Showing posts with label The Fall. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Fall. Show all posts

Wednesday, 29 June 2011

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. Its 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 Warhols 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 30th 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 wed 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 theres no feeling as though its to prove anything, but theyre 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 BBCs 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 Ive chatted to David Gedge hes 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 youll get to discover this live in your town.

© James McGalliard 2011

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

Wednesday, 19 October 2005

An Oldie But A Goodie

London Fields # 19
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 19 October 2005
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here


As an inveterate gig-goer, I was recently asked, "Is there any band that you wanted to see, but never did?" With reformations, and changes in taste, I was stumped for a moment. Well, there was the Velvet Underground reunion in 1993, but the venue [the soul-destroying black hole of Wembley] put me off the idea, both then and now. Which really only left the impossible dream of Joy Division.

I think I’ve raved enough in the past about the joy of seeing the reformed The Psychedelic Furs back in June. But the worrying trend of 2005 is that the old guard seems so much better live than the young guns.

A few weeks back I caught the original line-up of Gang Of Four playing at the Barbican. Even in such sterile environs, these older men summoned up more bite and bile than virtually any band coming up through the ranks now. Hugo Burnham may have filled out, but he still provides a powerhouse backbeat. From a distance Andy Gill and Dave Allen seem little changed - fairly bristling with energy as they stalk, duck and dive. As a near-Marxist collective, they attempt to undercut the role of frontman, but there’s one member who positively demands your attention. Regardless of which microphone he’s using, Jon King remains the central focus. Whether he’s slowly demolishing a microwave with a baseball bat like a human metronome, or crawling on all fours like a giant spider crab, or even running wildly backwards and forwards across the apron of the stage, arms waving up and down like the last space invader overrunning the base, it’s a magnetic performance. And their sound now is what the old recordings only hinted at – within thirty seconds you know that no one can touch these originals.

You could form a new line-up of a band with sixteen original members, but without one cantankerous grizzly old bastard, it wouldn’t be The Fall. Now in line-up number two thousand, the only thing that unites them is the irascible Mark E Smith. He still looks like a geography teacher and he’s still up to his old tricks. Possibly as an antidote to boredom, he sets about trying to distract the other members of the band. At a recent appearance he turned off a guitar amp, drowned out backing vocals by putting his vocal mike up to the amps, fiddled with drum mikes, and played odd notes on the keyboard. Yet this is all part of the charm, and they still create a great racket - utterly unique, yet completely recognisable.

If anyone else had done what John Cale did for his recent Black Acetate shows, the audience would have walked out. After opening with Venus In Furs, he played a two-hour set imbruing old and new material alike with a Sturm und Drang approach of repeated grinding guitar riffs. This was the Cale of the hockey mask, having fun. Ever since the 5 Tracks EP, every one of his tours has been stylistically different and intriguing. But as he carried it all out with such aplomb, he gets away with it.

This year Simple Minds are the trimmest they’ve been for over twenty years, both musically and physically. They’ve lost all their stadium rock flab, and have heavily trimmed the pomp. Their renewed energy and vigour allows the new material to shine [as does the pre-Live Aid material], and Eddie Duffy’s basswork recreates the steel structures that made us love them in 1981. Charlie still mouths the lyrics, Jim still dances, and they can still send shivers up your spine with the opening of Waterfront

There may be some interesting developments in music here at the moment, but none of them are in London. Sheffield is at the forefront of an explosion of new acts [surf for Thee SPC or Sandman Magazine for more], and a new wave of pop is threatening to erupt [The Chalets, The Pipettes, El Pres!dente]. But instead of these bright hopes, we’re being told about Battle, who are about as shite as a live experience can be. So instead we’ll continue to look back to the originators, and sometimes find that the imitators become completely redundant.

At a concert to commemorate the life of John Peel last week, New Order did a set drawn entirely from the JD days. While four of these tracks have been a staple of their live sets for a few years now, playing a set with no New Order material, and including Shadowplay and Warsaw, was something special. This was the closest I will ever get to seeing Joy Division [barring a time machine], and dammit, didn’t it make me miss Peelie all over again. In honour of the occasion, you could forgive Barney’s excruciating dancing [now with added pirouettes], and technical hitches. The only thing that let them down was the vocals – the one thing they could never really replace.

But if Mark Burnett is looking for a follow-up to RockStar: INXS, I may have an idea for him…


© James McGalliard 2005