds
First Friday of every month
My alfalfa-sprouting, soya-milking, green tea and Greenpeace side tries to maintain that mistakes in the societal constructs of spelling and grammar do not matter so long as the writer has successfully conveyed their concepts, and that to be distracted from an underlying idea by perceived ‘errors’ deems the reader to be thickheaded, not vice versa.
However, within me also dwells a trained cunning linguist evil twin, and this psychotic zygotic half tends to be rather ruthless in silencing her free range egg counterpart with a quick twist of the woolly scarf. Anal about colons and apoplectic about apostrophes, I could feel the elitist itch rising at the sight of “on Friday’s” on an otherwise attractive flyer, and – twitch – “in Leed’s” on a poster. Calming my obsessive compulsive mutterings about proofreading with a moderately expensive drink, I settled back to watch the strangely homoerotic sight of Johnny Bravo the doorman using the stair banister to bench press with a barman on his shoulders. Brokeback Mountain indeed. The punters then began to arrive, and I knew that for the rest of the evening many parts of me were going to feel a lot like those apostrophes – out of place. Billed as playing ‘Post-punk, electro, rock’n’roll and psychobilly’, SoulCircus’ owner earnestly told me how the night offered a space for “a special crowd to enjoy themselves in safety”. The only protection this kohl-fired group seemed to need was against nicks and cuts from their fascinating Edward Scissorhands jet black/bleach blonde coiffure creators, or maybe some of the guys’ razor sharp hips. However, I appreciated the venue’s policy to keep judgemental scally scum out and let the corseted crowd sex up their patent leather, Vaseline beats unhindered.
Fashion-wise (and the fashion mattered), this was a fusion of modern art and the dark arts: leopardskin and one-arm-bandit tattoos, androgyny vs. exaggeration, and the kind of porn star heels that imply unspeakably nasty things would happen to any small rodents caught beneath them. Quite the stunning, hypnotic circus folk, yet even in my Cyber-Nurse, ankle strap 6-inchers I felt like a rockabilly-no-mates at a private party. Apart from the odd flash of Kate Bush, and some pure punk and indie here and there, the black Emo left me in the dark and the Krautrock sounded sour. If you’re into the scene, DJ Paul will push all of your specialist buttons; if not, enjoy elaborately indulging your deepest fabric fantasies and costume dramas, and bring a knowledgeable friend. Otherwise, like me, you may find Sex Beat philosophically accepting but rather inaccessible musically. And surprisingly enough, that’s something I applaud; well done SoulCircus for saving Leeds from yet another cheese room and giving the lactose intolerant kids their own connoisseur playground. Evil twin is less sure about the dyslexia support campaign.
Alix Fox
Rudolf Rocker / Dusty Not Digital / Bazooka Josephine
@ Mixing Tin, Leeds
I am officially old. I know you youngsters will not bat an eyelid at the thought of turning up at a venue at ten o'clock to catch the first of three bands but, colour me fuddy duddy, ten o'clock is too late to be starting anything. There, gripe over. I just had to get that off my chest.
Bazooka Josephine are first up tonight, an acoustic four-piece from Leeds sporting a folk-goth vibe with a hint of nineties indie kid sensibility - think The Mission meets Echobelly. Minus drums. I never thought I would utter these words, but their absence is noted. Songs begin well with some nice twangy intros, but degenerate into a strummy sludge that overwhelms without rhythmic guidance. And on the subject of overwhelming, that's exactly what happens to the poor lead singer. Hemmed in on all sides by three strapping lads, spoken for by the lead guitarist and singing against strummy sludge, her voice and persona are lost. For goodness sake, LET HER LEAD! Three or so songs from the end, she is allowed her head and it's so much better. Next time, get behind her and give her a tambourine. Or something.
Next on the line up are Bradford lads, Dustys Not Digital, and a far cry from Bazooka Josephine they are too. Their opening track is full of nervous, raunchy energy reminiscent of early Placebo and the lead singer possesses a voice that is more than capable of carrying off those sort of shenanigans. It's one of those "Where's that voice coming from?" Moments and, for all his nervousness and dour lack of confidence, the boy has potential. In fact, the whole band has potential. The lead singer and guitar/keyboard player's nervousness is made up for by the confidence of the more experienced drummer and bass guitarist, who has a great line in rock swagger. All they need is a bit more confidence overall and a bit less dependence on sounding like Muse. Break the mould, boys, and break some hearts.
Rounding off the evening with their own peculiar brand of restrained lounge-bar revolution are Rudolph Rocker. The brothers Goodall are joined on stage by guest keyboard player Jeremy Dyson who funks up the middle ground, while Mark and Steve stand sentinel like on either side of the stage. The set opens with a double header about cheese, performed with more seriousness than the curdled dairy product deserves, but it is only when they get to the flamenco fury of 'Weak Bridge' that the pace picks up. Then there is Hammond nonsense a-plenty and discordant maulings of Sting to boot, though it is the material from 'Rabbiting.' that sounds the strongest. They close with the Morcambe and Wise whistle-a-like 'Hijack,' a spirit lifting song about America's foreign policy and then are gone, leaving heads to be scratched and chins to be rubbed. A very silly serious band. Or vice versa.
Rob Wright
Promises, Promises
@ The Crucible Theatre, Sheffield
When Noel Gallagher joined a legendary songwriter on stage at the American's 1996 London concert, it became cool again to like Burt Bacharach. Ten years on Bacharach is still composing and connecting with younger generations, such is his talent. This musical at the Crucible was first scored by Bacharach and his lyricist partner Hal David exactly forty years ago. Renowned playwright Neil Simon only agreed to write the book, based on Billy Wilder's screenplay, provided Bacharach wrote the music. The result was a dynamic satire on early sixties New York life and this Sheffield based version gave the impression that the story is a timeless tale of romance, infidelity and big business politics. It's plot is set around a young executive, Chuck Baxter, played wonderfully by Richard Frame, who stumbles into lending his one bed apartment to the company fat cats, for secret liaisons with their secretaries. In exchange the naive Baxter begins to climb the corporate ladder for the wrong reasons. However he falls in love and by the end you are desperately hoping he gets the girl (he does but only just). Simon's clever comedy is percolated by seventeen Bacharach-David compositions, the most famous of which only made the show two years after it's Broadway opening. This adjustment was the classic 'I'll Never Fall in Love Again' a brilliant take on the end of a relationship, a song covered by many including the contemporary Scottish pop band, Deacon Blue. Not surprisingly their version also made the charts. Emma Williams who has received rave reviews for her role as Fran, the object of Baxter's desires, was out of action with a foot injury for this showing. But understudy Amy Field did not disappoint. In fact the whole cast gave a passionate performance, obvious by the fact that the Crucible was barely a third full and in the last week of the show's run; they could have just been going through the motions. Several second half scenes were clever and funny, with the plot rising to a romantic crescendo and the show stopping 'I'LL Never Fall in Love Again’. Set around Christmas time it has been a sensible production for the festive season just passed. It's too late to see this staging but a Christmas musical is a great substitute for the lack of live music in the City in December, especially if the score is at the Bacharach level. Well done Sheffield Theatres for putting on a show that leaves you feeling romantic, even if you are a bloke and you think you are tough. Unlike Baxter's dilemma, this production did not just make promises, promises.
Stuart Clarkson
Macabre Visions / Infernal Creation / Le Shed / Dumpvalve
Metal Up Your Xm-Ass@ Silhouette
Well, the evening got off to a great start with Macabre Visions. I am fast becoming a fan of this band, they improve each time I see them. Their music is on the heavier side of Metal and they had a great crowd in the ‘pit’. The night looked promising.
Talk about tempting fate. The next band Infernal Creation had just changed their name from Your Demise, but they didn’t fool me! When I first saw them I didn’t like them and nothings changed. They play Black Metal, and the main thing I dislike is the singers screaming style of ‘vocals’. Sorry, but I’m a lyrics person. If you’ve gone to the trouble of writing lyrics, I wanna hear what you’re singing!
I was disappointed with Le Shed. They are a superb band when they’re on form. They play Funk/Metal like nobody I’ve ever heard before. They introduced a new guitarist tonight, but his performance was masked by the fact that some of the rest of the band were a little too full of ‘Christmas Spirit’! I know was Christmas but it’s not very professional, guys. Save the ‘Rock Star’ life style for when you’ve got a record deal under your belts!
DumpValve ended the night and here’s a first- I didn’t think they played very well! Maybe they were still in shock from the loss of their rhythm guitarist a few weeks ago, which limited the set they could play. Whatever the reason, I felt it was a lack-lustre performance from an otherwise amazing band.
All in all I did enjoy the night and look forward to a Heavy New Year.
Sue Watson.
Stripped
@ Wellington Inn, Hull
The Wellington Inn’s weekly acoustic night kicked off 2006 in the fashion it means to carry on even despite an unfortunate absence due to the illness of the billed headliners.
Adam Lynch opened, a young, melodic singer/songwriter whose covers (Damien Rice, Jack Johnson) were impressive but gladly outshined by his own material. Technically sound in the guitar and vocal departments, armed with a little more confidence and a greater repertoire of original material Lynch will be approaching the finished article.
Next the Cyclones brought a breath of fresh air, 50s style. Three of the four-piece 50s theme/tribute band played a stripped down acoustic performance kicking off with an original atypical 1950s rock ‘n’ roll track. Unsurprisingly artists such as Johnny Cash, Chuck Berry and Eddie Cochran were on the covers list which, as with all their other songs, were executed with cheerful spirit. Lyrics were cheesy and guitar riffs predictable, presumably just the fashion these guys were aiming for. Their two sets were a very refreshing mix of lively country and blues styles which contrasted well with the quieter style of the opening act. While the lead vocals in the first set were a bit off by the second they had warmed up somewhat which made the overall sound much better.
Stripped showed its strength in diversity and pulled the night off, even without headliners. Thursdays at the Wellington Inn are well worth checking out and will most probably become firmly established on Hull’s musical calendar.
Joe Young
Smokestacks / Unexploded Shells / Keith Burton and His Beef Curtain
@ Escobar, Wakefield
I first heard Keith Burton in the Jockey playing to a packed out crowd, and thoroughly enjoyed his performance. Tonight, he appears with his Beef Curtain (don't ask 'cos I don't know) and plays to a smaller, but interested crowd. His collection of piss-take tunes - comic lyrics over well known tunes - always gets a laugh. My favourite is 'Hood Rats', sung to the tune of The Cure's 'Love Cats' (in a northern accent), about that lovely species The Chav. There was also a song about Emmerdale's Zoe Tate ('Alcoholic Lesbian Vet') containing a slinky guitar melody of the show's theme tune. The song 'Cannibal' allows Keith to hide behind a strange half-face mask, with puffed up hair and dopey eyes. Then there's the tunes about toasters, lizards and dog-sitting. If you see the name Keith Burton, go see the fella.
Next up, Leeds band Unexploded Shells. I have been following the progress of these indie style guys but have never seen them live. Although previous reviews have said they have strange music and weird vocals, I couldn't hear/see any weirdness. I liked the way the two singers Mark and Tom changed roles, swapping guitar and singing duties. They looked odd together - one tall and suit-wearing and the other with more casual attire. I couldn't see the whole band because of that damn pillar holding up the ceiling. They all
looked relaxed for a relatively new band.
There were two more bands on for this Louder Than Bombs evening, but I only watched the next offering from the Smokestacks. Their sound was very tight, even though they are described as 'boozy rock'. The singer, I believe, was the compere at Joseph's Well NYE shin-dig (which was great by the way) as the Knightmare guy from TV gone by. The mixture of their funky sound with bluesy bits and varying paces earned them a place on BBC's Raw Talent late last year, and I'm sure their addictive brand of rock will get them far.
Danielle Millea
Swine / Absolute Zeros / An Invitation To An Accident
@ The Golden Lion, Pontefract
A last minute decision drove me to Ponte, and recalled memories of teenage drinking in the now-named Tap and Barrel. After finally finding the Golden Lion, and then the right entrance (thanks to the staff for letting us walk through the bar) we ended up in a slightly small, smokey room.
The first band of the night were fairly new to the circuit, but all local lads. An Invitation To An Accident have some catchy songs and can play them well. My only criticism is that a little more practice is needed, just to tighten up the endings, but apart from that a good effort.
Next up Absolute Zeros, a band wearing bandanas over their mouths, which does not quieten them in any way. They were raucous and noisy but good with it. Now and again the odd punk comes out, which I like to see, for a worthy gig. Mohicans, tight jeans, denim jackets with patches on, you know. And the Golden lion had its share of them tonight.
The last band of the evening was local lads Swine, who look punk, sound punk and definitely act punk. Well liked around here (they had one fan who had travelled from Plymouth) this lot like to shout in your face, and expect you to shout back louder. The classic 'Jimmy', a dedication to the Mr Saville that is, is always a fantastic sing-a-long track. The encore had other favourites 'Halloween' and Operation Ivy's 'Knowledge', at my request, of course. A stomping night, leaving a grand hangover for all.
Danielle Millea
Shrine Of The Monkey / Maeven /10 Ft Dolls / Beautiful Disaster
@ The Boardwalk, Sheffield
I nearly didn't go tonight. Just after Christmas, a belly full of turkey and chocolates, spent the last of my money New Year’s Eve, a Tuesday night, Eastenders is on, but with four rock bands on at the Boardwalk I couldn't resist.
I just caught the last three songs of first band up, Beautiful Disaster, they looked good and played well, but spoilt it all with an awful version of Brian Adams Summer of 69. Stick to your own stuff girls!
Next up 10ft Dolls. Comparisons to Motley Crue, L,A Guns and Faster Pussycat, full on sleaze rock, plenty of hairspray and bandana's, very young, with a rockin' girl singer. They looked good, sound well, it’s totally throwaway but thoroughly enjoyable.
It has to be said that all the bands benefited from an excellent sound here tonight,something bands haven't always enjoyed here in the past.
Maeven next, a very young all girl band who by all accounts played the Corporation with the Murderdolls, and got offered a record deal. They have bags of attitude. they're pretty and they make a decent enough noise. The lead singer sounds a bit like Alanis Morissette. They show promise.
Headliners Shrine of the Monkey are a fair bit older and more experienced than the other bands, and tonight it showed. They were far and away the best band on the night. They are a very British sounding biker/stoner rock three-piece band with both bassist and guitarist sharing the lead vocals. They did a blistering version of Black Sabbaths 'War Pigs' half way through the set, but their own material is right up there with it. Two songs really stood out, Oblivion, and Anthem, with the line 'make Bush take an acid trip, maybe he'll stop the war.' Amen to that. They've got a four track EP coming out next month. Will somebody please buy me a copy?
Sue Taylor
The Quireboys
@ The Cockpit, Leeds
If, like me, you've viewed the new Darkness album as a chronic disappointment and a case of a once-promising band becoming contrived to the point of not so much bordering on self-parody as charging across said border with no self-regard then you might be wondering where the next great British rock 'n' roll band is going to come from.
Well I'm not saying The Quireboys are any sort of British future, God knows they've been slugging it out on the glam metal circuit for a good 20 years now, but if there's any wannabe rock 'n' roll gunslingers out there looking for inspiration, on tonight's performance, they could do a lot worse than taking a few cues from ol' Spike and his merry mob of vagabonds who absolutely shred tonight.
The great thing about music like this is there's no pretensions whatsoever about it - quite simply it does exactly what it says on the tin, namely provides the ideal soundtrack for a beer, a cigarette and a top night out. The new stuff The Quireboys, complete with stand-in Derek Smalls lookalike bassist, play tonight shows no signs that the old energy they've always had abating while the older stuff (‘Roses And Rings’, ‘There She Goes Again’,
‘Tramps And Thieves‘) is already starting to sound like lost classics from a better era before people decided that rubbish like My Chemical Romance and Trivium were in any way "rock 'n' roll".
By the time they finish with a none-more-raucous encore of ‘7 O'Clock’ and ‘Sex Party’, everyone in the room is grinning like idiots and reflecting how this might well be one of the best gigs they've seen in ages, your correspondent included. Just the way every great rock gig should end in fact. Hopefully a few people will have got some inspiration today and now be plotting to put some proper good times (without any trace of that most odious of musical traits, irony) back into rock music come 2006. Gawd knows we need 'em right now. Over to you kids...
Andy James
Fear of Music
@ The Faversham, Leeds
Fear of Music hail from Manchester, but you can immediately dismiss any ideas you have about them sounding like The Stone Roses, New Order, Oasis or Take That. They sound scarily similar to Muse, in a way that if Muse were an A-list celebrity then they might feel obliged to take out a restraining order on Fear of Music for following too closely in their footsteps and mimicking them in a freaky, stalker-like fashion.
As it is though, the similarity is more one that is shared between the cool older brother and adoring younger sibling. Equipped with only an EP's worth of completed songs, plus a few that are work in progress ahead of the recording of the second EP in 2006, they play a brief yet scintillating set.
Innovative and intelligent guitar playing like they produce went out of fashion about, well actually it was probably never in fashion, but it should have been because it's just so damn brilliant. To watch Mike Ward go to work on his axe is to watch a master of his craft. Like David Beckham standing over a free kick, Laurence Olivier in Hamlet or Michelangelo at the Sistine Chapel, there can be few artists so capable of manipulating their medium with such astonishing results. His partnership with lead singer and guitarist, Jo Rose is formidable, never more so than on 'A Strange Kind Of Terror' when their exchange of outer-space guitar lines and Jo's sneering, Brian Molko vocal are enchanting enough to make the rest of the band seem incidental.
Along with, 'A Strange.', 'The Creeps' is a fearsome, cerebral teen-angst monster whilst 'The Waltz' is the sort of operatic masterpiece that Radiohead might have produced if Thom Yorke had started to listening to Wagner instead of Kraftwerk after OK Computer.
Tonight the performance is assured in a way that belies their tender years but you still have to wonder where Fear of Music fit into the 2006 music scene. The answer is that they don't because they are that timeless beast, the outsider's band. A band that's not for the people but for the people that feel left out and as Nirvana proved, sometimes they're the biggest.
Richard Crisp
Monster Killed By Lazer / Johnny Poindexter / Ten Seconds of Chaos / Unexploded Shells / Future Sons of Rome
Leeds On The Bone II @ The Packhorse, Leeds
It may well be sub-artic outside (okay, slight exaggeration) but it's nice and cosy inside the Packhorse. I arrive just as Future Sons Of Rome take the stage, and they prove to be an ideal opening band for tonight's highly anticipated line up. A performance that holds maximum effect, they are very fast and suitably loud, but still melodic, with cutting guitar riffs and pulsating bass. They produce some catchy, indie-rock tunes with a dark edge and are copiously rhythmic and energetic.
Unexploded Shells add a diverse element to the bill tonight, as their chirpy indie-pop-something tunes make the line up rather eclectic, but it works well. I find I can't help but tap my feet along to their music, and it definitely raises a smile. The large screen projecting Bonnie & Clyde throughout the entire performance and indeed for the rest of the evening seems a tad comical in this context, but the quality of the music evades this. The songs are infectious and sweet, many influences are evident but there is an originality there that steers them away from the blurry mass of NME bands currently doing the rounds.
Ten Seconds of Chaos are a defiant, riveting and thoroughly enjoyable outfit to watch, complete with piercing guitar and an appealing vocal. However, they are unfortunate enough to experience a string of technical difficulties meaning a somewhat broken set. They cope with these setbacks admirably though, and vocalist and guitarist Matt converses enthusiastically to the crowd throughout. A supportive audience and entertaining anecdote featuring Gary Glitter suffice and then the band let loose with some anthemic intense, raucous rock for the remaining time they have left. It's well-received and the band show that they have something refreshingly different to offer to the genre.
Johnny Poindexter have been significantly hyped of late and subsequently, are making an impact on the local scene that lives up to the aforementioned praise. Appearing cool and collected as they unobtrusively set up onstage, many seem quietened by the breath-taking melodies and gripping epic post-rock opuses, a notable contrast to the friendly heckling for the previous bands. Some might say the keys are quiet in places, but the set runs without a hitch. Singer Jamie seems contemplative and engrossed in the music they are making, as do all of the band members; it's reassuring to watch a band so enthralled in their performance and rarer still to note that each spectator is similarly involved.
They accomplish all this without a hint of pretension. A fitting ending to the set is guitarist Gavin's theatrical soloing, culminating with him writhing around on the floor entangled in his instrument. He may have suffered for his art, but the impression is a lasting one.
Headliners Monster Killed By Lazer are a roaring, rock-infused three piece at an extremely high volume. The sheer power and strength they harness in their music makes them an adequate candidate for top of the bill and confirms the belief that we really have seen a complete melting pot of styles showcased here tonight. Sounding something akin to fellow Leeds band That Fucking Tank, with an addition of a pounding bassline, they play what seems to be a rather short set, but it rounds the night off nicely and is both captivating and terrifying in equal amounts to the onlooker. Certainly remarkable to see live, just a shame there is only a small crowd left to witness them.
Ruth Holmes
