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.
Wednesday, 30 April 2008
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.
Monday, 3 December 2007
Get ready to ignite
CSS + Justice, Leeds Uni, 02/12/07
One word for the Justice live experience – astonishing.
Surely it’s the point of support acts to be not as good as the headliner, to provide support, make the main act look better. It’s certainly been the case for pretty much every gig I’ve been to until now.
But never before have I seen a support just totally own it. This must have been booked months ago when situations were different. They should have gone on last. At the very least call it a joint headline. Justice tore the place down, and CSS watched on nervously from the balcony.
Their weapon of choice was a massive glowing bank of machinery, adorned which a giant glowing cross. The beats were punishing, horrendously loud pulses thundering out the speakers. Each thud was like a kick to the chest. You had to dance. It would only get worse if you didn’t.
D.A.N.C.E started out as a slow singalong, the room united, arms in the air, knowing what was around the corner. Cheeky little samples reared their head, Atlantis To Interzone’s siren-and-response making the most appearances. DNVO and Phantom upped the sonic crunch. One by one the crowd were realising that, yes, this is one of the most sensational gigs they have ever witnessed. Sweat was dripping from the ceiling. I was dancing like a twat. CSS were starting to regret this.
Never Be Alone started out life half a decade ago on Simian’s second album, a decent indie/electro crossover that probably would have got a lot more attention if it was released these days. But it missed the zeitgeist and got buried under Almost, But Not Quite. Then two French fashion kids entered their stabber of a remix into a magazine competition, and the rest is sticky dancefloors everywhere. So I guess it’s only right that they own this song now, it’s cry of WE! ARE! YOUR FRIENDS! an anthem for the day-glo children.
Waters Of Nazareth was almost painful, that song could start wars. Justice was served. Follow that...
If they had anyone else on before them, I’d be raving about CSS. But this was the third time I’ve seen them this year. The set was near identical, the new material wasn’t mindblowing, and there was a general air of “meh”. Still, they know how to put on a show. Off The Hook and Alala are always gonna get us moving. There was snow, ticker tape and dancing Christmas trees. Lets Make Love And Listen Death From Above is still a stormer. But they need some new tricks.
If Justice had headlined that night I probably would have flown home. You. Need. To. See. This. Band. Quite possibly the best performance I’ve seen this year, and that includes Arcade Fire at Glasto. And I don’t say that lightly.
One word for the Justice live experience – astonishing.
Surely it’s the point of support acts to be not as good as the headliner, to provide support, make the main act look better. It’s certainly been the case for pretty much every gig I’ve been to until now.
But never before have I seen a support just totally own it. This must have been booked months ago when situations were different. They should have gone on last. At the very least call it a joint headline. Justice tore the place down, and CSS watched on nervously from the balcony.
Their weapon of choice was a massive glowing bank of machinery, adorned which a giant glowing cross. The beats were punishing, horrendously loud pulses thundering out the speakers. Each thud was like a kick to the chest. You had to dance. It would only get worse if you didn’t.
D.A.N.C.E started out as a slow singalong, the room united, arms in the air, knowing what was around the corner. Cheeky little samples reared their head, Atlantis To Interzone’s siren-and-response making the most appearances. DNVO and Phantom upped the sonic crunch. One by one the crowd were realising that, yes, this is one of the most sensational gigs they have ever witnessed. Sweat was dripping from the ceiling. I was dancing like a twat. CSS were starting to regret this.
Never Be Alone started out life half a decade ago on Simian’s second album, a decent indie/electro crossover that probably would have got a lot more attention if it was released these days. But it missed the zeitgeist and got buried under Almost, But Not Quite. Then two French fashion kids entered their stabber of a remix into a magazine competition, and the rest is sticky dancefloors everywhere. So I guess it’s only right that they own this song now, it’s cry of WE! ARE! YOUR FRIENDS! an anthem for the day-glo children.
Waters Of Nazareth was almost painful, that song could start wars. Justice was served. Follow that...
If they had anyone else on before them, I’d be raving about CSS. But this was the third time I’ve seen them this year. The set was near identical, the new material wasn’t mindblowing, and there was a general air of “meh”. Still, they know how to put on a show. Off The Hook and Alala are always gonna get us moving. There was snow, ticker tape and dancing Christmas trees. Lets Make Love And Listen Death From Above is still a stormer. But they need some new tricks.
If Justice had headlined that night I probably would have flown home. You. Need. To. See. This. Band. Quite possibly the best performance I’ve seen this year, and that includes Arcade Fire at Glasto. And I don’t say that lightly.
Tuesday, 30 October 2007
Optimum Mathleticism
Foals, Leeds Cockpit, 5/10/07
Updates are going to be few and far between here at the moment. We had our house broken into a month ago and my laptop was pinched. Frustrating. Insurance bureaucracy is still causing me to ponce internet access off my housemates every now and again. But in the good news I’ve got and got myself a Proper Job so more gigs are on the cards. Unfortunately the manflu has just struck me down at the moment so I’ll be missing Super Furry Animals tonight and most likely British Sea Power tomorrow. Even had to give up my ticket to Annie Mac on Saturday. Gutted.
Anyway, before crime and the plague got in the way, I saw finally got to see Foals properly. A lost ticket caused most of the supports to be missed. I think we only caught the last three songs of Metronomy, but it was everything you wanted a electrowave support act to be. Catchy blips, giant lights attached to their chests and even a little synchronised dancing towards the end.
Something I’ve noticed about Yorkshire folk – they’re a bit proud of their postcode. Random moments of the evening would be punctuated with shouts of “YOOOORRRRKSHIIIIIIIIRRRRRE” in case we’d fallen asleep and thought we were still in Leicester. My company for the evening was actually from the Shire and just found it irritating.
Yet another over-long sound check later (why? I mean really, why?) and Foals finally shuffled on stage. They are geeks. Yannis stood side-on, rarely acknowledging the crowd with eye contact. What followed was an unrelenting assault in efficient rhythm-heavy Music To Dance To.
Yannis was at his most animated during his quest to climb the speaker stacks, which took three attempts. There was a look of solid and calm determination on his face.
In terms of variation there was nothing. Almost to the extent that theirs is one debut album I am not eagerly anticipating. I can imagine on record this collection of songs could sound quite dull. However, on stage they are brought to life. Equations and remainders, stream lined and tight. Who cares about the lack of variety when what is on show has such powerful rhythm that whatever available appendages can’t help but shake in time.
The songs rush by in haste. The closing triple pronged assault of Mathletics, Two Steps Twice and Hummer create a dance-off of silly proportions. Hummer sees the band disappear in a sea of kids invading the stage. It is undoubtedly their best song and a highlight of recent trips to the indie disco. It must be something to do with the right balance of cowbells, bleeps and shouting.
A closing air of mutual satisfaction. There was dancing for all.
Updates are going to be few and far between here at the moment. We had our house broken into a month ago and my laptop was pinched. Frustrating. Insurance bureaucracy is still causing me to ponce internet access off my housemates every now and again. But in the good news I’ve got and got myself a Proper Job so more gigs are on the cards. Unfortunately the manflu has just struck me down at the moment so I’ll be missing Super Furry Animals tonight and most likely British Sea Power tomorrow. Even had to give up my ticket to Annie Mac on Saturday. Gutted.
Anyway, before crime and the plague got in the way, I saw finally got to see Foals properly. A lost ticket caused most of the supports to be missed. I think we only caught the last three songs of Metronomy, but it was everything you wanted a electrowave support act to be. Catchy blips, giant lights attached to their chests and even a little synchronised dancing towards the end.
Something I’ve noticed about Yorkshire folk – they’re a bit proud of their postcode. Random moments of the evening would be punctuated with shouts of “YOOOORRRRKSHIIIIIIIIRRRRRE” in case we’d fallen asleep and thought we were still in Leicester. My company for the evening was actually from the Shire and just found it irritating.
Yet another over-long sound check later (why? I mean really, why?) and Foals finally shuffled on stage. They are geeks. Yannis stood side-on, rarely acknowledging the crowd with eye contact. What followed was an unrelenting assault in efficient rhythm-heavy Music To Dance To.
Yannis was at his most animated during his quest to climb the speaker stacks, which took three attempts. There was a look of solid and calm determination on his face.
In terms of variation there was nothing. Almost to the extent that theirs is one debut album I am not eagerly anticipating. I can imagine on record this collection of songs could sound quite dull. However, on stage they are brought to life. Equations and remainders, stream lined and tight. Who cares about the lack of variety when what is on show has such powerful rhythm that whatever available appendages can’t help but shake in time.
The songs rush by in haste. The closing triple pronged assault of Mathletics, Two Steps Twice and Hummer create a dance-off of silly proportions. Hummer sees the band disappear in a sea of kids invading the stage. It is undoubtedly their best song and a highlight of recent trips to the indie disco. It must be something to do with the right balance of cowbells, bleeps and shouting.
A closing air of mutual satisfaction. There was dancing for all.
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