London Fields # 85
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 1 December 2010
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
In these days of the so-called ‘firework career‘, it’s rewarding when good acts manage to survive, even when fame remains elusive and circumstances are difficult. During November I saw album launches from two of the three acts I marked for greatness in my end of year writers poll for 2006 (regrettably Model Morning never got that far). Back then I had a bet with Evi Vine that when her album came, it should be short listed for the Mercury Music Prize that year. But her band fragmented, years passed and when she joined supergroup The Eden House I feared that chances of this ever happening were remote. Meanwhile I Like Trains signed to Beggars Banquet and released a debut album, but then found themselves label-less in the merger of Beggars and 4AD. Four years later in some kind of synchronicity both Evi Vine and I Like Trains have self-funded the recording and release of albums without the use of traditional record companies.
It seems somewhat ironic that the London launch of He Who Saw The Deep, the second album from I Like Trains, is taking place during a strike by Tube drivers. The recording was financed via fan pledges, and this sort of dedication ensures that the gig is well attended in spite of the travel woes. When they take to the narrow stage of The 100 Club it’s immediately clear that something isn’t quite right - their drummer is missing! It transpires that Simon, who I’d seen earlier on the merch stand, has a broken leg, so Scott Hislop from Kyte is filling in. I Like Trains have always been much more than the sum of their parts - a clear example of the chemistry between the players creating something special. Even though Scott does a fine job, the show was noticeably affected by the change of those elements. So while the guitars chime clearly (augmented by Ian Jarrold of the late Redjetson), the bottom end never sounds quite right. If tonight isn’t quite their night, Hope Is Not Enough and lost b-side Victress and still shine, and it seems you may well be able to see this consistently great act for yourself soon as Japanese and Australian dates are pencilled in for 2011.
Rising rents mean that The 100 Club is yet another live venue threatened with closure. Only this week the owners of The Luminaire, without doubt the best live venue in London, announced it is closing in a month due to financial pressures. I last ran into Evi Vine at when I Like Trains played The Luminaire last year (and actually first met her in a queue to see them back in 2006). Eighteen months later her long-promised album is finished, but The Social seems a strange choice for her album launch as it’s more a club space than a live venue. Daunting would be the best description of having to begin a show just after This Mortal Coil’s cover of Song To The Siren has been played, yet Evi turns it into an opportunity by singing along with Liz Fraser’s landmark vocal as a microphone check. When the song ends and the band begin, the background chatter virtually disappears, and I’m quickly reminded of why this voice and these songs floored me four years ago.
Her debut album ...and so the morning comes is a very different beast to the one she might have recorded back in 2007, but some of the songs remain, albeit radically reworked. The original drummer Steven Hill is now on guitars and effects, and it’s wonderful to see all but one of that earlier line-up here in the audience to support her tonight. The live renditions are better than the album, the seeming simplicity and restraint of the stripped-back arrangements make the voice and song all, and sometimes I forget other musicians are on the stage until they chime in. She maps the human heart, sometimes living in the dark places while hoping for the light, at others seeming to finally find a happy place, if only for a fleeting moment. Evi herself is a mixture of fragility and strength; I’m reminded of a Prince Rupert's Drop - glass which can take a hammer blow, but can also shatter explosively. The hauntingly beautiful love song The Colours Of The Night becomes a persistent earworm for days afterwards, the harp here replaced by a picked guitar which actually feels purer. They finish with Time Flies, and the pent-up energy pours out in a dazzling climax - something very special indeed.
Perhaps it was in some way fitting that the release version of Evi’s album wasn’t actually ready on the night. Like the long-promised remasters of My Bloody Valentine, it seems to slip just a little further into the future, tantalisingly out of reach, untouchably desirable. When it does come, I just might keep a closer eye on the Mercury that year.
© James McGalliard 2010
Showing posts with label I Like Trains. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I Like Trains. Show all posts
Wednesday, 1 December 2010
Wednesday, 24 June 2009
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
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
Wednesday, 27 May 2009
South By South East
London Fields # 65
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 27 May 2009
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
While most of Great Britain sat inside to see how Graham Norton handled Terry Wogan’s Eurovision crown, I found myself wandering the lanes and seafront of Brighton seeking another type of music entirely. The Great Escape festival is a three-day event combining music conference and showcase spread over thirty Brighton venues. Perhaps partially a UK response to South by South West, it’s now in its fourth year, and draws around 3000 delegates and press and over 10000 punters. This particular weekend Brighton was literally overrun, as it coincided with the Brighton Festival, and its accompanying Fringe events, as well as ‘Heroes Run’ on the Sunday morning after the final night.
But it’s not just about seminars and performances, there’s networking as well. Outside the Thistle Hotel I run into Andrew Todd, the guitarist of The Boxer Rebellion. There’s a big announcement to be made regarding the band very soon, but for the time being they’re being very tight lipped about it. However if things go as planned, Andrew may well get to play his Adelaide home as part of a large touring summer festival in early 2010. The Australian presence was a little muted and understated this year; certainly there was nothing to rival the New Zealand showcase which saw Die! Die! Die!, Connan Mockasin and The Veils amongst the acts performing on the pier on the Saturday afternoon, although their twenty-minute sets were a little restrictive.
As the evening’s events began, so did the inevitable clashes. Torn between I Heart Hiroshima and Yves Klein Blue, we end up at the latter as it’s closest to our next destination. While you couldn’t fault their confidence, I kept waiting for one song to pull me up and make me pay attention; sadly it doesn’t appear. Maybe I’ve become too British in my tastes, but they sounded like 2004, and seemed to be lacking cohesion in what they were trying to do.
The next decision was a difficult one. Two of my favourite bands were playing at exactly the same time, but seeing either one of them ruled out seeing School Of Seven Bells, British Sea Power or Idlewild. However as Joe Gideon & The Shark have a London show next month, we opted for I Like Trains (formerly iLiKETRAiNS) at the large Concorde 2. There’s a disappointingly small crowd, which is a shame as iLT put in a first rate show. Keeping nothing back they open with Terra Nova, with a Rickenbacker bass you feel as much as hear, and the band silhouetted in dry ice in slowly rotating spots. It’s an old school approach but it works brilliantly. It’s hard to see why this band found themselves without a label; the new songs indicate that the next album is likely to sidestep the pitfalls of their ambitious yet flawed debut, and they are a great live act. While there are times it’s not quite gelling, it all comes together for the epic closer Spencer Percival, where the brooding menace which has been building up over the preceding eight minutes explodes into an apocalyptic cataclysm that is literally jawdropping.
Word reaches us that Patrick Wolf’s show is completely full, so do we see whether British India can justify their full page ad in that week’s NME, or go catch Gang Of Four? It’s not a hard choice. With the previous act running vastly over time, Gang Of Four have only fifteen minutes playing time before the curfew sets in, so they make the best of it. Jon King is one of the most brilliant and confrontational frontmen around. There’s a steeliness to him, whether conveyed by his impassioned wail, or the systematic destruction of a microwave with a baseball bat. He and Andy Gill are constantly moving between the three mikes, weaving like some deranged dervish. Their energy can barely be contained. Losing one of the best rhythm sections around is a cruel blow, but Mark Heaney is a strong presence on drums and Thomas McNiece nicely replicates those immense bass lines. While they may not cause structural damage like Allen’s did, it suits the band well. Gang of Two? Nah, they’re still firing on all cylinders.
Then there’s another long walk, trying to catch Dark Horses, Lisa Lindley-Jones new act which for these shows featured guest vocalist Emiliana Torrini. Sadly they’re done by the time we get there, but we do see a relaxed Patrick Wolf walking down the road tucking into chicken and chips. A midnight street conversation sees us at Audio, where I lose my friends to the packed throng on the dance floor. By now it’s nearing 1am and alone I catch the end of the set from one of the last acts performing, The Shiny Brights from Adelaide in the small downstairs bar of Jam. Singer Wolfgang brings some genuine frontman pizzazz to proceedings, and while not quite my thing, there’s a joyous energy here that is somewhat infectious.
The next morning I’m recovering in the Hove sunshine, watching hundreds of people dressed as superheroes trying to break a world record for the largest number of capes ever assembled in the one place. It’s a surreal end to a great experience. Next year I’ll be back for all three days. I only hope they get more extended licensing, or begin shows earlier so that the bands that have travelled so far to be here may be able to play for longer.
© James McGalliard 2009
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 27 May 2009
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
While most of Great Britain sat inside to see how Graham Norton handled Terry Wogan’s Eurovision crown, I found myself wandering the lanes and seafront of Brighton seeking another type of music entirely. The Great Escape festival is a three-day event combining music conference and showcase spread over thirty Brighton venues. Perhaps partially a UK response to South by South West, it’s now in its fourth year, and draws around 3000 delegates and press and over 10000 punters. This particular weekend Brighton was literally overrun, as it coincided with the Brighton Festival, and its accompanying Fringe events, as well as ‘Heroes Run’ on the Sunday morning after the final night.
But it’s not just about seminars and performances, there’s networking as well. Outside the Thistle Hotel I run into Andrew Todd, the guitarist of The Boxer Rebellion. There’s a big announcement to be made regarding the band very soon, but for the time being they’re being very tight lipped about it. However if things go as planned, Andrew may well get to play his Adelaide home as part of a large touring summer festival in early 2010. The Australian presence was a little muted and understated this year; certainly there was nothing to rival the New Zealand showcase which saw Die! Die! Die!, Connan Mockasin and The Veils amongst the acts performing on the pier on the Saturday afternoon, although their twenty-minute sets were a little restrictive.
As the evening’s events began, so did the inevitable clashes. Torn between I Heart Hiroshima and Yves Klein Blue, we end up at the latter as it’s closest to our next destination. While you couldn’t fault their confidence, I kept waiting for one song to pull me up and make me pay attention; sadly it doesn’t appear. Maybe I’ve become too British in my tastes, but they sounded like 2004, and seemed to be lacking cohesion in what they were trying to do.
The next decision was a difficult one. Two of my favourite bands were playing at exactly the same time, but seeing either one of them ruled out seeing School Of Seven Bells, British Sea Power or Idlewild. However as Joe Gideon & The Shark have a London show next month, we opted for I Like Trains (formerly iLiKETRAiNS) at the large Concorde 2. There’s a disappointingly small crowd, which is a shame as iLT put in a first rate show. Keeping nothing back they open with Terra Nova, with a Rickenbacker bass you feel as much as hear, and the band silhouetted in dry ice in slowly rotating spots. It’s an old school approach but it works brilliantly. It’s hard to see why this band found themselves without a label; the new songs indicate that the next album is likely to sidestep the pitfalls of their ambitious yet flawed debut, and they are a great live act. While there are times it’s not quite gelling, it all comes together for the epic closer Spencer Percival, where the brooding menace which has been building up over the preceding eight minutes explodes into an apocalyptic cataclysm that is literally jawdropping.
Word reaches us that Patrick Wolf’s show is completely full, so do we see whether British India can justify their full page ad in that week’s NME, or go catch Gang Of Four? It’s not a hard choice. With the previous act running vastly over time, Gang Of Four have only fifteen minutes playing time before the curfew sets in, so they make the best of it. Jon King is one of the most brilliant and confrontational frontmen around. There’s a steeliness to him, whether conveyed by his impassioned wail, or the systematic destruction of a microwave with a baseball bat. He and Andy Gill are constantly moving between the three mikes, weaving like some deranged dervish. Their energy can barely be contained. Losing one of the best rhythm sections around is a cruel blow, but Mark Heaney is a strong presence on drums and Thomas McNiece nicely replicates those immense bass lines. While they may not cause structural damage like Allen’s did, it suits the band well. Gang of Two? Nah, they’re still firing on all cylinders.
Then there’s another long walk, trying to catch Dark Horses, Lisa Lindley-Jones new act which for these shows featured guest vocalist Emiliana Torrini. Sadly they’re done by the time we get there, but we do see a relaxed Patrick Wolf walking down the road tucking into chicken and chips. A midnight street conversation sees us at Audio, where I lose my friends to the packed throng on the dance floor. By now it’s nearing 1am and alone I catch the end of the set from one of the last acts performing, The Shiny Brights from Adelaide in the small downstairs bar of Jam. Singer Wolfgang brings some genuine frontman pizzazz to proceedings, and while not quite my thing, there’s a joyous energy here that is somewhat infectious.
The next morning I’m recovering in the Hove sunshine, watching hundreds of people dressed as superheroes trying to break a world record for the largest number of capes ever assembled in the one place. It’s a surreal end to a great experience. Next year I’ll be back for all three days. I only hope they get more extended licensing, or begin shows earlier so that the bands that have travelled so far to be here may be able to play for longer.
© James McGalliard 2009
Wednesday, 18 June 2008
Dispatches From The Moshpit
London Fields # 53
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 18 June 2008
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
One of the troubles with seeing so many live acts is finding time to write about them. Individual reviews need to have a reason to stand on their own, and sometimes you may only have scribbled a few rough thoughts about the evening before life intervenes. This month I thought I’d share an assemblage of rough thoughts on some of my recent live experiences, which never quite became full reviews.
Rest Now, Weary Head, You Will Get Well Soon is easily one of my favourite albums of the year, but I wasn’t sure how well a meticulously assembled one-man studio project would work live. But only a few seconds into a recent show at Bush Hall, any fears were allayed as a seven-piece Get Well Soon launched into Prelude, its a cappella opening bursting into a full band roar. This was quiet/loud as an art form, and rarely have I seen it performed with such grace and skill. This was swiftly followed by the mariachi horns of You/Aurora/You/Seaside, and the dark brood of If This Hat Is Missing I Have Gone Hunting. I was left in awe at the sheer skill and mastery of it all, and time and time again deep shivers of joy ran down my spine. In this band I hear what everyone else sees in Radiohead. The live act jumps from brash cymbal crashes, to soulful violin or piano accordion, through keyboards, to massed singing. It also has one of the best drummers I’ve seen in a long time, perfectly able to keep up with the extremely eclectic nature of Konstantin Gropper’s compositions. “Are you ready for some nu rave?” was the jokey introduction to his inspired redux of Underworld anthem Born Slippy, but most heartbreaking of all was Automatic Heart, where everything was stripped down to a whisper, until the full band retook the stage for the song’s finale. Seriously brilliant!
Elegies To Lessons Learnt was one of the great disappointments of last year for me; it felt too singularly paced, and it seemed as though iLiKETRAiNS had failed to meet the potential they’d shown with their earlier material. But live it all makes glorious sense – these songs are reflections and tributes to those who have passed before. Ashley Dean’s projections create a travelogue through the losers and losses of history - sort of a weird skew-whiff history presentation. While it could so easily be pretentious, it isn’t at all. It’s a good spirited affair with plenty of banter between band and audience. New song Progress Is A Snake (“A snake can shed it's skin but never change”) turns out to be one of the highlights of the set, and from there the second half is riveting. They can rock like a mother too – so hard that during set closer, Spencer Perceval, frontman David Martin accidentally smashes his guitar. He laments “It’s all very well being rock and roll, but we haven’t any money!” The encore sees a beautiful change of pace, by following the preceding deluge with the sublime instrumental Joshua and slightly upbeat Before The Curtains Close Part 2. Their heyday is yet to come.
The Veils also work on a deeper emotional level. After a major shake-up, they really found their stride on Nux Vomica. They’re in the middle of a residency (above a small pub in Camden) roadtesting material prior to recording the third album, which they hope will be out by January. The new songs sit nicely along old standards like Jesus For The Jugular, which gets an airing tonight. I want to be moved by music; I want to be excited - and nights like this do it. It’s great seeing an established band play with this drive, coming to grips with arrangements which are still fresh to them – seven of the ten songs played are new. The highlights are Someday All This Will Be Yours, and the gentler (and band favourite) Sit By The Fire. There’s a different dynamic without the keyboards, but the barer sound seems to bring out different aspects of the songs, and the band feel harder and more intense than ever.
Another album I’m looking forward to is Simple, which is due out next month from Andy Yorke. His London show saw him struggling with a throat infection, but there’s something I can’t quite put my finger on that makes his music deeply affect me. Is it the way that the melody of the songs glides, or the way the cello occasionally cuts through, or cedes to a Spanish guitar? I’m not sure, but my love of him also led me to discover Frank Turner who he was supporting that night. And Turner is another great find of 2008 for me. I mean how can you not love someone who preludes his set with an acoustic verse from AC/DC’s Rock 'n' Roll Singer, or who introduces himself “I am the Jason Donovan of punk”? Frank Turner’s album launch at the 100 Club was a euphoric singalong from the get-go, of punters finding something that spoke to them, lyrics that touched on a common cultural experience “Yeah, England’s still shit and it’s still raining”. It’s a rare knack to have the great and the cool dosey-dohing, chanting, hugging, and losing their voices by the end of the night, and Turner proves himself a master.
© James McGalliard 2008
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 18 June 2008
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
One of the troubles with seeing so many live acts is finding time to write about them. Individual reviews need to have a reason to stand on their own, and sometimes you may only have scribbled a few rough thoughts about the evening before life intervenes. This month I thought I’d share an assemblage of rough thoughts on some of my recent live experiences, which never quite became full reviews.
Rest Now, Weary Head, You Will Get Well Soon is easily one of my favourite albums of the year, but I wasn’t sure how well a meticulously assembled one-man studio project would work live. But only a few seconds into a recent show at Bush Hall, any fears were allayed as a seven-piece Get Well Soon launched into Prelude, its a cappella opening bursting into a full band roar. This was quiet/loud as an art form, and rarely have I seen it performed with such grace and skill. This was swiftly followed by the mariachi horns of You/Aurora/You/Seaside, and the dark brood of If This Hat Is Missing I Have Gone Hunting. I was left in awe at the sheer skill and mastery of it all, and time and time again deep shivers of joy ran down my spine. In this band I hear what everyone else sees in Radiohead. The live act jumps from brash cymbal crashes, to soulful violin or piano accordion, through keyboards, to massed singing. It also has one of the best drummers I’ve seen in a long time, perfectly able to keep up with the extremely eclectic nature of Konstantin Gropper’s compositions. “Are you ready for some nu rave?” was the jokey introduction to his inspired redux of Underworld anthem Born Slippy, but most heartbreaking of all was Automatic Heart, where everything was stripped down to a whisper, until the full band retook the stage for the song’s finale. Seriously brilliant!
Elegies To Lessons Learnt was one of the great disappointments of last year for me; it felt too singularly paced, and it seemed as though iLiKETRAiNS had failed to meet the potential they’d shown with their earlier material. But live it all makes glorious sense – these songs are reflections and tributes to those who have passed before. Ashley Dean’s projections create a travelogue through the losers and losses of history - sort of a weird skew-whiff history presentation. While it could so easily be pretentious, it isn’t at all. It’s a good spirited affair with plenty of banter between band and audience. New song Progress Is A Snake (“A snake can shed it's skin but never change”) turns out to be one of the highlights of the set, and from there the second half is riveting. They can rock like a mother too – so hard that during set closer, Spencer Perceval, frontman David Martin accidentally smashes his guitar. He laments “It’s all very well being rock and roll, but we haven’t any money!” The encore sees a beautiful change of pace, by following the preceding deluge with the sublime instrumental Joshua and slightly upbeat Before The Curtains Close Part 2. Their heyday is yet to come.
The Veils also work on a deeper emotional level. After a major shake-up, they really found their stride on Nux Vomica. They’re in the middle of a residency (above a small pub in Camden) roadtesting material prior to recording the third album, which they hope will be out by January. The new songs sit nicely along old standards like Jesus For The Jugular, which gets an airing tonight. I want to be moved by music; I want to be excited - and nights like this do it. It’s great seeing an established band play with this drive, coming to grips with arrangements which are still fresh to them – seven of the ten songs played are new. The highlights are Someday All This Will Be Yours, and the gentler (and band favourite) Sit By The Fire. There’s a different dynamic without the keyboards, but the barer sound seems to bring out different aspects of the songs, and the band feel harder and more intense than ever.
Another album I’m looking forward to is Simple, which is due out next month from Andy Yorke. His London show saw him struggling with a throat infection, but there’s something I can’t quite put my finger on that makes his music deeply affect me. Is it the way that the melody of the songs glides, or the way the cello occasionally cuts through, or cedes to a Spanish guitar? I’m not sure, but my love of him also led me to discover Frank Turner who he was supporting that night. And Turner is another great find of 2008 for me. I mean how can you not love someone who preludes his set with an acoustic verse from AC/DC’s Rock 'n' Roll Singer, or who introduces himself “I am the Jason Donovan of punk”? Frank Turner’s album launch at the 100 Club was a euphoric singalong from the get-go, of punters finding something that spoke to them, lyrics that touched on a common cultural experience “Yeah, England’s still shit and it’s still raining”. It’s a rare knack to have the great and the cool dosey-dohing, chanting, hugging, and losing their voices by the end of the night, and Turner proves himself a master.
© James McGalliard 2008
Wednesday, 26 December 2007
Three Seasons In One Year
London Fields # 47
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 26 December 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
If you look at the news cycle, it was as though nothing of note happened in the world in 2007. Blair may have abdicated and passed the throne seamlessly to Gordon Brown (the invisible PM), but things seem mainly unchanged. Yep, there may well have been wars and disasters, but most of our attention was seemingly drawn to Celebdaq-style events.
Amy Winehouse may have ended the year Back To Black as the best selling album of 2007, but sometimes it was hard to remember that she was a musician (except when it came to odds on whether she’d show up at her own gigs). Pete Doherty, who must have been well aware of the pattern, then became part of the Winehouse saga when he paid her a visit. Earlier in the year the vexed question of whether the various z-listers had been racist came from the misleadingly named Celebrity Big Brother. And the year ended with outrage that Fairytale Of New York had to be censored for play on BBC Radio 1, but they soon backed down from their immovable stance. Were these all distractions from the real news?
Over on TV, Spooks has spent the last nine weeks preparing us for the breaking of ties with America, and Iran gaining nuclear capability. Is this TV drama preparing a complaint public for possible futures, a production trying to be gritty and edgy, or just another distraction? The TV networks have been a news story in themselves this year, with rigged results from premium rate phone lines. While this has spared us the late night horrors of Quiz Call and The Vault, over at Aunty it’s caused the BBC to suspend all competitions. Their studios must be overflowing with promotional tat, as they’re not allowed to give any of it away.
While some got hooked on Heroes, it faded into insignificance next to Battlestar Galactica, which, after stumbling slightly in the second season, came back with some of the tightest drama on screen this year. Summer Saturday evenings meant Doctor Who, which returned with a very strong season, marred only by a messy(anic) final episode. But the great British public were obsessed with reality shite like I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here, talent contests like The X-Factor, or worst of all, series to cast West End musicals (Grease and Joseph And His Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat). Yeach! Only The Apprentice seemed to rise above the mire, but even it had been dumbed down in its move from BBC Two to BBC One; its repetitive formula saved by the candidates and Sir Alan Sugar himself. Charlie Brooker continued to relentlessly dissect the medium in his weekly Screen Burn column for The Guardian, and on his own show Screenwipe on BBC Four. However the best thing on TV this year was Skins – proof that drama can be innovative, involving and original, even if its target is ‘only’ adolescents.
Summer was a lukewarm washout; Glastonbury was a mud bath, July’s Truck Festival was washed into September, and other festivals were postponed or cancelled, while some went bankrupt. In the high street, record shops went belly up, or were bought out, sending us back online to buy specialist items. There were some great songs this year, but few great albums. Many of the previous hopes released lacklustre second efforts; only Bloc Party produced an inventive and mature follow-up to their debut album. Similarly Devastations may have alienated some with Yes, U, but it was the most rounded original and consistent work of their career. But The Twilight Sad was easily the highlight of 2007; their debut album displayed a new original voice and their deafening live shows were each special, different and unique.
The introduction of a total smoking ban was the biggest change for gig goers, and caused problems in venues with a strict No Passouts policy, particularly where this was more a matter of protecting their high bar prices rather than anything else. A continuing pattern was the firework career arc - acts get too big too quickly, and may sell out large shows but can’t satisfy the crowds they draw. This hype also plays into the hands of the scalpers - and prices go up, and gigs are full of idiots who have no interest in the music. These large gigs then become a chore, so I’m almost glad that some acts never broke big so I can still see them in smaller venues. While iLiKETRAiNS’s debut suffered from being too much at the one pace, their live show is still great; Fields are another band that sadly didn’t cross into the big venues, but put on a great live show. Sadly no-one but me picked up Apartment’s The Dreamer Evasive and it seems that they’ve now gone into indefinite hiatus. But some of the best bands of 2007 were an older generation, raging against the dying of the light - James, Grinderman, The Blue Aeroplanes and Gallon Drunk.
2007 was the year summer never came; the year Tony Wilson died; a year that we focused on the wrong things; and a period when BBC 6Music lost many of the presenters that made the station special; a time that dumbing down seemed to be the order of the day. It was a year with few highs or lows. Yet some of the new acts I’ve seen recently at least give me more hope for 2008.
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 26 December 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
If you look at the news cycle, it was as though nothing of note happened in the world in 2007. Blair may have abdicated and passed the throne seamlessly to Gordon Brown (the invisible PM), but things seem mainly unchanged. Yep, there may well have been wars and disasters, but most of our attention was seemingly drawn to Celebdaq-style events.
Amy Winehouse may have ended the year Back To Black as the best selling album of 2007, but sometimes it was hard to remember that she was a musician (except when it came to odds on whether she’d show up at her own gigs). Pete Doherty, who must have been well aware of the pattern, then became part of the Winehouse saga when he paid her a visit. Earlier in the year the vexed question of whether the various z-listers had been racist came from the misleadingly named Celebrity Big Brother. And the year ended with outrage that Fairytale Of New York had to be censored for play on BBC Radio 1, but they soon backed down from their immovable stance. Were these all distractions from the real news?
Over on TV, Spooks has spent the last nine weeks preparing us for the breaking of ties with America, and Iran gaining nuclear capability. Is this TV drama preparing a complaint public for possible futures, a production trying to be gritty and edgy, or just another distraction? The TV networks have been a news story in themselves this year, with rigged results from premium rate phone lines. While this has spared us the late night horrors of Quiz Call and The Vault, over at Aunty it’s caused the BBC to suspend all competitions. Their studios must be overflowing with promotional tat, as they’re not allowed to give any of it away.
While some got hooked on Heroes, it faded into insignificance next to Battlestar Galactica, which, after stumbling slightly in the second season, came back with some of the tightest drama on screen this year. Summer Saturday evenings meant Doctor Who, which returned with a very strong season, marred only by a messy(anic) final episode. But the great British public were obsessed with reality shite like I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here, talent contests like The X-Factor, or worst of all, series to cast West End musicals (Grease and Joseph And His Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat). Yeach! Only The Apprentice seemed to rise above the mire, but even it had been dumbed down in its move from BBC Two to BBC One; its repetitive formula saved by the candidates and Sir Alan Sugar himself. Charlie Brooker continued to relentlessly dissect the medium in his weekly Screen Burn column for The Guardian, and on his own show Screenwipe on BBC Four. However the best thing on TV this year was Skins – proof that drama can be innovative, involving and original, even if its target is ‘only’ adolescents.
Summer was a lukewarm washout; Glastonbury was a mud bath, July’s Truck Festival was washed into September, and other festivals were postponed or cancelled, while some went bankrupt. In the high street, record shops went belly up, or were bought out, sending us back online to buy specialist items. There were some great songs this year, but few great albums. Many of the previous hopes released lacklustre second efforts; only Bloc Party produced an inventive and mature follow-up to their debut album. Similarly Devastations may have alienated some with Yes, U, but it was the most rounded original and consistent work of their career. But The Twilight Sad was easily the highlight of 2007; their debut album displayed a new original voice and their deafening live shows were each special, different and unique.
The introduction of a total smoking ban was the biggest change for gig goers, and caused problems in venues with a strict No Passouts policy, particularly where this was more a matter of protecting their high bar prices rather than anything else. A continuing pattern was the firework career arc - acts get too big too quickly, and may sell out large shows but can’t satisfy the crowds they draw. This hype also plays into the hands of the scalpers - and prices go up, and gigs are full of idiots who have no interest in the music. These large gigs then become a chore, so I’m almost glad that some acts never broke big so I can still see them in smaller venues. While iLiKETRAiNS’s debut suffered from being too much at the one pace, their live show is still great; Fields are another band that sadly didn’t cross into the big venues, but put on a great live show. Sadly no-one but me picked up Apartment’s The Dreamer Evasive and it seems that they’ve now gone into indefinite hiatus. But some of the best bands of 2007 were an older generation, raging against the dying of the light - James, Grinderman, The Blue Aeroplanes and Gallon Drunk.
2007 was the year summer never came; the year Tony Wilson died; a year that we focused on the wrong things; and a period when BBC 6Music lost many of the presenters that made the station special; a time that dumbing down seemed to be the order of the day. It was a year with few highs or lows. Yet some of the new acts I’ve seen recently at least give me more hope for 2008.
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 18 April 2007
Movin' On Up
London Fields # 38
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 18 April 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
The papers here are full of stories about London’s housing crisis. Having just been through the wringer of finding a new abode, I have first-hand experience of some of the difficulties, and how much you pay for so little. Another survey showed that Londoners had the smallest number of close friends of anyone in the UK , with an average of 5.3 each. Luckily, I managed to get through the past month with the support of some of mine. So why live here at all? Well, on nights when I really should have been packing, I snuck out and caught a few more nights of live music.
A few years back, I lent one of those friends my copy of The Lost Riots, the debut album from Hope Of The States. He loved the opening instrumental, The Black Amnesias, but lost interest when frontman Sam Herlihy began singing. He may well like Troubles then, as it’s the core of HotS, but without drums or vocals. The live performance is a forty-minute tone poem, as songs melt and merge into one another, tumbling more like movements of a greater vision, rather than individual pieces in their own right. There are eight on stage; Sam alternates between piano and guitar, whilst other members play guitars, strings and brass. The trouble with Troubles is that it’s all too much – they’re yet to find the openness or space in the sounds they’re creating. There’s too much kitchen sinking; it would be more effective if all of them didn’t play all the time. Still, this is definitely an evolving work in progress, and one to come back to.
They were supporting the very wonderful iLiKETRAiNS, who are also in the process of change. Gone are the trademark British Rail uniforms, replaced by white shirts, black ties at half mast, and mourning bands. They are halfway through recording their debut LP for Beggars Banquet, but there is no looking back – the album will be all new material. They play a few of these new compositions tonight, including current single Spencer Percival, a nine-minute epic about the only British Prime Minister to have been assassinated in office. The band are a little sedate tonight, but the distance allows me to appreciate new aspects of them; the power of the drumming and how the band manage to keep reined back live, when the temptation must be to race and up the tempo.
On the other hand Arcade Fire managed to be distinctly underwhelming - how did my favourite live act of 2005 fall from their pedestal? Put simply, they now seem more like an incorporated company than a collective of like-minded individuals. The excitement of the random motion, like tea leaves swirling in hot water, has been replaced by something that feels far more choreographed. There’s less fun on stage, and the joy they used to communicate to their audience was lost in the cavernous spaces of the Brixton Academy . Still you couldn’t complain about the setlist, and how Power Out segues beautifully into Rebellion (Lies) to finish on Intervention. Yet tonight it all feels as false and hollow as the organ pipes on stage not actually connected to an organ, but merely for show.
But the live highlight of past month has probably been seeing the reformed James, playing their second ‘secret rehearsal’ gig in the tiny confines of Holloway’s Nambucca, mere weeks before their sold-out arena tour. Along with The Blue Aeroplanes, James were the best British band of the ‘90’s who never toured Australia . But now they’re back after a six-year hiatus, and it’s the classic six-piece who recorded the career-best Laid album. Tim Booth was carrying a shoulder injury, but he still swayed along, even if the electrocuted Ian Curtis dancing was put on hold for the evening. It was great to see them avoiding the ‘big’ numbers for this gig, playing songs so new that the ink on the handheld lyrics was barely dry, then delving deep into then back catalogue for songs like Chain Mail. I’d forgotten what a difference Larry Gott’s searing guitar made to their sound, but it’s the reaction between musicians who know and trust each other that makes this night so special, giving space and life to something like Heavens, which I’d only remembered from a somewhat homogenous form on Seven. I can’t wait to see them at Brixton now! Like the Gang of Four, James are another post-punk original returning to show pretenders how it’s really done!
On television, we sadly bid farewell to John Simm as Sam Tyler in the BBC’s Wizard Of Oz, time-travelling ‘70’s cop show Life On Mars. Yet it won’t be long before he’s back as the enigmatic Season Three meme Mr Saxon in Doctor Who. It may well get interesting if it’s more than coincidence that his Life On Mars character was an anagram of Masterly.
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 18 April 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
The papers here are full of stories about London’s housing crisis. Having just been through the wringer of finding a new abode, I have first-hand experience of some of the difficulties, and how much you pay for so little. Another survey showed that Londoners had the smallest number of close friends of anyone in the UK , with an average of 5.3 each. Luckily, I managed to get through the past month with the support of some of mine. So why live here at all? Well, on nights when I really should have been packing, I snuck out and caught a few more nights of live music.
A few years back, I lent one of those friends my copy of The Lost Riots, the debut album from Hope Of The States. He loved the opening instrumental, The Black Amnesias, but lost interest when frontman Sam Herlihy began singing. He may well like Troubles then, as it’s the core of HotS, but without drums or vocals. The live performance is a forty-minute tone poem, as songs melt and merge into one another, tumbling more like movements of a greater vision, rather than individual pieces in their own right. There are eight on stage; Sam alternates between piano and guitar, whilst other members play guitars, strings and brass. The trouble with Troubles is that it’s all too much – they’re yet to find the openness or space in the sounds they’re creating. There’s too much kitchen sinking; it would be more effective if all of them didn’t play all the time. Still, this is definitely an evolving work in progress, and one to come back to.
They were supporting the very wonderful iLiKETRAiNS, who are also in the process of change. Gone are the trademark British Rail uniforms, replaced by white shirts, black ties at half mast, and mourning bands. They are halfway through recording their debut LP for Beggars Banquet, but there is no looking back – the album will be all new material. They play a few of these new compositions tonight, including current single Spencer Percival, a nine-minute epic about the only British Prime Minister to have been assassinated in office. The band are a little sedate tonight, but the distance allows me to appreciate new aspects of them; the power of the drumming and how the band manage to keep reined back live, when the temptation must be to race and up the tempo.
On the other hand Arcade Fire managed to be distinctly underwhelming - how did my favourite live act of 2005 fall from their pedestal? Put simply, they now seem more like an incorporated company than a collective of like-minded individuals. The excitement of the random motion, like tea leaves swirling in hot water, has been replaced by something that feels far more choreographed. There’s less fun on stage, and the joy they used to communicate to their audience was lost in the cavernous spaces of the Brixton Academy . Still you couldn’t complain about the setlist, and how Power Out segues beautifully into Rebellion (Lies) to finish on Intervention. Yet tonight it all feels as false and hollow as the organ pipes on stage not actually connected to an organ, but merely for show.
But the live highlight of past month has probably been seeing the reformed James, playing their second ‘secret rehearsal’ gig in the tiny confines of Holloway’s Nambucca, mere weeks before their sold-out arena tour. Along with The Blue Aeroplanes, James were the best British band of the ‘90’s who never toured Australia . But now they’re back after a six-year hiatus, and it’s the classic six-piece who recorded the career-best Laid album. Tim Booth was carrying a shoulder injury, but he still swayed along, even if the electrocuted Ian Curtis dancing was put on hold for the evening. It was great to see them avoiding the ‘big’ numbers for this gig, playing songs so new that the ink on the handheld lyrics was barely dry, then delving deep into then back catalogue for songs like Chain Mail. I’d forgotten what a difference Larry Gott’s searing guitar made to their sound, but it’s the reaction between musicians who know and trust each other that makes this night so special, giving space and life to something like Heavens, which I’d only remembered from a somewhat homogenous form on Seven. I can’t wait to see them at Brixton now! Like the Gang of Four, James are another post-punk original returning to show pretenders how it’s really done!
On television, we sadly bid farewell to John Simm as Sam Tyler in the BBC’s Wizard Of Oz, time-travelling ‘70’s cop show Life On Mars. Yet it won’t be long before he’s back as the enigmatic Season Three meme Mr Saxon in Doctor Who. It may well get interesting if it’s more than coincidence that his Life On Mars character was an anagram of Masterly.
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 27 December 2006
Remembering 2006
London Fields # 34
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 27 December 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
It’s slightly strange for me to say that 2006 was a good time to be in the UK as I spent nearly two months of it over in Australia. Although the vibrant live scene is a valid reason for missing the place, it’s becoming harder to justify remaining in London. The problem isn’t the weather, nor the high cost of living, but the undercurrent of fear which permeates the entire society. Australia is lucky to be without this feeling of dread and the sense of bubbling aggression; tempers are often short and you need to put on a hard emotional shell just to go to the shops.
Sometimes it is worth the effort to get out though. After a ten-year gap, Paul Buchanan toured twice, playing the songs of The Blue Nile. The opening show at the Bridgewater Hall in Manchester was simply wonderful; silence followed each track as the audience were afraid to break the spell; this was followed by mad and extensive applause and cheering! Mogwai also floored me, but the highlight of the year was watching over twenty members of Swedish mega-group I’m From Barcelona cram onto a small stage in Hoxton, and then invite members of the audience as temporary performers, breaking down the role between artist and audience, and providing one of the most joyous and exciting musical experiences in years.
New discoveries included iLiKETRAiNS (a brilliantly original act, creating magic in an age of science), Model Morning (determinedly stunning), and the truly extraordinary Evi Vine - an enormous talent with a breathtaking voice and presence, working with a group of musicians who bring her dark swirling worlds vibrantly to bitter and beautiful life.
But some older names played too, with varying success. Ian McCulloch loving the sound of his croon, and giving us reason to do so as well, made the current incarnation of Echo and the Bunnymen a vital force, despite a mediocre drummer. Heaven 17 returned to live performance, and Glenn Gregory’s voice is better than ever. John Foxx has finally successfully fused then and now, with the assistance of long-time collaborator Louis Gordon. But the eighties revival was also responsible for the most indulgent twaddle of the year, a solo performance by Thomas Dolby, his first gig in the UK since the early ‘90’s. There was barely room on stage for his ego, and he talked and talked, which meant even some of his great early material was marred by his persona. For the encore, he brought his kids on stage, and then played a track with his teenage daughter, who was dressed as Dolby was in his heyday. Yeech!
Other disappointments? Hope Of The States split after releasing a lacklustre second LP. Editors’ relentless tour of The Back Room found them playing enormous venues, but saw a previously great live act become one without edge or direction. Watching The Drones only London show, I thought of The Emperor’s New Clothes. They failed to sell out, despite the small venue, and I can’t see them finding more than a niche market here - Britain just won’t gel with what they do at all.
It wasn’t a great year for albums either. The Long Blondes should have waltzed away with LP of the year, but their rough edges were sanded down in the production process, leaving Someone To Drive You Home sounding a little lifeless. Better was The Veils work with Nick Launay on Nux Vomica - they produced a notable second debut (well, it is an entirely new band) and the live shows matched the album’s intensity. My Latest Novel showed how powerful and punchy the basic ingredients of twee pop could be made, while Archie Bronson Outfit, consistently one of the best live acts on the circuit, captured an inkling of their power on Derdang Derdang.
Television saw David Tennant take over in Doctor Who, but the second season was less reinvention and more a continuation of the original series, and suffered because of it. “Adult” spin-off Torchwood was no more than mildly diverting, despite some nice ideas and acting; Life On Mars was more successful and blending sci-fi and drama for evening viewing. The second series of Extras was still funny, but all the characterisation that marked the first series was gone. Little Miss Jocelyn was probably the best new original comedy. In radio, DAB (digital audio broadcasting) continued to grow, and BBC 6Music’s output made a DAB radio a near essential purchase.
In 2007, we can look forward to a new Prime Minister, terrorist fears, the introduction of National Identity Cards and lots of mirroring of New Labour from David Cameron. Musically look out for debut albums from Apartment, iLiKETRAiNS and Fields, and second albums from Editors, Bloc Party and The Duke Spirit. As long as nastiness doesn’t erupt, it could be a great year…
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 27 December 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
It’s slightly strange for me to say that 2006 was a good time to be in the UK as I spent nearly two months of it over in Australia. Although the vibrant live scene is a valid reason for missing the place, it’s becoming harder to justify remaining in London. The problem isn’t the weather, nor the high cost of living, but the undercurrent of fear which permeates the entire society. Australia is lucky to be without this feeling of dread and the sense of bubbling aggression; tempers are often short and you need to put on a hard emotional shell just to go to the shops.
Sometimes it is worth the effort to get out though. After a ten-year gap, Paul Buchanan toured twice, playing the songs of The Blue Nile. The opening show at the Bridgewater Hall in Manchester was simply wonderful; silence followed each track as the audience were afraid to break the spell; this was followed by mad and extensive applause and cheering! Mogwai also floored me, but the highlight of the year was watching over twenty members of Swedish mega-group I’m From Barcelona cram onto a small stage in Hoxton, and then invite members of the audience as temporary performers, breaking down the role between artist and audience, and providing one of the most joyous and exciting musical experiences in years.
New discoveries included iLiKETRAiNS (a brilliantly original act, creating magic in an age of science), Model Morning (determinedly stunning), and the truly extraordinary Evi Vine - an enormous talent with a breathtaking voice and presence, working with a group of musicians who bring her dark swirling worlds vibrantly to bitter and beautiful life.
But some older names played too, with varying success. Ian McCulloch loving the sound of his croon, and giving us reason to do so as well, made the current incarnation of Echo and the Bunnymen a vital force, despite a mediocre drummer. Heaven 17 returned to live performance, and Glenn Gregory’s voice is better than ever. John Foxx has finally successfully fused then and now, with the assistance of long-time collaborator Louis Gordon. But the eighties revival was also responsible for the most indulgent twaddle of the year, a solo performance by Thomas Dolby, his first gig in the UK since the early ‘90’s. There was barely room on stage for his ego, and he talked and talked, which meant even some of his great early material was marred by his persona. For the encore, he brought his kids on stage, and then played a track with his teenage daughter, who was dressed as Dolby was in his heyday. Yeech!
Other disappointments? Hope Of The States split after releasing a lacklustre second LP. Editors’ relentless tour of The Back Room found them playing enormous venues, but saw a previously great live act become one without edge or direction. Watching The Drones only London show, I thought of The Emperor’s New Clothes. They failed to sell out, despite the small venue, and I can’t see them finding more than a niche market here - Britain just won’t gel with what they do at all.
It wasn’t a great year for albums either. The Long Blondes should have waltzed away with LP of the year, but their rough edges were sanded down in the production process, leaving Someone To Drive You Home sounding a little lifeless. Better was The Veils work with Nick Launay on Nux Vomica - they produced a notable second debut (well, it is an entirely new band) and the live shows matched the album’s intensity. My Latest Novel showed how powerful and punchy the basic ingredients of twee pop could be made, while Archie Bronson Outfit, consistently one of the best live acts on the circuit, captured an inkling of their power on Derdang Derdang.
Television saw David Tennant take over in Doctor Who, but the second season was less reinvention and more a continuation of the original series, and suffered because of it. “Adult” spin-off Torchwood was no more than mildly diverting, despite some nice ideas and acting; Life On Mars was more successful and blending sci-fi and drama for evening viewing. The second series of Extras was still funny, but all the characterisation that marked the first series was gone. Little Miss Jocelyn was probably the best new original comedy. In radio, DAB (digital audio broadcasting) continued to grow, and BBC 6Music’s output made a DAB radio a near essential purchase.
In 2007, we can look forward to a new Prime Minister, terrorist fears, the introduction of National Identity Cards and lots of mirroring of New Labour from David Cameron. Musically look out for debut albums from Apartment, iLiKETRAiNS and Fields, and second albums from Editors, Bloc Party and The Duke Spirit. As long as nastiness doesn’t erupt, it could be a great year…
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 1 November 2006
Next Wave
London Fields # 32
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 1 November 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
The live scene in London is probably the healthiest it’s been for any time in the last thirty years. But the sheer popularity has led to its own problems - big, rowdy crowds in large anonymous rooms leading to less-than-enjoyable nights. So now a night at the Brixton Jamm is better than one at the Brixton Academy, and the 250 capacity Luminaire in Kilburn certainly deserved winning the Time Out award as best venue over many of its better known competitors.Not that going smaller means missing out though.
There’s a great chemistry between the four members of Bethnal Green based Apartment. Around 18 months ago they were in a similar position to Editors. But Apartment took a slower route, choosing to release a few independent singles and then setting up their own label, Fleet Street Records. The time involved has led to a richer and more integrated live sound, helped by the addition of occasional keyboards by frontman David Caggiari. He has a great voice, and he knows it, but sings without pretension. The evolution is evident on their forthcoming debut album The Dreamer Evasive, which will be released early in 2007, and is even better than their live performances or singles indicated. Their days in small venues are numbered.
With Hope Of The States splitting earlier this year, I wondered who was might fill that gap by creating big emotional music? Look no further than Leeds-based iLiKETRAiNS, who sing of doubt and times lost - things that have slipped away or been forgotten. Recently signed to Beggars Banquet, their songs are explorations of real people and events, such as chess legend Bobby Fischer, or Dr Beeching, whose ideas led to the slow demise of the UK Railways. But the standout is Terra Nova, which relates the thoughts of a doomed Captain Scott as his expedition lies dying in Antarctica in 1912 – it’s probably the finest song of the year. On stage, they dress in British Rail uniforms – these clothes represent another lost era, as this nationalised rail company was smashed up and sold off by Thatcher. Complemented by projected images, they create huge rolls of sound that wash over you, full of feeling and anguish, the trumpet and shoegazey guitar duelling with one another, sending shivers up the spine. How rare it is that the singer in not the focus - the individual becomes unimportant, - it’s all about the sounds created when the five of them collide. It’s just so incredibly powerful – there really is no one else like them.
But the first time I saw them they were was at a Sonic Cathedral night curated by Fields, who also have a huge live sound and the potential to leave you standing in awe. Their music is hard to describe – a bit folky but with a darker undercurrent, the best songs working on the interplay between the acoustic guitars, the powerful drumming, and the big builds to huge the vocal choruses. I didn’t think they’d be able to produce that studio sound live, but they open with Song For The Fields, all doubts vanish and I’m instantly hooked. Officially they’re only released one 7” single and a four-track EP, but there are currently 20 tracks downloadable via their website. Nick from the band said he liked fans to see the evolution of the material, and so was happy to share it. It certainly didn’t do Arctic Monkeys any harm either. They’ve just finished recording their first album with noted rock producer Michael Beinhorn for Atlantic Records. They’re supporting Wolfmother on the NME Tour this month, and will be playing with Bloc Party both in the US and the UK early next year; so it won’t be long before they get the recognition they warrant.
Fields do also remind me a little of the acoustic side of Seafood as well. Remember them? Yes, they’re still around. Since their last trip to Australia, they signed to Cooking Vinyl, released two albums, lost their bass player, and singer David Line has suffered a collapsed lung (twice). With all this adversity, and a lack of airplay for new album Paper Crown King, I travelled down to Brighton to catch the final gig of the current tour, fearing that all this adversity would be too much to bear. Before the show guitarist Kevin Penney assured me that if they were going to quit, they would have done it long ago. While it was by no means the best show I’ve seen them play, they are still a great act, which deserves to be much more popular than they are. Perhaps the difficulty is in the variety of music they produce – how does the hard rock fan handle a song from The Wicker Man? It’s a difficult line for them to walk, and in trying to address the balance, the new LP lacks some of the charm of As The Cry Flows. The good news in the current album may yet get Australian release in 2007, and they’d love to tour there again.
Don’t miss My Latest Novel or Archie Bronson Outfit when they tour either. But all this is just the tip of the iceberg. There’s also Vatican DC, who have one of the most arresting frontmen since Julian Cope, and Spotlight Kid who had my heart leaping with joy, and…
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 1 November 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
The live scene in London is probably the healthiest it’s been for any time in the last thirty years. But the sheer popularity has led to its own problems - big, rowdy crowds in large anonymous rooms leading to less-than-enjoyable nights. So now a night at the Brixton Jamm is better than one at the Brixton Academy, and the 250 capacity Luminaire in Kilburn certainly deserved winning the Time Out award as best venue over many of its better known competitors.Not that going smaller means missing out though.
There’s a great chemistry between the four members of Bethnal Green based Apartment. Around 18 months ago they were in a similar position to Editors. But Apartment took a slower route, choosing to release a few independent singles and then setting up their own label, Fleet Street Records. The time involved has led to a richer and more integrated live sound, helped by the addition of occasional keyboards by frontman David Caggiari. He has a great voice, and he knows it, but sings without pretension. The evolution is evident on their forthcoming debut album The Dreamer Evasive, which will be released early in 2007, and is even better than their live performances or singles indicated. Their days in small venues are numbered.
With Hope Of The States splitting earlier this year, I wondered who was might fill that gap by creating big emotional music? Look no further than Leeds-based iLiKETRAiNS, who sing of doubt and times lost - things that have slipped away or been forgotten. Recently signed to Beggars Banquet, their songs are explorations of real people and events, such as chess legend Bobby Fischer, or Dr Beeching, whose ideas led to the slow demise of the UK Railways. But the standout is Terra Nova, which relates the thoughts of a doomed Captain Scott as his expedition lies dying in Antarctica in 1912 – it’s probably the finest song of the year. On stage, they dress in British Rail uniforms – these clothes represent another lost era, as this nationalised rail company was smashed up and sold off by Thatcher. Complemented by projected images, they create huge rolls of sound that wash over you, full of feeling and anguish, the trumpet and shoegazey guitar duelling with one another, sending shivers up the spine. How rare it is that the singer in not the focus - the individual becomes unimportant, - it’s all about the sounds created when the five of them collide. It’s just so incredibly powerful – there really is no one else like them.
But the first time I saw them they were was at a Sonic Cathedral night curated by Fields, who also have a huge live sound and the potential to leave you standing in awe. Their music is hard to describe – a bit folky but with a darker undercurrent, the best songs working on the interplay between the acoustic guitars, the powerful drumming, and the big builds to huge the vocal choruses. I didn’t think they’d be able to produce that studio sound live, but they open with Song For The Fields, all doubts vanish and I’m instantly hooked. Officially they’re only released one 7” single and a four-track EP, but there are currently 20 tracks downloadable via their website. Nick from the band said he liked fans to see the evolution of the material, and so was happy to share it. It certainly didn’t do Arctic Monkeys any harm either. They’ve just finished recording their first album with noted rock producer Michael Beinhorn for Atlantic Records. They’re supporting Wolfmother on the NME Tour this month, and will be playing with Bloc Party both in the US and the UK early next year; so it won’t be long before they get the recognition they warrant.
Fields do also remind me a little of the acoustic side of Seafood as well. Remember them? Yes, they’re still around. Since their last trip to Australia, they signed to Cooking Vinyl, released two albums, lost their bass player, and singer David Line has suffered a collapsed lung (twice). With all this adversity, and a lack of airplay for new album Paper Crown King, I travelled down to Brighton to catch the final gig of the current tour, fearing that all this adversity would be too much to bear. Before the show guitarist Kevin Penney assured me that if they were going to quit, they would have done it long ago. While it was by no means the best show I’ve seen them play, they are still a great act, which deserves to be much more popular than they are. Perhaps the difficulty is in the variety of music they produce – how does the hard rock fan handle a song from The Wicker Man? It’s a difficult line for them to walk, and in trying to address the balance, the new LP lacks some of the charm of As The Cry Flows. The good news in the current album may yet get Australian release in 2007, and they’d love to tour there again.
Don’t miss My Latest Novel or Archie Bronson Outfit when they tour either. But all this is just the tip of the iceberg. There’s also Vatican DC, who have one of the most arresting frontmen since Julian Cope, and Spotlight Kid who had my heart leaping with joy, and…
© James McGalliard 2007
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