LIVE REVIEWS *1
Leeds Festival 2007
THURSDAY
Considering that the official start of the Leeds Festival is tomorrow, tonight's crowd is sizeable and excitable. What better audience for the melodramatic pop of Grammatics, four young things from Leeds and York who manage to give sex a post-rock spin or vice versa. Owen Brinley captures the awkward raunch of Brian Molko, engaging in daring vocal acrobatics, supported in the sensual stakes by Rebecca Dumican's barefoot bowing and Rory O'Hara's dismissive surliness. The audience lap it up, mesmerised by such highlights as 'The Shipping Forecast' and the only low point is Rory's unexplained diva strop towards his bass guitar. Otherwise, sexy and smart.
Sky Larkin have a cracking new single to promote in 'Molten', and have clearly sorted the wheat from the chaff of their catalogue of songs; whereas previously their sets relied on the LS6 trio's bounding enthusiasm to see them through the musically patchier moments, they can now play for nigh-on half an hour without once breaking their stride. There's an obvious appreciation of the fact that - with a captive audience bigger than any they have entertained previously - they need to step up, and sure enough every number is belted out with fiery vigour. The highlight, as ever, is 'One Of Two', surely the most splendid three minutes of transcendent power pop committed to record by a British band this year.
By this point, much illicit alcohol must have been consumed - that is the only phenomenon which could possibly explain the audience's maniacal reaction to The Wallbirds. Coming on looking like a vague cross between Kasabian, Dexy's Midnight Runners and The Wurzels, these Doncasterites strike up a song that can only be described as 'Hotel Yorba' with the word 'Desperate' (the song title) written over the top. To give them their due, they may not be big or clever but they do what they do well and with big smiles on their faces.
Shut Your Eyes and You'll Burst Into Flames have been away for a while, but judging by their ferociously tight performance tonight it was clearly time well spent - sparky early recordings like 'Amputee Smile' are shown up as almost embarrassingly primitive compared to a new set of material made up of confident, rangy songs which evoke !!! in the best way possible. They still want you to party with them of course - Fran's consummate showmanship and the reliably tight-as-a-drum rhythm section are proof of that - they just want you to think about it a little more.
The audience's reaction to the arrival of iForward Russia! onstage is nothing short of riotous; I am spun 180 degrees in the opening bars of the first song and tossed about the crowd like a cork over Angel Falls. I receive glimpses of Whiskas, now sans whiskers, mangling his guitar with passion and Tom Woodhead shrieking at the crowd like a snake-handling preacher after one too many bites. Then, spun again, I see it again. And again. Forward Russia are definitely exciting, but fairly one dimensional and, tonight, a bit rusty. Not that the audience cares; Tom is preaching to the converted.
FRIDAY
The gates open late, and getting to the Carling Tent is a mad rush but worthwhile for Wintermute. Opening with the martial 'Ask a Stupid Question', which mixes the sloganeering of The Fall and the melodic intricacies of At The Drive In, Dan, Dave and Chris look like they were born to walk that stage, even if they are wearing cardies. Polished and confident, but still endearingly individual, Wintermute are worthy of your adoration.
Pull Tiger Tail are a surprise find for me on the Radio 1 Stage. Peddling a fine line in joyous, breakneck power-pop, it's the perfect soundtrack for an audience clearly still enjoying its first rush of reckless enthusiasm following the start of the festival proper. The straight-up charms of songs like 'Animator' suffer not a jot for the notoriously rubbish sound in the tent and this tenacious, wonderfully compact London trio go down a storm.
The tent is heaving with neon-daubed fans for Whatever happened to the edgy punky-dance that James Murphy and his pals used to bounce around the stratosphere. These days LCD Soundsystem seem to be weighed down by expectation and despite being able to wow with songs like 'Daft Punk is Playing at my House' they are tempered by the tedium of much of the material off the second album. This performance like that release is a passionless by-numbers stumble through as many eighties genres that the band can think of.
Hadouken! Like Ryu's titular move, their sound is about as subtle as a fireball to the gut, with riffs courtesy of 2Unlimited and mindless rap lyrics. But it is insidious as hell and, even though frontman James is Nathan Barley incarnate, I find myself screaming "drink, smoke, fuck, fight!'' along to 'Liquid Lives' and roar my approval when he parts the audience for a 'dance off.' I feel dirty.
International Trust put the fear of God into me. Not only does Mr Neil remind me of every bully ever, not only do they wield enough power to enlist Rob Paul Chapman on trombone, not only do they bastardise their songs blatantly from everywhere else, but they have also tapped the secret of mob management. 'Talk Of The Town' receives mind-boggling universal approval and 'There's No I In International Trust' still haunts me. Truly terrifying popularity.
The Sunshine Underground have certainly done very well for themselves, judging by the packed-out tent for their mid-afternoon set on the NME Stage. It's still hard to get massively excited about them however - nothing they play today banishes the suspicion that by simply bringing their rhythm section front and centre, so to speak, they've managed to sidestep responsibility for writing engaging songs. If the audience wants to dance though, they'll have a good time - and so indeed everyone seems to.
Kubichek! are a fantastically adrenalised quartet from Newcastle who comfortably manage to re-energise a flagging Carling Stage crowd as afternoon threatens to turn to evening. The name may ring a bell from their appearance on the last-but-one DTTR compilation, and they seem to have gone from strength-to-strength in the interim, fashioning a set of urgent, insistent songs in which guitar lines stab at each other relentlessly before spiralling off in unexpected directions.
The Little Ones provide a welcome change of pace with their sun-kissed Californian indie-pop, miraculously apposite given the glorious weather outside the Carling Tent by this point. Eschewing twee in favour of finely-crafted songs and inventive arrangements, they come at this most well-worn of templates from slightly different angles on each number, exploring its potential in all directions and never falling foul of trite cliché.
Maps would almost certainly have benefited from a more understanding soundman on the Carling Stage; their blissed-out soundscaping is all well and good, but with the vocals submerged in the fug of synth squall, guitar fuzz and laptop stutter their songs lose all cohesion and end up coming across more like Air than My Bloody Valentine. Still, in 'You Don't Know Her Name' and 'It Will Find You' these Northamptonites have some of the most potent electronic melodies I've heard this side of the Pet Shop Boys.
Let's make this clear I thought Klaxons were a tiresome and over-hyped band who were only big because of this conspicuous nu-rave genre - I was wrong. 'Atlantis to Interzone' with its references to myth and Burroughs shows that a blooming stomping tune doesn't simply have to be dumb folly, whilst 'It's Not Over' demonstrates the how to really cover a song. Tonight, Klaxons were nothing short of phenomenal and they had the entirety of this vast tent dancing.
How to top last year's definitive performance by The Scaramanga Six? How about a full brass section?! When it comes to theatrical performances, nothing beats the brothers Morricone. Opening with 'Baggage,' Steve proceeds to terrorise the crowd into submission while Paul smoothly persuades them back again. 'Vesuvius' is notably explosive with the added horns (dubbed by Steve "The Dirty Brasstards!") and 'The Coward' receives a well-deserved airing. All that is missing is more of a crowd for this dominating performance.
The last time I saw the Smashing Pumpkins was over 10 years ago and one of the best gigs of my life, so tonight's got a lot to live up to. Although it is essentially just Billy Corgan the fact is he is still an impressively fascinating front man who still has the ability to sum up the anxiety of the disaffected. Bloody hell did 'Bullet with Butterfly Wings' sound good.
Though Trent has been on the road for two years, tonight's performance by Nine Inch Nails is massive. Aaron North staggers belligerently around the stage (sometimes too much), huge screens light up with fire and in the middle of it stands the man himself, belting through impossibly heavy tracks like 'Survivalism' and 'Wish' with grim determination, but still taking time to go all Kraftwerk. Stunning visual effects, anthems of alienation and encoring with 'Hurt' - truly the stuff of legend.
SATURDAY
The Pipettes kick off proceedings on the Main Stage, blasting through a half-hour set of what seems like about fifty songs. Each number sounds exactly the same as the next, but no matter - the cameras love them and so do those revelers in decent enough condition to stagger blinking into the arena at this ungodly hour.
A tardy changeover lops at least one song off Sparta's early afternoon set on the NME Stage, but despite their obvious chagrin and the woeful sound during their opening few tunes the Texans rally superbly and end up mounting a typically edifying display of unpretentious, fist-pumpingly defiant post-hardcore.
Leeds drum-and-bass outfit Hayashi are Boss Happy to be here. Ana, D and Mwen command the stage assuredly, while the not-so-glamorous ones (Darren, Ben and Gid) lay down the groove with aplomb. Not sure about the dancers, but the performance is spot on.
Next up for their star turn on the unsigned stage are Leeds band Baby Long Legs, mixing a country alternative feel in with the realms of the pretty standard. They do win points for Vibraslaps and mandolins but never really set anything alight.
Somewhere between the Kaiser Chiefs albums the band forgot to write songs but fortunately for this not so secret performance they haven't forsaken those early tunes. Where 'Ruby' grates 'I Predict a Riot' slays, where 'Everything is Average Nowdays' induces narcolepsy 'Modern ways' pulses.
There is much rumour surrounding today's gig, namely will 'she' get her kit off? Unfortunately Beth Ditto's large personality and penchant for taking her clothes off in public has overshadowed the fact that she has one of the best voices in modern music and The Gossip are a balls out rock and roll band.
Gogol Bordello are surely one of the oddest bands ever to penetrate the mainstream. It's great to see such an unlikely gaggle of NYC reprobates get a reaction like this on the Main Stage, although the fervour of their fans still largely mystifies me.
Aw those lovely Long Blondes invoke happy images of my Brit Pop youth and, boy, does the singer make me feel like a teenager again. 'Giddy Stratospheres' shimmers in the afternoon sun but the band struggle to come to terms with the size of the main stage - it's not awful but it would be glorious on a smaller scale.
It's uncertain whether Piskie Sits really want to be here. Eyes fixed upon their bootcaps, these Wakefield alt-rockers are certainly competent but fairly unengaging. Perhaps it's because Craig insists on sounding more like an American than a denizen of Wakefield. But he does question Razorlight's enviable headline slot, so he's not all bad.
Neil McSweeney has been billed as the intelligent singer-song writer and while his performance saunters along nicely it never really crashes upon the crowd that has gathered. He isn't your classic acoustic guitar only journey men as he packs a full backing band but the worrying thing is that even with this his songs make little impact.
'Get near the front as Blood Red Shoes give t-shirts out' a friend tells so I zig-zag through the crowd but then I stop, mesmerised by the performance of this boy-girl two-piece. As singer and guitarist Laura screeches the final lyrics to the amazing 'ADHD' I realise I've missed the t-shirts but seen one of the performances of the weekend.
You wouldn't believe, looking at the fresh young faces of Kings of Leon that they're onto their 3rd album, tonight we get almost a greatest hits set including the genre changing Molly's Chambers and the fabulous 'On Call', showing us they're kings of cool, no showiness just plain great songs played very well.
The blues-infused indie rock of 1990s is disappointing at first, even if drummer Michael Mcgaughrin is on the frontline with Jackie McKeown and Jamie McMorrow. But then they start slinging around Ba-Ba-Ba's and 3-parts like firecrackers with fish-hooks and become a crazy blend of Boomtown Rats and LCD Soundsystem. Deceptively interesting.
Alberta Cross have a bloody nerve really - Band of Horses at least have the excuse of hailing from the same continent as Neil Young, but this London four-piece pilfer his sound, image and, in the case of front man Petter Wolfers, even his trademark stooping posture from about 1976. Shameless.
With his Leo Sayer hair and Aviators, Reverend is unexpectedly Sheffield's most innovative export since stainless steel. His performance tonight is delivered with charismatic funkiness, empowering optimism, realistic earthiness and just a dash of enigmatic poetry that has the audience climbing ropes to catch a glimpse of him. Holy row.
Interpol may have been away for a long time, but by Christ they've been busy, working out how to hold on to their beloved musical trademarks whilst expanding their sound to allow those gorgeously cold guitar textures room to breath and Carlos D to become - dear God - even cooler.
The stage looks fit to burst with effervescent performances from Middleman tonight; this is where the party is at and the crowd know it. Infectious hits like 'Blah, Blah, Blah' and 'Too Many Cliches' overload audience synapses and if they aren't major-stage next year, I'm Napoleon.
Prowling the stage like an escapee from an Aubrey Beardsley print, Patrick Wolf is lapping up the adoration of the crowd. In return, he rewards us with an incredibly sexually charged set that throws in everything from disco to Paganini. Closing with 'The Magic Position,' that's exactly what he's put us in.
He might be best known for being part of the Strokes, and although there are obvious reflections of that but Albert Hammond Jnr, is also a name in his own right. With a familiar feeling laid back folk feel, Albert and his musicians provided the perfect escape from Razorlight.
SUNDAY
Dogs are clearly under no illusions as to how much posturing you can really get away with on the NME Stage at noon on a Sunday, instead allowing their always sturdy, sometimes revelatory art punk to carry them through an unexpectedly satisfying half-hour.
Sheffield's The Genltlemen launch the final day of the unsigned stage. 'We from Sheffield, but we don't sound anything like the Arctic Monkeys'. Shame that really as I would rather have the Monkey's than AOR Maroon 5 a-likes.
It's a slow start from the stylish Kill Surf City 5-piece but fortunately they save the best till last with 'A Common Interest in Silence' and 'All I Heard' cutting through the nerves and spilling fuzzy indie-pop upon us all.
Crystal Castles are two guys, blue tights over their heads, with 8/16-bit samples and techno beats plus emo cheerleader, auto-erotic asphyxiation issues, on shouting equals sexy, truncated set comprising one great song on repeat. And the rap swearing intro is juvenile but inspired.
For a band that open with a song deriding the vacuousness of networking, Brakes are the friendliest band of the weekend. Mixing Napalm Death's brevity with Belle and Sebastian's cleverness, their set is fun-filled, upbeat and features pineapples. Simply adorable.
Today is Dance Tent day and charged to 'make some noise' is indie's favourite MC Lethal Bizzle. Young emo kids flailed their limbs helplessly to Lethal's massive beat mash up. Mixing up old school grime with a variety of classic samples and a good dose of energy these kids don't know what's just hit them.
Foals might be named after young horses but the songs are 100% pure bred stallion. They begin with a twisted Gwen Stefani cover and take our breath away with the guitars on 'Mathletics' and 'Hummer' spinning over each to hypnotic effect.
The Neat, only about six months since conception, crash land upon the Leeds unsigned stage and they bleed garage rock credentials. Their naivety brings occasional flaws but also an inexperienced poise and power, which is so utterly endearing.
Sporting an elaborate headdress, frontwoman of The Noisettes Shingai Shoniwa is a heady cocktail of Shirley Bassey, Skin and Poison Ivy. The set is just as eclectic; Morcheeba mellowness, rockabilly jive and pure rock power. Quite frankly, a festival in its own right.
Pat, lead singer of The Talks has the cheeky grin and the charisma to pull just about anything off - not that on the evidence of this performance the solid ska-punk, rock-and-rock hybrid music his band make needs any help.
The Shins seem a little deflated as their promotional tour for 'Wincing The Night Away' wraps itself up on the Main Stage in some patience-testing mid-afternoon heat - a distinct lack of engagement with the crowd does little to detract from their scintillating, muscular pop however.
Fronted by blonde Sally Jo and non-blonde Justin Lewis, from the array of instruments on display you'd expect to hear some quite interesting stuff from This Floating World. Sadly though, it's the sort of thing that Elton John would turn down for being "too broad."
The crowd is immense for Micky P Kerr and the Dudes, as the man himself opens with his candid 'drinking' song. Funny and cringey, but the best of Kerr; his new song about being barred from Morrison's, for instance, is hilarious. 'No Limits', however, is unforgivable.
The Young Knives are still far more of the underground quirksome English band than the massive crowd, both in and outside of the tent, would have you believe. Crowd pleasers go down well but for some reason the rest of the performance falls flat.
Nic Offer, lead singer with !!!, might be part Bob Fossil, part Side Show Bob but he is all dancing machine. Playing songs from 3rd album Myth Takes !!! take their dance-punk to new housey-esque levels and storm the dance tent.
All hail 'We Are Scientists' for theirs is the power to mix down right cheesey college rock with wit, intellect and some of the best drum beats in rock today, capturing both dumb youth and jaded maturity in one crowd pleasing swoop.
Cobra Starship certainly provide my most unpleasant musical experience of the weekend - primitive nu-rave cobblers of the most obnoxious kind, one only wonders how they snared their early evening slot on the Carling Stage. I guess it's just a sign of the times.
Tokyo Police Club would struggle not to sound strong in comparison, but soon outstay their welcome with tune after perfunctory tune of relentlessly serviceable garage pop. They leave me cold, if not in the least bit offended - maybe that's their problem.
Bloc Party somehow manage to inspire drunken singalongs to music which, had they emerged five years earlier, would never have got them out of art school. As the sun goes down on the Main Stage though, and Russell Lissack coaxes thrillingly unlikely sounds from his array of effects pedals, they're magical.
'The View are on Fire' or at least so the crowd are chanting in eager anticipation. The View embody the energy, excitement and straight talking honesty of Rock and Roll. Everything they promise to be, loud, raucous and charmingly undecipherable under this canvas the night is theirs.
UNKLE are so reliant on vocal performances of contributors that it's difficult to know what to expect from the electronic-rock crossover goes live. They try hard, occasionally succeed but as the last weekend act the audience are trying but only 'aving it in the past tense.
As they wearily set up their vast banks of equipment on the Carling Stage, Battles are as drawn as you would expect given the length of their marathon, continent-straddling 'Mirrored' tour. A downer, were it not for the fact that their evident malaise merely bookends a riveting, spine-tingling performance.
For a closing band, they don't come much bigger than the Red Hot Chilli Peppers. Each one of them is a pro and eager to show it. And some songs are a bit incongruous. Nevertheless, they finish the event in true freaky styley.
Words by Greg Elliott, Rob Wright,
Hanna Houghton, Mike Reynolds,
pics by Chris Saunders, Andy Brown and Tom Martin
Green Man 2007
Do you like your festivals crammed full of drunken idiots, unchallenging stadium-rocking bands and a host of identikit, trend-following ‘hot new acts’? Or would you rather go somewhere with a friendly atmosphere, a host of interesting, relatively unheard of bands, and lots of other kinds of entertainment? If you fall into the former category, then I think you’re probably a bit odd - or are just up for spending a weekend thoroughly trashed, which is perfectly acceptable. If you fall in to the latter, allow me to recommend to you the Green Man Festival.
Set in the rather stunning Glanusk Park in the Brecon Beacons, Green Man is more-or-less everything I look for in a festival. If I were to summarise it one word, it would be ‘lovely’. But allow me to delve further. At its heart, Green Man is a folk festival. Not in the traditional sense, but in as much as the bill is largely made up of folk, or folk-influenced, artists. Of course, there are exceptions to that rule, such as the throbbing, spasmodically danceable math rock of Battles who headlined the second stage on the second night this year. The festival is largely split across a mere three stages, with each night being headlined by a fairly legendary name (Joanna Newsom, Robert Plant and the Strange Sensation and Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks doing the honours this time round), with some sizeable acts playing supporting roles (Bill Callahan, Fridge, Clinic, Devendra Banhart and Gruff Rhys in 2007, to name but a few). In amongst all that are a fair few, largely interesting unknowns.
And there are, of course, other things – a literature tent (where this year we saw Stephen Malkmus thoroughly charming a group of fans who’d been given the chance to ask him questions), a cinema tent, a DJ tent and a solar-powered milk float stage. Also notable are the provisions made for children, including drum workshops and parades. Children certainly had to be well provided for this year because there were loads of them, camping, coping admirably with the mud and generally being adorable, giving the festival a truly friendly, easy-going vibe. In fact, you were far more likely to stumble across a crusty who’d smoked one too many spliffs than you were a lairy idiot, and that can only be a good thing.
So then, I’m sure you want some extended highlights from this year’s bash, and here they are. On Friday, Rachel Unthank and the Winterset did an all-female traditional North-Eastern folk performance, with clog dancing and everything, Bill Callahan was sombrely superb, and Tunng showed how much fun you can have when you combine folk with some clever samples and, during new song ‘Soup’ some brilliantly over-the-top fret-wankery. On Saturday, the Moon Music Orchestra were one of the bands of the weekend, knocking out endearing, country-style stomp-alongs, Clinic mastered ‘the riff’ then fucked it back up again, just for fun, North Sea Orchestra were gloriously sonorous, Vetiver did alt-country better than most, James Yorkston went all weird and free-noisy and Battles were just stupendous. On Sunday, Misty’s Big Adventure made sure everybody had a good time, David Thomas Broughton became a brilliant performer and was one of the few to shut up the audience in the Green Man Café, The Earlies did a proper psychedelic wig-out and got the crowd dancing, Gruff Rhys did a twenty-minute, four-chord wonder song about a plane journey that never once got tiresome, Herman Dune were just the most charming band I’ve ever heard, twee folk-pop played with wry smiles and a heart-breaking sense of romanticism, and Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks sounded like Pavement crossed with Wire, which was as great as it sounds.
I reckon I might go back next year.
Tom Goodhand
East Park Rocks
@ Hull East Park
From the outset the East Park Rocks gig looked as if it would be a mediocre at best, as Hull’s more famous support bands gathered for the first mini festival. The opening band, Luca, did nothing to raise my hopes. The vocals were drawn out, packed with cliché, built around sombre themes; they managed to dull even the brightest of summer’s days. It was a bad opening but luckily, it just got better and better as experience began to shine through almost immediately.
Kill Surf City, fresh from their appearance at Leeds Festival, showed clear signs of experience as David Hardgreaves engaged with the audience. They were interesting to watch even if their set contained a lot of monotonous strumming and seemingly impersonal lyrics.
GST Cardinals were a promising prospect but their generic set exposed clear influences and dismissed any sense of originality – sounding reminiscent of 80’s post punk. Entertaining, but not memorable. Similarly The Shine brought a set that seemed to blend the 90s Manchester scene and Guns and Roses, but far from being a stroke of genius, they summed themselves up perfectly with the title of one of their songs: ‘Cock Rock.’
Ernest, managed to defy any thoughts I’d previously had of the day being average, by combining rock with some amazing jazz funk that got heads pecking and lips pouting all around. Their broad spectrum of inspiration diminished any kind of links their songs could have had with others. The psychedelic keyboard work, fantastic lyrics and the bizarre sound samples dropped in-between songs, made them the most fascinating band of East Park Rocks.
What the majority had stayed for, however, was The Paddingtons, and although they were musically crisp and solid, Tom Atkins’ slurred lyrics seemed to tarnish a first-class set. Their new songs sound promising, and they were executed with similar vigour and passion as their debut songs.
Overall, it was professionally constructed, the sound levels were excellent and the schedule ran extremely smoothly, well worth the entrance fee, bring on 2008.
Matthew Skinns
…And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead / Smokers Die Younger
@ Sheffield Leadmill
Bands with two lead vocalists are a rarity – to have two drummers, even more so. That Trail of Dead have both means their shows will always be a spectacle, if nothing else. But they are far more than the sum of their parts. As this performance proves, Trail of Dead are one of the most thrilling live acts on today’s indie circuit. As ever with Trail of Dead, the gig descends into chaos. The crowd, egged on by frontman Conrad Keely, refuse to let the band leave the stage, leaving the Leadmill staff flustered and overwhelmed. But Trail of Dead thrive on chaos. Arguably, it is the one constant of their eclectic sound. Yet if Trail of Dead’s sound is anarchic, it is an organised anarchy. Trail of Dead study at the Pete Townsend school of attention to detail: seemingly disparate elements are blended together meticulously to create a perfectly layered noise. There are traces of Smashing Pumpkins, Pearl Jam, Sonic Youth, Muse, Jesus & Mary Chain and even 70s prog, but overall it is a sound like no other. Tracks from their most successful (and arguably least commercial) album Source Tags and Codes remain the musical highlights of their set, but it is playing their more recent material that the band has most fun. They are master craftsmen of huge, uncool, gothic rock with ear-ringing indie riffs, sadly destined to remain under-appreciated in their own lifetimes.
The same fate surely awaits support act Smokers Die Younger. They have an outstanding collection of intelligent and powerful songs. But as yet, they have been unable to translate their studio prowess onto the stage. Their older material was warmly welcomed by a few knowing punters, but this disappointingly loose performance is unlikely to have won over many doubters.
Craig Berry
Architecture in Helsinki / Caribou / Slow Club
@ Sheffield Plug
Slow Club took to the stage like a ray of sunshine in the darker-than-a-goth’s-armpit atmosphere of Plug. The duo played some enchanting melodies, Charles on guitar and Rebecca on percussion: playing drums, spoons, and even some glass bottles during ‘Message in a Bottle’. As well as hitting things, Rebecca had a captivating voice, despite her tendency to shout lyrics. Never afraid to embrace their twee-ness full on, particularly during ‘Apples and Pairs’, the band looked as if they were having a lot of fun, especially during the final song ‘Shake Down’, demanding the audience ‘shake their booty like Beyoncé’.
Next up were Caribou, a Canadian four-piece playing some cool electronic indie. Their music had a hypnotic quality, aided by the kaleidoscopic colour show behind them, in fact the whole set felt like a slightly suspicious dream. Caribou’s frontman, despite playing multiple instruments, remained self-effacing throughout, his voice served as just another instrument. He only spoke once, introducing the last song, rudely awaking me from my electronic reverie.
Finally Architecture in Helsinki came to the stage. During the first couple of songs I found their funky, folky mix interesting, but nothing special. It was only when the band members started swapping instruments, sometimes in the middle of songs, that they really came alive, like some multi-limbed musical organism. This organism had a clear head in frontman Cameron Bird who was dedicated to making sure the audience had a good time: even promising to behead dogs or set themselves on fire for the audience’s amusement. As it turns out, this wasn’t necessary; during the energy-filled, almost Sesame Street-inspired cheeriness of ‘Hold Music’, as well as ‘It’5’, most of the audience seemed to be dancing. Architecture in Helsinki had succeeded in bringing their party atmosphere to even the darkest corners of the Plug.
Andrew Wormald
Architecture in Helsinki / Caribou / Slow Club
@ Sheffield Plug
This is a triple bill I'll still be talking about in years to come. I really cannot imagine a stronger line-up has ever graced the Plug stage, or many other places for that matter. Slow Club haven't played much recently, but they've lost none of their homespun charm, as they take us through some of their loveliest songs. Whilst Charles plays his acoustic guitar Rebecca sings along and plays percussion with a bass drum, tambourine, and just about anything else she can lay her hands on. For Message in a Bottle, she used real bottles, and for I'm Alive she even played a wooden chair. Charming and uplifting in equal measure, they're like a homemade White Stripes, knitted by your granny.
Next on are Caribou. I must admit to loving the intricately detailed sound collages of their new CD and to being very excited by the prospect of this show. In the studio Caribou is Daniel Snaith, but live he is one of a four-piece band. Like Slow Club, his music is full of the sounds of the summer we never really had. He plays his synth, contributes vocals and together they somehow recreate that multi-layered exciting sound, but with an added edge. He even joins drummer Brad Weber on a second drum kit to give the songs a real driving force. 'I certainly wasn't expecting anything like that' said a bloke next to me. Caribou are off to support the Go! Team after tonight's show, then on to a gruelling 50 date tour of Europe, Canada and the US.
Architecture in Helsinki had much to live up to, and what a finale to the night they provided. Barely a pause between songs, they swapped instruments as often as they did musical styles and even vocalists. Their highly infectious funk, polished rock pastiches and general feel-good music went down a storm. Cameron Bird and Kellie Sutherland's vocal interplay was inspired and felt so natural, with neither dominating at all, as they ran through songs from their new CD, ending with their new single Heart It Races. A truly marvellous night for anyone lucky enough to be there.
Vivian Bonzo, pic by Rachael Burns
Blacklight / Silver Lakes / Hyper Snyper / Esteem / Eponymous
RaW @ Lincoln Mezz Bar
One of the last Raw nights at the Mezz before half a million students arrive back. Over the long, damp summer local music fans have increasingly made their presence felt here and it's gonna be heaving down there soon with everyone wanting a piece of the action. Cool.
Openers Eponymous’ hug-core sound requires both rock and funk bass players. It's all a bit weird but there are a couple of fine songs. 'There Is Another Skywalker' from their EP providing a glittering finish.
Esteem are a maturer band and with more of an edge. Their first song was defiant enough to get everyone's attention, no easy feat at the Mezz. Guitars and keyboards clashed a bit at times but overall for a new band the potential’s there.
Hyper Snyper up next, looking like brickies and sparks and with several transit vans of fans who were up for dancing, shouting and getting in amongst the band. They bash out sweaty hip hop with a dialed in flaky trance that oh so nearly at times tipped the crowd into ecstatically trashing the place.
Silver Lakes had their own posse of fans who attentively willed them on but they rarely seemed to nail exactly how much effort to put into it. There’s something there but ambivalence between strong emotion and thoughtful sensitivity needs resolving.
Blacklight from Louth shuffled on to finish what was left of the evening. After briefly lulling us with some Arctics type sound intro they launched into headcase metal screamo madness - wtf?! Well up for it despite the long wait to go on and faced with the remnants of a decent crowd. This was fizzing, crackling stuff from a smart alt band worth catching and a full-on finish to the night.
Pete McGovern
Chris Cornell
@ Nottingham Rock City
No support tonight, as the frontman of Soundgarden, Audioslave and Temple Of The Dog takes to the Rock City stage. The chemistry between the Cornell and his newly formed touring band would make you think they have been together for years, not a matter of months.
Staring up at the six foot something Cornell, it’s hard to imagine how young he looks these days. Not that far off 45, the long hair of the Seattle grunge days is a short and scruffy do, but the little goatee and chiseled features are still there; wrinkle free. We are in for a treat tonight, as the set features songs from throughout Cornell’s musical career, and listening to great track after great track you forget how many songs he has under his belt.
There are some slower moments from the ‘Carry On’ album, with Cornel reminding us of his powerful vocal range, sometimes giving it a bluesy feel and wrestling with the guitar melodies. One of these is the track from the James Bond film Casino Royal, which allowed Cornell to “Meet the Queen, who is very nice Cornell is left alone mid set, like he was sometimes during Audioslave shows, to play a couple of solo songs, the most memorable being a slower, stripped down version of Michel Jackson’s ‘Billie Jean’, without the Jacko ‘yelps’.
Add to this crowd sing-a-longs in the shape of Soundgarden tracks ‘Outshined’, ‘Rusty Cage’, ‘Spoonman’ and of course ‘Black Hole Sun’, it is over two hours of rock perfection. Cornell’s voice is as strong as ever (even after reports of strained vocal chords leading to the cancellation of some recent shows), and he and the others look to be having a genuinely good time, which the fans notice and act upon.
Danielle Millea
