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.

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.

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.

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

Incoming Cerebral Overdrive - Controverso

My word. That name. You’re probably reading this and judging instantly, even if you force yourself to try otherwise. Straight out of the meathead metal name generator. Let’s face it, it is just plain terrible.

But hey, let’s go beyond this, after all, ICO are Italian, English is not their first language, we can cut them some slack right? Their debut album had Converge’s Kurt Ballou at the production desk, which pulls back more than a little kudos for them. And besides, given their penchant for not letting any one riff last for more than 15 seconds, perhaps it is actually quite fitting, in a super literal kind of way.

Yep, for the most part, this is true ADHDcore, where nothing remains stationary. Vocals ping-pong between a gruff bark and a black metal influenced rasp, tempo and time changes are abound and from the opening staccato of ‘Reflections’, the adjectives of choice to describe the prevalent sounds are ‘mental’ and ‘brutal’. The issue however, is that it’s nothing we haven’t heard before from US and UK counterparts such as The Red Chord and Architects.

The blistering likes of ‘Oxygen’ and ‘Science’ will have seasoned ’core kids throwing themselves around their rooms like they’re trying to swat 10 wasps at once. But, as is the case for their two aforementioned contemporaries on record-when you pack so many ideas into one song, and then continue to do so for nearly every song in the set, it becomes so very hard for each individual track to forge an identity. As a result, it is the slower tracks, ‘Magic’ and ‘There’, the ones that rein in the insanity in favour of lurching dischords, harrowing synths and riffs that repeat for more than a few bars, that actually begin to set the album apart from the crowd.

So in all, Incoming Cerebral Overdrive have created an album that is worth checking out for a brief lesson in what hardcore influenced metal has tended towards in the last 5 years. And fair play to them, they are much better than your first impression would have suggested. But for a more rewarding experience a newcomer to the genre should check out the innovations of their former mentor’s band.

Rating: 6/10

We Insist ! - The Babel Inside Was Terrible

French 5-piece We Insist ! merge genres seamlessly in order to create a sound all of their own, and yet referencing a variety of influences. At times their stop-start post-hardcore dynamics recall At the Drive-In, at their most pulsing and hypnotic, one could cite Queens of the Stone Age as soundalikes, and at their most detached, they evoke a more unassuming Tool. Yet none of these puzzle pieces quite fit to make a clear picture of the We Insist ! experience.

There is no denying that these avant-rockers are fine musicians indeed. Some of their riffs are truly killer and their effortless mingling of lead guitars with synths and sax sets them apart. But on this, their fifth album, there seems to be a curious struggle at play.

Throughout the record, their refusal to be pinned down to a particular genre or sound seems to pose an identity crisis even for the band themselves, never knowing whether to cut loose and head into a full scale freakout or tentatively brood at mid-tempo. As a result, the album feels kind of cut and paste, with no real logical flow. Songs are either gloriously mental, such as opener ‘Déja Vu’, with its blasts of brass and jarring time signatures, or melancholically slow burning (see ‘In a Maze’ and ‘Biting Tongues’).

It is almost as if they toy with letting their experimental sides truly flourish but then have second thoughts and reign it all in. This is deeply frustrating as one feels that they could have a recipe for something great, particularly in the first half of the album.

Essentially, however, the biggest issue I have with We Insist ! lies in vocalist/drummer Etienne Gaillochet. He’s not a very good singer. And I‘ll accept that a lot of bands don’t really need great singers. But, even on record, it tells that they lack a real front man. This band is crying out for a mouthpiece with some real charisma. Particularly when they take their foot off the gas, Gaillochet’s distinct lack of both range and passion is grating.

An intriguing enough release, one that reels you in all bombastic Gallic flair, but at its core, lacks that certain ‘je ne sais quoi’ that would inspire many repeat plays.

5/10

Faux Hoax- Your Friends Will Carry You Home

Not a great deal is known about Faux Hoax. We are informed by various sources that the name is to be pronounced ‘Folks’. We do know that they are made up of members of Gang of Four, Tracker and Menomena. So they are a ‘super group‘ of sorts, a term that can usually be construed as one that doesn‘t live up to heavy hype generation, never equals the sum of its parts and burns out quickly. Perhaps then, in the information age, Faux Hoax do well to keep things at a whisper.

This makes further sense on listening to debut release ‘Your Friends Will Carry You Home’, essentially a vinyl only single, albeit one with a couple of digital bonus tracks thrown into the bargain, which finds its true character in understated intricacies. This is true of both the lyrical content of the title track, an observational spoken word ramble about the nuances of a true friendship, and indeed, in the charming minimalist blips and guitar swells, underpinned by fuzzy basslines that drive proceedings along.

Vocals are interestingly varied across the four tracks. Ranging from the fragile, urgent monologue of the title track, offering such prophesies as ‘Your friends will call you, unshaven and scared shitless, from Texas, asking for bail money’ to the juxtaposition of one mumbling, drowsy figure and an upbeat twang on ‘Foxworthy’. This variety ensures that each track is a entity unto itself within the body of the record.

The latter is possibly the weakest of the bunch. Initially sounding like two quite worthy refrains competing with one another for the listener’s memory, the track goes nowhere in its repetition until its final third where we are treated to one and a half minutes of math experimentation. While we are to appreciate this change, one can’t help but wish they had taken this route much earlier. Thankfully, this Battles-esque vibe is maintained for closer ‘Underwood (a Type of ReMix)’ which further foregrounds the electronic elements of their sound, and even introduces brass to its ambling psychedelia.

By no means a groundbreaking release, which is perhaps not the aim, one feels this could remain a studio project, there is some potential shown. What remains to be seen however, is where they go from here, if anywhere. Their own label’s website speculatively questions whether these four will prove to be the only songs the band write. We can but hope this interesting trio get the chance to blossom rather than suffer the archetypal fate.

7/10