London Fields # 90
First published Inpress (Issue # 1164), Melbourne on 9 March 2011, and in Drum Media (Issue # 1050), Sydney on 8 March 2011
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Trying to get other people to listen to music you recommend can be fraught, particularly in a live setting. Get it right, and all is sweet; but friendships can strain if you get things wrong too often. So, having talked them up to a mate, I was a little trepidatious when Chips For The Poor began their set in the Brixton Windmill. Frontman Scott doesn’t really believe in microphones, or stages for that matter, as he walks in circles through the audience, hollering over the band’s assembled racket, in a slightly disturbing, unhinged yet wonderful way. Songs run continuously, the changes indicated only by a tempo shift in the drum machine until we’re all swept into the maelstrom, culminating in the monster groove that is I Am A Warrior. Returning the favour, I finally catch Blindness at the Buffalo Bar in Islington, and based on this performance, I shouldn’t have procrastinated so long. Strong basslines are key here as well, particularly on the showstopping track Broken, where the hypnotic tattoo spirals over and over while vocalist Beth Rettig writhes on the floor. Over at The Slaughtered Lamb in Clerkenwell, Josh T Pearson is playing his first London headline show in ages, featuring songs from his brilliant forthcoming album Last of the Country Gentlemen. This material is much more delicate than some of his older songs, and a quiet environment is needed to fully appreciate them. The more rapt the audience become, the quieter he sings, till it’s barely a whisper, and the loudest sound in the room is the intrusive click of an SLR lens.
None of these acts appeared on any of those ‘Sound of 2011’ lists; as sadly these are often more indicative of a marketing department budget than what they should be - a list of acts that should succeed and so deserve recognition and support. This year’s longlist did have Anna Calvi, whose self-titled debut album was not without some distinctively impressive tracks, while Brighton’s Esben And The Witch were remarkable in sounding nothing like anything else on the list. Regrettably for them in the eighteen months between their self-released EP and debut album Violet Cries, other artists have come along with similar ideas. Seeing EATW play recently in Nottingham, I was struck at how all embracing their sound is. Songs tend to blend into each other a little, but the whole effect is mesmerising. But there’s so much more going on at the moment than these lists indicate.
While Brighton’s Mirrors may be this year’s Hurts (or another OMD), on the harder side of electronica there’s Factory Floor, who sound like they could have appeared in Dogs In Space. Talking old school, next month sees a pioneer go back to analogue equipment with Interplay by John Foxx and the Maths, while Credo is the first album of original material from The Human League in a decade, while Blanc Burn marks 25 years since the last studio album from Blancmange (and there’s a UK tour as well). When some acts will never reform, it is a problem if Still Corners evoke the spirit of Slowdive, or if the genuinely uplifting Veronica Falls sound like a lost release from 20 years ago? Texans Ringo Deathstarr were barely old enough to be aware of music when the music that now inspires them was being released, but Colour Trip fairly rattles along in a way few contemporary albums do. Through the vagaries of international releases, you may also have missed Through Low Light And Trees by Smoke Fairies, a nu-folk duo whose haunting melodies fulfil the promised they displayed when I first saw play in a small Hackney bar some years back. Meanwhile Life! Death! Prizes!, the second album from Shrag (an acronym of Sussex Heights Roving Artists Group) has a much stronger song structure than their debut, as illustrated by the moving duet Coda and Rabbit Kids, one of the catchiest singles of the past 12 months.
I suppose my point is that there’s much more going on that you can get from any one source. I’ve discovered most of the above acts almost by chance - hearing a live session on the radio, seeing them as a support act, or from friends’ recommendations. So even though we’re told that blogs have supposedly replaced printed music papers and the internet makes us all critics now, I think that word-of-mouth is still a powerful tool, and that there’s still a validity in reading about music that may inspire you to seek out the sounds afterwards.
© James McGalliard 2011
Inpress: Published on page 56
Drum: Published on page 54
Showing posts with label Chips For The Poor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chips For The Poor. Show all posts
Wednesday, 9 March 2011
Wednesday, 16 June 2010
Tales Of A City
London Fields # 79
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 16 June 2010
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
As much as it’s easy to sometimes loathe where you live, dreaming of other far away or remembered places, sometimes events conspire to deflate fantasies of an imagined life elsewhere by providing experiences that couldn’t be found elsewhere. At times like this you find yourself tearing up those mental lists of reasons to be or not to be here and just revel in your time. Recently I’ve looked enviously at Melbourne shows by The Chills (compensated by seeing The Clean here), the closure and rebirth of The Tote and commemorations of The Seaview Ballroom.
But when you’re standing in a 350 capacity club, and Peter Hook is playing his six string Shergold less than ten feet in front of you, and Mani is a few feet further away playing the lower baselines, you just know that this is something you’d be unlikely to experience in the confines of the Northcote Social Club. For this is Manchester supergroup Freebass playing only their second proper gig. Andy Rourke is sadly absent, and Hooky is the centre of a fine night‘s entertainment, one which may recall the past, but is also entirely of the present, the band not relying on any of its member’s huge back catalogues to get by. It’s a performance free of frills, and watching it I’m reminded of the difference to seeing another new buzz Manchester band this year - Hurts, who had everything right as far as looks and staging, but had forgotten the need for songs.
Two nights later comedian Stewart Lee is playing a free show in a woefully ill-equipped pub on the edges of Shoreditch. The circumstances see him abandon his plans to test new material, and instead he improvises around some themes from his 2009 Edinburgh show. That night, his thoughts on leaving London for the country or places further afield struck a certain resonance with me. Escaping the confines of the Hobby Horse for a calmer locale, a wander down Orsman Road ends at The Stag’s Head. But I’m soon drawn into the band area where I witness an extraordinary bass groove that loops hypnotically for the next fifteen minutes. This it turns out is the single launch of Chips For The Poor and I leave happily clutching their new 7” clear vinyl and a free bonus CD of the full version.
Between these two nights I’m in Brighton to witness Julian Cope turn in a virtuoso solo performance. After sitting on that strange cobbled beach (nothing stranger than the sound of waves rolling over pebbles), I head off to the Komedia. While he can tend to be a little erratic, somehow on this barmy Brighton evening it all came together brilliantly, nearly leading to me missing the last train back to London. He’s a fabulous raconteur, and extremely funny, interspersing songs with thoughts arising from research into his next book (Lives Of The Prophets), weird Japanese lyrical translations, and tales of his 50th birthday acid trip. He chooses a wonderful selection of songs and his voice and playing are pristine while simultaneous displaying a lived-in wear of love. His acerbic wit remains and his comments that The Teardrop Explodes were consistent at being not very good makes his non-appearance a few days later to collect an award from Mojo in their honour not unsurprising.
With shows this month by Gang Of Four, James, Brendan Perry, The Lotus Eaters and Marc Almond, you do sometimes wonder what decade this is. But other than a visit in May 1982 with a disintegrating The Teardrop Explodes, when has Julian Cope visited Australia? Where else but London would you see John Foxx reunited with guitarist Robin Simon to perform songs from the landmark Systems Of Romance album? Or experience the preternatural stillness of the streets during an England World Cup game? And while Daniel Kitson may seem to spend more time in Australia than he does here, never would his former landlord and enemy turn up at the end of an Australian performance of 66a Church Road as happened here last Sunday.
As I reflect on all this heading home on one of the last remaining bendy buses , I think that despite all the fears for a bleak future forecast by the new Liberal Con coalition, it’s worth enduring life here for the things that couldn’t happen anywhere else. But as Daniel Kitson’s landlord said, there are two sides to every story.
© James McGalliard 2010
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 16 June 2010
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
As much as it’s easy to sometimes loathe where you live, dreaming of other far away or remembered places, sometimes events conspire to deflate fantasies of an imagined life elsewhere by providing experiences that couldn’t be found elsewhere. At times like this you find yourself tearing up those mental lists of reasons to be or not to be here and just revel in your time. Recently I’ve looked enviously at Melbourne shows by The Chills (compensated by seeing The Clean here), the closure and rebirth of The Tote and commemorations of The Seaview Ballroom.
But when you’re standing in a 350 capacity club, and Peter Hook is playing his six string Shergold less than ten feet in front of you, and Mani is a few feet further away playing the lower baselines, you just know that this is something you’d be unlikely to experience in the confines of the Northcote Social Club. For this is Manchester supergroup Freebass playing only their second proper gig. Andy Rourke is sadly absent, and Hooky is the centre of a fine night‘s entertainment, one which may recall the past, but is also entirely of the present, the band not relying on any of its member’s huge back catalogues to get by. It’s a performance free of frills, and watching it I’m reminded of the difference to seeing another new buzz Manchester band this year - Hurts, who had everything right as far as looks and staging, but had forgotten the need for songs.
Two nights later comedian Stewart Lee is playing a free show in a woefully ill-equipped pub on the edges of Shoreditch. The circumstances see him abandon his plans to test new material, and instead he improvises around some themes from his 2009 Edinburgh show. That night, his thoughts on leaving London for the country or places further afield struck a certain resonance with me. Escaping the confines of the Hobby Horse for a calmer locale, a wander down Orsman Road ends at The Stag’s Head. But I’m soon drawn into the band area where I witness an extraordinary bass groove that loops hypnotically for the next fifteen minutes. This it turns out is the single launch of Chips For The Poor and I leave happily clutching their new 7” clear vinyl and a free bonus CD of the full version.
Between these two nights I’m in Brighton to witness Julian Cope turn in a virtuoso solo performance. After sitting on that strange cobbled beach (nothing stranger than the sound of waves rolling over pebbles), I head off to the Komedia. While he can tend to be a little erratic, somehow on this barmy Brighton evening it all came together brilliantly, nearly leading to me missing the last train back to London. He’s a fabulous raconteur, and extremely funny, interspersing songs with thoughts arising from research into his next book (Lives Of The Prophets), weird Japanese lyrical translations, and tales of his 50th birthday acid trip. He chooses a wonderful selection of songs and his voice and playing are pristine while simultaneous displaying a lived-in wear of love. His acerbic wit remains and his comments that The Teardrop Explodes were consistent at being not very good makes his non-appearance a few days later to collect an award from Mojo in their honour not unsurprising.
With shows this month by Gang Of Four, James, Brendan Perry, The Lotus Eaters and Marc Almond, you do sometimes wonder what decade this is. But other than a visit in May 1982 with a disintegrating The Teardrop Explodes, when has Julian Cope visited Australia? Where else but London would you see John Foxx reunited with guitarist Robin Simon to perform songs from the landmark Systems Of Romance album? Or experience the preternatural stillness of the streets during an England World Cup game? And while Daniel Kitson may seem to spend more time in Australia than he does here, never would his former landlord and enemy turn up at the end of an Australian performance of 66a Church Road as happened here last Sunday.
As I reflect on all this heading home on one of the last remaining bendy buses , I think that despite all the fears for a bleak future forecast by the new Liberal Con coalition, it’s worth enduring life here for the things that couldn’t happen anywhere else. But as Daniel Kitson’s landlord said, there are two sides to every story.
© James McGalliard 2010
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