LIVE REVIEWS *2
The Invention / Adventures of Loki / Chiara L’s
Dollparts @ Dr Wu’s, Leeds
On the eve of Valentines Day a group of us fans of music with a proud feminine side huddle snugly into Dr.Wu's. Although a small bar-like venue, it suits quite nicely the mirrorball night that lies ahead. 3 bands are out to entertain in the goldfish bowl -if you've been to Dr Wu's you'll know what I mean - followed by a mixture of riot grrl, brit pop, electronica and much more of the musical ladies-we-like tuneage spun by our hostesses and organisers of the evening.
First up, we are treated to female fronted Chiara L's, a 3-piece Leeds band with some proper girly vocals. Chiara L's are a band who look like they mean business of the kitsch kind, with matching red & white clobber think This Island era Le Tigre. Their sound, though quite lo fi, is confident and ultimately well received.
Next up, are one of Lancasters finest. Highlight of the evening, Adventures Of Loki, are polished in their boy/girl vocals. Guitarist frontman Steve, clearly mans a tight ship by working the band, while bass player lady, Bridget, has the guts to work the crowd. Their confidence is undeniable, and their material is strong similar to the likes of Sonic Youth yet a tad catchier, and less indie/more punkier than Von Bondies.
Finally are The Invention. This Leeds all chap 4-piece are clearly under heavy influence of current big indie bands while paying credit to others with some very Rapture-esque rhythms and The Music-like moments. It seems to go down pretty well, but if only the night could have been rounded off by someone with a bit more pizzazz.
Although so not to be disappointed, the night is still young as we delve, as mentioned earlier, into some real gems of girl band music to keep us in the knowledge, that sure enough...the girl revolution is coming!
Natasha Andreae
Jean Genet / Boycunt / Sugarcubed / Geek Girl
@ Queer Mutiny, Leeds
There’s no doubt about it, tonight is a night for celebration. Earlier in the day there have been some interesting and well delivered discussions on subjects such as prisoner support and Intersex. I’ve had the pleasure of seeing a pregnant and semi-naked lady get tired up in a small room. But by the time night swings round, everyone’s in the mood for a bit of fun, some great music, and the unbridled joy of gaffer-taping one’s own nipples. Geek Girl hail from Manchester and they’ve come here to rock like bastards. Songs like ‘O!’ and ‘Filth’ could carry the unpleasant strut of macho dullards Stereophonics if it wasn’t for Geek Girl’s fierce frontwoman, Fi. She spits passion and fury with every syllable and, I’m sure, dampens the pants of many girls here. It’s kinda redundant to throw a comparison with PJ Harvey Fi’s way, but I’m gonna do it anyway ‘cus she’s cool and so are this band.
Next up are Doncaster’s Sugarcubed, who, despite occasionally displaying an aversion to actually playing coherently, do rack up big points for looks and attitude. Fronted by a tattooed bean-pole who just can’t stay away from the audience, they’re the kind of band you look at rather than listen to. The Stooges would be a fair comparison, as would Middlesborough’s 15 Minute Preservation Society. Angry, horny, and desperate for attention, Sugarcubed’s The Cellrape EP is available to buy now.
Leeds’ own Boycunt are exhibiting a hell of a lot of spunk, balls and promise for such a new band, and it’s not just down to singer Gary’s eye-catching short shorts. They’re still rough round the edges and gelling as a live band, but tonight they show just how compelling a band with real passion and commitment can be. Unfortunately, I don’t know the names of any of their songs, so that rather curtails this part of the review.
And so, on to Jean Genet, and we all whip out our gaffered-up nips. Actually, Helena and Bob Genet are looking a little more restrained than usual. They’re actually wearing t-shirts, although this is probably due to the lack of heating in the venue than any newfound sense of modesty (a theory proved at the end of the gig when Bob’s pants are yanked firmly down to his ankles). They proceed to titillate us Peaches-style with songs of fucking hip-hop boys, cruising in the library, and a completely ace version of ‘Push the Button’ by the hideous Sugarbabes. The audience go crazy, get naked, hug each other, attack the band and do all the things you do at really great gigs. This is a special band and it’s a special night for all the Queers here. Fuck you, Richard Curtis- this is our feel good moment.
Richard Morris
The Jesus Years / Zero In / The City Ghosts
@ The Ringside, Hull
The City Ghosts have been onstage sound checking for what seems like an eternity and the vocals are still barely audible. Eventually they tire of tinkering and launch into their set. Some would let the sound troubles lay heavy on their shoulders, not The City Ghosts they just sing louder. Lead singer Hetty has to work hard for every note but when she isn’t straining to make herself heard she is nothing but smiles. Rather than vast silly sentences full of pseudo-words strung together with hyphens it is time to simply say that The City Ghosts are easily one of the most enjoyable bands on the Hull and Yorkshire gigging circuit; see them and smiles, lots.
Emo music has such a bad name and it probably has something to do with forty year old musicians – with baseball hats worn on the side- masquerading as angst ridden teenagers. None such faking with Zero In, they really are bona fida teenagers complete with little guitar salutes and shouty vocals. Still, it’s strange that I should find all this quite appealing and fun.
The Jesus Years have a way round vocal problems they simply don’t bother having any. Fear not, this does not hold them back from emotionally affecting you. The room is deadly quiet apart from the four musicians on stage as we are slowly allured into a instrumental word of sheer prettiness, from which there is no escape nor desire to escape. A drum solo ushers in the superbly named “Say Hello to Pink Floyd” and the jangle from the guitars floats about the room in a hypnotic dance. As the guitars cross fades your mind becomes that of your quivering knee as you await that first kiss. Life might be the reason we are alive but gigs like this give us a spring in our step, a glint in our eyes and a sparkle in our lives.
Mike Reynolds
King Creosote / M.Kraft / Andy Curry
@ Fibbers, York
Sunday afternoon, time to chill out, take it easy, and if you do decide to haul yourself into town, well, you want to hear something mellow and folksome, right? Last time King Creosote was here (with James Yorkston), he was solo acoustic charm personified, wry Scottish wit and gentle, but insistent, tunes on guitar and accordion. This time was a bit different.
But first up, the alarmingly hairy Andy Curry, Dustbowl Central main man with a neat sideline in solo shows. This was a good 'un, his strong voice engaging on urban tales such as his own ‘Hands Held High’, and an ode to his Cheshire home, ‘This Town Stinks to High Heaven’. And his melancholic but grimly funny description of a fading bit-part sci-fi actor is a classic in the making.
M. Kraft was more wistful and ethereal, his gentle voice and acoustic tunesmithery backed up by drums, and occasional odds and ends of percussion and keyboards from two frankly underemployed lasses at the stage sides. Mining a kind of American-style lo-fi folk vein, his set was pleasant, but slightly uneventful.
So Kenny King Creosote wanders on and doodles out a lovely little tune on his acoustic. Ah, this is it, settle in for some homespun modern-Celt warmth. Then the band walk on and plug in. Alarm bells ring. Uh oh, this ain't gonna work, pedestrian indie musos will ruin the King of the Fence Collective... No, trust the King, he knows what he's doing. This was a brilliant gig, his tales of kitchen sink drama fleshed out and given propulsion by the superb backing trio, flicking effortlessly from understated folkiness through sunshine Scot-rock (imagine The Proclaimers meeting Teenage Fanclub) and even out into accordion-fuelled space rock, all without losing the inclusive, genial essence of KC. The main set closed with an amazing guitar freak-out worthy of Crazy Horse - "That's designed to make you go home, do you like a bit of noise on a Sunday afternoon?" Kenny asks, slightly bemused at the rabid yelling of the Sunday punters. When it's this good, this life-affirming, you bet.
Tim Procter
Larrikin Love / Park and Ride / Blue Slide Circle
@The Adelphi, Hull
Blueslide Circle definitely have some odd endearing quality that helps to combat those thoughts that it might soon be very passé. When it comes together, it’s a joy but you can’t help but think that bands in every city are making something very similar.
Then enter the stage tonight’s great saviours; Hull’s Park and Ride are young, fun and a little bit quirky. They manage to find some middle ground between Chas ‘n’ Dave, a heard of Russian Cossacks and an indie band. Their outstanding track: “Dressing Gown” is dedicated to the Landaus. It is a song that has more naanaanaas than the Kaiser Chiefs and a brit-pop era Blur put together. Then just when it seems to be falling into the trap of just being a little bit too repetitive it breaks down into some electronics.
Damn expectations, they really can ruin what was promising to be a good night. I was expecting ramshackled folky goodness and all I got was a bit of a (baby)shambles.
Larikin Love clambered on stage adorning more Kappa than has been seen since the latter days of the then maligning brit-pop scene. They are another who play the ubiquitous indie-ska, albeit a little tighter and a little edgier than some other pretenders. Unfortunately, the most intriguing combination of the night is the lead singer’s asymmetric hair and cheek bones. However, the crowd call for an encore and the band duly appear for an unrehearsed song that is by far Larikin Loves’ best of the night.
Mike Reynolds
Liars / Leopard Leg
@ Woodhouse Liberal Club. Leeds
The only time I’ve seen the Liars before was supporting Sonic Youth back when their first album had just come out, and they were great, they had a real energy. Since then, though, they’ve kicked out two members, made a concept album about medieval German witches and moved to Berlin. Who knows what they’re going to sound like now?
We arrive seven thirty on the dot, under the impression that this is some kind of secret gig and there’s going to be a queue halfway to Wakefield. But there isn’t. So we sit around wondering why there’s so many drums on stage until about nine when all girl Brighton band Leopard Leg come on. They’ve got FIVE drummers! So they take to the stage, the lights are killed, and from near darkness the wail of a musical saws sings out. The drumming, when it comes, starts off slow. They’re chanting something that’s more like a mantra than a lyric. Then it’s building up, becoming a frenzied, tribal rhythm, and there’s a guitar screeching around its edges and god knows what else and in the dark it feels like you’ve stumbled across a coven of witches who’ve just discovered electricity. They only play one song but it’s a good ‘un… I think.
Then, the Liars, again in almost complete darkness. The energy of their debut seems to have made way for a more atmospheric tone, if you count almost constant screeching squealing feedback speaker noise as atmospheric. For a lot of the set there are two of them drumming, one singing, each song sounding less like a tune than something they’ve hacked out of the deafening ever-present noise their set takes as its backdrop. Again their lyrics are more like mantras than anything else, and the feeling of stumbling across witches is only enhanced by the crazy intense staring of singer Angus. At its best the set sounds like Merzbow might if he were a band, and not a terrifying Japanese guy with iBooks; at its worst it’s boring and self-indulgent. I came here with high expectations so I guess I was always going to be disappointed. But to those who say the Liars have gone up their own arse since their first album I say: if that’s what it sounds like in their colon I don’t want to know what they’ve been eating.
Russell Dunphy
Liars / The Ape Drape Escape
@ Plug, Sheffield
The Ape Drape Escape open for Liars tonight and it quickly becomes clear that they are atonal Pink Grease groupies. They obviously hail from that same part of Sheffield where leopard-skin trench coats and sequin hot-pants constitute ‘style’ and sexually retarded histrionics compensate for turgid Glam-Punk. Never glamorous, the Ape Drape Escape are merely tacky and degrading, like an STD clinic run by Jimmy Saville. “This is our music” they begin shouting at one point, although “Our music is piss” would be more accurate. They probably think they’re the New York Dolls with a synth. But having neglected to write the songs which might justify such outrageous posturing, I’m drawn to the conclusion that they are a waste of time. The affair is only partially redeemed by the possibility of being molested by a half naked singer at any moment. Nevertheless this would’ve barely been considered provocative 30 years ago and everyone just looks bored.
The first thing to say about Liars is that they have a roadie who looks like Phil Collins. This is oddly apt as a precursor to the percussion heavy freak-out that Liars have organised to promote their third album ‘Drum’s Not Dead’. Singer Angus Andrew takes a more peripheral role, crooning in a lyrically incomprehensible falsetto whilst adding unpredictable bursts of guitar to the relentless drum-and-synth assault. As the music drifts between ominous percussive drones and orgiastic feedback reveries it becomes clear that Liars are not here to ‘play songs’, opting instead to cultivate lengthy, discordant jams and ultimately achieving a tribal intensity akin to the Warlocks. And their distorted minimalism does indeed prove captivating, a strange journey into esoteric primitivism; like Wire improvising a psychedelic opus. Unfolding as a kind of Krautrock opera this is a brave and unconventional performance: and if that sounds uninviting then that may explain why hardly anyone has turned up. Liars seem to have settled long ago for cult status, but in the mean time it’s rare and refreshing to see such dedication to discord and such flagrant disregard for ‘verse/chorus’ pop structuring. Inevitably a gaggle of illiterate wenches soon arrive and begin shouting “Fuck off… you’re shit” as Liars’ set begins to encroach on the ‘Fever’ club night. Maybe, but for now I’m pretentious enough to disagree and I pronounce the Liars new drum-rock direction a success.
Lewis Morgan
Little Man Tate / The Suffrajets / Last Gang In Town
@ Fibbers, York
York Fibbers was packed to the rafters with revellers all wanting to see LMT. Luckily for them they were also treated to some smart sets from the support bands.
Last Gang In Town play energetic indie with some pristine pop and a little bit of rock to top it off. Similarities to The Libertines are more than welcome. They gave the evening a bright start and set it up nicely. Following the trend of lyrics about real life they gave me enough of a glimpse to want to see them again. The best song of their set was ‘Beat Of Blue’.
The Suffrajets were next. I was musically impressed from the demo’s I’d heard but unsure about lead vocalist Claire Wakeman. She proved my doubts to be ill founded! Playing a blend of rock and punk they hit the right notes.
Looking every bit a headline act in the making they were worth the entrance fee alone (not to mention the fact they are fit). Gemma Clarke (formerly of Babyshambles) was still amazing on drums. I recommend buying ‘Going Nowhere’, which was one of the best in their set.
To complete the night were the highly rated Little Man Tate. They lived up to the plaudits by sending shockwaves through Fibbers. Chants of LMT greeted the last note of the opening track, ‘Man I Hate Your Band’. The set managed to produce two crowd surfers which is no mean feat in Fibbers Bar.
Jon Windle on lead vocals showed how to work a crowd with aplomb (ably supported by Maz, Ben and Dan). The excitement levels within the crowd were like nothing I have ever seen. Windle was right when he said it gets better every time they come back to York. I can’t imagine it being better any other time.
They gave a bright and refreshing mix of tunes. Highlights of the set included ‘The Agent’, ‘Court Report’…. Infact highlights were every damn song in an unbelievable eleven song set!
Last Gang In Town showed great promise for the future. Sexy punks, The Suffrajets are ready to mix it with the biggest boys in the playground. As for LMT, they are one of the best live bands I’ve ever seen.
Dom Chalk
Little Man Tate / Repomen / Chuck / General Disarray
@ The Boardwalk
It was Friday night,
And an offer came up,
To stay at home,
Or go off to the pub.
‘I’ve one spare ticket for Little Man Tate'
‘Alright then I’ll ‘ave it but I can’t stay too late..
‘I'm working tomorrow and my bones are all sore...
‘From running through York the night before’
So at 8 o’clock we set about going
To the Boardwalk while 4 pounds I was owing, To the friend of my sister who had the spare voucher To see Little Man Tate, but I’m not a fan, Oucha!
We got in and found we’d missed the first band, General Disarray it was, so glass of Coke in hand, We shimmied forward, in order to see, The next band, the Repomen, maybe they’ll be for me.
They appeared onstage, and to my delight, Started dancing about, they were quite a sight.
The bassist was ska dancing, the singer had ‘tripped’
And invaded the crowd, and a canyon was ripped..
Between all the people, who from him ran away, His ‘trip’ was a crowd surf attempt I’d say.
Then the geezers departed, and made way for The band they call Chuck, never seen these before.
They looked like scientists, instrument wielding ones, A tall bloke in front of me meant I couldn’t see the drums.
After a while they all raised their arms And then in unison the whole building ahhs.
It lasted a while, this ahhing business, Then came a rapturous applause as themselves they dismissed.
I decided I was tired, it was getting late.
I’m really not a fan of Little Man Tate.
My poor aching muscles and me wanted a bath, Night before I’d seen Bromheads in York for a laugh.
Last minute thing, pegged it all the way.
But my body was paying for the exercise today.
So away, I hobbled and hopped on public transport, A bath, then bed, all lovely, warm comfort.
Little Man Tate were alright so I hear.
Though I’d be surprised if they’re around next year.
Some people like them, and each to their own, But personally I’d prefer to stay at home.
The Anti-Fangurl x
Mandala / Monkey Swallowed the Universe / Vijay Kishore / Ed Laurie (accompanied by Gillian)
@ Bush Hall, London
A glorious night at a beautiful Bush Hall, an odd, strangely town hellish, affair based in West London. Ed Laurie's James Blunt reminiscent crooning accompanied by the immediately more passionate cellist Gillian Wood sets up the evening as a folk based acoustic celebration. And the bizarre range of teenagers too young to purchase alcohol and old folk too old to be at a trendy young gig indicate the truth: Only true fans and dedicated followers of fashion venture as far as west London.
Followed by a bizarrely moving combination of Roy Orbsion and Bollywood Vijay Kishore talks us through love affairs unrequited with exaggerated tones of undying of undulation. A skilled performer to the last with devoted followers in tow, the audience applauds not sure how to respond, is this something new or imitation of something seen 50 years previously? It's an amazing voice regardless.
Monkey Swallows the Universe are a much younger band than the crowd are expecting, that's fair to say, but they are incredibly impressively confident for a) a Folk band b) a student Folk band. The band seem to enjoy being with each other and tease and chat between songs, there's a real air of friendliness and quiet precision in their act. Nat's voice contains the quality of a smile, warm and giggly. The band finish with Jimmy Down the Well which goes down (NPI) enormously well with the crowd, and no one can stop smiling afterwards.
That is until dark, foreboding Mandala step forward and suddenly strike up into what can only be described as Muse-do-Folk and do it well. This band are an expanded MSTU line up, with double bassist and violinist in tow providing an edge of class that contradicts the scruffy chic look of the band. This is a compelling performance of dark folk music, all sombre yet quite emotive.
All in all an enjoyable moonlit rural night in the usually noisy urban sprawl of London, thanks for sharing, Sheffield!
Elise Bramich
Mantra / Ernest / Kill Monday
@ The Springhead Pub, Hull
The mighty Springhead Pub has seen many of the country’s best musicians past through it’s door and it’s huge collection of awards displayed on the wall reminds us that this has long been the bastion of live music in Hull. It is only fitting therefore that they should be once again holding Best Original Band competition again this year. The clue to the difference in this competition is as they say in the name. Not just a battle of bands, the organisers are very keen to point out that this is original music and judging by tonight’s contest truly some of the best around.
The proceedings are very well and truly kicked of by Scarborough’s power trio Mantra. They played heavy funky rock and completely drew in the audience. This was particularly impressive due to the diversity of the audience. Strong and melodic, there were hints of Korn and nods to the past in there. Although they had great style and good tunes I think it was their overall musicianship that amazed everybody, partly because they all looked younger than 20. The drummer alone could have held you to the spot. You think the game is up.
But wait what is this, pretty blue and white lights, a great Korg keyboard alongside several guitars, it can only be Ernest. Having found themselves again last year I just find this band get better every time I see them and once again the audience was spell bound. Very different from anything else your likely to hear in the competition, Ernest create the most powerful soundscapes that flitter from one genre to the next and it all kind of works. They also exude such a passion for music and playing music that is so powerful you can’t help enjoy it. Hmm now I’m torn.
Kill Monday really did draw the short straw going last tonight. After the fantastic musicianship and individuality we’d seen in the first 2 bands they were an unfortunate let down. They may have had the biggest crowd but that doesn’t win you the game and despite their best efforts it was a little too late for them. So it was then that after the closest vote in BOB history, it was Mantra who ran off with the place in the semi finals.
Hanna Houghton
Gordon McIntyre / theonewhoflew
@ Rescue Rooms, Nottingham
Maybe it’s the post Christmas blues lingering on, the aftermath of Valentine’s Day or just because it wasn’t the biggest name to hit this city this week, but it was a hugely disappointing turnout for an entertaining evening.
So, Gordon McIntyre isn’t the name on everyone’s lips and, as good as they are, his band Ballboy haven’t exactly pulled up trees (even if I think ‘A Guide For The Daylight Hours’ has some of the best lyrics ever written) but the tickets sales were so poor that the staff had put out tables (with candles) and chairs to give it a lounge room feel as only around 40 people were there for the show.
First things first and Glasgow duo, theonewhoflew, opened up in what must have been difficult circumstances for them. They’ve been compared to Belle & Sebastian but I really think that’s because they have melodies and come from Scotland, I really didn’t hear the comparisons in their music.
“It’s our first time in England and we’re really excited!” Sorry guys, you looked terrified! Maybe it was the venue, maybe the lack of people, but whatever it was they really didn’t seem more than a pleasant background act until their set was almost coming to an end when they seemed to relax and settle into it with ‘Romeo and Juliet’ and ‘The Truth About Cats and Dogs’. No doubt they have better nights than this and may be one to catch again in the future.
So, onto tonight’s main act and something I’ve never seen before anywhere - the use of an iPod for backing tracks! Apart from the odd hitch (when he pressed the wrong button) the whole thing went really smoothly and it was like a gathering of old friends with anecdotes and general bonhomie between the songs of what was quite a short set.
It was actually promoted as Gordon McIntyre but was really his side project of Money Can’t Buy Music - to copy from the website………
“Money Can't Buy Music is a musical project involving Gordon McIntyre from Edinburgh in Scotland and Maja Mångård from Växjö in Sweden plus anyone else that they can rope in along the way. They make story-based electronic folk pop about little things that happen and the deep deep feelings that they cause“
There was the usual dig at Derby (always a winner in Nottingham music venues) as well as Gordon proclaiming his admiration (long-standing rather than for popularity) for the great Brian Clough and the unusual tales of East Midlands Airport’s ticket hassles and of his bus journey into town.
In all, it was a gentle, meandering evening. It’s just a pity there weren’t more people there to enjoy it.
Simon Clark
Mesaplex / Schmoo / Feedle
Hidden Place @ The Grapes, Sheffield
The tiny upstairs room of the Grapes has hosted many an indie delight but its weird, and good, to see the Electronica Society hosting a night of bleeps and buzzes for a fair-sized crowd (vs. England on the telly).
The main issue is brought up straight away as we spend half-an-hour staring at Feedle, a local ‘laptronica’ artiste, while he stares at his laptop. Even when this is at arguably its highest level with Four Tet mixing two laptops and dancing about a bit it’s not the most exciting and maybe exposes a pitfall in the resonance of those who defence electronic artists to those whom Kraftwerk is their only reference. Luckily this reviewer is resonant and actually Feedle’s music entrances enough for it to be alright, more than alright. He plays ragged, folksy beats, often up tempo and, once in a while, the nonsensical voice of Peel or Lamacq will spread forth and enlighten the room. Good stuff.
Schmoo have come across from Manchester for this gig but they needn’t have bothered really as the lead singer’s attitude - better than the crowd (referring to us as kids which maybe alright from my fresh-faced look but there were some unhappy beardies out there) and over-confident. They’re a product of the patchy Fat Northerner records stable and, to be honest, a few keyboards didn’t make them spark up enough to be on this bill.
Mesaplex though, well they wowed. With an all-too-short set they proved why disintegrating such a great band as Meanwhile Back in Communist Russia was actually a good idea as they stand around a table with guitars, laptop and a few other bleeps’n’bobs. Mesmerising. A good night then and one up for all us robots out there.
Alex Lawson
Milburn /The Rifles
@ The Leadmill, Sheffield
Milburn were moved to headliners especially for this emotional homecoming gig, ahead of touring pals The Rifles – a London four-piece with a mish mash of musical types added into their set. From The Strokes to The Stone Roses, many influences were evident – something for everyone, if you like. They have a good stage presence and are pretty punchy with a good collection of tunes, which were appreciated by the crowd, seeing a few of the first crowd surfers of the night crawling towards the front. Even though many in the audience had probably not heard any of their tracks before tonight, they were a good introduction for what was to come. And what was to come was going to blow Milburn away.
Shouts of “MILBURN! MILBURN! MILBURN!” and “SHEFFIELD! SHEFFIELD! SHEFFIELD!” rang out around the venue in a football-chant way – this was quite a while before the band were even due on stage. Their audience were obviously anticipating something special, something that they were going to make the most of. The lights went down, and further chants echoed around the Leadmill. The band waltz on stage, to The Specials’ “Guns of Navarone”, singer Joe taking a picture of the crazed crowd to record this defining moment. Then Milburn begin to play in their hometown to a sold out Leadmill.
Opening with “Well, Well, Well”, the crowd begin to jump to its distinctive driving bass line, and huge smiles appear on the band’s faces. Crowd surfers galore ensues, all the sweaty bodies are jumping in time to the beat. The band can’t wipe the grins off their faces. This is a gig at its best – both band and crowd enjoying the moment to its full potential.
They play a mixture of songs old and new, including the modified oldie “Lads and Lasses”, along with a B –side from the new single. The A-side to this single was probably the best received tonight; “Send In The Boys” saw the crowd continuing with their riot, which was encouraged by the band themselves. We were also treated to a seemingly impromptu a cappella performance of “Roll Out The Barrel” as Joe got caught up in the moment. Nonetheless, it added to the quite poignant tone of the evening.
This was obviously an emotional gig for the band, and will be one they won’t forget. And it will have been an exhilarating one for the many fans, some of whom will have seen this band performing at venues four times smaller just a few months ago. This gig has shown that Milburn are now well and truly on the music map, and are loving it.
Natalie Thomas
The Rifles / Milburn / The Maybes?
@ The Faversham, Leeds
It’s Saturday and the Faversham is swelling! A large crowd in to see a line up that promises lots. I went down with an open mind hoping it would deliver.
I arrived just into The Maybes?’s first song. They sounded lively enough, bouncy guitars and generic Scouse vocals. Little was I to know what lay ahead. As their set went on I could only think Kings Of Leon / Beach Boys tribute band. I am sorry to say it was more a case of maybe not. Luckily I still had two ‘good’ bands to follow.
Joint headliners Milburn (recently signed to Mercury) came out second (although in hindsight they should have been last on). The lead vocals were clear, which for a Faversham gig is a rarity, thumping guitars and rapping drums were complementary on each song. There will be Arctic Monkey comparisons for these boys, and although not lyrically as intelligent as the AM, musically I would put them at least on a par.
The best song of their eight track set was ‘Send In The Boys’ (also their next release). The fact that when they announced their last song of the night, a chorus of boo’s went around the venue with everyone wanting more tells its own story. A big future should await these lads, so long as badly written articles don’t use the AM comparisons.
Up last were The Rifles. I’d heard a bit of their stuff and was expecting a decent sound. Unfortunately I just didn’t think anything stood out in their set. The lead singer was unclear on many occasions and in a highly saturated market of guitar bands they will struggle to make an impact. At least on this showing they would. A friend in the crowd thought they were excellent, so maybe I am mistaken. However, in my opinion they were just an average guitar band. I think the audience reception backed this up with a smattering of applause, and many people leaving, going to the bar or the toilet during their set.
In summary I can only wax lyrical about Milburn, they were the stars of the night and on this showing are well worth the deal that they’ve just signed. Don’t believe the hype, believe the fact, Milburn are one to go see.
Dom Chalk
Morning Runner / The Fontanelles / Polytechnic
@ The Leadmill, Sheffield
I meet with bassist Tom before Morning Runner take to the stage. “It can be worse playing our own shows. No one expects much from support bands”. He’s talking of the nerves (or lack of) before Morning Runners stadium-sized support slots for Coldplay. Clearly no one expects much from tonight’s support acts as the place is nearly empty when Polytechnic arrive onstage. They do a good job of filling the time and although their catchy, upbeat indie rock does little to inspire the crowd it does set the scene for what is to follow.
Fontanelles rock things up a bit more. This three-piece build a set that gets a few more feet tapping and some heads nodding. They’re reminiscent of early 3 Colours Red and I’m not the only one enjoying the show.
Tonight’s main course take to the stage after their lighting tests almost burn out my retinas. Their professionalism is shot down in flames less than a minute into the set as they realise the keyboard isn’t plugged in, right at the crescendo of the opening intro. The incident is soon forgotten though as the band begin what is to become a storming set. Beautifully crafted melodies, wonderfully understated drumming and vocals brimming with emotion are the order of the day. Comparisons with Keane are not totally off the mark but Morning Runner have an edgier, stronger sound. They really look and sound as though they believe in what they are doing. The music they make obviously means a lot to them and their songs have a real purpose to them. The Strokes and Radiohead are named as some of their early influences but Morning Runner have pulled away from this to carve their own sound. I usually feel awkward when a crowd isn’t surging and throwing themselves against each other. However tonight I am quite content to let the music wash over me and just soak up as much of it as I can. Tonight Morning Runner prove that heartfelt music doesn’t have to be soppy, downbeat or depressing. It can be beautiful without making you want to hang yourself. The Reading foursome reveal themselves to be much more than just Burning Benches. Take my advice and catch them in an intimate venue while you still can. If things run as they should do then Morning Runners next headline tour will attract much more attention than this.
Mark McIntosh
Mucky Sailor / Hot Dead Fox
@ Santiago’s, Leeds
Not many people know this yet, but Upstairs at Santiago’s is possibly central Leeds’ most enchanting little live music venue and home to some truly unique club nights. I love this place. The minute you enter, the darkly inviting atmosphere lures you into the belief that something special is about to happen. And it is.
After a good old-fashioned boxing introduction from the compare, Mucky Sailor stagger onstage. Exquisitely dressed in full naughty nautical attire, they exhibit a brilliant, cutting edge set of their surging electro sea shanties, ear-bleedingly loud. The ceaseless pulse of the drums, harshly distorted vocals and blaring synth melodies tear through your ear-drums. It would have been impossible to ignore this support act. These salty sea dogs seized the crowd’s attention from the first song and they love it. “Hoo-ray and up she rises!”
But this is Hot Dead Fox’s hotly anticipated demo release gig and the venue is rapidly filling for them. The air is thick with smoke, sweat and booze vapour: quite appropriate for the intense show in store. With tracks named ‘Touchy Feely’ and ‘Legs Eleven’, it’s clear that any show by these boys is going to be highly charged. And so they storm through an electrifying set, reminiscent of wild garage greats such as The Stooges and The Sonics.
The first song is a blinder. So powerful in fact that the kick drum pedal explodes. Panic for twenty minutes, but this only acts as a Pleasure Delayer as the crowd becomes increasingly restless and eager. The lads return to the stage with a vengeance, their screaming Wah guitar track ‘Animal’, enticing the crowd. I watch in amazement as half of them charge forward and hit the deck.
There are no boundaries here, as Iggy Pop-alike front man, Steven ‘Howls’ staggers wildly into the raging depths of a hungry audience. Ladies are blushing, gentlemen are grappling at his bare flesh, pouring beer over him, winding him up in masking tape and his own microphone cable. Bassist, Martyn, plays almost an entire song effortlessly, whilst lying flat on his back and being facially straddled. Could any mediocre indie act predict a riot quite like this? Doubt it- this is decadent carnage at its most delicious… Phew, is it hot in here?
Getting sick of half-hearted, dwindling live shows and Bambi blue-eyed boys in the band? Then get yourself down to a Hot Dead Fox gig for a shot of raw, dirty, scorching rock’n’roll.
Harriet Bevan
My Ruin
@ Corporation, Sheffield
Tarrie B’s status as pin up of choice for scary girls with problems has long been established and it looks like the years spent sharpening tooth and claw fronting cult bands Manhole and Tura Satana have finally paid off. Resulting in ‘the perfect band’ in the shape of My Ruin, the road to rock stardom has never run smoothly as Ms B has discovered, proclaiming loudly that she will never ever work with women again. Ever. (Presumably in addition to animals and children). This can mean one thing. Men. And plenty of them.
Mr B. became the driving force behind the latest album by default, recording all instrumentals with only his ferocious missus for reassurance. Thankfully the blood sweat and beers seem to have been worth while, resulting in a sound that doesn’t disappoint, on stage or disc.
Sheffield’s small and perpetually sweaty Corporation back room provided a suitably dingy backdrop for a bit of therapy Tarrie B style, though thankfully all errant and absconding band members were swiftly replaced prior to the tour (though Ms B may beg to differ – think of all that lovely make up and shoe space on the stinky tour bus with just two band members…). Saving my Ruin from becoming metal’s answer to Sonny & Cher and providing the final pieces in the My Ruin jigsaw puzzle are Chris Lisee on Bass and Jason Bink thumping tubs, but, as the men well know, the show belongs to Tarrie. Growling vexed out vocals and sustained gusset thrusting kept the crowd enthralled and desperate to make contact with the object of their obsession, as memories of the five blistering hours spent queuing in a Sheffield winter in order to be the first to see their idol quickly melt. Ms B returns the favour, with high levels of audience interaction, which spill over into the post show club night much to the delight of the fans.
It is hard to imagine the gig fatigued, eyeliner free, Betty Boop faced cherubim sitting aboard the tour bus knitting, sewing and fashioning her DIY clothing range, but Ms B assures me that this is a regular occurrence and surely doesn’t leave much time for side project the Lvrs and the book she is currently planning to write.
Rebecca Burton
Mystery Jets / Fields / Dr. Filth
@ The Cockpit, Leeds
Three young men take to the stage, dismissed as roadies until… ‘Hi we’re Dr. Filth…’ Richard Elms, George Jephson and Ben Morgan launch into a glorious array of songs such as ‘Tumour’: “Incest helps to build a happy home”, delightful! It’s difficult being the first support act as spectators are more concerned with getting the beers in than the on stage activity. However the affectionately-named Dr. Filth perform with gusto and an optically-challenged adolescent tosses his head about madly for them. Band-to-band love is always welcomed, Elms towards the end of the set: ‘The Mystery Jets album’s so much better live’; a beaming Kapil Trivedi looks up, smiles, and shakes his head.
The indie totty next to me is woken from his slumber when an Icelandic beauty, one Thorunn Antonia enters the stage amid four sweaty men. Absolutely fucking beautiful ‘Songs for the Fields’ sees a fantastic layering of harmonies “…you’re not the only one/Bringing money home” like a dialogue between Thorunn and Nick Peill. ‘Fields like many great things began in a shed’, so begins the MySpace biography and funnily enough, I believe it. Like a rose seed in a plant pot, slowly watered everyday, Fields grew from Peill’s slowly building back catalogue of songs until they blossomed in London. If Fields really were a rose, they’d probably be in the winning garden at the Royal Horticultural Society’s flower show. Not to be patronising but Fields are lovely. They saved me last night; maybe they’ll save you too.
The Cockpit is plunged into darkness as the crowd chants ‘ZOO TIME!’ over and over again. The five Jets soon clamber to their instruments and add music to the madness. Oh what lucky people we are to be here tonight! The set mainly incorporates debut album Making Dens and each gem is played with such skill that I could have watched this performance again and again. Nevertheless the most striking feature this evening has to be the amount of fun contained within the show. Nobody would have thought that the Jets had been on the road for the last few weeks; or that they’d worked so damned hard to get to where they are now: in the hearts and minds of millions. There is not one person in the world that can’t love the Mystery Jets. I hope you’re not saying ‘Except me’, because you’re gonna be a helluva disappointed cynic.
Maria Pinto-Fernandes
Mystery Jets
@ The Leadmill, Sheffield
Really dedicated fans of the Jets had two opportunities to see the band in action on this night. As well as headlining the Leadmill, they made an acoustic tea time appearance at the City's HMV store, were they also signed copies of their new album 'Making Dens'. The CD, released only the day before, showcases the sound of a band who are hard to define. Sometimes they sound like Bloc Party, other times like a smooth version of Blur. They didn't fill the Leadmill which could be because of overexposure, they regularly tour and were only in Sheffield last month, or maybe word has not got round yet. Tonight though they were certainly on good form with their rhythmic style (two drummers), good harmonies and a well-balanced sound; you could hear the voices. The band are an eclectic mix of musicians, as well as the heavy reliance on percussion and the quality of the bass and guitar players, singer Blaine's father Henry augments with whatever is needed. That could be keyboards, vocals, guitar or just looking pleased to be there, which he seemed to be on a couple of numbers but he is worthy of his place. The one hour set included two encores and the catchy single, 'You can’t fool me Dennis' which epitomises their sound.
Dr Filth started the show and were filthy loud; enough said. A five piece called 'Fields' followed, included a female singer/keyboard player and were on their first visit to Sheffield. Sounding reminiscent of New Order, they only got chance to impress a fairly empty hall. But the atmosphere was much warmer for the refugees from Eel Pie Island and even the stage lighting was good. When 'Dad' Henry enquired if anyone had been at the HMV Session, the first four rows gave a dedicated salute. Almost surprised but delighted the band responded with 'this next one's for you'. The growing army of Mystery Jets followers went home very happy clearly looking forward to witnessing this distinctive sound again. They will be pleased to know that day is not so far away, the MJ's are back in the City in May.
Stuart Clarkson
Numbers / Woman / Printed Circuit
@ The Royal Park Cellars, Leeds
I haven’t been to a gig at the Royal Park before. The cellar itself is nice and cramped, the perfect place to witness the kind of thrilling noise that never gets played on the jukebox upstairs.
Printed Circuit is actually Claire Broadley, with Andrew Raine now recruited for live synths. Their sound consists of simple, interlocking melody lines and bouncy beats, much of it recalling the early work of ‘80’s pop maestro Vince Clarke. They draw from a wider palette however, such as the hyper-bloopiness of DAT Politics and Mouse on Mars. Mid-set Claire’s friend Alice takes the stage to perform their perky new single ‘Movements’. Unfortunately her vocals are marred by bad sound, a recurring problem tonight. As her mic emits a high-pitched wail, Alice sticks her fingers in her ears and incorporates this into a rather charming jerky-dance routine.
Woman may be fast and aggressive but they also have a surprisingly funky sound, kinda like the Happy Mondays if they’d favoured speed over E. No song is allowed to meander over two and a half minutes and it’s impossible not to knock ones knees together to their sonic hyperactivity. Their frontwoman does fabulous things with keyboards and a wavey-hand stick (please, somebody tell me what that’s called) but, once again, she’s pretty much inaudible for much of the set. Highlights are ‘Nuclear War’ and ‘Pink Light II’, with its ultraviolet refrain of “kick in your door!” I’m sure I’ll see Woman again, but next time I do, it’d be nice to here more from the, err, woman.
I’ll be honest, before tonight I wasn’t very keen on Numbers. Much of my antipathy towards them stemmed from a fateful day three years ago when I chose their Life album over a compilation of rare Krautrock. I always regretted that, and the album remained unplayed. After tonight though, I shall be digging the CD out. Their sound is warmer live, with washes of synth rubbing the edges of their Wire/ Gang of Four blast on songs such as ‘Desert Life’ and ‘Disease’. They handle the sound problems professionally and, when their set is curtailed early, are happy to bang out a few fan requests. Incidentally, a couple of days before this gig I bought a vinyl compilation of rare Krautrock from Oxfam in Headingly. And so the wheel of life spins on.
Richard Morris
Oncoming Traffic / The Fuckwits / Chiggy Chone / Beautiful Disaster / Gelding
@ The Boardwalk, Sheffield
It's always tough being the first band on the bill because the night is still young and your audience are still sober so the dance floor is usually empty, Bar a few people stood around the sides doing the casual 'Head Nod'. But Geldings did what a good first band should do, with their Ska Punk influenced songs, they had everyone's attention. This was possibly due to their female backing singer whose voice bared a resemblance to a certain Ska Queen, Gwen Stefani.
Their set was short and fast with hardly any pauses in between songs, which kept the energy of their music flowing. This band got the audience out of their seats and left them wanting more.
Next on was Beautiful Disaster, A nearly all girl band, Except for the drummer (poor guy!). This band impressed me because they defied the 'Girl Band' stereotype with their retro style and husky voiced singer. The guitar riffs injected hints of glam rock into the songs and the drummer singing on a few songs was a nice surprise. This band made a great relationship with the crowd as they got everyone in on the clapping and singing. The frontwoman had great stage presence and kept everyone entertained during the solos with her, erm...erotic dancing.
Now onto the third band of the night, Chiggy Chone, When these guys piled on stage, (yes there was 6 of them!) with a trumpet and a sax, I expected another Ska band, however when the frontman started singing I was instantly stumped because he started rapping at an impressively fast rate in a screamo style. The only way I can describe this band is Rage Against The Machine meets Reel Big Fish. An unusual collaboration, But it worked because the crowd loved it. A moshpit formed on the dancefloor which, by the last song, had made its way on stage and all the band joined in on it. Okay so it may not have been very professional but it entertained everyone, And that is what this band set out to do.
Now for the band I was looking forward to seeing, The Fuckwits, Almost legendary in Sheffield now as the oldest Punks in town. When the band came on the kids who had been moshing around me on the dancefloor were replaced with middle-aged men drinking Newcastle Brown. Okay so they didn't have a hot girl guitarist or an energetic teenage frontman, But these guys know how its done. They were confident on stage, Knew what they were doing and were obviously experienced. The Fuckwits were there for one reason only, And that was to play their music. I think this bored the younger people in the audience, But this band have a strong army of fans who were singing along to every word. I thoroughly enjoyed their set as it was a refreshing difference from the previous bands.
And now for the headlining act Oncoming Traffic. I had heard a lot about this band so I had high hopes, And by the end of their set I had even higher hopes that this band will go far. The Pop-Punk four piece played music that matured way beyond their tender years, The frontman had an amazing voice which must have melted every girl in the room into a mushy puddle during their first song 'Don't Leave Me'. They played without a hitch and stayed focused on their music the whole time, Even when the slightly annoying moshpit returned to the stage during their last song. The song still sounded perfect even with people running in between them and climbing on the drumkit. This band have a certain innocence about them, which reminded me of another Sheffield band, who are currently in the process of taking over the World (yes you know who I mean!) especially when they paused in between 2 songs for the guitarist to tie his shoelace.
The songs which stuck out for me were 'Get Pissed', an anthem in the making I assure you, and 'Killer', A great song to get everyone on the dancefloor. They ended their set with the first song, Due to high demand from the crowd and then for me, And probably everyone else in the room, It was all over too soon.
Overall this band ticked every box, I don't have a bad word to say about them. I predict big things for Oncoming Traffic, And they deserve every bit of it.
Sarah-Louise Cawthorne
Beth Orton / Clayhill
@ Leeds Met
You know the age-old cliché of ‘If the support act is shit, the headliner will be fantastic’? Well, that was certainly the case tonight. The trouble is that Clayhill have a few good tunes, but creatively they don’t have a clue. The band and their inarticulate front man seem to go through many a genre in leaps and bounds, kicking off with a bit of prog-rock and throwing in some, er, folk for good measure. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad if the in-between song banter was any cop; they aren’t funny, and they certainly can’t connect with Orton’s audience so it is with a sigh of huge relief then that the lead singer wishes us all ‘Goodnight’.
Oh and what a good night it proves to be. Beth Orton is a funny character with the success story to match and apparently no distinctive aspect to her personality. But in Leeds Metropolitan University tonight, Orton proves she has more than earned her place amongst the greatest of the West Coast singer-songwriters, whom she had strived to emulate and for so long. Armed, not with the tunes to have her spectators moshing along; nor the teen idol status to have to perform over screams; Orton’s only weapon is her most powerful and one which many will now strive to emulate her with: stage presence.
Playing future hit singles from the new, already critically acclaimed fourth LP Comfort of Strangers, all within the venue are transfixed by the blonde bombshell. Her almost magnetic pull is such, that few audience members dare to take photographs, or dance: in fact singalongs and ‘woo!’-ing during applause are about as rowdy as we get this evening. It is because as with Orton’s new album, the flurry is created in the immediacy of the moment: we are her loyal followers, here to absorb as much goodness as we can from music of a personal, almost naked quality.
Orton and band perform honest and emotional songs, for around ninety minutes: but this doesn’t satisfy us. We clap and stamp and scream so much we nearly raise the roof and thus Orton returns to play a three song encore, each of us treasuring the moment as if it is our last. Then, once Orton has departed, a few leave as an artist only gives one encore, right? Wrong! So says Miss Beth Orton, gladly taking to the stage once again for more beautifully constructed works of art. Orton first came onto the scene a whole decade ago and so it is with much gusto we continue in our rapturous applause as we see in, at least, the next ten years of Orton’s creative life.
Maria Pinto-Fernandes
The Paddingtons / The Five O’Clock Heroes / The Dodgems
@ The Leadmill, Sheffield
For those of us who weren’t there in ’77, tonight’s charmed trinity of punk-a-likes are here to give our senses the kind of kicking that ears fed on the current staple of radio-friendly acoustic tunesmithery really demand.
Sheffield’s The Dodgems deliver the first assault with a riotous onslaught of punk-tinged, floppy-fringed rock which suggests that these local boys are not so much a warm-up act as a lorry-load of combustibles with a flaming fuse.
Grabbing the rocket-fuelled baton flung at them by The Dodgems, The Five O’Clock Heroes continue the pace with a set which pays homage to the gritty urgency of The Clash and leaves you in no doubt regarding their inevitable world domination. And so it is that we pogo from one set of heroes to the next.
With The Paddingtons’ debut album, ‘First Comes First’, Hull’s golden boys command only the highest calibre of sweaty moshpit adulation that would weary all but the hardiest drainpipe-legged punk aficionado. Complete with customary cigarette and bottle of JD in hand, frontman Tom Atkin resembles some sort of Pete Doherty / John Lydon hybrid as he and his equally scuzztastic comrades sneer and spit their way through tonight’s set with all the visceral rabidity of the old skool Brit punks of yore. The raw energy which drives ‘Panic Attack’ and ‘Some Old Girl’ combined with the abrasive vigour of tracks such as ‘21’ and ‘50 To A £’ serve to further invoke the spirit of punk’s original big hitters. For all their influences though, The Paddingtons are so much more than the sum of their heroes. Their savagely infectious swagger coupled with the breathless verve of their live shows make for an entirely uncharted experience. Sure, you can’t ignore the Clash / Pistols / Buzzcocks echoes but the genius of The Paddingtons is the way in which they make it sound so heart-stoppingly vital. Most of us in attendance may not have witnessed the birth of punk the first time around but we sure as hell had ringside seats for its rebirth tonight. Never mind the bollocks? The Paddingtons are the dog’s.
Gemma Winks
Planet Of Women / Maeven - Wildside
@ Junktion7, Nottingham
In a very canny piece of promotion Wildside's DJevAL treated this month's assembled (mostly male) masses to an all female line up. Sheffield's Maeven rather timidly crept onto the stage, glancing at each other for inspiration to actually begin the show for a few painful minutes. This shyness, definitely shy rather than coy, persisted during the show and there were few moments when any of the five were bold enough to look up from their playing to snatch a glimpse of the audience. This was particularly true of vocalist Nina Napier who looked real uncomfortable and awkward whilst her pals Sallem and Scarlett took on the guitar solos. A real shame that, as the crowd were really warming to Maeven's ramshackle set of punky numbers, that like any of the truly great glam bands could have all fallen apart at any moment! However, if Maeven can keep this wonderfully disjointed riffing up and gain some real stage presence and confidence they might just turn into a real eye opening band. Headliner's Planet of Women came across as a significantly more established band. In fact singer Jade may have vampirically sucked out all of Maeven's confidence backstage to use herself, strutting around the stage like classic Tina Turner. Similar ballsy, throaty, hoarse roar of a voice as well. However, something is amiss ... "Planet of WOMEN" ... who seem to feature three CHAPS as their backup band! And for me this is where it all fell apart. Sure the music was pretty awesome blues driven boogie, however the rather obvious and cynical marketing ploy of three female singers up the front whilst the guys slog it out for little credit was too much - particularly as Jade's lead vocals not only drowned out Nina and Jolene's efforts, but out-classed and out-gunned them.. And so the age old issue of "Women In Rock" rears up. In a genre which elevates partying and getting laid, the fact that both bands chose to sing about ... ummm ... partying and getting laid, negated any criticisms that may usually get levelled. There was no real point in either band trying to change the world with political and insightful lyrics - the male orientated bands don't after all! However, Planet of Women have a tight bunch of musicians and a seriously talented frontwoman, the addition of what were essentially backing singers did little for them beyond the remit of "eye candy" ... but again ... glam rock is a big and dumb genre and "eye candy" ain't necessarily something to be criticised!
James Wright
Courtney Pine / Inertia Trio / The Grand Razoo
@ Stylus, Leeds
Courtney Pine is often said to be the defining influence on Jazz Britannia, and his performance at the LUU substantiated this completely. His music is a blend of epic 20th century movements, at times seeming indefinable. Pine’s sound is somewhere between reggae, sordid porn soundtracks and Metallica but in the best possible sense of course.
What was most remarkable about this gig was the atmosphere that contained the air. The audience was a wide mix of people that merged into a pit of mutuality. I even hit the guy in front of me in the back of head, no apology needed, I’m sure he understood.
The opening act, the Leeds Latin band, The Grand Razoo, created a Rio party atmosphere, they were followed by the jazz guitar Inertia Trio. Both acts showed incredible talent and were perfectly complementary to Courtney Pine, yet also contrasting.
There is something really satisfying aboutt jazz etiquette. Pine put the night above his ego; hailing his saxophones, punching fists with his band, and interacting with the audience. Saying that, Pine came off as a little assertive with CD sales. He told the audience that his 2000 album (‘O Back in the Day’) would get you sexual favours if given as a gift: perhaps showing more about high-street distribution frustrations than his own greed.
I hope I have not overshadowed the actual music by focusing on the atmosphere of the night. Pine’s extravagant improvisations were electricifying. He masters a technique of intercepting high cadenza flurries with bellowing fog horn pedal notes. Stunning and moving us all.
There is something completely gratifying about jazz, especially when it is played by the legend which Courtney Pine is. His knack of merging genres-jazz, rock, funk, hip-hop, avant garde- satisfied my soul; proving the point that, in Pine’s own words, “music has the ability to bring people together”.
Indeed it does.
Sam Dolbear
Porlock / Downdime / Corleone
@ The Boardwalk, Sheffield
For once The Boardwalk is reasonably quiet; I have arrived early and am waiting to pay for my ticket. I get a pint and have a good 45 minutes to re-read this month’s Sandman (yes I am alone). Finally Corleone grace the stage. They open with a wall of sheer noise, it sounds like the best bits of an apocalypse, the backing of funky rhythms and base sending my soul to some noisy hell. I love it. Unfortunately I am sat down, everyone else is, because I really want to run around and jump and make noise and break things and be all chaotic. The lyrics are heartfelt and, although at times hard to pick up, seem very deep and meaningful.
Next up are Downdime. By now the place is a little busier but still no one will stand. Downdime are ace. Jed sings with a deep passion but at the same time the vocals sound poppy and at times very odd-which is a good thing. The drums seem to have a melody as well as being the centre of the rhythm, combined with foot tapping base they form the core of the sound. This core is topped with frantic guitar which leaves no room for rest and at one point appears to cause Jed physical harm. Throw in to this explosive mix some sweet and downright danceable keyboard sprinklings from Liz and you have the makings of something special.
Last, but not least, Porlock take to the stage, for, what I am lead to believe, is the last time ever. They sound tighter than a camel’s arse in a sand storm. They open with a stirring instrumental, squeezing some really quite bizarre sounds from guitars. The drums kick in and it becomes apparent this band has more magical beats than the Arctic Monkeys have NME awards. The bass is soon to follow and lives up to the expectation set by the rest, oozing with smoothness. The sound is refreshing and varied, at times I float down stream at others I am rudely awoken. However the vocals are sometimes a little weak, which is odd because at other times they are sublime. Thoroughly enjoyable and the crowd loved it more than me.
Jack Goodhand
Profane / Immune / Last Chance To Dance
@ The Fenton, Leeds
It's cold upstairs in The Fenton tonight and a real pull to leave behind the roaring fires downstairs, but I'm here for a different kind of roaring tonight - roaring hardcore from GZH's growing roster.
First up are Leeds five piece Last Chance To Dance, sporting incredibly low slung jeans and asymmetrical haircuts. They explode into a number that can only be described as aural assault and battery; the lead singer looks seriously in danger of filling his low slung jeans. They sound very tight indeed, but it's difficult to tell amidst the barrage. What's nice to see is a conscious use of humour; that ting-a-ling from the excellent drummer during an extreme hardcore epic was inspired.
After a shorter than expected break, I manage, to my dismay, to miss the first few minutes of Immune's set. Nothing could be further from the fury of LCTD. The sound is very hard to describe; ambient, industrial, progressive, rocky, grungy, but that still doesn't cover it. I can be sure of one thing though; it is mesmerising. The lead singer, more technician than front man, nervously works an impressive bank of vocal effects that fill the room with choruses of angels and demons at turns, while the rest of the band support the noise with an unsettling ambient rock groove. It is a muted performance full of dynamics that leaves the audience awe struck. We are in serious danger of seeing something new here.
Last up are Manchester's Profane, sporting a curious array of indie band T-shirts. Whereas LCTD depended entirely on force, though, Profane use melody together with brutality. By the third song, they have really hit their stride, bludgeoning the now full strength audience into submission. Then they hit us with something very lovely indeed, showing that hardcore needn't all be roar/raw. After a dispute over which track they are playing, they give us two songs from their forthcoming album and finish with a perfect rendition of FNM sing-along, 'Gentle Art Of Making Enemies,' leaving my throat in tatters. It's been a fine and varied night for the three bands and GZH , may it be the first of many.
Rob Wright
