The Maths of Rock

London Fields # 93
First published Inpress (Issue # 1180), Melbourne on 29 June 2011, and in Drum Media (Issue # 1066), Sydney on 28 June 2011
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here

My first thought upon seeing that Jesus Jones and The Wonder Stuff (or Miles Hunt and friends play the songs of the Stuffies) were embarking on a joint Australian tour was of the great bands of that era that have never played in Australia, particularly James and The Blue Aeroplanes. Following a six year hiatus, James reformed in 2007 (with the classic line-up that had recorded their career best album Laid) and while most attention was focused on the Glastonbury Festival at Worthy Farm over the last weekend, in London James played a giant show in Hyde Park supporting The Killers.

It was at Glastonbury in 1992 that I saw art-rockers The Blue Aeroplanes amass a dozen guitarists on stage for their traditional closing cover of Breaking In My Heart. There’s been two constants throughout The Blue Aeroplanes’ history: frontman Gerard Langley and a multitude of guitars. Like The Fall, the non-playing vocalist has been the constant in myriad line-ups, and over 40 musicians have been members of the band at some point. But unlike the tyranny Mark E Smith exerts, The ‘planes are more like a collective, a team where members come on and off the bench according to need and availability. To celebrate the release of their new album Anti-Gravity, they played a one-off show at The Borderline in central London the other week. Here the football analogy was even stronger as around eleven players went off and off stage according to the demands of the songs. Gerard hardly seems to have changed over the years; although his hair is now dyed and he carries a book of lyrics as an aide-mémoire, under stage lights in his ever-present dark glasses he looks almost identical to 21 years ago. It’s hard to explain how joyous it all is, but much like how dancer Wojtek Dmochowski weaves around the small stage, trying not to trip in guitar leads in the process, so the different melody lines of each guitar intertwine as they ring true and clear. Tonight sees Angelo Bruschini (now usually in Massive Attack) return for a rare appearance, and while I miss the Rickenbacker chime of Rodney Allen, when all these guitars mesh, as on Warhol’s 15 tonight, it truly is a thing of beauty.

Before the show, I spotted Marty Willson-Piper of The Church in the audience, and troubled him to ask if there was any chance of seeing the 30^th anniversary show that recently toured Australia. At The Church’s last London show a few years back, Steve Kilbey said it was likely to be the last time we’d see them play in London. Marty was kind enough to give me a long and detailed description of just what the costs and difficulties are in organising a tour, and then talked in refreshingly candid terms about the size of crowd the band can expect to pull in London these days. All in all it painted a fairly bleak picture for bands playing medium sized venues.

Last Thursday I ventured into the wilds of South Wimbledon to see Colchester veterans Modern English playing in London for the first time since the eighties, in an expanded line-up with all but one of the original members. These days they’re now mostly known for that song - Melt With You - which was kept back to the end of their set. What is best about this show is that there’s no feeling as though it’s to prove anything, but they’re playing merely just because they want to do it. The music is both naïve and organic, as one intro explains “this was before we knew about bridges and choruses - we just called them sections”. But these sections slot together in a way that current acts trying to recreate this period miss altogether. In their heyday they were a key act on 4AD and were an essential part of the This Mortal Coil project. For me the highlight comes in the encore with 16 Days, one of their songs that also was on the first TMC album.

Having spent this weekend doing an ‘Armchair Glastonbury‘ via the BBC‘s coverage, I kept thinking what a poor reflection the televised version was of the music being played on smaller stages throughout the UK. I also recalled how every time I’ve chatted to David Gedge he’s asked if I know an Australian promoter who might want to bring The Wedding Present out. You see, some English bands from the late eighties and early nineties are still making music worth hearing; perhaps one day you’ll get to discover this live in your town.

© James McGalliard 2011

Inpress: Published on page 46
Drum: Published on page 52

Midyear Malaise

London Fields # 66
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 24 June 2009
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here

In the northern hemisphere, as well as being the longest day of the year, the solstice is considered to be the first day of summer. Hence the beginning of the northern summer also marks the halfway point of the year, and I’m finding myself a little out-of-step with 2009. The temptation to spend an evening at home, rather than out watching music gets ever stronger. Nothing would persuade me to go to the Glastonbury Festival now (even though some friends have flown over from Oz just for it). It’s just too large now; smaller events like Latitude or Truck are far more tempting, as you can actually see the bands. While I can keep up with developments in music via MySpace and YouTube (and Glasto is on TV anyway), nothing matches the experience of a live band on the right night. On those nights I’ve been glad I got off the couch, or even went further a field for the experience.

At the Deaf Institute in Manchester, My Latest Novel played their first English show in several years. Selecting material almost exclusively from their yet-to-be-released second album Deaths And Entrances may have been a gamble, but I was both entranced and transported by the spirit of the band, their musical progression and the sheer joy of the inspiring music they created. Similarly, when I Like Trains played at The Luminaire for the launch for a Belgium Festival, most of their set was work-in-progress, some still without titles. The change to a four-piece has seen a shake-up their world view, and the new songs premiered showed that they are writing material of a different hue than they have so far released.

The innate experience and skill of The Bats shines through whenever they perform (as does their charm). They effortlessly recreate their sound in the basic set-up of The Brixton Windmill, and there are lots of older songs sprinkled amongst most of The Guilty Office (although sadly no Trouble In This Town or Made Up In Blue). Promoters (and label) Club AC30 can always be relied upon to provide gigs of quality, and The Bats supported Crystal Stilts for them at The ICA the following night. But a far more impressive show came at another AC30 show early the next week, when Stephen Lawrie used Doncaster three-piece 93MillionMilesFromTheSun as a backing band to perform a set of Taste-era material of his band The Telescopes. The result was punishingly brutal, but brilliant!

It doesn’t always go so well. I bought a ticket for The Gaslight Anthem mainly to catch their support for the tour, Frank Turner. Now I’ve seen Turner triumph at small gigs, and win over large festival crowds, but this middling-size audience proved a tough size to crack. Still, he did better than the headliners, whose repetitive songs seemed honed for audiences who wanted Bruce Springsteen 1978-85, without any of the slow ones, but with added ‘indie’ cool. I didn’t stay for the whole show; neither did I make it through all of doves on their recent tour. Before they hit the encore, I hit the pub next door – only to see rafts of attendees who hadn’t lasted as long as I did. And although I waited until the end of The Longcut at The Luminaire, things didn’t get much better than they began. The live sound was messy, and the band failed to find that elusive groove.

I’ve no interest in the daily reports of Blur (PLC) playing ‘secret’ show after ‘secret’ show. I don’t understand why White Lies end up on high rotation and brilliant releases like that by Joe Gideon & The Shark remain unnoticed. Over at the Enterprise, I catch Kid Harpoon, playing again as a solo performer. It makes me sad that music as fresh as vibrant isn’t being heard as it should. Since I last saw him, he’s recorded an album, scrapped it, re-recorded it and had Nambucca, the venue he lived about, and called home, burn down. Tonight sees him playing a piano-led paean in his memory, whilst older unreleased songs like Colours and Late For The Devil draw a strong response, and I fear the bouncing floor may give way during a rousing version of The Milkmaid.

Sometimes it feels like a lone battle against mediocrity. There are some great acts out there, and concepts like Bandstand Busking offer some hope. But is it enough to ward off the repercussions of five years of unthinking cover versions from TV talent shows? Just when I feel I may be losing it all, I run into someone who has worked with many of the bands I rate or care about. Over the next few hours that we end up chatting, on numerous occasions he stops and hugs me, merely for the opinions I express. So then I start to wonder, is that I am off the ball, or is just that most of the current music is just dull and unimaginative? Let me know…


© James McGalliard 2009

Sorted

London Fields # 40
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 13 June 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here

I remember my first Glastonbury Festival. It wasn’t planned - I only bought a ticket a few days before. We heard the world premiere of the new Stone Roses single One Love on Radio 1 while driving down from London, and then hit the four hour bumper-to-bumper crawl to get onto site. As night fell I was separated from my friends, and then the rain began to fall. I spent that evening sheltering inside my sleeping bag, cocooned within two black bin liners. When I caught up with my mates the next day, it turned out the ‘tent’ that they had for me had no floor and a ‘Cowboys and Indians’ motif on the side. Luckily it didn’t rain again. Those were amongst the most enjoyable days of my life.

Of course, Glasto now sells out in a matter of hours, and it’s a lot bigger than Pulp’s twenty thousand people standing in a field - this year 175 000 people are expected for that weekend at end of this month. Watching the TV coverage of the 2005 event, it seems our former camping pitch has become part of the crowd area - video screens allow a much bigger audience to feel they’re part of the event. You’ve got to admire the Eavis family for keeping it all together, but the real joy of Glasto was the community spirit. And when things get so large, it’s hard to keep that intact.But there are still smaller gems to be found.

The end of April found me at the Dirty Three curated All Tomorrow’s Parties event at Butlins holiday camp in Minehead. It was a surreal experience, holiday ‘chalets’ from a Carry On film, a real mix of people, a proliferation of beards, and best of all, no aggro. The audience ATP attracts is there for the music, not to be a prick.

Then earlier this month I was in Barcelona for Primavera Sound, which was easily the most trouble-free and organised event of this kind I’ve ever attended. Sure there were minor quibbles – the queues to buy vouchers to exchange for drinks, the late nights [bands coming on at 5 in the morning catches up with you by the third day], and the sound spill onto the Rockdelux stage [at one point so loud that it stopped Warren Ellis midsentence]. But although there were no outstanding highlights, it never felt overcrowded (except during The Smashing Pumpkins), and (like ATP) it was great few days with nice people and good music.

This month marks 18 years since I left Melbourne, and three years of writing this column. And following some recent discussions with readers, artists and promoters, I think it’s important that I make this point: I’m a punter! Nearly everything you read about here has been paid for; I’m a long way from the ligger’s list {which is a shame, as all the press bods at Primavera enjoyed free local brew in their own enclosure for all three days}. So I write about what interests me, and what I spend my money on – so it is from a limited perspective.

But perhaps you too get annoyed at exorbitant booking fees for gig tickets, or idiots who talk all the way through gigs, or folks who block your view by taking crappy pics on their phone every 20 seconds. That’s why big gigs are out - no V Festival or Reading, and although I enjoyed it last year, I’ll even be giving the smaller Get Loaded In The Park a miss. However, in July I’ll be heading to a farm in Oxfordshire for the relatively small Truck Festival (which has sold out before the line-up has been announced). And I’ll be descending with 5000 others on Hackney’s Victoria Park one Saturday in August for the inaugural Field Day, which aims to create a village fete atmosphere in the heart of the East End (and it has a great roster of bands over four stages).

Maybe if things keep getting too big, people will revolt and make their own way. Whispers are making even the mainstream press of free parties in the English countryside. Forget nu-rave – could 2007 turn out to be the third summer of love?

© James McGalliard 2007