Scroobius Pip has lofty ambitions. ‘I’ve decided I’m going to run for president, not Prime Minister, that sounds so boring…I’m going to become the UK’s first president’ he announces. Armed with props ranging from soapbox platforms, a hefty book from which he reads his ‘sermons’, an armchair to recline upon during instrumental breaks and the contents of a dressing up box, he holds us in a trance from start to finish. It’s almost tempting to believe his feat possible.
Yet we aren’t to forget that he operates as art of a duo, DJ Dan Le Sac fully staking a claim for recognition this evening. Their new album ‘The Logic of Chance’ has so far found a bemused response from critics due to its greater emphasis on the danceable, rather than the eloquent storytelling of their debut. This shift makes all the more sense in a live setting, helping break Pip’s spell and get our feet moving. Recent single ‘Get Better’, with its inherently singable chorus consisting of the repetition of its title, goes down particularly well.
Being the first night of their tour, the night doesn’t run perfectly smoothly. Le Sac has apparently ‘not saved’ the setlist on his laptop, and so for the most part the pair seem to be muddling through. ‘Magician’s Assistant’ with it’s the impact of a suicide is dropped very early on. This may or may not have been to plan, Pip remarking on the sombre tone set and calling for preceding numbers to be somewhat more upbeat. However, any lack of coherence across songs is bridged by the uncommonly compelling banter the two have between themselves and with the crowd.
‘Letter from God to Man’ is perhaps the perfect encore as a showcase of both men’s talents in the one’s remarkable depiction of a humble God’s dismay at the actions of mankind and the other’s inspired Radiohead sampling in the outro, which is twisted out into all sorts of new forms, making for a finale that gets the whole room bouncing.
Sunday, 14 March 2010
Sunday, 28 February 2010
Invasion / Bo Ningen @ Bungalows and Bears 28/02/10
Bo Ningen are an absolute sight to behold as well as a sound to be heard. Four worryingly skinny Japanese guys with dead straight chest length hair who specialise in making some of the most frustratingly hard to pin down music you’ve ever heard. One minute all galloping bombast, the next lurching bass and frail trippy ambience, and then total freakout; wailing guitars, booming bass and shrieked vocals. Bassist / vocalist Taigen leads the spectacle. A man possessed, he thrashes himself about with apparently boundless energy, clambering on top of his amplifier, often holding his hands aloft when they aren’t required otherwise, his fingers twitching seemingly of their own accord.
By the end of the set guitars are held aloft by their headstocks and twirled in huge arcs with joyous abandon, while swirls of feedback and cymbal crashes engulf the venue. An absolute revelation.
Invasion are unfortunate to have such a ridiculously tough act to follow. They are after all one of the most interesting metal prospects the UK has produced recently, unusual for a number of reasons. Firstly, as they have no bassist, secondly as they are comprised of two thirds females, and thirdly because they rely on an effect heavy, fuzzy guitar sound that harkens back to the genre’s roots, rather than the crunchy, down-tuned distortion that is most commonly favoured today.
They show that they are capable of bringing a degree of theatricality to even the smallest of shows. Frontwoman Chan cutting the figure of a dark priestess in her psychedelic robe, hood up, feet bare and tambourine shaking. Drummer Zel, with the aid of a quick squirt of lighter fluid, sets fire to her cymbals halfway through the set and they end, in typical rock and roll fashion, with guitarist Marek nonchalantly tossing his axe into the air, letting it drop to the floor and crack in two. Splendid.
None of this overly distracts from the music however, its lack of low end barely noticeable and hardly lacking, considering Malek’s uncanny knack of creating a stream of positively groovy riffs at breakneck speed without the aid of a four stringer.
For the few that braved the cold, this Sunday night held a treat. The rest of Sheffield just doesn’t know what it missed out on.
By the end of the set guitars are held aloft by their headstocks and twirled in huge arcs with joyous abandon, while swirls of feedback and cymbal crashes engulf the venue. An absolute revelation.
Invasion are unfortunate to have such a ridiculously tough act to follow. They are after all one of the most interesting metal prospects the UK has produced recently, unusual for a number of reasons. Firstly, as they have no bassist, secondly as they are comprised of two thirds females, and thirdly because they rely on an effect heavy, fuzzy guitar sound that harkens back to the genre’s roots, rather than the crunchy, down-tuned distortion that is most commonly favoured today.
They show that they are capable of bringing a degree of theatricality to even the smallest of shows. Frontwoman Chan cutting the figure of a dark priestess in her psychedelic robe, hood up, feet bare and tambourine shaking. Drummer Zel, with the aid of a quick squirt of lighter fluid, sets fire to her cymbals halfway through the set and they end, in typical rock and roll fashion, with guitarist Marek nonchalantly tossing his axe into the air, letting it drop to the floor and crack in two. Splendid.
None of this overly distracts from the music however, its lack of low end barely noticeable and hardly lacking, considering Malek’s uncanny knack of creating a stream of positively groovy riffs at breakneck speed without the aid of a four stringer.
For the few that braved the cold, this Sunday night held a treat. The rest of Sheffield just doesn’t know what it missed out on.
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
The Butterfly Explosion @ Corporation 16/02/10
Cutting an unassuming presence as they first take to the stage shrouded in shadow, The Butterfly Explosion have a great deal to live up to considering the ‘audio-visual show’ promised by tonight’s headliners, God is an Astronaut. However, the Dublin five-piece are perhaps protégés of their hosts, whose Torsten Kinsella recently produced their debut album, and put in a great performance of their own.
Although many are touting them as shoegaze revivalists, and they are indeed at times all wailing guitars, underpinned by lush synth and hushed vocals, their sound incorporates strong post rock influences - slow burning compositions tend to ebb and flow before the crashing tide. While their tentative introductions may seem to lack punch, a little patience definitely pays off by the time they hit huge crescendos, absolute waves of noise that engulf the entire room and hold the assembled punters in the desired trance.
If there can be one complaint to level at the band however, it is that founding member Gazz Carr’s vocals are underwhelming given the epic nature of the rest of their sound. While not taking anything away from the music, being so low in the mix, they don’t exactly add a great deal either and at times it is questionable if they are at all necessary. Perhaps a greater set of lungs would see them soar beyond their already considerable highs.
While the band do not carry themselves with a particularly notable stage presence, they let their music do the talking, along with a fairly impressive light show, hinting at what is to come from the headliners. The night still belongs to them, but even with such a short set at only four songs, The Butterfly Explosion mark themselves as ones to look out for in future.
Although many are touting them as shoegaze revivalists, and they are indeed at times all wailing guitars, underpinned by lush synth and hushed vocals, their sound incorporates strong post rock influences - slow burning compositions tend to ebb and flow before the crashing tide. While their tentative introductions may seem to lack punch, a little patience definitely pays off by the time they hit huge crescendos, absolute waves of noise that engulf the entire room and hold the assembled punters in the desired trance.
If there can be one complaint to level at the band however, it is that founding member Gazz Carr’s vocals are underwhelming given the epic nature of the rest of their sound. While not taking anything away from the music, being so low in the mix, they don’t exactly add a great deal either and at times it is questionable if they are at all necessary. Perhaps a greater set of lungs would see them soar beyond their already considerable highs.
While the band do not carry themselves with a particularly notable stage presence, they let their music do the talking, along with a fairly impressive light show, hinting at what is to come from the headliners. The night still belongs to them, but even with such a short set at only four songs, The Butterfly Explosion mark themselves as ones to look out for in future.
Sunday, 6 December 2009
Gallows @ Foundry 06/12/09
It was a bit of a shock when Gallows signed a £1million contract with Warners back in 2007. An audacious move for both parties, the former sacrificing their credentials in a scene that places such pride in DIY ethics and the latter putting an enormous amount of faith in a band that, despite its devoted following, is never going to truly trouble the mainstream.
Perhaps then, the greatest shock of their Foundry gig was learning that they had been dropped and now they ‘don’t have to pay their money back’ according to Frank Carter, denouncing any allegiance to those who ‘paid for [his] house’. So, this begs the question, have Gallows been all the more punk for taking the major’s money and not compromising to pressures?
The crowd’s unfortunate inertia prevalent throughout the support slots is quashed from the very second Gallows take to the stage, Carter swaggering on in typical fashion, hood up, glaring out over the throng. Within the first riff of opener ‘Leeches’, the tone is set, the floor becomes a maelstrom of bouncing two-steps and flailing limbs. It’s quite clear that this is set to be the most raucous show the union has seen this year, if not ever
The band give a comprehensive lesson in crowd participation, calling for all sorts of heroic manoeuvres, including but not limited to, a wall of death, a human pyramid and getting ‘everyone on someone else’s shoulders’. What is commendable is their alarming ability to act as ringmaster to the circus before them while still keeping their performance watertight and managing to maintain their own adrenaline levels throughout.
Highlights of the set include an appearance by ‘hometown hero’ Eva Spence of Rolo Tomassi for a rendition of Black Heart Queen which (almost) makes up for her band pulling out of their support slot, the unfeasibly large circle pit that opens up for the minute-long thrash of ‘Gold Dust’ and the howl-along of closer ‘Orchestra of Wolves’. By this stage the levels of crowd surfing and stage invasions more than answers the call to make security ‘earn their money’. They may not have proved major label material, but we love them all the more for it.
Perhaps then, the greatest shock of their Foundry gig was learning that they had been dropped and now they ‘don’t have to pay their money back’ according to Frank Carter, denouncing any allegiance to those who ‘paid for [his] house’. So, this begs the question, have Gallows been all the more punk for taking the major’s money and not compromising to pressures?
The crowd’s unfortunate inertia prevalent throughout the support slots is quashed from the very second Gallows take to the stage, Carter swaggering on in typical fashion, hood up, glaring out over the throng. Within the first riff of opener ‘Leeches’, the tone is set, the floor becomes a maelstrom of bouncing two-steps and flailing limbs. It’s quite clear that this is set to be the most raucous show the union has seen this year, if not ever
The band give a comprehensive lesson in crowd participation, calling for all sorts of heroic manoeuvres, including but not limited to, a wall of death, a human pyramid and getting ‘everyone on someone else’s shoulders’. What is commendable is their alarming ability to act as ringmaster to the circus before them while still keeping their performance watertight and managing to maintain their own adrenaline levels throughout.
Highlights of the set include an appearance by ‘hometown hero’ Eva Spence of Rolo Tomassi for a rendition of Black Heart Queen which (almost) makes up for her band pulling out of their support slot, the unfeasibly large circle pit that opens up for the minute-long thrash of ‘Gold Dust’ and the howl-along of closer ‘Orchestra of Wolves’. By this stage the levels of crowd surfing and stage invasions more than answers the call to make security ‘earn their money’. They may not have proved major label material, but we love them all the more for it.
Friday, 30 October 2009
Portugal. The Man @ The Shakespeare 30/10/09
When a band stick a full-stop in the middle of their name you can perhaps expect a little pretence. Which is why Portugal. The Man are such a compelling act, given their understated sound that takes in elements of funk, soul and blues and manages to feel nostalgic, yet fresh and altogether rather likeable. However, it seems that in a live setting, the same part of their collective soul that chose the moniker takes over.
With the microphone facing stage right, front man John Gourley doesn’t make eye contact with the assembled crowd once throughout the entire show, and for the most part keeps his hat on and hood up so that his face is obscured. It’s clear that he’d rather his band’s music did the talking. And the talking they want to do is evidently of the ambling storytelling variety, in a set that is full of improvised jams, extended passages and even takes in short, apparently almost incidental covers.
Ordinarily, this deviation from the sound of a band’s recorded output would be encouraged, but the pomp on display just doesn’t seem to suit the humble confines of the Shakespeare’s upstairs function room, and much of the crowd seem subdued. The problem lies in our expectations. Having heard the band master the three minute pop song on latest album The Satanic Satanist it seems a shame when they choose to play anything but live. Even ‘People Say’ from that album is given a great deal of embellishment which all but doubles its length.
This really isn’t to say that they put in a bad performance by any means, they are incredibly polished, and they certainly impress in their understanding of one another to deliver such creative flourishes. But despite the intimacy of the setting, the show never feels truly intimate due to their lack of connection with the realm beyond the stage.
With the microphone facing stage right, front man John Gourley doesn’t make eye contact with the assembled crowd once throughout the entire show, and for the most part keeps his hat on and hood up so that his face is obscured. It’s clear that he’d rather his band’s music did the talking. And the talking they want to do is evidently of the ambling storytelling variety, in a set that is full of improvised jams, extended passages and even takes in short, apparently almost incidental covers.
Ordinarily, this deviation from the sound of a band’s recorded output would be encouraged, but the pomp on display just doesn’t seem to suit the humble confines of the Shakespeare’s upstairs function room, and much of the crowd seem subdued. The problem lies in our expectations. Having heard the band master the three minute pop song on latest album The Satanic Satanist it seems a shame when they choose to play anything but live. Even ‘People Say’ from that album is given a great deal of embellishment which all but doubles its length.
This really isn’t to say that they put in a bad performance by any means, they are incredibly polished, and they certainly impress in their understanding of one another to deliver such creative flourishes. But despite the intimacy of the setting, the show never feels truly intimate due to their lack of connection with the realm beyond the stage.
Tuesday, 13 October 2009
Mimas / Shapes @ The Red House 13/10/09
A free gig. Awesome. Particularly when the bands playing are of the calibre of Danish ‘death indie’ peddlers Mimas and Birmingham spazzcore trio Shapes. And there are free pastries provided in honour of our Scandinavian visitors. Even better no?
Opening the night however, we are first treated to a set by Halifax four-piece Wot Gorilla? who seamlessly mix the unashamed technical flare of Fall of Troy with the accessible math (honestly, not an oxymoron) of Minus the Bear. Considering that this was apparently their first show, their tight performance is very impressive indeed. Ones to watch.
As Mimas take to the stage overheard is a discussion of exactly what to expect ‘They sound very Danish’ is the verdict of one punter, and its hard to deny the truth of the statement. There is a certain foreign nature to their lush sounds rich in texture, serene brass interludes and bizarre lyrics (is he saying ‘Armpits‘? Wha…?!). Yet despite their otherness, one can certainly appreciate their beauty and passion in a live setting. They fill the now-packed venue with waves of sound that cause all heads in the room to bob, caught in the current. Microphone issues halfway in leave them unphased, opting to share for their harmonies and joyous gang yells and it is a great shame to see them leave the stage, having enthralled and charmed throughout.
In contrast, Shapes offer up an altogether more unapologetically raucous experience, with their twisting and turning guitar parts, unfathomable time signatures and duel yelped vocals that continually sound like a slanging match. The beauty lies in the juxtaposition of this noisy attack, swinging from the angular to the psychedelic and back again, with the two previous bands. Despite the clash of sounds, they somehow complement each other. The crowd has no issues getting their heads round the abrupt shift and there are smiles all round at the banter based around their exposed small frames (a ‘Mr Puniverse contest’) and Mimas’ return to the land of ‘Carlsberg, bacon and Peter Schmeichel’.
Beyond the usual dedications to one another their seems to be a genuine camaraderie between the bands on the bill that lends a truly warm atmosphere to the evening, a sense that this could be one of the best free parties you’ve been invited to in a while.
Opening the night however, we are first treated to a set by Halifax four-piece Wot Gorilla? who seamlessly mix the unashamed technical flare of Fall of Troy with the accessible math (honestly, not an oxymoron) of Minus the Bear. Considering that this was apparently their first show, their tight performance is very impressive indeed. Ones to watch.
As Mimas take to the stage overheard is a discussion of exactly what to expect ‘They sound very Danish’ is the verdict of one punter, and its hard to deny the truth of the statement. There is a certain foreign nature to their lush sounds rich in texture, serene brass interludes and bizarre lyrics (is he saying ‘Armpits‘? Wha…?!). Yet despite their otherness, one can certainly appreciate their beauty and passion in a live setting. They fill the now-packed venue with waves of sound that cause all heads in the room to bob, caught in the current. Microphone issues halfway in leave them unphased, opting to share for their harmonies and joyous gang yells and it is a great shame to see them leave the stage, having enthralled and charmed throughout.
In contrast, Shapes offer up an altogether more unapologetically raucous experience, with their twisting and turning guitar parts, unfathomable time signatures and duel yelped vocals that continually sound like a slanging match. The beauty lies in the juxtaposition of this noisy attack, swinging from the angular to the psychedelic and back again, with the two previous bands. Despite the clash of sounds, they somehow complement each other. The crowd has no issues getting their heads round the abrupt shift and there are smiles all round at the banter based around their exposed small frames (a ‘Mr Puniverse contest’) and Mimas’ return to the land of ‘Carlsberg, bacon and Peter Schmeichel’.
Beyond the usual dedications to one another their seems to be a genuine camaraderie between the bands on the bill that lends a truly warm atmosphere to the evening, a sense that this could be one of the best free parties you’ve been invited to in a while.
Friday, 9 October 2009
Mumford and Sons - Sigh No More
“Oh man is a giddy thing” pronounces Marcus Mumford on the opening title track of this, his hotly tipped band’s first full length, and indeed his wistful remark sets the tone for the entire release. His vocal delivery, often frail, sometimes fierce, ever-emotive, steers their ship through the maelstrom of a young man’s anxieties and hopes in an album that moves from stark ‘urban folk‘ to bluegrass and even blues rock territory in its musical mood swings.
Mumford truly wears his heart on his sleeve through the likes of ‘White Blank Page’, begging questions of himself, “Can you lie next to her and give her your heart, as well as your body? / Can you lie next to her and confess your love, as well as your folly?’”, taking the tone of one made wise beyond his years by the torment of his romantic soul. Their appeal lies in the coupling of this apparent world-weariness, and the accomplished musicianship of elder statesmen, with an energy and confusion that never allows us to forget their youth. The latter element perhaps most evident in the inarticulate angst of the ‘I really fucked things up this time’ refrain of lead single, ‘Little Lion Man’.
It is with relish that their apparent frustration is unleashed on ‘Dustbowl Dance’ where Mumford genuinely sounds angry, and the band hit full bluster behind him, creating a period of noise that is unexpected, and yet a gleeful release from the melancholy that threatens to prevail.
“Love will not betray you, dismay or enslave you, it will set you free” is another line from that opening track, and yet it seems Mumford and Sons are able to create beauty despite having only experienced that which leaves them exhausted and sore. It will be interesting to see how they will enchant us if ever they do find true bliss.
4 out of 5
Mumford truly wears his heart on his sleeve through the likes of ‘White Blank Page’, begging questions of himself, “Can you lie next to her and give her your heart, as well as your body? / Can you lie next to her and confess your love, as well as your folly?’”, taking the tone of one made wise beyond his years by the torment of his romantic soul. Their appeal lies in the coupling of this apparent world-weariness, and the accomplished musicianship of elder statesmen, with an energy and confusion that never allows us to forget their youth. The latter element perhaps most evident in the inarticulate angst of the ‘I really fucked things up this time’ refrain of lead single, ‘Little Lion Man’.
It is with relish that their apparent frustration is unleashed on ‘Dustbowl Dance’ where Mumford genuinely sounds angry, and the band hit full bluster behind him, creating a period of noise that is unexpected, and yet a gleeful release from the melancholy that threatens to prevail.
“Love will not betray you, dismay or enslave you, it will set you free” is another line from that opening track, and yet it seems Mumford and Sons are able to create beauty despite having only experienced that which leaves them exhausted and sore. It will be interesting to see how they will enchant us if ever they do find true bliss.
4 out of 5
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