Laura J Martin and Trwbador at Kings Place - 21 December 2012

Laura J Martin

I’ve not been to Kings Place before. And I’m impressed. This modern two-auditorium venue is akin to the Queen Elizabeth Hall but, as it seems to major on classical, folk and world music, it hasn’t fallen within my ken before.

Things start out fairly unpromisingly with a genial band from Brighton who play a rather plodding and unexciting brand of folky rock. It’s this lack of dynamism that really does for them -  they seem heavy footed.

I’d provide a link so that you could make your own minds up, but their name, which sounds like “Lie-ish” is proving unGoogleable.

Much better are Trwbador, who I last saw coaxing sounds out of a child’s toy piano one lunchtime on the Camden Crawl.

When they are at their best, Angharad Van Rijswijk and Owain Gwilym make music that is so quiet and uncluttered that it barely seems to exist. The pair become almost silent apart from the gentle strum of Owain’s acoustic guitar and Angharad’s high, clear voice.

They have an album out in the New Year, and what we hear from it tonight sounds very promising.

The last two tracks that they play veer into mellow jazz territory and, although these are very well done, it takes Trwbador into the realm of the commonplace rather than the unique music that makes them so

 special.

I’ve heard great things about Laura J Martin and am glad to report that these are entirely accurate.

Laura is an engaging and accomplished performer, who is clearly happy to experiment with new directions and technical equipment.

Many of the songs tonight feature extensive and inventive use of sound loops. Martin will play a snatch on her flute, or whoop like an Indian brave, and then utilise these sounds as an accompaniment to her singing and playing. It works very well.

Particularly interesting is her newest material from the Bónus Skór ep, which comprises the fruits of some recent sessions in Iceland. There is a slower, darker hue to this music, with ominous drones added to the mix.

This contrasts with Laura’s cheery demeanour. I’ve never been much of a flute aficionado, but even I can tell that Martin is a class act. She attacks her instrument with the same showy fervour that a guitarist would employ to pose with his axe. This flute is not just played, it’s SEEN to be played.

Laura is warm, chatty and happy to sign autographs in the foyer afterwards. She’s a sunny presence on a winter evening. Good for her.  

Dragonette, A*M*E and Little Nicki at Cargo - 12 December 2012

Dragonette

It’s a freezing night. Better to be at a nice warm gig than to wander the streets.

Fortunately, I’m in here, locked in the tender embrace of the ‘Popjustice Christmas Piss Up”. Popjustice celebrate the jollier end of the musical spectrum and DJ Bright Light Bright Light is playing a solid selection of chart hits. I bop around a bit to Girls Aloud ‘Biology’.

First on is Little Nicki, a veritable SuperBall of energy who bounces around the stage singing, rapping and performing complex dance manoeuvres with a loose-limbed male dancer.  She is clad in a tight top emblazoned with Batman logos. It’s a good look.

Music is provided by a DJ in a booth behind the cavorting Nicki and he occasionally contributes with a “What Up? “ or “Yeah!” as the situation demands. The tunes are catchy, the beats infectious and Nicki talented and easy on the eye. An excellent start to the evening.

A*M*E* is a comparatively subdued performer, but a gutsy one. She stands alone on the stage and belts out half a dozen upbeat pop numbers, including new single ‘Play the Game Boy’. She goes down well with the crowd (and me) but there is a tiny whiff of anger within her and it’s possible that she rather resents the rush to get her set over so that the main act can begin.

It’s more than five years since I last saw Dragonette. For many years they were based in London but they eventually decamped back to their native Canada.

Currently a three piece, Dragonette are a formidable pop machine fronted by the powerful pipes of Martina Sorbara. The band is delighted to be here and this joy radiates from them like a beam of light throughout the rest of the evening.

It’s straight into the hits, a triple whammy of ‘I Get Around’, ‘Riot’ and ‘Live In This City’. It’s gloriously uplifting hands-in-the-air stuff and the crowd is dancing and jumping so hard that they are practically levitating.

The band have made a huge impact around the world in the last few years by providing Martin Solveig with the vocals and sample for the global chart smash ‘Hello’. When Dragonette play this track and segue it into their own tune ‘Let It Go’ the room practically combusts with happiness.

Keeping things seasonal, the band deliver their Christmas track ‘Happy Xmas (Says Your Text Message)’ before asking for audience collusion as they shoot part of the video for forthcoming single ‘Run Run Run’. This involves Martina singing the song backwards (no mean feat) and performing with her back to us. The crowd play their part well and go suitably bonkers behind her.

It’s been a terrific night. Merry Christmas to one and all and remember…there ain’t no justice like Popjustice!

Gary Numan and Officers at Kentish Town Forum - 7 December 2012

Gary Numan pic by Karren Bailey

From far and wide we come. We’re here to pay homage at the feet of a legend. He’s not cool or fashionable on anything other than his own terms. He’s Gary Numan.

The Forum is full. If there is anyone here who is not wearing black, I’m not aware of them.  This is not an evening for the uninitiated. Which puts me very much in the minority, as this is the first time I’ve seen the synth-pop pioneer.

First, we are treated to a set by Officers. The sound mix is so muddy that it is quite hard to tell exactly what they are doing, but they appear to be a fairly decent industrial rock band.

They are swathed in black (natch) and the singer is keen to show off his tattooed arms, the sleeves sensibly un-inked at the forearm.

Officers make all the right sounds and, amidst the murk, tunes emerge. They’re perfect for this evening, and indeed have collaborated with Numan on their most recent release.

The stage is dominated by a huge wall of speakers and two banks of equipment. A drummer perches between them. A guitarist and bassist strut in front of the speakers. This just leaves a microphone free for…

…Gary Numan.

There’s no getting around the fact that the first impression I have is one of shock.

Numan has always traded on being ‘other’. He began his career pretending to be post-human and he could carry this act off. He still looks and sounds completely unique.

He’s utterly pale, as though he has never seen sunlight, and his pallor is exaggerated by a thick mop of hair, dyed as black as midnight.  His face is still striking, his features looking as though they originally belonged to someone else. There’s a distinct vibe of Leatherface from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

Gary has long since freed himself from the tyranny of standing behind a keyboard. He allows his band to manage the electronics. This leaves him free to wrap himself around a microphone stand. He occasionally grabs a guitar, but never really plays it, using it mainly as a prop instead, waving the instrument at arms length.

The Numan voice is unchanged. It’s still a kind of strangled whine which is wildly unorthodox, but which works with these songs.

The crowd are in raptures. They don’t just sing along with the choruses, they belt out the verses too. This is communion as much as concert.

The set spans Numan’s long career, but principally showcases several tracks from ‘ Splinter’, a long term project that has not been released yet.

There’s a slow, sedate, almost melancholic air to the music. Numan sings of the Outsider, of the soul out of kilter with the mainstream. Weirdly, the last time I encountered an artist that so persistently dealt with themes of alienation and not fitting in with what others think or expect, it was Britney Spears. It’s fair to say that the comparison ends there.

The set culminates in a magnificent version of “Are ‘Friends’ Electric?”.  This version is partly stripped down to a simple piano-led motif before the familiar refrain crashes in with the power and majesty of two planets colliding. It’s an epic song that has almost never been bettered.

Gary Numan is soon to immigrate to Los Angeles (which might help his tan). In the meanwhile, I’m very glad to have caught him in his element on a cold December evening.

  

The Raveonettes and Holy Esque at Village Underground - 3 December 2012

Raveonettes pic by Jeff Spirer at The Owl Mag

“Hawoooorgghhh! Awooorrkkkghhh!”

It’s fair to say that Pat Hynes, the singer with Holy Esque has an emotional and unusual delivery.

This music is vast in size - great sweeping paeans of guitar dinning out over the heads of the crowd.  The instruments thrash, the songs build and build and build to an epic chorus and Hynes, unable to hold himself in check any longer lets loose with a “Hawaaaargh!” or “Woooaargh!”

I am of course being facetious. Hynes’ massively over the top style of belting is exactly what these songs need. There are shades of that old Waterboys’ ‘Big Music’, where feelings are turned up to eleven, but in more measured moments, his voice is closer to that of Clap Hands Say Yeah singer Alec Ounsworth (i.e. still pretty distinctive).

Holy Esque are as confident as can be and have the tunes to back themselves. They easily pass the Wyldman test for support bands, which is ‘Does this band feel as if they are headlining in their own right?’ This lot already sound like huge festival favourites.

This is my first trip to Village Underground and I’m really impressed. It appears to be a converted warehouse that was itself created from a courtyard next to some railway tunnels. The stage is extraordinary, managing to be both intimate to the crowd and yet also vast, as the ceiling vaults cathedral-like way above us. It’s a triumph.

There are few niggles with the venue – the toilets are pitifully inadequate and there is a crush to leave at the end of the evening that brings back unwelcome memories of trying to fight your way out of the old London Astoria.

However, that stage space justifies any minor inconvenience.

In an uncertain world, you can always rely on The Raveonettes.

I’m slightly amazed at how long I’ve been going to see them. It’s been just over ten years and in that time Sune Rose Wagner and Sharin Foo have just got better and better. They’re not long in the tooth, but they have certainly matured in sound and ability to the point that where what was initially better in idea than execution is now pretty much perfect.

Sune and Sharin share vocals, their harmonies producing a pure Phil Spector chorus that is wedded to huge slabs of spiky guitar and crackling bass. The sound is huge in scope, but the tunes themselves are never lost in the din.

The band are here to promote their attest album ‘Observator’, a set of songs that are slightly more scaled back and delicate than in the recent past. However, the new songs are still capable of pinning you to the back wall when the occasion demands.

New tracks ‘Young and Cold’ and ‘Observations’ sit comfortably alongside old favourites like ‘Dead Sound’ or ‘Aly, Walk With Me’. Sune and Sharin change guitars so often that their roadie almost becomes a fourth member of the group, always presenting or carting an instrument away.

It’s a pleasure to watch a band in supreme control of its powers, doing good work.

This band, this venue, these songs…it’s all just spot on.

Public Service Broadcasting at XOYO - 27 November 2012

Public Service Broadcasting pic by Michael Gallacher

This is my first time back at XOYO since their refurbishment. They’ve done some extensive work.

The venue itself has now been subsumed into a larger bar called The Shoreditch Butchery. There are enough skulls and memento mori about the place to make Marilyn Manson feel right at home.

Heading downstairs, we are just in time to see Professor Penguin beginning their set.

There are seven musicians rather bunched up on the small stage. It’s a veritable pile-up of guitars and keyboards and drums and xylophones and other musical nick nacks.  But however cramped they appear, their music is expansive, ranging from pure voice-led folky singing to shoegazey guitar thrash outs. It all works very well and they appear an affable bunch.

Wild Palms follow and they very quickly divide opinion within my group.

It’s all about singer Lou Hill. His voice is the most piercingly loud vocal since the days of Kirk Brandon and Spear of Destiny. Hill lollops along on the spot, stoop shouldered or else dramatically waves his arms around to declaim his point. One minute he’s Bez from the Happy Mondays and the next he’s Benito Mussolini.

Wild Palms’ sound is absolutely drowned in reverb and distortion. The songs themselves seem pretty good, but the sheer volume and shrillness makes for a physically painful experience.  Definitely an acquired taste.

I had previously caught Public Service Broadcasting in a tent at 1234 Shoreditch. Judging by the numbers here to see them tonight, their star is in the ascendancy.

PSB have a great deal of equipment, ranging from the usual keyboards and drum kit to various walls of television sets and a giant mocked up TV screen that acts as a backdrop. As inevitably happens in such circumstances, there is a great deal of finnicking about before the set actually starts. It is sadly never as simple as just plugging in and pressing ‘Play’.

Although he is accompanied by a live drummer (Wrigglesworth), Public Service Broadcasting is the vehicle for one man, J Willgoose. He remains mute throughout, what rapport there is with the audience provided by a Speak and Spell machine.

Willgoose expertly marshals the video input, the vocal samples and wigs out on electric guitar and an adapted banjo.

PSB’s schtick is impressively performed but it is ultimately rather self limiting. Samples from old movies and TV programmes are synched with modern dance beats. When everything coalesces, it is a fine old racket and the world is a wonderful place. However, if it doesn’t quite gel, the effect can be rather forced and flat. It’s a very narrow line to navigate.

The band have expanded their repertoire since I last saw them. Tonight’s new material is generally much more dynamic than most of the earlier ‘War Room’ stuff. That said, the best song tonight is a version of ‘Spitfire’ which (after a number of false starts) is a guitar-drenched juggernaut of a tune.

By now the venue is so heaving with people that I’m no longer sure that I’m the only person within this pair of trousers. XOYO is sold out tonight, highlighting an unwelcome quirk in the new design of the place. The stage can only be seen from roughly half the room, with the result that a whole venue’s worth of people are trying to occupy about half the available space. It’s pretty uncomfortable.

On leaving, the upstairs bar is discovered to be full of dry ice, but almost utterly devoid of people. Spooky.

An interesting rather than wholly successful evening. Professor Penguin were pleasant company, Wild Palms were entertaining if deafening and Public Service Broadcasting were brilliant on the rather too few occasions when they really took off.

Not too shabby all in all.

Polica and NZCA/Lines at Heaven - 20 November 2012

Polica pic by Grace Dickinson

I ordered the tickets back in June, so it’s fair to say that I have been looking forward to tonight for a long time.

First the bad news. Support act Phantogram have had to pull out because Josh Carter has broken his hand.

The good news. Everything else.

For starters, we have a very enjoyable and capable stand-in support act in NZCA/Lines.

As is the case with an increasing number of electronic bands, they take inspiration from that lush neon-soaked synth music from the Eighties that was synonymous with American pop videos in which a beautiful woman would stand in a window while the curtains blew around her. They were considered rather naff at the time, but are now enjoyed unironically. Chromatics have a lot to answer for.

Main man Michael Lovett sports a haircut that was produced with the help of his mum’s best pudding bowl and fiddles with a small keyboard. He sings in a high register, accompanied by a drummer and a bassist who adds a healthy dose of funk to proceedings.

I like NZCA/Lines a lot. They have actual songs and don’t just rely on the nostalgic swoosh of their music.The fact that Lovett’s speaking voice is about four octaves lower than the one he uses to sing is also a source of wonder.

There was a period during the first quarter of the year when Poliça suddenly became the coolest band on the planet. They had a good SXSW and the hipster end of the internet burst into flames. Can the band now justify that love?

They can, and in spades. No band ever went wrong through having two drummers and Poliça are no exception. As with NZCA/Lines, much emphasis is put on a thumping bass guitar.

Poliça’s focal point is vocalist Channy Leanagh. The fact that her vocals are Autotuned is a vital element to the band’s sound, adding a slight metallic, artificial sheen to her keening delivery. She stands, her arms outstretched, embracing us all.

The band’s default setting is a precise and well-honed smooth groove that sits comfortably alongside acts such as Portishead and Massive Attack.

However, the real musical spectre at this feast is UK soul queen Sade, who during the early Eighties bestrode the world of popular music like a cool seductive colossus, and who is increasingly becoming a key and influential touchstone. Of course the fact that Sade is both elegant and so reclusive that she makes Kate Bush look like Cheryl Cole doesn’t hurt the mystique either.

(A further digression – Brooklyn-based outfit The Rosebuds have just re-worked Sade’s ‘Love Deluxe’ album in its entirety and released it for free. It sounds absolutely ace and almost exactly like the original).

A good sign for me is when a band sounds too big and accomplished for the venue that they are playing in. Poliça completely dominate this evening and conquer Heaven in a way that Django Django signally failed to do last week.

I raise some eyebrows among my friends by comparing Poliça with Kraftwerk. I’m not alluding to the sound that they make, but the meticulous manner in which they make it. There is barely a note out of place here, or any component that has not been scrupulously considered.

It is testament to Channy Leanagh that a band that might otherwise seem cold and aloof instead seem warm and inclusive. She has a big smile on her face and this crowd beam back at her.

Poliça genuinely deserve their critical adulation. What they now need to do is to expose themselves to the wider world.

They’ll go down a bomb anywhere there are beautiful women, balconies and lots of wind to blow the curtains about.

Django Django at Heaven - 12 November 2012

Django Django

I’m rather unexpectedly out on a Monday night. It’s a slight shock to the system. The ticket touts outside also seem confused – they are trying to buy spares for someone called ’Dingle Dangle.’

I’m here at Heaven because this gig was postponed a few weeks ago to allow the headliners to make what turned out to be a futile tilt at the Mercury Music Prize.

First up are Gulp. There are three of them onstage, but so much of their sound is pre-programmed that they effectively have a fourth member in the guise of a computer chip.

Singer Lindsey Leven is dressed in a long black robe that makes her look like some benign abbess presiding over the stage. On either side of her a guitarist and bassist step lively. The bassist is Guto Pryce, erstwhile Super Furry Animal.

The Gulp set is a bit in and out. They are at their best when Leven sings songs with actual words. There is a particularly fine track which is promised as a forthcoming single. However, the default setting for the group seems to be to create a wash of sound with the singer wailing wordlessly over it. It’s not unpleasant, but if they are competing with great non-verbal singers such as Elizabeth Fraser or possibly Bjork, the comparison is not going to be flattering.

Quite early in their show, Django Django pause and give praise to their set designer. He’s certainly done a good job.

The band is attired in black uniforms with luminous markings. The set behind them is a mass of neon tubing and venetian blinds. It looks very effective yet also somehow reassuringly simple.

Django Django have come a long way in a comparatively short period of time and the growing pains are rather evident this evening.

Their musical approach is what I could glibly describe as ‘folk-tronic’. Vocals are often sung in harmony, accompanied by stabs of acoustic or electric guitar. Half the stage is filled by piles of electronic equipment, which one member of the band busies himself with.  For all their futuristic appearance and gear, the band do not really have a dance sensibility – their digital side seems rather undercooked.

The songs are all jolly raggle taggle affairs and the crowd is happy. However, there is a sense that everyone is waiting for the Big Hit.

When it arrives, ‘Default’ is then rather thrown away as the group decide to use it as the backdrop for a ‘meet the band’ segment.

Very tellingly, Django Django acknowledge that they don’t currently have much material. I suspect that quite a lot of what we hear tonight will not survive the arrival of a second album.

Django Django are never less than enjoyable, and have at least one killer song. But you do get the impression that fortune has catapulted them into the big time somewhat precipitously and that they have been promoted beyond their current capabilities.

Not bad, but not great. At one point the band yell “It feels like a Friday!”

It bloody doesn’t.