Filthy Visuals and Echo Park at Bull and Gate - 2 February 2013

Filthy Visuals 

It’s another Saturday night, so what to do? The logical solution is to schlep down to the Bull and Gate to see some bands that I know nothing about.

The first thing that strikes me is that the place is much busier than is usually the case for these portmanteau gigs where there is nothing much between the bands in terms of their current career trajectory.

One of the first rules of rock is that a band needs to make an immediate impression. Bedford’s own Filthy Visuals certainly do that.

Sporting hair that has been chopped and teased into elaborate asymmetric explosions and adorned with facial make-up that hints at Manga villains (or in the case of the drummer, a panda that has let its mascara run), the boys in the band make sure that they do not go unnoticed.

In contrast to the Sigue Sigue Sputnikery around her, Steph the singer and guitarist is much more conventionally attired in leather jacket, short skirt and stockings – the rock chick paraphernalia that will never go out of fashion. She wears it well.

The band play a happy brand of straight forward hard rock. Steph has a strong voice that ranges between a soaring roar and a kitteny growl. Tracks like ‘Harder’ and ‘Dancin’ Backwards’ stand out.

There is a lot to like about Filthy Visuals and, if at times they are slightly stiff onstage, that is nothing that getting more gigs under their belt won’t fix.  As it is, I would already say that they would make some band a damn fine support act. Now they’ve got to grab the top slot for themselves.

It becomes clear that it is the next act, Echo Park, who have drawn the bulk of the fans to the venue tonight. You can see why.

This gang of young lads from Guildford are an infectious good time right from the off, bouncing around the stage like balls in a bingo machine.

Theirs is an uptempo blend of rock and pop, showcasing the vocals of Laurence Brundson. He can really belt it out, work the audience and lead the band – excellent front man skills.

My only mild criticism of Echo Park would be that whilst I enjoy them when they are in full swing on the stage in front of me, the songs that they are playing don’t make that much of an impression. The band are an instant pleasure, a sugar rush of jolly pop enthusiasm – but it doesn’t last once the music stops.

The Black Yolks are also well supported here tonight, but I can’t quite see what the fuss is about.  This is rather meat and potatoes rock music that may be well performed, but doesn’t connect with me at all.

Vocalist Sophie Harrison has a good set of pipes, but the whole thing is a little too chicken in the basket/ cruise linery for my tastes. Different strokes, I guess.

Not a bad Saturday at all. I really like Filthy Visuals, and Echo Park have enough pep to cheer up any gloomy evening. So I take away fond memories...

...and a rather nasty bite on my hand that makes me feel that the Bull and Gate may be harbouring some unwelcome guests in its upholstery!

Punishment of Luxury and Spiritwo at Mother Bar - 11 January 2013

Punishment of Luxury

I usually write these snippets on the train home after the gig. When I type them up, they’re usually just about long enough to fill an A4 piece of paper.

I could write a novel about tonight.

The first thing is the venue itself. Mother has been refurbished since I was last here, on entering the bar upstairs I am greeted with a ping pong ball whistling past my ear. There is so much space that they’ve got their own table tennis table. Warning kids:- Don’t drink and smash.

The venue where the bands play is situated downstairs. All walls are covered throughout by luxuriant long grey fur. Entering through a narrow stairwell is very…Freudian.

It’s also kind of comforting. At various times this evening I happen across people stood around quietly stroking the walls.

I’m always on the look out for things that are new and exciting. Spiritwo are unlike anything else I’ve ever seen. They start off weird and don’t let up.

Vocalist Yael Claire Shamoon has two microphones. One enables her to sing. The other distorts her voice into the rumbling bass of Satan himself. 

The songs are dramatic and florid. Yael rolls her eyes, curls back her lips to expose her teeth and writhes and contorts. The passion and emotion of the performance is genuinely scary. This is Exorcist:The Gig.

At one point during the proceedings, between the wailing and Eastern European-tinged ululating, the singer starts whipping herself with what looks like a floor length handful of human hair.

I like Spiritwo a great deal and would recommend their records too.

The first band aside, this is very much a veteran’s night and acts don’t come much more veteran than the Bermondsey Joyriders. The blues rock trio are fronted by Gary Lammin and Martin Stacey, who musicologists might be able to place as ex-members of early punk band Chelsea.

They are spectacularly dressed as something between pearly kings and Clockwork Orange droogs. They both sport vast mutton chop whiskers. Despite their age they both look well dangerous.

It’s a shame that their music doesn’t really excite. Despite the urgings of a vocal contingent of supporters, the songs don’t really get to be much more than basic ‘Tab A goes into Slot A’ by-the-numbers pub rock.  All involved have a good time (which is after all, the point of all this), but it doesn’t really grab me.

I have been waiting all my life to see Punishment of Luxury. Their seminal album ‘Laughing Academy’ was my absolute favourite when growing up in the late Seventies, but by the time I was old enough to move to London and see gigs, the band were long gone.

But now, incredibly and some forty years later, they are back. And although tonight’s show is firmly rooted in nostalgia, there is new material too.

From the moment that Brian Bond marches onto the stage in a white lab coat and sings “The Message”, while Neville Luxury stands next to him blasting out a ludicrously complicated guitar solo and the time signatures are all over the place, I know that this is not going to disappoint.

Punilux never fitted comfortably into the new wave music scene or even punk. They were proggy, not remotely serious and unlike anything else around.

Despite never extending beyond five minutes, a typical Punishment of Luxury song usually consists of at least three distinct movements, none of which appear to be musically related to each other. These are stories, vignettes that allow for the maximum amount of theatricality.

Bond is a natural showman. Heavily influenced by early Peter Gabriel, for each song he adopts a different persona. It might be a lecherous businessman (‘British Baboon’), a mad scientist (‘The Message’) or a jellyfish (er…’Jellyfish’). Bond gurns and grins, his eyebrows going up and down like a Thunderbird puppet.

The fans of course just love it. What heartens me is that the group that I have dragged along here tonight and who know nothing of the band, really enjoy it too.

There are a couple of new songs. These fit in very well with the rest of the set.

Things end with a blast through ‘Engine of Excess’, ‘Brainbomb’ and ‘Puppet Life’.

The year is off with one hell of a bang.

Call of the Wyld Review of 2012

Drop Out Venus  (Dan Kendall)

Another year heedlessly hoofed into the long grass of history. So long, 2012, how will we remember you?

In January I encountered FOE twice and swiftly came to realise that Hannah Clark is a performer who can radically alter her sound as the occasion suits and that she is constantly evolving. At the Barfly, FOE were a gonzoid metal wall of sound and all the better for it. By the time I saw her again later in the year, things had changed yet again.

That Barfly gig also featured Fever Fever, who were tight and fierce and fun, but who sadly didn’t survive as a band to see the year out. Good luck to them with future projects.

February was ushered in by a scuffle in the crowd watching Charli XCX at the Lexington and wild scenes as Japanese Queen tribute band Queer tore up the Pipeline.

February also introduced me to Drop Out Venus, and everything changed thereafter.

When I first saw the band at the Roundhouse Studios, they completely side-swiped me. I wasn’t even sure that I liked them, but I knew that they were different from anything that I had seen in years. I was so intrigued that I threw away expensive tickets for another show to instead catch the band for free at the Old Blue Last a few days later. That performance turned out to be so emotionally overwhelming that even the band seemed surprised by it. And I was hooked on the exploits of Iva, Chris and Urs from then on.

I’ve followed Drop Out Venus avidly since that date and never been disappointed – whether they were playing to a handful of disinterested ten pin bowlers in Bloomsbury or terrorising an unsuspecting crowd at Somerset House who thought that they were going to get something smooth and uplifting before Charlotte Gainsbourg came on.

I think Drop Out Venus are just great. I heartily commend them to you both live and on record, with the warning that your mind might get blown as mine was.

I was happy in March to reacquaint myself with the Chapman Family, who positively seethed with anger and frustration at the Bull & Gate. This gig was also my first exposure to the new ‘witchy’ direction of Call of the Wyld faves Cold In Berlin. Maya and co could not put on a poor performance if their lives depended on it, but I must admit that I am not a wholehearted fan of their current material.

I loved Those Darlins’ at the Lexington and experienced an extraordinary show from Public Image Ltd at Heaven. Lydon and co were on top form and played for hours, John dancing and cackling like a maniac shaman.

Having enjoyed that show so much, later in the year I gathered a large group of mates to see PiL at the Forum. This time the band were listless, leaden and bad tempered. It was the biggest disappointment of 2012.

The Camden Crawl was a festival of two halves, with the Saturday very much better than the Sunday. Great performances from Mowbird, Trwbador, Antlered Man and Sauna Youth.

In 2012 I did a couple of stints at the Troxy to see returning rock royalty. Garbage and Patti Smith were both excellent, although I am not a fan of the venue.

A vintage 1234 Shoreditch included my first encounters with La Femme and Public Service Broadcasting, both of whom I saw later headlining shows in their own right. The French rockers absolutely tore the roof off the Barfly and delivered what may well be the most purely deliriously fun gig of 2012; PSB lay waste to my ears at XOYO.

I had fun with Charlotte Church at Water Rats and then saw a steaming set from Savages at Electrowerkz.

The year ended strongly with blinding performances from Polica, The Raveonettes and Dragonette.

A damn fine year and the prospect of doing it all again in 2013.

Stick around…Stay Wyld. 

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.