Goldfrapp, Leeds Academy, 03/1108
Alison Goldfrapp has gone through a few phases. Yodelling milk maid, filthy Cabaret strumpet, glam rock dominatrix, each with a new wardrobe and sonic accompaniment to match. With fourth album Seventh Tree we find her channelling a Wicker Man-esque folk siren. Fitting, then, that we get the soundtrack to this fine film before the band arrive on stage. This is a record made for those late summer evenings, and the best is done to recreate this on a freezing night in Yorkshire. Despite being open barely a month, the Academy has already got stickier floors than your average toilet venue. Go figure.
‘Paper Bag’, from debut Felt Mountain, isn’t the most immediate of set-openers, but her hushed tones (“No time to fuck…but you like the rush”) silences the room to attention. An upbeat and chiming ‘A&E’ comes next and gets a few nods, before an extended ‘Little Bird’ brings out some almost terrifying acid trip visuals, swirling around the picnic basket and Maypole stage dressings.
Never the most banter-driven performer, Alison manages to terrify an audience member into submission for having the audacity to film a track on his camera. Kids these days, eh? Still for the most part she seems in a chipper mood, half marching half twirling around the stage in an oversized pink bed sheet.
Unfortunately the newer songs get a little lost when played along side their elder companions. The crowd seem grateful for a little shuffle to ‘Satin Chic’, but when a trio of Seventh Tree tracks follow, they are buried under the middle aged chatter. A shame, because the already ethereal ‘Clowns’ is bloody gorgeous.
Herein lies the Goldfrapp Paradox. They now have an equally balanced catalogue of loud ones / quiet ones, but the two can’t really coexist together live, not in this setting anyhow. It’s not the band’s fault as such, you just need a patient audience, and this wasn’t one of them.
We finally get some Black Cherry tunes in the closing trio. ‘Train’ clicks and whirrs like, well, a train, and ‘Black Cherry’ brings out the hugging from the lovers. Finally, the ever filthy ‘Strict Machine’ explodes in a dazzle of spotlights, feedback and some moderate dancing. Goldfrapp have never been a band to repeat themselves, so it’ll be interesting to see what the next phase brings.
DiS
Wednesday 3 December 2008
Friday 21 November 2008
Tron Funk
Neon Neon + Yo! Majesty, Leeds Brudenell Social Club, 01/11/08
Side projects, like spin-off sitcoms, can be dodgy territory. But when Gruff Rhys is involved, you know you’re in safe hands, right?
In Rhys and the Super Furry Animals you have one of the most prolific and creative bands around – The Beatles of this generation if you believe Gary Lightbody. But realistically they’re about as popular now as they’re ever going to be. Over the past couple of years the offshoots have immerged in the shape of Acid Casuals, The Peth and two solo albums from Rhys. But it’s with Boom Bip collaboration Neon Neon that Gruff has got the most attention.
Yo! Majesty’s support was surely the closest thing you were gonna get to seeing Missy Elliott in a working men’s club. Shunda K and Jwl B pointed us out one by one and coaxed the crowd closer to the stage, while some random bloke jumped around at the back pressing buttons. I’ll admit, before tonight their track on Stainless Style was probably my least favourite on the record. But having that attitude at eye level changes your perspective. The beats were hard, the rhymes were fierce and very, very fast. The audience were suitably warmed.
Neon Neon gather on stage to much devotion, egged on by Gruff’s “Applause” cue card, and begin with the Tron-funk of ‘Neon Theme’. Throughout the night mathematic colours and shapes light up the screen behind them like a malfunctioning Amstrad on an old edition of Tomorrow’s World. The whole evening could have been an extended edition of Look Around You. Gruff Rhys does have something of the confused Physics teacher about him. The band were expanded to include the effortlessly cool Cate Le Bon on Keytar and Har Mar Superstar on break dancing duties.
‘I Lust U’ and ‘Told Her On Alderaan’ - two perfect examples of Gruff’s knack for a catchy tune - were brought out early. This breezy electropop could have been the soundtrack to any number of Brat Pack road movies. For an album that was never meant to be played live, some of the songs just sound better, helped by the fact that Neon Neon play like they’d been together for years. The seedy bassline of ‘Michael Douglas’ got the most crowd shuffling (“I need…more…STUFF”) and then ‘Sweat Shop’ brought back Yo! Majesty to pack out the tiny Brudenell stage for a brutal dance-off.
At the very end there was just Rhys and Bip on stage together in a mini techno workout. Gruff played the invisible drums with some magic glowing sticks. Chances are this is the last we’ll hear from Neon Neon, but in any case it was a celebratory finale to a project that probably was more successful than anyone thought it would be.
DiS
Side projects, like spin-off sitcoms, can be dodgy territory. But when Gruff Rhys is involved, you know you’re in safe hands, right?
In Rhys and the Super Furry Animals you have one of the most prolific and creative bands around – The Beatles of this generation if you believe Gary Lightbody. But realistically they’re about as popular now as they’re ever going to be. Over the past couple of years the offshoots have immerged in the shape of Acid Casuals, The Peth and two solo albums from Rhys. But it’s with Boom Bip collaboration Neon Neon that Gruff has got the most attention.
Yo! Majesty’s support was surely the closest thing you were gonna get to seeing Missy Elliott in a working men’s club. Shunda K and Jwl B pointed us out one by one and coaxed the crowd closer to the stage, while some random bloke jumped around at the back pressing buttons. I’ll admit, before tonight their track on Stainless Style was probably my least favourite on the record. But having that attitude at eye level changes your perspective. The beats were hard, the rhymes were fierce and very, very fast. The audience were suitably warmed.
Neon Neon gather on stage to much devotion, egged on by Gruff’s “Applause” cue card, and begin with the Tron-funk of ‘Neon Theme’. Throughout the night mathematic colours and shapes light up the screen behind them like a malfunctioning Amstrad on an old edition of Tomorrow’s World. The whole evening could have been an extended edition of Look Around You. Gruff Rhys does have something of the confused Physics teacher about him. The band were expanded to include the effortlessly cool Cate Le Bon on Keytar and Har Mar Superstar on break dancing duties.
‘I Lust U’ and ‘Told Her On Alderaan’ - two perfect examples of Gruff’s knack for a catchy tune - were brought out early. This breezy electropop could have been the soundtrack to any number of Brat Pack road movies. For an album that was never meant to be played live, some of the songs just sound better, helped by the fact that Neon Neon play like they’d been together for years. The seedy bassline of ‘Michael Douglas’ got the most crowd shuffling (“I need…more…STUFF”) and then ‘Sweat Shop’ brought back Yo! Majesty to pack out the tiny Brudenell stage for a brutal dance-off.
At the very end there was just Rhys and Bip on stage together in a mini techno workout. Gruff played the invisible drums with some magic glowing sticks. Chances are this is the last we’ll hear from Neon Neon, but in any case it was a celebratory finale to a project that probably was more successful than anyone thought it would be.
DiS
Friday 3 October 2008
Better Than Sunday
I've started writing for Drowned In Sound. My first assignment was Ladyhawke at The Cockpit, the fruits of which can be found here...
http://drownedinsound.com/events/38348
But fear not, my rambles will still be appearing at 45 Turns. More fun and games to follow soon.
http://drownedinsound.com/events/38348
But fear not, my rambles will still be appearing at 45 Turns. More fun and games to follow soon.
Thursday 19 June 2008
You used to be alright, what happened?
Daydream Festival, Barcelona Parc del Forum, 12/06/08
Something a bit different, then. Team Glasto from last year didn’t like the sound of 2008’s offerings. A little comment on that - I’m not going to join in on the mildly racist Jay Z Shouldn’t Headline rants, main stage headliners really don’t matter at Glasto. It’s a little saddening that the whole thing has turned into a PR disaster. I wouldn’t be surprised if Eavis jacks it in, if this is how people are going to behave. We don’t deserve a Glastonbury. Anyway, I’m going to be moving house that weekend so we went in search of a new challenge. Radiohead in Barcelona? Shop.
Radiohead are currently enjoying a peek in a career of increasing peeks. In Rainbows is their most undemanding and simple record since The Bends, and sees them really kicking back and having fun, after Hail To The Thief’s rather over-reaching, bloated-yet-content fun. And let’s not forget them doing the music industry up the arse, just when it didn’t need another bumming. “Doing a Radiohead” circa Kid A meant releasing a scary electro album. Now it’s synonymous with giving away your wares for nothing. Fair play, them and the other big boys can afford it. But most record labels still don’t know how to deal with the internet and have stood dumbfounded since the glory days of Napster. People are just refusing to pay for anything these days.
Clinic started our festival with their Hawaiian shirts and surgical masks, pounding through some organ heavy rock. Funnelled indecipherable lyrics in hypnotic spirals. The likes of Walking With Thee, Second Line and Evil Bill got some recognition down the front. The rest of us basked in the welcome sun after the half-arsed storms had passed over.
M83 suffered from poor sound and my drinking. I only recognised one song, Don’t Save Us From The Flames, and that was at half volume. Since they’ve been around for longer than The Teenagers they should be doing better than those lousy frogs.
Bat For Lashes was charming the sunset with her Kate Bush meets the listenable moments of early Bjork sweetness. If that sounds like a lazy cut and paste description then I had drunk quite a bit by then. This being an eco-festival, we gazed at the massive solar panel while sipping from our refillable souvenir cups. Three Euros for not even a half pint of tepid Cerveza? No mi gusta.
Then came Radiohead.
“You used to be alright, what happened?”
What happened? Tubes descending the stage providing a magnificent light show, the audience sending adoration and gratification their way. This is a band that rarely tours, and with a new environmental stipulation catching them is rarer still. We won’t go into the size of my carbon footprint after flying out especially to see this.
15 Step clicked things started. There was a playful nature on stage, like this was the night of the last school dance and everyone had got laid. Bodysnatchers and All I Need continued the new material’s strong live adaptation, with In Rainbows aired in its entirety.
The crowd were just that little bit more passionate than the ones back home. No arms-crossed “impress me” stance, no tagalongs, just a few thousand people dancing in the sunset. Every new song got a cheer, every old one a collective intake of breath.
Complaints? Apparently they rehearsed over 70 songs for this tour. With that amount of material to grasp at, I wouldn’t have lost any sleep if Optimistic and The Gloaming weren’t aired. Karma Police, Street Spirit and No Surprises were conspicuous by their absence. The Bends just seemed clunky compared to the likes of Jigsaw and Bodysnatchers. Biggest clanger was Bangers & Mash in the encore. As fun as it was to see Yorke spaff out on his mini Meg White drum kit, it was time to get the hits out, not play rare Disc Two tracks. But these are minor. You're seeing Radiohead. Revel in it.
Highlights? You And Whose Army and the terrifying Yorkecam. Spazzdance o’clock in Idioteque. The lush of Nude. What felt like the US flag being shot to bits in Paranoid Android. There There soaring skywards. House Of Cards. A million, million times House Of Cards.
I could go on, but then I’d just have to start making up hyperbolic adjectives.
Planet Telex closed the night. “Why can’t you forget?” Memory, the abundance or lack there of seems to be the recurring theme that links all seven records. The tubes went suitable Rainbowed. I would have liked a different set closer, but despite what I said above, to quibble with a Radiohead setlist is to be a fucking dick.
Radiohead are still one of the biggest bands in the world, consistently mixing commercial success, critical acclaim and freedom of expression. There is no other force like them.
Kebab Watch: At 1am? In residential Barca? No chance. We came across a random biker indie bar to collect supplies for mammoth 5 mile trek home. We also befriended a German-Columbian couple who thanklessly guided us back. God bless you Nick and Carolina, owe you a pint. On the way were followed by a zombie, or a punter on a mammoth comedown. Didn’t stick around to find out which.
Something a bit different, then. Team Glasto from last year didn’t like the sound of 2008’s offerings. A little comment on that - I’m not going to join in on the mildly racist Jay Z Shouldn’t Headline rants, main stage headliners really don’t matter at Glasto. It’s a little saddening that the whole thing has turned into a PR disaster. I wouldn’t be surprised if Eavis jacks it in, if this is how people are going to behave. We don’t deserve a Glastonbury. Anyway, I’m going to be moving house that weekend so we went in search of a new challenge. Radiohead in Barcelona? Shop.
Radiohead are currently enjoying a peek in a career of increasing peeks. In Rainbows is their most undemanding and simple record since The Bends, and sees them really kicking back and having fun, after Hail To The Thief’s rather over-reaching, bloated-yet-content fun. And let’s not forget them doing the music industry up the arse, just when it didn’t need another bumming. “Doing a Radiohead” circa Kid A meant releasing a scary electro album. Now it’s synonymous with giving away your wares for nothing. Fair play, them and the other big boys can afford it. But most record labels still don’t know how to deal with the internet and have stood dumbfounded since the glory days of Napster. People are just refusing to pay for anything these days.
Clinic started our festival with their Hawaiian shirts and surgical masks, pounding through some organ heavy rock. Funnelled indecipherable lyrics in hypnotic spirals. The likes of Walking With Thee, Second Line and Evil Bill got some recognition down the front. The rest of us basked in the welcome sun after the half-arsed storms had passed over.
M83 suffered from poor sound and my drinking. I only recognised one song, Don’t Save Us From The Flames, and that was at half volume. Since they’ve been around for longer than The Teenagers they should be doing better than those lousy frogs.
Bat For Lashes was charming the sunset with her Kate Bush meets the listenable moments of early Bjork sweetness. If that sounds like a lazy cut and paste description then I had drunk quite a bit by then. This being an eco-festival, we gazed at the massive solar panel while sipping from our refillable souvenir cups. Three Euros for not even a half pint of tepid Cerveza? No mi gusta.
Then came Radiohead.
“You used to be alright, what happened?”
What happened? Tubes descending the stage providing a magnificent light show, the audience sending adoration and gratification their way. This is a band that rarely tours, and with a new environmental stipulation catching them is rarer still. We won’t go into the size of my carbon footprint after flying out especially to see this.
15 Step clicked things started. There was a playful nature on stage, like this was the night of the last school dance and everyone had got laid. Bodysnatchers and All I Need continued the new material’s strong live adaptation, with In Rainbows aired in its entirety.
The crowd were just that little bit more passionate than the ones back home. No arms-crossed “impress me” stance, no tagalongs, just a few thousand people dancing in the sunset. Every new song got a cheer, every old one a collective intake of breath.
Complaints? Apparently they rehearsed over 70 songs for this tour. With that amount of material to grasp at, I wouldn’t have lost any sleep if Optimistic and The Gloaming weren’t aired. Karma Police, Street Spirit and No Surprises were conspicuous by their absence. The Bends just seemed clunky compared to the likes of Jigsaw and Bodysnatchers. Biggest clanger was Bangers & Mash in the encore. As fun as it was to see Yorke spaff out on his mini Meg White drum kit, it was time to get the hits out, not play rare Disc Two tracks. But these are minor. You're seeing Radiohead. Revel in it.
Highlights? You And Whose Army and the terrifying Yorkecam. Spazzdance o’clock in Idioteque. The lush of Nude. What felt like the US flag being shot to bits in Paranoid Android. There There soaring skywards. House Of Cards. A million, million times House Of Cards.
I could go on, but then I’d just have to start making up hyperbolic adjectives.
Planet Telex closed the night. “Why can’t you forget?” Memory, the abundance or lack there of seems to be the recurring theme that links all seven records. The tubes went suitable Rainbowed. I would have liked a different set closer, but despite what I said above, to quibble with a Radiohead setlist is to be a fucking dick.
Radiohead are still one of the biggest bands in the world, consistently mixing commercial success, critical acclaim and freedom of expression. There is no other force like them.
Kebab Watch: At 1am? In residential Barca? No chance. We came across a random biker indie bar to collect supplies for mammoth 5 mile trek home. We also befriended a German-Columbian couple who thanklessly guided us back. God bless you Nick and Carolina, owe you a pint. On the way were followed by a zombie, or a punter on a mammoth comedown. Didn’t stick around to find out which.
Wednesday 4 June 2008
I know your hands will clap
Lykke Li + El Perro Del Mar, Leeds Hi-Fi Club, 03/06/2008
The Hi-Fi club was tingling with anticipation, and tingle it might. Lykke Li has knocked The Blogs for six with her whispered heartaches and lo-fi loneliness. Could she deliver?
Before we could answer that we had a subtle opening set from El Perro Del Mar. A dusty-eyed Hope Sandoval singing into the sunset, she gave us slow burning songs designed for a night of stargazing in the desert.
And then Lykke Li took over the stage and stamped her domination on the evening. I knew this was going to be good, but I was shocked at just how good. Dancing, swaying, stamping, pointing, we belonged to her. Despite a minimal musical accompaniment, the songs were louder and pumped full of confidence compared to the skeletal recorded versions. Little Bit throbbed with a heartbeat of desire, and Breaking It Up was hollered through a megaphone, feedback ringing.
I’m Good, I’m Gone closed the main set and the dancing finally took off, we were clapping at all the right moments and getting rewarded with a knowing grin. She’s amassed a fine collection of pop songs that work their way into your consciousness. And encore came with a slow number followed by what appeared to be a cover of Walk On The Wild Side...until the drums kicked in to make it Can I Kick It. With some old skool hip hop shapes thrown in, she kicked it. She OWNED it.
Lykke is a star. 2008 will be hers, hell give her the next few decades. And make the most of these club shows, she won’t be playing many more tiny venues.
Kebab Watch – no food tonight, a belly full of vodka saw off any hunger.
The Hi-Fi club was tingling with anticipation, and tingle it might. Lykke Li has knocked The Blogs for six with her whispered heartaches and lo-fi loneliness. Could she deliver?
Before we could answer that we had a subtle opening set from El Perro Del Mar. A dusty-eyed Hope Sandoval singing into the sunset, she gave us slow burning songs designed for a night of stargazing in the desert.
And then Lykke Li took over the stage and stamped her domination on the evening. I knew this was going to be good, but I was shocked at just how good. Dancing, swaying, stamping, pointing, we belonged to her. Despite a minimal musical accompaniment, the songs were louder and pumped full of confidence compared to the skeletal recorded versions. Little Bit throbbed with a heartbeat of desire, and Breaking It Up was hollered through a megaphone, feedback ringing.
I’m Good, I’m Gone closed the main set and the dancing finally took off, we were clapping at all the right moments and getting rewarded with a knowing grin. She’s amassed a fine collection of pop songs that work their way into your consciousness. And encore came with a slow number followed by what appeared to be a cover of Walk On The Wild Side...until the drums kicked in to make it Can I Kick It. With some old skool hip hop shapes thrown in, she kicked it. She OWNED it.
Lykke is a star. 2008 will be hers, hell give her the next few decades. And make the most of these club shows, she won’t be playing many more tiny venues.
Kebab Watch – no food tonight, a belly full of vodka saw off any hunger.
Wednesday 30 April 2008
Covered In Bees
Lethal Bizzle + Bashy + Blah Blah Blah, Leeds Rio’s, 29/04/08
It’s always fun reading back the little notes I drunkenly text myself during gigs. Here’s my summary of Blah Blah Blah:
“New wave Housemartins. Young Knives but black. Jamiroquai but not a cunt. Then it hit me – Ian Dury. The accent, the rhymes, a mild funk”
Not quite sure where Jamiroquai came from, but BBB (it was an evening of bees) were a great little opener. Songs that criticise London twats have been done a million times and often descend into lame self-parody, but this collection of tunes were bloody catchy. Death To The Indie Disco has one of the best uses of “wankers” in any song you’ll ever hear.
Bashy was there to warm up the crowd, and we were fucking boiling by the end. I read a review elsewhere on the net that dismissed him for shouting over 30 second clips of random songs...this person clearly wouldn’t know gig atmosphere if it bit him on the arse. Bashy was starting up a riot. Down amongst the crowd, inspiring dance-offs and singalongs, it got us buzzing for the main event.
Bizzle is a charmer. The crowd (young, mixed, Skins) were his before he stormed the stage. The beats were immense, his flow unstoppable. Every track was a hands-in-the-air highlight. Police On My Back, Bizzle Bizzle, Pow, Uh-Oh, Fire...he was full of love for the people and we gave plenty back. Another set that went way too quickly.
And a set that is hard to describe, because Bizzle transcends the genres. A tight live show that could match any rock gig for levels of intensity, displaying bucketloads of charm and accessibility that is often lacking from live hip hop acts. He was constantly on the verge of diving into the crowd, who were equally close to spilling on to the stage. Bizzle is one of the UK’s best showmen who compromises nothing. Potentially life-changing.
Kebab Watch – best chips and cheese in Yorkshire, hands down.
It’s always fun reading back the little notes I drunkenly text myself during gigs. Here’s my summary of Blah Blah Blah:
“New wave Housemartins. Young Knives but black. Jamiroquai but not a cunt. Then it hit me – Ian Dury. The accent, the rhymes, a mild funk”
Not quite sure where Jamiroquai came from, but BBB (it was an evening of bees) were a great little opener. Songs that criticise London twats have been done a million times and often descend into lame self-parody, but this collection of tunes were bloody catchy. Death To The Indie Disco has one of the best uses of “wankers” in any song you’ll ever hear.
Bashy was there to warm up the crowd, and we were fucking boiling by the end. I read a review elsewhere on the net that dismissed him for shouting over 30 second clips of random songs...this person clearly wouldn’t know gig atmosphere if it bit him on the arse. Bashy was starting up a riot. Down amongst the crowd, inspiring dance-offs and singalongs, it got us buzzing for the main event.
Bizzle is a charmer. The crowd (young, mixed, Skins) were his before he stormed the stage. The beats were immense, his flow unstoppable. Every track was a hands-in-the-air highlight. Police On My Back, Bizzle Bizzle, Pow, Uh-Oh, Fire...he was full of love for the people and we gave plenty back. Another set that went way too quickly.
And a set that is hard to describe, because Bizzle transcends the genres. A tight live show that could match any rock gig for levels of intensity, displaying bucketloads of charm and accessibility that is often lacking from live hip hop acts. He was constantly on the verge of diving into the crowd, who were equally close to spilling on to the stage. Bizzle is one of the UK’s best showmen who compromises nothing. Potentially life-changing.
Kebab Watch – best chips and cheese in Yorkshire, hands down.
Monday 28 April 2008
I Heart Maccabees
The Maccabees + Josh Weller, Leeds Cockpit, 25/04/08
Another Leeds gig, another vocally proud Yorkshire crowd, this time belting out Maccabee-related terrace anthems, quickly turning to jeers when an allegiance to Fulham was outed. It’s what you go to shows for, really. And the band well work off that endless enthusiasm.
Opening act Josh Weller looked petrified – mainly due to his wiry afro pointing straight to the ceiling. All Young-Knives tweed worn scandalously tight (a cry of “get your cock out” is met with nervous laughter and the response “I wouldn’t want to disappoint you”) Weller provided a suitable set of abstract indie pop. Circus sounded like, well, the circus, strutting along with a fairground bass line. His “stolen band” (all looking like they come from three very different groups) worked well off the troubadour, with the keyboard player manically brandishing a percussive pineapple for most of the set.
For me, Colour It In was one of the little miracles of last year. Heartbreaking vocals delivered with child-like simplicity, it was naive without being irritating, unsure but not unknowing. Live, there can only be more bounce to the proceedings. Newie You’ll Do As Your Told (the first signs of attitude) went straight into X Ray and Lego. Key to an indie anthem – guitar line you can sing along to. Balls to the lyrics, the melody has to stick in your head. And they’ve got a load of them.
The new material was no massive departure, but it sat alongside and complemented the older tracks with ease. Toothpaste Kisses got arms around shoulders. Latchmere closed the main set, and the already up-for-it audience lost the last of their inhibitions. The gig went way too quickly. Back they came back on for some humble thank-yous, a breezy new song that would be a good closer to the sophomore album, and a perfect version of First Love to see off the night. Everything made sense, there was a clarity in the air that refused to be dampened by overpriced vodka-based drinks.
Kebab Watch – the first time I’ve had a Donner on a plate, and eaten it with proper cutlery. At 3am. In a curry house. Decent mayonnaise, unnecessary salad.
Another Leeds gig, another vocally proud Yorkshire crowd, this time belting out Maccabee-related terrace anthems, quickly turning to jeers when an allegiance to Fulham was outed. It’s what you go to shows for, really. And the band well work off that endless enthusiasm.
Opening act Josh Weller looked petrified – mainly due to his wiry afro pointing straight to the ceiling. All Young-Knives tweed worn scandalously tight (a cry of “get your cock out” is met with nervous laughter and the response “I wouldn’t want to disappoint you”) Weller provided a suitable set of abstract indie pop. Circus sounded like, well, the circus, strutting along with a fairground bass line. His “stolen band” (all looking like they come from three very different groups) worked well off the troubadour, with the keyboard player manically brandishing a percussive pineapple for most of the set.
For me, Colour It In was one of the little miracles of last year. Heartbreaking vocals delivered with child-like simplicity, it was naive without being irritating, unsure but not unknowing. Live, there can only be more bounce to the proceedings. Newie You’ll Do As Your Told (the first signs of attitude) went straight into X Ray and Lego. Key to an indie anthem – guitar line you can sing along to. Balls to the lyrics, the melody has to stick in your head. And they’ve got a load of them.
The new material was no massive departure, but it sat alongside and complemented the older tracks with ease. Toothpaste Kisses got arms around shoulders. Latchmere closed the main set, and the already up-for-it audience lost the last of their inhibitions. The gig went way too quickly. Back they came back on for some humble thank-yous, a breezy new song that would be a good closer to the sophomore album, and a perfect version of First Love to see off the night. Everything made sense, there was a clarity in the air that refused to be dampened by overpriced vodka-based drinks.
Kebab Watch – the first time I’ve had a Donner on a plate, and eaten it with proper cutlery. At 3am. In a curry house. Decent mayonnaise, unnecessary salad.
Monday 11 February 2008
Too many legs under the table, too many reasons for trouble
NME Shockwaves Tour: The Cribs + Joe Lean & The Jing Jang Jong + Does It Offend You, Yeah? + The Ting Tings, Leeds Uni, 09/02/08
The NME Tour is meant to be a cross section of the current musical scene. Almost like an artefact for musical historians to look back on, and no doubt say things like “Christ things got a bit desperate at the start of the 00s” and “Andrew WK?????”. It can be hit and miss. I doubt anything will beat 2005’s Killers/Futureheads/Bloc/Kaisers combo in terms of nailing the zeitgeist. Especially for grabbing the top and tailers before they went completely up themselves. Then last year, The Automatic headlined. Smooth.
So did McNichols & Company get it right this time?
All eyes are always on the opening slot, but I can’t see The Ting Tings Live At Wembley Stadium ever being a proper sentence. Not that they put on a bad show, but their garage pop will always be better suited to intimate venues. And you can get a better look at Katie White, a miniature Debbie Harry who was doing her best to inject some life into this static room. There wasn’t much variation in their set, but they had enough catchy headnodders that should have at least got a few people moving. Great DJ and That’s Not My Name only got a vague response. It wasn’t looking good…
Does It Offend You, Yeah?’s name and aesthetic could easily see them dismissed as Hoxton Twats. But they bring the noise, filthy and unforgiving. The stuttering high hats of Justice collide with a frantic heavy-bass-and-yelping combo not heard since Death From Above 1979 hung up their elephant noses.
“You lot are better than last night already!” exclaimed chief yelper James Rushent. Really? Doesn’t say much for last night. There was a bit of action down the front, but my companion and I were trapped behind a wall of non-movers. We went for it anyway, because its noise that makes you want to spazz. Let’s Make Out isn’t a request, you have no say in the matter. They’re all over your face in seconds, Rushent dives into the crowd and has the shirt torn from his back. Well, he was asking for it. We Are Rockstars does nothing to lower the momentum. Screams, demolition, CHAOS. At least in my head. But a few more had caught on by now. Why did it have to end?
JL&TJJJ (no easy way to talk about this band, 2008 being Year Of The Silly Name) found themselves bumped up a slot amid an increasing amount of exposure and hyperbole. And they have the odd tune to back it up. Like Razorlight before you realised Johnny Borrell was a cunt. But something was missing. I wasn’t engaged. I still had that ace We Are Rockstars bassbeast going through my head. DIOY,Y? would have been much better precursors to the main event. Lucio Starts Fires will always get me on the dancefloor, but their live experience just left me empty.
So, I had issues with the crowd and dared to question their passion. What was up with the kids? Too many deadlines lately? Well shut my mouth. I always knew a homecoming (of sorts) by The Cribs would be A Show, but this was just astonishing. I’ve never seen an audience so completely in the hands of the performers. But The Cribs inspire that kind of passion. And this being the second night, it weeded out all the little fashionistas who were quick off the mark to secure tickets only to spend the evening screaming at Joe Van Moyland. The opening non-stop trio of Don’t You Wanna Be Relevant, Our Bovine Public and Hey, Scenesters! had the kids moving like they should have been all night.
It was recently pointed out to me the level of attack aimed at the Pigeon Detectives in Our Bovine Public. Example:
“I'll never forget how all this begun
And I will never regret a thing I have done
But you would never exist without us, so maybe I do...”
When the Detectives released their debut, I thought The Cribs were in trouble, that they had competition. Did they Balls. The Cribs exist in a refreshingly bullshit-free world, and they know pretenders when they see them. They’re not in this business to make friends, or apparently even have that much fame. They make music, they have one of the most passionate bunch of fans around. That’s enough. Pigeon Detectives pale on repeated listens, and I can’t see increased exposure and bigger venues doing anything to improve that. Wakefield’s true kings delivered a hit-laden set that saw bruised feet and discarded clothing from us all.
And then it happened.
“Please welcome our mate, Johnny Marr...”
And that intro to Panic was played. The boys in the audience either cried or went nuts (both in my case). And some of the girls did too, after they were told who he was.
Stick around for the rest of the set Johnny? Yeah go on then. It was a genius combination that should hopefully see some recorded output soon. Sonic Youth’s Lee Ranaldo was even beamed in for Be Safe. Those two in the same room? Happened.
The Cribs were top of the world, aptly supported by Does It Offend You, Yeah? and two others that will probably get more success than their talents merit. You can’t ever see The Cribs calling it a day any time soon, long may they continue...
Kebab Watch – I asked for donner and chips, and they chucked in a load of salad and shit without even asking. Dicks. Good chips though.
The NME Tour is meant to be a cross section of the current musical scene. Almost like an artefact for musical historians to look back on, and no doubt say things like “Christ things got a bit desperate at the start of the 00s” and “Andrew WK?????”. It can be hit and miss. I doubt anything will beat 2005’s Killers/Futureheads/Bloc/Kaisers combo in terms of nailing the zeitgeist. Especially for grabbing the top and tailers before they went completely up themselves. Then last year, The Automatic headlined. Smooth.
So did McNichols & Company get it right this time?
All eyes are always on the opening slot, but I can’t see The Ting Tings Live At Wembley Stadium ever being a proper sentence. Not that they put on a bad show, but their garage pop will always be better suited to intimate venues. And you can get a better look at Katie White, a miniature Debbie Harry who was doing her best to inject some life into this static room. There wasn’t much variation in their set, but they had enough catchy headnodders that should have at least got a few people moving. Great DJ and That’s Not My Name only got a vague response. It wasn’t looking good…
Does It Offend You, Yeah?’s name and aesthetic could easily see them dismissed as Hoxton Twats. But they bring the noise, filthy and unforgiving. The stuttering high hats of Justice collide with a frantic heavy-bass-and-yelping combo not heard since Death From Above 1979 hung up their elephant noses.
“You lot are better than last night already!” exclaimed chief yelper James Rushent. Really? Doesn’t say much for last night. There was a bit of action down the front, but my companion and I were trapped behind a wall of non-movers. We went for it anyway, because its noise that makes you want to spazz. Let’s Make Out isn’t a request, you have no say in the matter. They’re all over your face in seconds, Rushent dives into the crowd and has the shirt torn from his back. Well, he was asking for it. We Are Rockstars does nothing to lower the momentum. Screams, demolition, CHAOS. At least in my head. But a few more had caught on by now. Why did it have to end?
JL&TJJJ (no easy way to talk about this band, 2008 being Year Of The Silly Name) found themselves bumped up a slot amid an increasing amount of exposure and hyperbole. And they have the odd tune to back it up. Like Razorlight before you realised Johnny Borrell was a cunt. But something was missing. I wasn’t engaged. I still had that ace We Are Rockstars bassbeast going through my head. DIOY,Y? would have been much better precursors to the main event. Lucio Starts Fires will always get me on the dancefloor, but their live experience just left me empty.
So, I had issues with the crowd and dared to question their passion. What was up with the kids? Too many deadlines lately? Well shut my mouth. I always knew a homecoming (of sorts) by The Cribs would be A Show, but this was just astonishing. I’ve never seen an audience so completely in the hands of the performers. But The Cribs inspire that kind of passion. And this being the second night, it weeded out all the little fashionistas who were quick off the mark to secure tickets only to spend the evening screaming at Joe Van Moyland. The opening non-stop trio of Don’t You Wanna Be Relevant, Our Bovine Public and Hey, Scenesters! had the kids moving like they should have been all night.
It was recently pointed out to me the level of attack aimed at the Pigeon Detectives in Our Bovine Public. Example:
“I'll never forget how all this begun
And I will never regret a thing I have done
But you would never exist without us, so maybe I do...”
When the Detectives released their debut, I thought The Cribs were in trouble, that they had competition. Did they Balls. The Cribs exist in a refreshingly bullshit-free world, and they know pretenders when they see them. They’re not in this business to make friends, or apparently even have that much fame. They make music, they have one of the most passionate bunch of fans around. That’s enough. Pigeon Detectives pale on repeated listens, and I can’t see increased exposure and bigger venues doing anything to improve that. Wakefield’s true kings delivered a hit-laden set that saw bruised feet and discarded clothing from us all.
And then it happened.
“Please welcome our mate, Johnny Marr...”
And that intro to Panic was played. The boys in the audience either cried or went nuts (both in my case). And some of the girls did too, after they were told who he was.
Stick around for the rest of the set Johnny? Yeah go on then. It was a genius combination that should hopefully see some recorded output soon. Sonic Youth’s Lee Ranaldo was even beamed in for Be Safe. Those two in the same room? Happened.
The Cribs were top of the world, aptly supported by Does It Offend You, Yeah? and two others that will probably get more success than their talents merit. You can’t ever see The Cribs calling it a day any time soon, long may they continue...
Kebab Watch – I asked for donner and chips, and they chucked in a load of salad and shit without even asking. Dicks. Good chips though.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
