Strange Death Of Liberal England
We Walk In Straight Lines - Larsen B
The Masque
THE STRANGE DEATH OF LIBERAL ENGLAND: proud owners of one the best monikers this side of iLiKETRAiNS actually had some real competition in the interesting-and-thought-provoking-name front tonight. First up, LARSEN B, a band named in honour of an Antarctic ice sheet, (with a nod to British Sea Power), which met its fate at the hands of pesky old global warming . A four-piece purveying affecting folk-indie, they are a small-town band hailing from Wheathampstead, Hertfordshire. They also pride themselves on not belonging to a scene and this does seem to come across in their array of expansive, slow building songs. There is something of the rural to them as well, evident in the quite lovely Marilyn: a melodic cocktail of rumbling drums and haunting and relentless backing vocals. On the evidence of this set, whilst they may not embarking on anything pioneering or ground-breaking as such, they do have strong, purposeful tunes that set them apart room the dirge of many of their contemporaries. There is something of the ARCADE FIRE about them too, structurally slow-building with oft-repeated crescendoing choruses.
Following on from Larsen B were WE WALK IN STRAIGHT LINES, an interesting proposition of a band who describe the own self-titled EP as: '...a furious smorgasbord of hollow vindication'. They're evidently a thoughtful bunch then and this self-deprecation and introspection seems to have stood them in good stead as they clearly have ideas and variety aplenty judging from this set. They've been garnering much attention lately too with praise rolling in from the likes of TOM PETTY not to mention a support slot with FIELD MUSIC at this year's Sound City festival. The likes of Field Music may indeed be the band's closest musical relative too. The two definitely share a certain urgency which is apparent in their live performances. They also have common ground in a beguiling desire not rest on their laurels. They come across as eager to impress and demonstrate an obsessive will to please the listener with an experimental sound and continuous changes of pace.
What also stands out though is their ability to convey several ideas in one song. This does, on occasion, result in competing sounds pulling in opposite directions or moments of inspiration becoming lost in the overall fuzz. However, by-and-large this approach works and leaves the listener wanting to go home and explore all these different musical avenues further.
And then came STRANGE DEATH OF LIBERAL ENGLAND to the stage, a live music event eagerly anticipated by many a local muso. Another band whose ability to bring something different to the stage has made them stand out as a 'one to watch' for a while (for this reviewer, ever since narrowly missing out on them supporting THE EDITORS and FUJIYA & MIYAGI in the spring). A five-piece, they are fronted by Adam Woolway and his emotive shrieks. As a singer this inevitably makes him an acquired taste, it should also be noted that he is a man of perplexing follicle arrangement. Woolway's unusual tones do add to urgency to TSDOLE's tunes though. Perhaps in a different outfit his style would be seen as a weakness, yet within the likes of Shadows from new album Drown Your Heart Again, it somehow seems very appropriate. The first thing that struck was that media comparisons to THE PIXIES may have been closer to the mark than was immediately apparent. This may be to do with the frenetic energy of the TSDOLE's live show, which gives them that fuzziness and edginess that worked so well for Frank Black's lot. They know how to put on a performance too, aided by affecting lyrics, there is much drama to their music. A five-piece with an obvious enthusiasm for performing live, they are the sort of band you really tune-in to and want to take seriously. Whether it's the lyrics or the music, both seem to carry a certain importance and the audience were listening intently at the absorbing presence before them. For all the seriousness of the content, amongst heavy themes of death and apocolypse, there is a sense of fun to the group and they rarely evoke boredom.
PeTE ROBINSON
Saturday, 13 November 2010
Zanzibar, 29.10.20
TONE PUPPETS
Zanzibar
Having seen this band perform in the same venue a couple of months earlier, I sort of knew what to expect. That is, uniformly-logoed polo shirts, songs of a funky-pyschedelic disposition and a real feeling of a 1980s, baggy-era 'Madchester' flashback. This isn't to say though that the TONE PUPPETS are mere copycats and comparisons to the likes of Primal Scream and their ilk should be seen as complimentary. In songs such as Wicked Curse and Strange Signs, they expertly blend their apparent '60s influences too (for they do occasionally bring to mind the likes of The Doors and Led Zeppelin) with the chiming guitar loops not a million miles away from John Squire's melodic wizardry with The Stone Roses.
To this end, the band's sound isn't purely derivative by any means. In a sense they have a trump card in the form of a unique mixture of both Spanish and eastern influences which resonate through numbers such as Late Nights and Indian Kind. This brings innovation to their rhythms and may be behind some interesting and unusual song structures. This gives them a fresh sounding edge and serves to keep the listener guessing. Lyrically, they have plenty to offer as well and in this respect lead singer Mark Mulhaney does indeed have something of Jim Morrison about him. Using an upbeat and driven tempo to frame claustrophobic, obscure and sometimes haunting words, their set has an intrigue to it, leading one to think they perhaps a little more than just a good band.
They have swagger as well and although they don't particularly stand out visually, Mulhaney does have stage presence. Now the resident band of Zanzibar's The Lovely Job night, their distinctive sound ties the night together well and the night can be recommended as time well spent. This regularly spot has allowed Tone Puppets to hone their sound and a result they come over as a very tight and accomplished four-piece. I implore you to see this band if you get a chance, as they have the talent to play to bigger audiences and with any luck will be doing just that soon enough.
PeTE ROBINSON
Zanzibar
Having seen this band perform in the same venue a couple of months earlier, I sort of knew what to expect. That is, uniformly-logoed polo shirts, songs of a funky-pyschedelic disposition and a real feeling of a 1980s, baggy-era 'Madchester' flashback. This isn't to say though that the TONE PUPPETS are mere copycats and comparisons to the likes of Primal Scream and their ilk should be seen as complimentary. In songs such as Wicked Curse and Strange Signs, they expertly blend their apparent '60s influences too (for they do occasionally bring to mind the likes of The Doors and Led Zeppelin) with the chiming guitar loops not a million miles away from John Squire's melodic wizardry with The Stone Roses.
To this end, the band's sound isn't purely derivative by any means. In a sense they have a trump card in the form of a unique mixture of both Spanish and eastern influences which resonate through numbers such as Late Nights and Indian Kind. This brings innovation to their rhythms and may be behind some interesting and unusual song structures. This gives them a fresh sounding edge and serves to keep the listener guessing. Lyrically, they have plenty to offer as well and in this respect lead singer Mark Mulhaney does indeed have something of Jim Morrison about him. Using an upbeat and driven tempo to frame claustrophobic, obscure and sometimes haunting words, their set has an intrigue to it, leading one to think they perhaps a little more than just a good band.
They have swagger as well and although they don't particularly stand out visually, Mulhaney does have stage presence. Now the resident band of Zanzibar's The Lovely Job night, their distinctive sound ties the night together well and the night can be recommended as time well spent. This regularly spot has allowed Tone Puppets to hone their sound and a result they come over as a very tight and accomplished four-piece. I implore you to see this band if you get a chance, as they have the talent to play to bigger audiences and with any luck will be doing just that soon enough.
PeTE ROBINSON
Wednesday, 25 August 2010
STEVE MASON
Static Art Gallery
Back to Bido HQ for a potential gem of a night: STEVE MASON, the driving force behind the Beta Band and surely one the most distinguished and accomplished songwriters Static has ever opened its doors to. Entering the stage to an appreciative crowd, Mason kicked off the show with sparseness and understatement, breaking the momentary silence afforded to him with the bareness of his voice alone. In fact, for the entirety of the first two songs this really was a solo effort, no band in sight just Mason, the stage and the audience. The effect of this ploy soon became clear however, as by gradually integrating the band into proceedings, Mason was able to showcase the layering of his song craft and emphasise the attention to detail that has made his brand of Electro-soul distinctive. Throughout his song writing career, Mason has in actuality been at his most poignant and meaningful when this attention to detail has been at its most acute. Perhaps never one for sweeping epics or contagious riffs, the beauty of the Beta Band was also the nuance.
Early on he brought out the quite brilliant (and one time Trigger Happy TV mainstay) Dr Baker, a song still sounding fresh and innovative over a decade on:- beautiful. Much of the rest of the set though was comprised of his newest material taken from spring's Boys Outside, an album steeped in lyrical melancholy, stemming from the turbulence in Mason's own life over the last couple of years. The fact that pain and misery are never entirely detached from inspiration and creativity is evident here. Offerings such as Understand My Heart are not only close to the bone in terms of their significance to their maker's personal life but also represent what is without a doubt some Mason's finest solo work. Title track Boys Outside has the melodic piano and funky beats of Beta Band number but offsets this with hauntingly inward-looking lyrics, but it works to great affect. Whilst there is a decidedly dark theme to this album, it still remains the closest he has come to revisiting earlier work but is also something of a return to form after the Black Affair project.
However, whilst this may not be a huge departure in sound from the Beta Band, Mason's ability to pen meaningful and innovative pop music still remains. But at the same time there is an inescapable feeling that the formula hasn't evolved enough and subsequently the music has lost a little of the edge and forward-looking perspective it once carried. Therefore Mason's difficulty may lie in attracting new listeners to his music, without them first being initiated into the Beta Band back catalogue. For those that have been with him all the way though, Steve Mason back in Liverpool was a more than welcome sight. Despite bemoaning Static's lack of lights, the man himself actually reserved praise for the 'Do-It-Yourself' local music scene. Highlight of the night? Mason going to town on an unsuspecting cowbell.
Pete Robinson
Static Art Gallery
Back to Bido HQ for a potential gem of a night: STEVE MASON, the driving force behind the Beta Band and surely one the most distinguished and accomplished songwriters Static has ever opened its doors to. Entering the stage to an appreciative crowd, Mason kicked off the show with sparseness and understatement, breaking the momentary silence afforded to him with the bareness of his voice alone. In fact, for the entirety of the first two songs this really was a solo effort, no band in sight just Mason, the stage and the audience. The effect of this ploy soon became clear however, as by gradually integrating the band into proceedings, Mason was able to showcase the layering of his song craft and emphasise the attention to detail that has made his brand of Electro-soul distinctive. Throughout his song writing career, Mason has in actuality been at his most poignant and meaningful when this attention to detail has been at its most acute. Perhaps never one for sweeping epics or contagious riffs, the beauty of the Beta Band was also the nuance.
Early on he brought out the quite brilliant (and one time Trigger Happy TV mainstay) Dr Baker, a song still sounding fresh and innovative over a decade on:- beautiful. Much of the rest of the set though was comprised of his newest material taken from spring's Boys Outside, an album steeped in lyrical melancholy, stemming from the turbulence in Mason's own life over the last couple of years. The fact that pain and misery are never entirely detached from inspiration and creativity is evident here. Offerings such as Understand My Heart are not only close to the bone in terms of their significance to their maker's personal life but also represent what is without a doubt some Mason's finest solo work. Title track Boys Outside has the melodic piano and funky beats of Beta Band number but offsets this with hauntingly inward-looking lyrics, but it works to great affect. Whilst there is a decidedly dark theme to this album, it still remains the closest he has come to revisiting earlier work but is also something of a return to form after the Black Affair project.
However, whilst this may not be a huge departure in sound from the Beta Band, Mason's ability to pen meaningful and innovative pop music still remains. But at the same time there is an inescapable feeling that the formula hasn't evolved enough and subsequently the music has lost a little of the edge and forward-looking perspective it once carried. Therefore Mason's difficulty may lie in attracting new listeners to his music, without them first being initiated into the Beta Band back catalogue. For those that have been with him all the way though, Steve Mason back in Liverpool was a more than welcome sight. Despite bemoaning Static's lack of lights, the man himself actually reserved praise for the 'Do-It-Yourself' local music scene. Highlight of the night? Mason going to town on an unsuspecting cowbell.
Pete Robinson
SHELLSUIT
DEAD COWBOYS
Williamson Tunnels
Although the DEAD COWBOYS don’t cite The Smiths as an influence, lead singer Dave Jackson does a mean Morrissey. The mannerisms and the swagger are all there even if the vocals aren’t a perfect match. Musically, the band have looked to the likes of Johnny Cash, The Fall and T-Rex for their inspiration. This may be telling too, as within tracks such as Relent and Neighbour in particular, there is an apparent fusion of decidedly British and distinctively American sounds. Taking the jingle-jangle of British invasion rock and the rhythmic sensibilities of Americana, there is plenty of interest here. This marriage of genres doesn’t seem to have happened by chance either, the band interestingly dubbing their style as ‘Unamericana’. A five-piece, the Dead Cowboys typically play guitar-loop heavy indie rock songs. Jackson, for his part, brings largely narrative lyrics rooted in the blues and this often gives their sound a certain melancholic intrigue. There other moments where their debt to The Fall is clear for all to see. This is quite possibly their biggest shortfall though. The guitar pieces, whilst melodic and contagious enough, seem to be trying to emulate the lo-fi, one level effect of Mark E Smith’s best work. Consequently, tracks occasionally bleed into one another, perhaps hinting at the limited scope of the band. They do have quality though and there is enough on show to make them one worth investigation.
Taking to the stage at nine-thirty, top-billing SHELLSUIT provoke a swift exudus from the bar. Attention is immediately drawn to the Liverpool foursome’s attire. Dinner jacket-clad, they enter with a smile and in the case of lead singer a dubious blonde hairpiece. On the face of it Lee Hurst in a wig isn’t all that appealing. But once the blonde mop comes off two or three songs into the set, it’s...erm...just Lee Hurst. Follicle-based jibes aside, this is a band creating genuine excitement at the moment and in the cavernous wonder of the Williamson Tunnels, there seemed to be a real buzz of anticipation. Taking a look at their website will tell you that Shellsuit aren’t just a band but a project, a concept even. Then there’s actor Budgie and poet Farquar under the Shellsuit banner, the latter introducing the band tonight by way of an anti-American rant. There is also a written mission statement of sorts, espousing multi-culturalism and pointing out the ludicrous nature of stereotypes. Musically, they are fresh sounding and vocally led. The songwriting itself seems purposeful and a little unusual. A common theme of sparse arrangements is complemented by subtle and pleasing guitar licks. Their strongest suit though, is the lyrics. They are a band with much to say. Dealing with issues such as patriotism and immigration and specifically in the excellent Iraqi’s In Shellsuits, the relationship between the two. Elsewhere, the subject matter becomes more introspective, Split Brain And The Whole Mind is a much more inward-looking affair. It may also be their most instantly memorable song, with a ruthlessly infectious tune and the mesmerizing repetition of the short chorus: ‘This brain’s got a brain of its own!’. Curiously, there are no obvious comparisons that spring to mind here and they certainly don’t lack originality, already demonstrating within these thirteen songs that are brimming with ideas. It’s difficult to say why but this band stand out, they’ve certainly got something about them. And this is one way of bringing the Shellsuit back.
Pete Robinson
DEAD COWBOYS
Williamson Tunnels
Although the DEAD COWBOYS don’t cite The Smiths as an influence, lead singer Dave Jackson does a mean Morrissey. The mannerisms and the swagger are all there even if the vocals aren’t a perfect match. Musically, the band have looked to the likes of Johnny Cash, The Fall and T-Rex for their inspiration. This may be telling too, as within tracks such as Relent and Neighbour in particular, there is an apparent fusion of decidedly British and distinctively American sounds. Taking the jingle-jangle of British invasion rock and the rhythmic sensibilities of Americana, there is plenty of interest here. This marriage of genres doesn’t seem to have happened by chance either, the band interestingly dubbing their style as ‘Unamericana’. A five-piece, the Dead Cowboys typically play guitar-loop heavy indie rock songs. Jackson, for his part, brings largely narrative lyrics rooted in the blues and this often gives their sound a certain melancholic intrigue. There other moments where their debt to The Fall is clear for all to see. This is quite possibly their biggest shortfall though. The guitar pieces, whilst melodic and contagious enough, seem to be trying to emulate the lo-fi, one level effect of Mark E Smith’s best work. Consequently, tracks occasionally bleed into one another, perhaps hinting at the limited scope of the band. They do have quality though and there is enough on show to make them one worth investigation.
Taking to the stage at nine-thirty, top-billing SHELLSUIT provoke a swift exudus from the bar. Attention is immediately drawn to the Liverpool foursome’s attire. Dinner jacket-clad, they enter with a smile and in the case of lead singer a dubious blonde hairpiece. On the face of it Lee Hurst in a wig isn’t all that appealing. But once the blonde mop comes off two or three songs into the set, it’s...erm...just Lee Hurst. Follicle-based jibes aside, this is a band creating genuine excitement at the moment and in the cavernous wonder of the Williamson Tunnels, there seemed to be a real buzz of anticipation. Taking a look at their website will tell you that Shellsuit aren’t just a band but a project, a concept even. Then there’s actor Budgie and poet Farquar under the Shellsuit banner, the latter introducing the band tonight by way of an anti-American rant. There is also a written mission statement of sorts, espousing multi-culturalism and pointing out the ludicrous nature of stereotypes. Musically, they are fresh sounding and vocally led. The songwriting itself seems purposeful and a little unusual. A common theme of sparse arrangements is complemented by subtle and pleasing guitar licks. Their strongest suit though, is the lyrics. They are a band with much to say. Dealing with issues such as patriotism and immigration and specifically in the excellent Iraqi’s In Shellsuits, the relationship between the two. Elsewhere, the subject matter becomes more introspective, Split Brain And The Whole Mind is a much more inward-looking affair. It may also be their most instantly memorable song, with a ruthlessly infectious tune and the mesmerizing repetition of the short chorus: ‘This brain’s got a brain of its own!’. Curiously, there are no obvious comparisons that spring to mind here and they certainly don’t lack originality, already demonstrating within these thirteen songs that are brimming with ideas. It’s difficult to say why but this band stand out, they’ve certainly got something about them. And this is one way of bringing the Shellsuit back.
Pete Robinson
Mike Crossey Interview, 8.8.10
Mike Crossey Interview, 8.8.10
Keith’s Wine Bar, Lark Lane
Mike Crossey sits back and sips gently at a coffee in Lark Lane’s Keiths. He comes across as modest, unassuming even, and within seconds of opening his mouth it is obvious that he cares about music. Really cares. Belfast-born and Liverpool-raised, Crossey currently splits his time between his London home and his south Liverpool base, near to the newly-renovated Motor Museum recording studio just off the Lane itself. The last few years as a producer have seen him develop something of a reputation within the record industry. It’s probably true to say that he has become seen as someone who can give a recording some life. He brings a rough feel to an album, perhaps even using the studio to bridge the gap between the live show and the packaged sound. Of late, Crossey has been particularly busy, putting in 15-hour shifts to lend his stylings to a number of different projects. One such project has seen him working with All Man Kind, an Australian band currently doing well in the states, who Crossey describes as sounding like early U2. Perhaps more enticingly though, the last five weeks, have been spent in Ray Davies’ London studio Konk working on the former Kinks front man’s new release, a compilation album of some the band’s more overlooked songs. This is obviously something he is excited about as he divulges some of the various guests working on the project. Davies is collaborating with Mumford And Sons (a band Crossey himself is keen on), Metallica and even Bon Jovi, amongst others. Although, it should be said the latter’s inclusion was revealed with at least mild disdain.
The subject soon moved on to an altogether gloomier topic though, as the state of the music industry as a whole was brought into question. When broaching the issue of digital editing and its overwhelming prevalence in the last decade, Crossey was refreshingly earnest with his diagnosis. He views the overuse of the technique as a ‘microwave meal compromise’ and stated‘record companies now, are looking to make everything cheaper and faster’. Quite a damning indictment, putting distance between himself and the major labels such as Universal. This also denotes a sort of ‘us versus them’ attitude from Crossey, ‘us’ being the pro-music fans, ‘them’ being the anti-music bigwigs. Cliched maybe but hard to deny. It also confirms what perhaps we already knew, that the big labels choose style over substance and are motivated by greed.‘The labels still don’t seem to be getting it and they wonder why the kids aren’t buying the CDs’ , ventures Crossey ruefully. As idealistic as this all may seem, he comes across as a bastion of hope for a moribund industry whose decline has been well publicized, if it doesn’t change soon anyway. If this is the problem though, what is the answer? Well, Crossey feels a glance at the past can reveal a lot. ‘If you look at previous decades, they are remembered for the latest technology that was around at the time. In the‘60’s it was panning, in the‘80’s it was digital reverb and the last decade it has been digital editing, and it’s been overdone. I think we will look back and laugh’. The idea of tinny speakers and frequencies being squashed to ‘nth’ degree in order to suit the iPod age may then, just be a phase. But can we be sure that the people writing the cheques will learn from their mistakes? Or will the record companies just become more determined to claw back the money they’ve lost, hemorrhaged through dwindling sales and a now unquenchable thirst for free music? Crossey feels they will have to change: ‘They spent too much and no longer make enough, so they’ll collapse in on themselves’.
So if the monsters will sleigh themselves, then the biggest challenge may be trying to win over the next generation of kids who don’t know what a good record should sound like. Again though, this comes down to an obsession with speed and convenience and not just in the context of iPhones and file sharing; the recording equipment itself often suffers. ‘The best equipment is the old stuff, ‘60’s microphones that aren’t made anymore but could cost you £50,000 now. So instead you get cheap ones from China. The craftwork just isn’t there now’. He’s no technophobe though and by the sound of it the newly-renovated Motor Museum is very much alive to technological innovations since Crossey took over the reigns in April. It’s all about the balance though, and the industry needs to look to the likes of this man and focus on quality. And quality alone.
Keith’s Wine Bar, Lark Lane
Mike Crossey sits back and sips gently at a coffee in Lark Lane’s Keiths. He comes across as modest, unassuming even, and within seconds of opening his mouth it is obvious that he cares about music. Really cares. Belfast-born and Liverpool-raised, Crossey currently splits his time between his London home and his south Liverpool base, near to the newly-renovated Motor Museum recording studio just off the Lane itself. The last few years as a producer have seen him develop something of a reputation within the record industry. It’s probably true to say that he has become seen as someone who can give a recording some life. He brings a rough feel to an album, perhaps even using the studio to bridge the gap between the live show and the packaged sound. Of late, Crossey has been particularly busy, putting in 15-hour shifts to lend his stylings to a number of different projects. One such project has seen him working with All Man Kind, an Australian band currently doing well in the states, who Crossey describes as sounding like early U2. Perhaps more enticingly though, the last five weeks, have been spent in Ray Davies’ London studio Konk working on the former Kinks front man’s new release, a compilation album of some the band’s more overlooked songs. This is obviously something he is excited about as he divulges some of the various guests working on the project. Davies is collaborating with Mumford And Sons (a band Crossey himself is keen on), Metallica and even Bon Jovi, amongst others. Although, it should be said the latter’s inclusion was revealed with at least mild disdain.
The subject soon moved on to an altogether gloomier topic though, as the state of the music industry as a whole was brought into question. When broaching the issue of digital editing and its overwhelming prevalence in the last decade, Crossey was refreshingly earnest with his diagnosis. He views the overuse of the technique as a ‘microwave meal compromise’ and stated‘record companies now, are looking to make everything cheaper and faster’. Quite a damning indictment, putting distance between himself and the major labels such as Universal. This also denotes a sort of ‘us versus them’ attitude from Crossey, ‘us’ being the pro-music fans, ‘them’ being the anti-music bigwigs. Cliched maybe but hard to deny. It also confirms what perhaps we already knew, that the big labels choose style over substance and are motivated by greed.‘The labels still don’t seem to be getting it and they wonder why the kids aren’t buying the CDs’ , ventures Crossey ruefully. As idealistic as this all may seem, he comes across as a bastion of hope for a moribund industry whose decline has been well publicized, if it doesn’t change soon anyway. If this is the problem though, what is the answer? Well, Crossey feels a glance at the past can reveal a lot. ‘If you look at previous decades, they are remembered for the latest technology that was around at the time. In the‘60’s it was panning, in the‘80’s it was digital reverb and the last decade it has been digital editing, and it’s been overdone. I think we will look back and laugh’. The idea of tinny speakers and frequencies being squashed to ‘nth’ degree in order to suit the iPod age may then, just be a phase. But can we be sure that the people writing the cheques will learn from their mistakes? Or will the record companies just become more determined to claw back the money they’ve lost, hemorrhaged through dwindling sales and a now unquenchable thirst for free music? Crossey feels they will have to change: ‘They spent too much and no longer make enough, so they’ll collapse in on themselves’.
So if the monsters will sleigh themselves, then the biggest challenge may be trying to win over the next generation of kids who don’t know what a good record should sound like. Again though, this comes down to an obsession with speed and convenience and not just in the context of iPhones and file sharing; the recording equipment itself often suffers. ‘The best equipment is the old stuff, ‘60’s microphones that aren’t made anymore but could cost you £50,000 now. So instead you get cheap ones from China. The craftwork just isn’t there now’. He’s no technophobe though and by the sound of it the newly-renovated Motor Museum is very much alive to technological innovations since Crossey took over the reigns in April. It’s all about the balance though, and the industry needs to look to the likes of this man and focus on quality. And quality alone.
Jude Waldman/Tiki Black/S.J.Downes/Jimmy Lightfoot,2.7.10
JUNKYARD JUDE
TIKI BLACK-S.J DOWNES-JIMMY LIGHTFOOT AND THE DISCIPLE
MelloMello’s fast-growing reputation as a hub for the disparate and fascinating wealth of talent
in the city rolls on. But this wasn’t an evening exclusive to artists in possession of a capital ‘L’ at the front of their postcode. With semi-compulsory consumption of organic beer, red-wine ring stains and vague scent of mahogany, MelloMello doesn’t lack charm as a venue and in-keeping with this, was an evening very much aimed at music listener ahead of the music dancer. First on stage were JIMMY LIGHTFOOT AND THE DISCIPLE’s comically aggressive ramblings. The disciples usually being plural in number, tonight it was just Jimmy plus drummer. However, by assuming a larger-than-life onstage presence including full-blown faux deep south drawl Jimmy was never in danger of lacking presence. Add this to the constant narrative to some of the most ridiculous song-writer’s fodder you’ll ever hear and you quickly come to conclusion that this is music much more about the fun, at the expense of musical pomposity. Taking songs titles such as Beach Perve and Dad’s Having A Sex Party as reliable indicators of what this project’s about, it’s probably fair to say that entertaining the crowd is high on the agenda. The style is a hybrid of sorts between country and hillbilly and comes across as gentle dig at a genre, although evidently one held dear by the artist. From here the night took on an atmosphere much more bespoked to the purist. Starting with the traditional blues of S.J. DOWNES, a man very much devoted to his love of 1920’s Mississippi blues. Although whilst his listed influences might include the likes of Blind Lemon Jefferson and Charlie Patton, vocally he brings to mind the distinctive calm of Nick Drake. Downes’s set was in fact something of an homage, celebrating the vast array of early blues talent, now oft-forgotten with the passing of time. To this end most of the songs are covers, beautifully replicated covers at that, such as Blind Blake’s Too Tight Rag, Blind Willie McTell’s Searching The Desert For The Blues and the aforementioned Patton’s Shake It And Break It. The precision that these renditions are delivered with is not lost on the crowd who sit quietly and appreciatively before what rapidly became a blues masterclass. Downes does visit other eras in his set too, choosing John Fahey’s Take A Look At That Baby to showcase his talents as a fingerpicker. Seeing such a masterclass of carefully selected covers, acting as conduits of expression, really whets the appetite for some of the man’s own work. The crowd were then encouraged to swap one man and his guitar for one woman and her piano in the form of TIKI BLACK. Manchester-based by way of Paris and Cameroon, Black offers gentle vignettes of highly emotional and deeply personal songs. A short set, comprising just five songs, this was a performance that really gave the impression of having been invited into the intimate surroundings of the artist’s rehearsal room, such was the introverted lyrical content. From opener Open Your Eyes to the french language Le Cinquieme Element these were sparse songs, making use of slow-building piano to accompany fragile and enchanting vocals. The former in particular, progresses with a haunting quality, exploiting a minimalist structure to great affect, giving it a power disproportionate to its quietude. Elsewhere, Free Like Smoke demonstrates that music can be just as much about the silence as the notes in between. There is obvious talent here and these are songs that tug at the heartstrings without ever giving the impression they were written purely to do so. Open Your Eyes contains the line: ‘do not hide in your cocoon’. Tiki Black would do well to follow this advice. Finally, there was headliner ‘JUNKYARD’ JUDE WALDMAN. Appearing on stage in checkered shirt with guitar and harmonica in tow, Waldman immediately looked to be flying the flag of his North American heritage. Musically too, he is very much someone in touch with his roots. Waldman’s pathway to Mello Mello stopped several times along the way at Americana, Hillbilly and a touch of the folk-blues. More than anyone, he brings to mind Seasick Steve, sharing a lyrical style rooted in poverty blues. This is evident in tracks such as Please Say Yes, whereas others such as Look Out Mama are perhaps a nod to Dylan. There are perhaps other contemporary styles within too as Waldman himself hinted at influences on this side of the Atlantic, namely John Martyn, to whom his record Coca-Cola And Silver Screens is devoted. Waldman himself did cut something of a subdued figure, perhaps owing to the acts before him running over time, resulting in a crowd dwindling in number by the time he made it onstage. Towards the end of the evening, like S.J.Downes before him Waldman brought out the covers. All faithfully and immaculately reproduced, Dylan’s All Along The Watchtower and Don’t Think Twice It’s Alright sparkled before tribute was paid to Martyn himself with an empassioned version Over The Hill. Coming off stage, he didn’t seem happy with the performance himself but his music certainly wasn’t lost on the crowd that remained. All in all, Mello Mello is becoming hard to beat for new and live music.
Pete Robinson
TIKI BLACK-S.J DOWNES-JIMMY LIGHTFOOT AND THE DISCIPLE
MelloMello’s fast-growing reputation as a hub for the disparate and fascinating wealth of talent
in the city rolls on. But this wasn’t an evening exclusive to artists in possession of a capital ‘L’ at the front of their postcode. With semi-compulsory consumption of organic beer, red-wine ring stains and vague scent of mahogany, MelloMello doesn’t lack charm as a venue and in-keeping with this, was an evening very much aimed at music listener ahead of the music dancer. First on stage were JIMMY LIGHTFOOT AND THE DISCIPLE’s comically aggressive ramblings. The disciples usually being plural in number, tonight it was just Jimmy plus drummer. However, by assuming a larger-than-life onstage presence including full-blown faux deep south drawl Jimmy was never in danger of lacking presence. Add this to the constant narrative to some of the most ridiculous song-writer’s fodder you’ll ever hear and you quickly come to conclusion that this is music much more about the fun, at the expense of musical pomposity. Taking songs titles such as Beach Perve and Dad’s Having A Sex Party as reliable indicators of what this project’s about, it’s probably fair to say that entertaining the crowd is high on the agenda. The style is a hybrid of sorts between country and hillbilly and comes across as gentle dig at a genre, although evidently one held dear by the artist. From here the night took on an atmosphere much more bespoked to the purist. Starting with the traditional blues of S.J. DOWNES, a man very much devoted to his love of 1920’s Mississippi blues. Although whilst his listed influences might include the likes of Blind Lemon Jefferson and Charlie Patton, vocally he brings to mind the distinctive calm of Nick Drake. Downes’s set was in fact something of an homage, celebrating the vast array of early blues talent, now oft-forgotten with the passing of time. To this end most of the songs are covers, beautifully replicated covers at that, such as Blind Blake’s Too Tight Rag, Blind Willie McTell’s Searching The Desert For The Blues and the aforementioned Patton’s Shake It And Break It. The precision that these renditions are delivered with is not lost on the crowd who sit quietly and appreciatively before what rapidly became a blues masterclass. Downes does visit other eras in his set too, choosing John Fahey’s Take A Look At That Baby to showcase his talents as a fingerpicker. Seeing such a masterclass of carefully selected covers, acting as conduits of expression, really whets the appetite for some of the man’s own work. The crowd were then encouraged to swap one man and his guitar for one woman and her piano in the form of TIKI BLACK. Manchester-based by way of Paris and Cameroon, Black offers gentle vignettes of highly emotional and deeply personal songs. A short set, comprising just five songs, this was a performance that really gave the impression of having been invited into the intimate surroundings of the artist’s rehearsal room, such was the introverted lyrical content. From opener Open Your Eyes to the french language Le Cinquieme Element these were sparse songs, making use of slow-building piano to accompany fragile and enchanting vocals. The former in particular, progresses with a haunting quality, exploiting a minimalist structure to great affect, giving it a power disproportionate to its quietude. Elsewhere, Free Like Smoke demonstrates that music can be just as much about the silence as the notes in between. There is obvious talent here and these are songs that tug at the heartstrings without ever giving the impression they were written purely to do so. Open Your Eyes contains the line: ‘do not hide in your cocoon’. Tiki Black would do well to follow this advice. Finally, there was headliner ‘JUNKYARD’ JUDE WALDMAN. Appearing on stage in checkered shirt with guitar and harmonica in tow, Waldman immediately looked to be flying the flag of his North American heritage. Musically too, he is very much someone in touch with his roots. Waldman’s pathway to Mello Mello stopped several times along the way at Americana, Hillbilly and a touch of the folk-blues. More than anyone, he brings to mind Seasick Steve, sharing a lyrical style rooted in poverty blues. This is evident in tracks such as Please Say Yes, whereas others such as Look Out Mama are perhaps a nod to Dylan. There are perhaps other contemporary styles within too as Waldman himself hinted at influences on this side of the Atlantic, namely John Martyn, to whom his record Coca-Cola And Silver Screens is devoted. Waldman himself did cut something of a subdued figure, perhaps owing to the acts before him running over time, resulting in a crowd dwindling in number by the time he made it onstage. Towards the end of the evening, like S.J.Downes before him Waldman brought out the covers. All faithfully and immaculately reproduced, Dylan’s All Along The Watchtower and Don’t Think Twice It’s Alright sparkled before tribute was paid to Martyn himself with an empassioned version Over The Hill. Coming off stage, he didn’t seem happy with the performance himself but his music certainly wasn’t lost on the crowd that remained. All in all, Mello Mello is becoming hard to beat for new and live music.
Pete Robinson
Diamond Rings/Picture Book/Organ Freeman
DIAMOND RINGS
Picture Book – Organ Freeman
Mello Mello
Calling your band ORGAN FREEMAN does denote a certain sense of fun and perhaps a light-hearted outlook on the world of music. Unless of course this is pure coincidence and these boys haven't even heard of the Andy Dufresne and his pal 'Red', never mind watched a mid-nineties crime-thriller starring Brad Pitt. But no, it seems the former is more accurate as the band spend the ten minutes immediately preceding the show blowing up loads of those balloons that have lights inside them and glow, before dispersing them into the crowd. The all-male group then marched on, sans-instruments to form an inward-facing triangle in front of the stage. Honourable mention should also go a this stage to the fact that they were kitted-out in '80's Gary Lineker/Alan Partridge shorts, white sports socks and what can only be described as crop-tops. So as far as fun goes, they were setting the bar pretty high and what's remarkable is that this energy and exuberance actually carried over into the songs. And what's even more remarkable is that nobody got hurt. A novelty act they may be but what are live music shows all about if not to entertain? Entertain they certainly did.
Entering the stage next were PICTURE BOOK, a three-piece of unusual geographical origin, hailing from Liverpool, New York and in the case of lead singer Greta Svabo Bech, The Faroe Islands. Seeming a touch nervous to begin with, the band soon found themselves and moved through the gears of their homemade electro-pop repertoire. Like Organ Freeman before them, they were also about the visuals and almost managed to be as busy to look at as. Their brand of synth groove is fairly sedate in essence however, certainly containing more of the 'morning after' than the 'night before'. The likes of Love Lane and All The Way have a lot to offer by way of chill-out, sunshine pop and through some strong basslines combined with Bech's soothing vocals, they have found themselves a musical identity. Where they do come unstuck though is when it comes to a 'plan B'. There is a feeling of the songs bleeding into each other, particularly with the penultimate and final songs Sunshine and Explosions and this does leave the performance feeling a little flat. Talented musicians they undoubtedly are though and it may simply be that they are in need of direction, torn, as they seem at the moment between their individual, varied musical loves.
Finally, it was the turn of Toronto's DIAMOND RINGS to take to the stage. This is one man with a lot of energy and some very tight clothes. Describing his own music as 'melodramatic popular song', you can add 'self-aware' to this list of descriptors. With a musical education sitting slap bang in the 1980s, Diamond Rings offer bouncy and often joyous-sounding pop with a slightly darker undertone. Interestingly though, a couple of the tracks in the middle of the set brought to mind Room On Fire era The Strokes both vocally and in the lo-fi beats of John O's synthesiser. What Diamond Rings does lack though is the strong vocals to really carry the limited support said synthesiser offers. On top of this although, the was melodrama it came in the form throwaway, often flimsy choruses. If this sounds like it was made in a bedroom at three in the morning, its probably because it was. John O has ambition, charisma and to some degree talent but he is sadly lacking in musical scope.
Picture Book – Organ Freeman
Mello Mello
Calling your band ORGAN FREEMAN does denote a certain sense of fun and perhaps a light-hearted outlook on the world of music. Unless of course this is pure coincidence and these boys haven't even heard of the Andy Dufresne and his pal 'Red', never mind watched a mid-nineties crime-thriller starring Brad Pitt. But no, it seems the former is more accurate as the band spend the ten minutes immediately preceding the show blowing up loads of those balloons that have lights inside them and glow, before dispersing them into the crowd. The all-male group then marched on, sans-instruments to form an inward-facing triangle in front of the stage. Honourable mention should also go a this stage to the fact that they were kitted-out in '80's Gary Lineker/Alan Partridge shorts, white sports socks and what can only be described as crop-tops. So as far as fun goes, they were setting the bar pretty high and what's remarkable is that this energy and exuberance actually carried over into the songs. And what's even more remarkable is that nobody got hurt. A novelty act they may be but what are live music shows all about if not to entertain? Entertain they certainly did.
Entering the stage next were PICTURE BOOK, a three-piece of unusual geographical origin, hailing from Liverpool, New York and in the case of lead singer Greta Svabo Bech, The Faroe Islands. Seeming a touch nervous to begin with, the band soon found themselves and moved through the gears of their homemade electro-pop repertoire. Like Organ Freeman before them, they were also about the visuals and almost managed to be as busy to look at as. Their brand of synth groove is fairly sedate in essence however, certainly containing more of the 'morning after' than the 'night before'. The likes of Love Lane and All The Way have a lot to offer by way of chill-out, sunshine pop and through some strong basslines combined with Bech's soothing vocals, they have found themselves a musical identity. Where they do come unstuck though is when it comes to a 'plan B'. There is a feeling of the songs bleeding into each other, particularly with the penultimate and final songs Sunshine and Explosions and this does leave the performance feeling a little flat. Talented musicians they undoubtedly are though and it may simply be that they are in need of direction, torn, as they seem at the moment between their individual, varied musical loves.
Finally, it was the turn of Toronto's DIAMOND RINGS to take to the stage. This is one man with a lot of energy and some very tight clothes. Describing his own music as 'melodramatic popular song', you can add 'self-aware' to this list of descriptors. With a musical education sitting slap bang in the 1980s, Diamond Rings offer bouncy and often joyous-sounding pop with a slightly darker undertone. Interestingly though, a couple of the tracks in the middle of the set brought to mind Room On Fire era The Strokes both vocally and in the lo-fi beats of John O's synthesiser. What Diamond Rings does lack though is the strong vocals to really carry the limited support said synthesiser offers. On top of this although, the was melodrama it came in the form throwaway, often flimsy choruses. If this sounds like it was made in a bedroom at three in the morning, its probably because it was. John O has ambition, charisma and to some degree talent but he is sadly lacking in musical scope.
Sunday, 13 June 2010
More from Liverpool Sound City, Saturday the 22nd.
TEENAGERS IN TOKYO
Blue Juice
Aussie BBQ, Heebie Jeebies
Shockingly, Heebie Jeebies' Saturday afternoon Aussie BBQ actually had the weather to match. Apt for no one more than Sydney-based BLUE JUICE. Actually sounding like a product of sunshine itself, this is good-time, funk-tinged rock aimed at bringing a smile to the chops and a stomp to the feet. Used to playing to bigger crowds in their native land than the 30-odd crammed into the Heebies courtyard, from the off they were alive with an enthusiasm befitting their style. They play songs that make it almost impossible not to move, their biggest hit Vitriol being the perfect example. Centred squarely on repetition of a shouty and oh-so-catchy chorus, this song doesn't leave you in hurry and would make an excellent access point for newcomers. In terms of accessibility itself, I was not alone in being turned onto Blue Juice by this gig. What did come to mind though was the fact that this is music for the 'here and now' or even the 'there and then', it was very easy to leave these songs behind once the fun was over. Perhaps this points to the fact the band lack the depth and the ideas to stand up to repeated listening. To this end, at no point would I consider the prospect of buying a CD. What can't be disputed though is that Jack Stone's boys know how to create a buzz. Immediately following Blue Juice were an altogether different proposition. One part Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs, two parts CSS and ludicrously stylish in all, this is a group that reeked of style over substance, on first sight at least. Fortunately for me and my rapidly warming beer, these fears were soon allayed. In stark contrast to the laid-back atmosphere preceding them, TEENAGERS IN TOKYO oozed the kind of cool that looks effortless but is in all likelihood cultivated. Yet, behind the groove and style of the likes of Peter Pan and Blackbones there seemed an underlying focus and application. Lead vocalist Samantha Lim even demonstrated a professionalism to go along with the those decidedly punk-edged vocals. She is an obvious asset to the band and seems to have the charisma to go with the talent but she is by no means carrying the band. In fact, with bouncing bass and sweet harmonies, the real excitement comes from the dynamic of the group as a whole. Now based in Shorditch, they also have an intensity which comes across like a mission statement ensuring that you're likely to hear more of them.
Blue Juice
Aussie BBQ, Heebie Jeebies
Shockingly, Heebie Jeebies' Saturday afternoon Aussie BBQ actually had the weather to match. Apt for no one more than Sydney-based BLUE JUICE. Actually sounding like a product of sunshine itself, this is good-time, funk-tinged rock aimed at bringing a smile to the chops and a stomp to the feet. Used to playing to bigger crowds in their native land than the 30-odd crammed into the Heebies courtyard, from the off they were alive with an enthusiasm befitting their style. They play songs that make it almost impossible not to move, their biggest hit Vitriol being the perfect example. Centred squarely on repetition of a shouty and oh-so-catchy chorus, this song doesn't leave you in hurry and would make an excellent access point for newcomers. In terms of accessibility itself, I was not alone in being turned onto Blue Juice by this gig. What did come to mind though was the fact that this is music for the 'here and now' or even the 'there and then', it was very easy to leave these songs behind once the fun was over. Perhaps this points to the fact the band lack the depth and the ideas to stand up to repeated listening. To this end, at no point would I consider the prospect of buying a CD. What can't be disputed though is that Jack Stone's boys know how to create a buzz. Immediately following Blue Juice were an altogether different proposition. One part Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs, two parts CSS and ludicrously stylish in all, this is a group that reeked of style over substance, on first sight at least. Fortunately for me and my rapidly warming beer, these fears were soon allayed. In stark contrast to the laid-back atmosphere preceding them, TEENAGERS IN TOKYO oozed the kind of cool that looks effortless but is in all likelihood cultivated. Yet, behind the groove and style of the likes of Peter Pan and Blackbones there seemed an underlying focus and application. Lead vocalist Samantha Lim even demonstrated a professionalism to go along with the those decidedly punk-edged vocals. She is an obvious asset to the band and seems to have the charisma to go with the talent but she is by no means carrying the band. In fact, with bouncing bass and sweet harmonies, the real excitement comes from the dynamic of the group as a whole. Now based in Shorditch, they also have an intensity which comes across like a mission statement ensuring that you're likely to hear more of them.
More from Liverpool Sound City, Saturday the 22nd.
MORNING PARADE
O2 Academy 2
MORNING PARADE; a band of growing reputation, of an understated indie charm and a perhaps worrying, passing likeness to latter day Coldplay. They were also at the O2 Academy on a balmy Saturday night, entertaining a modest but appreciative crowd, in support of Sunshine Underground. They line-up as a 5-piece in the traditional sense, encompassing a keyboardist within the ranks and together play rock of a gentle nature. Their sound, though not likely to provoke a mosh-pit any time soon, is decidedly more upbeat than the aura of the band would suggest. Aesthetically, there is nothing remarkable about them; all jacket and jean-clad lads and it's fair to extend this to say that this isn't a show that will immediately grab the attention. What they do have though in songs such as Headlights are signs of potential. A slow-burner it may be but this one doesn't seem to dawdle like some of the others and within it the band seem to have found a formula for letting the subtleties of their ideas through. Accidents and Emergencies is another that evokes interest, simply through being a nice tune with a lovely sweeping chorus, giving further reason to believe that Morning Parade may be one worth further investigation. The problem they have though is that at times they do sound somewhat sparse and when this happens the melody suffers, as if they somehow don't quite make enough of the tools at their disposal.
O2 Academy 2
MORNING PARADE; a band of growing reputation, of an understated indie charm and a perhaps worrying, passing likeness to latter day Coldplay. They were also at the O2 Academy on a balmy Saturday night, entertaining a modest but appreciative crowd, in support of Sunshine Underground. They line-up as a 5-piece in the traditional sense, encompassing a keyboardist within the ranks and together play rock of a gentle nature. Their sound, though not likely to provoke a mosh-pit any time soon, is decidedly more upbeat than the aura of the band would suggest. Aesthetically, there is nothing remarkable about them; all jacket and jean-clad lads and it's fair to extend this to say that this isn't a show that will immediately grab the attention. What they do have though in songs such as Headlights are signs of potential. A slow-burner it may be but this one doesn't seem to dawdle like some of the others and within it the band seem to have found a formula for letting the subtleties of their ideas through. Accidents and Emergencies is another that evokes interest, simply through being a nice tune with a lovely sweeping chorus, giving further reason to believe that Morning Parade may be one worth further investigation. The problem they have though is that at times they do sound somewhat sparse and when this happens the melody suffers, as if they somehow don't quite make enough of the tools at their disposal.
LIVE PREVIEW
STEVE MASON
Static, 21st June
As a pioneer of the late '90s 'Folktronica' movement with his previous carnation and cult heroes The Beta Band, STEVE MASON's forthcoming show at The Static Art Gallery will do much to excite fans from across the Northwest. The Beta Band themselves are a group whose influence and importance to alternative and avant garde music should not be underestimated. From 1999's self-titled long play début, to 2001's Hot Shots II, through to 2004's swansong and personal favourite Heroes to Zeros, Mason deserves genuine credit for helping to shape the landscape of what's good about British indie today. Through the Beta Band he has a highly impressive and credible body of work which has not only received that mixed blessing of 'critical acclaim' but also bothered the album charts of the day to boot. Add to this as well the Three E.P.s Collection which many devotees consider to boast the band's best work. Since the band's demise in August '04, Mason has released work under various pseudonyms including King Biscuit Time and Black Affair but has most recently reverted back to his given name for the purpose of his new album Boys Outside, released in May of this year. Utilising the prowess of producer Richard X, the album leads with single All Come Down and is likely to feature at Static on the 21st. A gig for admirers new and old alike.
Pete Robinson
Static, 21st June
As a pioneer of the late '90s 'Folktronica' movement with his previous carnation and cult heroes The Beta Band, STEVE MASON's forthcoming show at The Static Art Gallery will do much to excite fans from across the Northwest. The Beta Band themselves are a group whose influence and importance to alternative and avant garde music should not be underestimated. From 1999's self-titled long play début, to 2001's Hot Shots II, through to 2004's swansong and personal favourite Heroes to Zeros, Mason deserves genuine credit for helping to shape the landscape of what's good about British indie today. Through the Beta Band he has a highly impressive and credible body of work which has not only received that mixed blessing of 'critical acclaim' but also bothered the album charts of the day to boot. Add to this as well the Three E.P.s Collection which many devotees consider to boast the band's best work. Since the band's demise in August '04, Mason has released work under various pseudonyms including King Biscuit Time and Black Affair but has most recently reverted back to his given name for the purpose of his new album Boys Outside, released in May of this year. Utilising the prowess of producer Richard X, the album leads with single All Come Down and is likely to feature at Static on the 21st. A gig for admirers new and old alike.
Pete Robinson
PREVIEW
PARAFFIN OIL SHOP
It might not be rock and roll to come from Widnes (Marilyn Manson screaming 'Heeelllooo Wiiidneeesss!!!' anyone?) but PARAFFIN OIL SHOP are doing it. Also, naming your band after a pub on Edge Lane, one of the very arteries of Liverpool, does sort of readdress the balance. Introductions first, the group consist of lead singer Daniel Pye, guitarist AJ Rathbone, bassist Kieran Joyce and Andrew Finney on drums. They are currently combining work on new material with extensively touring the Northwest and could be seen recently in venues such as Manchester's Moho Live and the Night And Day Café. Oh, and their MySpace page boasts having recently had their first ever pit at a gig. Moving on to what really matters though, the songs and the band have some obvious strong suits. They have solid material and Life For A White Light in particular stands out. It's melodic indie done well, engulfing the listener with an enticing guitar loop within thirty seconds and pushing on from there. Throughout the likes of Angel And Elephant, Traffic and Towers and Sky a keen sense of song-writing skill is evident and Pye's Brian Malko-esque vocals lend well to the narrative style of the lyrics. They grow on you too with repeated listens, being layered to good affect. Fans of Thirteen Senses and Shady Bard should certainly investigate further.
Pete Robinson
It might not be rock and roll to come from Widnes (Marilyn Manson screaming 'Heeelllooo Wiiidneeesss!!!' anyone?) but PARAFFIN OIL SHOP are doing it. Also, naming your band after a pub on Edge Lane, one of the very arteries of Liverpool, does sort of readdress the balance. Introductions first, the group consist of lead singer Daniel Pye, guitarist AJ Rathbone, bassist Kieran Joyce and Andrew Finney on drums. They are currently combining work on new material with extensively touring the Northwest and could be seen recently in venues such as Manchester's Moho Live and the Night And Day Café. Oh, and their MySpace page boasts having recently had their first ever pit at a gig. Moving on to what really matters though, the songs and the band have some obvious strong suits. They have solid material and Life For A White Light in particular stands out. It's melodic indie done well, engulfing the listener with an enticing guitar loop within thirty seconds and pushing on from there. Throughout the likes of Angel And Elephant, Traffic and Towers and Sky a keen sense of song-writing skill is evident and Pye's Brian Malko-esque vocals lend well to the narrative style of the lyrics. They grow on you too with repeated listens, being layered to good affect. Fans of Thirteen Senses and Shady Bard should certainly investigate further.
Pete Robinson
PREVIEW
THE RED SUNS
Managed by Deltasonic and hailing from both Liverpool and The Wirral respectively, word is that this is a band with a real future. Describing themselves as alternative, ambient rock, THE RED SUNS are indeed causing something of a stir in the northwest at them moment. In order to help that proverbial snowball take affect, they've really been covering some miles of late, including a jaunt up to the extremities of the Northwest to play at the Kendall Calling Festival. The band themselves consist of David Dowler, Warren Adjeriou, Matt Dowler and Jim Sharrock and are certainly a band who have a firm idea of their sound. Though perhaps a little reticent to cite their inspiration (their MySpace page list influences as simply: 'Only the finest'), fans of '80s Brit invasion rock pay attention though as there are definite nods to Echo And The Bunnymen, early U2 and perhaps even a dash of The Jesus And Marychain to be found here. Though quite where the 'ambience' fits in, its hard to say, maybe they're building towards that.
Pete Robinson
Managed by Deltasonic and hailing from both Liverpool and The Wirral respectively, word is that this is a band with a real future. Describing themselves as alternative, ambient rock, THE RED SUNS are indeed causing something of a stir in the northwest at them moment. In order to help that proverbial snowball take affect, they've really been covering some miles of late, including a jaunt up to the extremities of the Northwest to play at the Kendall Calling Festival. The band themselves consist of David Dowler, Warren Adjeriou, Matt Dowler and Jim Sharrock and are certainly a band who have a firm idea of their sound. Though perhaps a little reticent to cite their inspiration (their MySpace page list influences as simply: 'Only the finest'), fans of '80s Brit invasion rock pay attention though as there are definite nods to Echo And The Bunnymen, early U2 and perhaps even a dash of The Jesus And Marychain to be found here. Though quite where the 'ambience' fits in, its hard to say, maybe they're building towards that.
Pete Robinson
More from Liverpool Sound City, Saturday the 22nd.
MARRIED TO THE SEA
Old Rapid
Strolling down Seel Street on Saturday afternoon allowed one to take in the Sound City atmosphere and this was epitomised no more than by the Rapid Store roar of Liverpool's own MARRIED TO THE SEA. Combining a penchant for a saxophone with unusual and disparate influences (Leonard Cohen by way of The Replacements), they not only concoct a curious musical blend but also created genuine excitement amongst passers-by. Plying their trade with great zeal, they were helped not hindered by the novel experience of playing behind the shop front window which was once the front of hardware store Rapid. Behind glass but with speakers outside to bridge the gap with the audience, this created a kind of eerie Madame Tussauds-come-to-life, museum affect which played into the hands of the group's style. Sounding as they do at times, like the soundtrack to a David Lynch flick, this was performance that really worked, visually as well as aurally. Right place at the right time this may have been but it may have gone a long to finding the band a new set of genuine fans. In numbers such as Metropolitan and Quite A Spell there lay a dearth of nuance and the former in particular is reminiscent of The Horrors' Count In Fives. Consisting of Nick Duckett, Greg McCoy, Simon Turner and Sam Walkerdine, they've recently released E.P. Hello Digger and this may well be worth a little exploration to see whether this intriguing performance was more than a mere fluke.
Pete Robinson
Old Rapid
Strolling down Seel Street on Saturday afternoon allowed one to take in the Sound City atmosphere and this was epitomised no more than by the Rapid Store roar of Liverpool's own MARRIED TO THE SEA. Combining a penchant for a saxophone with unusual and disparate influences (Leonard Cohen by way of The Replacements), they not only concoct a curious musical blend but also created genuine excitement amongst passers-by. Plying their trade with great zeal, they were helped not hindered by the novel experience of playing behind the shop front window which was once the front of hardware store Rapid. Behind glass but with speakers outside to bridge the gap with the audience, this created a kind of eerie Madame Tussauds-come-to-life, museum affect which played into the hands of the group's style. Sounding as they do at times, like the soundtrack to a David Lynch flick, this was performance that really worked, visually as well as aurally. Right place at the right time this may have been but it may have gone a long to finding the band a new set of genuine fans. In numbers such as Metropolitan and Quite A Spell there lay a dearth of nuance and the former in particular is reminiscent of The Horrors' Count In Fives. Consisting of Nick Duckett, Greg McCoy, Simon Turner and Sam Walkerdine, they've recently released E.P. Hello Digger and this may well be worth a little exploration to see whether this intriguing performance was more than a mere fluke.
Pete Robinson
Thursday, 27 May 2010
More from Liverpool Sound City, Saturday the 22nd.
SOUND OF GUNS
Little Secrets-Death Of A Hero
The Haigh
A more than warm evening at The Haigh on saturday night played host to three Liverpool bands in varying degrees of infancy. First up were DEATH OF A HERO, a fresh incarnation of former Merseyside outfit Black Velvet. Wasting no time in launching into a set full of pub rock tunes, the band quickly found their groove. And whilst 'pub rock' does have some pretty horrible connotations, I use it here in a more positive way. This is a band who who are stationed in that paradox of male-dominated British rock; that is touching upon the age-old subjects of love lost and heartbreak but walloping it out within the masculine framework of conventional rock. This is what Death Of A Hero do but judging by songs like set-closer Ours Only, they do it very well. Next up were LITTLE SECRETS, and these first twenty words are, unfortunately, the most praise I can send their way. Bland, vulgar, brazen and shamelessly self-promoting; all reasons for me cringing into my own disdain before so much as three minutes of their set had elapsed. Their focal point being a gimmick of a lead vocalist in a skimpy white dress, concentrating so hard on pouting, it was surprising she managed to pour out those banal lyrics at all. What she brings to the world of performing, Jordan brings to literature at a canter. On an off day. Singer-based vitriol aside, even their strongest song Dreamer offered, at best, respite from a truly uninspiring bunch of songs. Never has indie-by-numbers worried me so much. The final act of the evening were SOUND OF GUNS. Self-assured and carrying a swagger denoting their growing reputation, they arrived to a rapidly swelling crowd bustling in anticipation. A 5-piece with a distinctive wall of sound approach, wailing guitars and marching drums give them an on-stage presence which, at the very least, stole the show on this night. Wielding material from their début album What Came From Fire, they quickly found top gear through the likes of the stadium-friendly Architects. They are not pioneers though and perhaps borrow too heavily from others; single Alcatraz in particular is very reminiscent of The Music's Welcome To The North. Never underestimate the pull of one or two big choruses though, and this, combined with the tigger-esque energy of frontman Andy Metcalfe made for a thrill-filled frenzy of a performance. For this group the next couple of years could be huge.
Pete Robinson
Little Secrets-Death Of A Hero
The Haigh
A more than warm evening at The Haigh on saturday night played host to three Liverpool bands in varying degrees of infancy. First up were DEATH OF A HERO, a fresh incarnation of former Merseyside outfit Black Velvet. Wasting no time in launching into a set full of pub rock tunes, the band quickly found their groove. And whilst 'pub rock' does have some pretty horrible connotations, I use it here in a more positive way. This is a band who who are stationed in that paradox of male-dominated British rock; that is touching upon the age-old subjects of love lost and heartbreak but walloping it out within the masculine framework of conventional rock. This is what Death Of A Hero do but judging by songs like set-closer Ours Only, they do it very well. Next up were LITTLE SECRETS, and these first twenty words are, unfortunately, the most praise I can send their way. Bland, vulgar, brazen and shamelessly self-promoting; all reasons for me cringing into my own disdain before so much as three minutes of their set had elapsed. Their focal point being a gimmick of a lead vocalist in a skimpy white dress, concentrating so hard on pouting, it was surprising she managed to pour out those banal lyrics at all. What she brings to the world of performing, Jordan brings to literature at a canter. On an off day. Singer-based vitriol aside, even their strongest song Dreamer offered, at best, respite from a truly uninspiring bunch of songs. Never has indie-by-numbers worried me so much. The final act of the evening were SOUND OF GUNS. Self-assured and carrying a swagger denoting their growing reputation, they arrived to a rapidly swelling crowd bustling in anticipation. A 5-piece with a distinctive wall of sound approach, wailing guitars and marching drums give them an on-stage presence which, at the very least, stole the show on this night. Wielding material from their début album What Came From Fire, they quickly found top gear through the likes of the stadium-friendly Architects. They are not pioneers though and perhaps borrow too heavily from others; single Alcatraz in particular is very reminiscent of The Music's Welcome To The North. Never underestimate the pull of one or two big choruses though, and this, combined with the tigger-esque energy of frontman Andy Metcalfe made for a thrill-filled frenzy of a performance. For this group the next couple of years could be huge.
Pete Robinson
Tuesday, 25 May 2010
Liverpool Sound City Review
CASHIER NO 9
Kowalski-Cutaways-Axis Of
Metropolitan
The Met on Thursday night played host to a quartet of acts hailing from Northern Ireland, showcasing a varied line-up full of energy, ideas and on occasion sheer musical mayhem. The latter, a descriptor used with Belfast alternative hardcore act AXIS OF firmly in mind. A three-piece evidently not in the business of taking themselves too seriously, it was hard not to get caught up in the chaotic zeal poured into this set. Chaos it may have been but it wasn't without purpose as the band demonstrated a curious blend of thoughtful lyrics, in offerings such as Swine Flu Versus Bird Flu and expressions of guttural wailing in new single Port Na Spaniagh. Next on the billing were the synth-laden CUTAWAYS. In comparison only to what had come before, the Met now seemed to have an air of the delicate world of pop about it. The confrontational and the abrasive replaced with the sweet, engrossing melodies of an altogether more indie outfit. However, in the same way as Jagjaguwar band Black Mountain, this is a group departing a little from the heavier sounds that have perhaps inspired them in order to foray into more radio-friendly territory. Whilst this is an interesting niche and the band have charm aplenty, the lighter moments seem a little plastic and contrived and on occasion they can seem flimsy. Following Cutaways were Bangor-based outfit KOWALSKI. Purveyors of pop rock in the more electro tradition, there are no identity issues here. The band do however, possess creative dynamism in spades. Bringing to mind Logic Will Break Your Heart- era Stills by way of layered guitars in Take Care, Take Flight, whilst departing for the pulsing bass and pounding drums of a Broken Social Scene album track in Get Back. Add this to the obvious asset of Louis Price's vocals and this could well be a band you'll hear more of. Finally, it was the turn of CASHIER NO. 9 to find a place in the conscience of the crowd. Perhaps not as instantly consumable in either appearance or sound as some of their compatriots sharing the bill, you soon got the impression that they were more about the nuance and the subtleties. Take 42 West Avenue as a case in point, country-infused and extremely pretty, it sounds a lot like The Bluetones and has almost soundtrack-like, passive nature about it. This was a common theme. Indeed, such was the detail of the songcraft, you only noticed a song's affect once it was gone. Listen if you get chance.
Pete Robinson
Kowalski-Cutaways-Axis Of
Metropolitan
The Met on Thursday night played host to a quartet of acts hailing from Northern Ireland, showcasing a varied line-up full of energy, ideas and on occasion sheer musical mayhem. The latter, a descriptor used with Belfast alternative hardcore act AXIS OF firmly in mind. A three-piece evidently not in the business of taking themselves too seriously, it was hard not to get caught up in the chaotic zeal poured into this set. Chaos it may have been but it wasn't without purpose as the band demonstrated a curious blend of thoughtful lyrics, in offerings such as Swine Flu Versus Bird Flu and expressions of guttural wailing in new single Port Na Spaniagh. Next on the billing were the synth-laden CUTAWAYS. In comparison only to what had come before, the Met now seemed to have an air of the delicate world of pop about it. The confrontational and the abrasive replaced with the sweet, engrossing melodies of an altogether more indie outfit. However, in the same way as Jagjaguwar band Black Mountain, this is a group departing a little from the heavier sounds that have perhaps inspired them in order to foray into more radio-friendly territory. Whilst this is an interesting niche and the band have charm aplenty, the lighter moments seem a little plastic and contrived and on occasion they can seem flimsy. Following Cutaways were Bangor-based outfit KOWALSKI. Purveyors of pop rock in the more electro tradition, there are no identity issues here. The band do however, possess creative dynamism in spades. Bringing to mind Logic Will Break Your Heart- era Stills by way of layered guitars in Take Care, Take Flight, whilst departing for the pulsing bass and pounding drums of a Broken Social Scene album track in Get Back. Add this to the obvious asset of Louis Price's vocals and this could well be a band you'll hear more of. Finally, it was the turn of CASHIER NO. 9 to find a place in the conscience of the crowd. Perhaps not as instantly consumable in either appearance or sound as some of their compatriots sharing the bill, you soon got the impression that they were more about the nuance and the subtleties. Take 42 West Avenue as a case in point, country-infused and extremely pretty, it sounds a lot like The Bluetones and has almost soundtrack-like, passive nature about it. This was a common theme. Indeed, such was the detail of the songcraft, you only noticed a song's affect once it was gone. Listen if you get chance.
Pete Robinson
Tuesday, 4 May 2010
theCOLOURS review, Bumper, Liverpool. 22.4.10
22nd April, 2010.
theCOLOURS at Bumper, Liverpool.
The name itself is an undeniable irritant, the band-name equivalent of a school girl spelling her name with a smiley face above any 'i's'. Musically though, there is a certain purity to the cultivated sound of Reading's theCOLOURS. From the beginning of this relatively short set at Liverpool's Bumper, the Berkshire three-piece seemed keen to show-off an immediately memorable set of songs.
There is nothing particularly pioneering about their sound and theirs is a musical path well-trodden in recent years. Indeed, this is electro-pop in a similar vein to the FrYars (more infuriating use of the caps lock), CSS or even Hot Chip but whilst not consciously taking to this band at first, I quickly found myself engaged in some pretty catchy choruses. Forthcoming single 'Tonight I Let You Go' was an obvious highlight, showcasing a high calibre of songcraft. Overall, the group do convey enthusiasm in abundance pointing, perhaps, to a real passion for what they do.
The difficulty for a band like theCOLOURS may well be finding their own identity. In a musical world where originality is equally as hard to find as it is prized, finding either substantial success or longevity may prove hard. On the basis of this night alone though, there is fun to be had at their live shows and the strong vocals of frontman Tom Pickford are a real asset. Add to this the radio-friendly infectiousness of the songs and this could easily be a band you'll hear move of. Ground-breaking they might not be but worthy of your attention they probably are.
theCOLOURS at Bumper, Liverpool.
The name itself is an undeniable irritant, the band-name equivalent of a school girl spelling her name with a smiley face above any 'i's'. Musically though, there is a certain purity to the cultivated sound of Reading's theCOLOURS. From the beginning of this relatively short set at Liverpool's Bumper, the Berkshire three-piece seemed keen to show-off an immediately memorable set of songs.
There is nothing particularly pioneering about their sound and theirs is a musical path well-trodden in recent years. Indeed, this is electro-pop in a similar vein to the FrYars (more infuriating use of the caps lock), CSS or even Hot Chip but whilst not consciously taking to this band at first, I quickly found myself engaged in some pretty catchy choruses. Forthcoming single 'Tonight I Let You Go' was an obvious highlight, showcasing a high calibre of songcraft. Overall, the group do convey enthusiasm in abundance pointing, perhaps, to a real passion for what they do.
The difficulty for a band like theCOLOURS may well be finding their own identity. In a musical world where originality is equally as hard to find as it is prized, finding either substantial success or longevity may prove hard. On the basis of this night alone though, there is fun to be had at their live shows and the strong vocals of frontman Tom Pickford are a real asset. Add to this the radio-friendly infectiousness of the songs and this could easily be a band you'll hear move of. Ground-breaking they might not be but worthy of your attention they probably are.
Saturday, 3 April 2010
THE EDITORS/Fujiya&Miyagi/StrangeDeathOfLiberalEngland review
THE EDITORS/Fujiya & Miyagi/The Strange Death Of Liberal England
Philharmonic Hall, Liverpool, 29.03.10.
The nature of Liverpool's Philharmonic hall meant that for fans this gig was always going to be a little different. Much more accustomed to the conductor than the front-man, this all-seater venue made up in acoustic capacity what it lacked in audience participation.
As far as diversity of style is concerned, special guests The Strange Death Of Liberal England take some beating. Drawing on influences ranging from folk pop to indie-rock, they offer epic, drawn-out affairs. They're often delightfully nuanced as well, suggesting that repeated listens would not be wasted. With fresh ideas and haunting melodies, they fill the listener with intrigue and implore them to delve further.
By contrast, the forward-thinking Fujiya & Miyagi bombard the audience with highly rhythmic, almost hypnotic tunes. Having formed in 2000, the four-piece have taken time to find their feet, yet this may have been to their benefit. They deliver an astonishingly crisp, clean sound highly accomplished in its assault on the audience. 'Ankle Injuries' in particular seemed almost beguiling in its directness, only compounded by ending as it did with the relentless terrace-like chanting of the band's name.
With the audience eager and in their seats, The Editors duly entered the stage. With the third album's style having taken the band down a new path, they may well have been hoping to shake off any lazy comparisons with the likes of Interpol and Joy Division, always refuted by the group themselves. Whilst the distinctive dark sound of the first two albums gave the group a strong identity and two very coherent records, it may have prevented the songwriting from maturing fully. Not that the charts agree, as all three records have been resounding successes. It does seem though that the boys from Stafford have unshackled themselves somewhat since 'The End Has A Start'. Moreover, whilst retaining the brooding quality evident on the likes of 'All Sparks', the third album is equally accessible, infinitely more interesting and may well appeal to a different breed of music fan.
Indeed, Tom Smith himself appeared visibly more animated when performing new singles 'Papillon' and 'Eat Raw Meat= Blood Drool'. Making greater use of Chris Urbanowicz's synthesizer, comparisons to the likes of Portishead or Depeche Mode would now be more accurate. It all went down rather well too and despite the restrictions that rows of seats bring, the crowd were soon on their feet and and this was by no means a sedate affair. Despite being three albums down the line, on the evidence of tonight The Editors are no spent force. Although they are yet to produce a real masterpiece, if they can continue to apply themselves so ably to new creative horizons then they will only get better and better.
Pete Robinson.
Philharmonic Hall, Liverpool, 29.03.10.
The nature of Liverpool's Philharmonic hall meant that for fans this gig was always going to be a little different. Much more accustomed to the conductor than the front-man, this all-seater venue made up in acoustic capacity what it lacked in audience participation.
As far as diversity of style is concerned, special guests The Strange Death Of Liberal England take some beating. Drawing on influences ranging from folk pop to indie-rock, they offer epic, drawn-out affairs. They're often delightfully nuanced as well, suggesting that repeated listens would not be wasted. With fresh ideas and haunting melodies, they fill the listener with intrigue and implore them to delve further.
By contrast, the forward-thinking Fujiya & Miyagi bombard the audience with highly rhythmic, almost hypnotic tunes. Having formed in 2000, the four-piece have taken time to find their feet, yet this may have been to their benefit. They deliver an astonishingly crisp, clean sound highly accomplished in its assault on the audience. 'Ankle Injuries' in particular seemed almost beguiling in its directness, only compounded by ending as it did with the relentless terrace-like chanting of the band's name.
With the audience eager and in their seats, The Editors duly entered the stage. With the third album's style having taken the band down a new path, they may well have been hoping to shake off any lazy comparisons with the likes of Interpol and Joy Division, always refuted by the group themselves. Whilst the distinctive dark sound of the first two albums gave the group a strong identity and two very coherent records, it may have prevented the songwriting from maturing fully. Not that the charts agree, as all three records have been resounding successes. It does seem though that the boys from Stafford have unshackled themselves somewhat since 'The End Has A Start'. Moreover, whilst retaining the brooding quality evident on the likes of 'All Sparks', the third album is equally accessible, infinitely more interesting and may well appeal to a different breed of music fan.
Indeed, Tom Smith himself appeared visibly more animated when performing new singles 'Papillon' and 'Eat Raw Meat= Blood Drool'. Making greater use of Chris Urbanowicz's synthesizer, comparisons to the likes of Portishead or Depeche Mode would now be more accurate. It all went down rather well too and despite the restrictions that rows of seats bring, the crowd were soon on their feet and and this was by no means a sedate affair. Despite being three albums down the line, on the evidence of tonight The Editors are no spent force. Although they are yet to produce a real masterpiece, if they can continue to apply themselves so ably to new creative horizons then they will only get better and better.
Pete Robinson.
The Lambrettas + The Grand Old Dukes review
28th March, Moho Live, Manchester
The Lambrettas
The Grand Old Dukes
Stepping into Manchester's Moho Live to the sight of shaven heads, checked shirts and braces, it was apparent that nostalgia was high the agenda for many of the punters. Seemingly unaffected by line-up changes, The Lambrettas were far more than competent in their reproduction of choice cuts from their own back catalogue.
Crowd favourites such as Ford Cortina MkII, Da-a-a-ance and their version of Poison Ivy in particular made for a loyal following going home very happy. Having seemingly lost none of the energy that sparked their mod-revival success back in the '80s, the four-piece rocketed through the set with the sort of verve which denotes a lasting belief in the movement.
Whilst often over-looked as being too derivative and always, to an extent, living in the shadow of The Jam, the band reminded us that they have both the songs and the live shows to stand up to scrutiny. Even without songwriter Jez Bird, who sadly passed away in 2008, The Labrettas were able to recreate an atmosphere it was hard not to get caught up in. Originating in Brighton, their strongest suit is perhaps their ability to pen pop gems such as the aforementioned Ford Cortina which if anything transcend the genre. To a certain extent, their devotion to all things mod has held them back, pushing them on occasion towards cliché. Without ever having the pioneering zeal of some of their contemporaries, they are in danger of being remembered as nothing more than 'also-rans', which would be a shame.
As passionate and committed as the new look Lambrettas were, in all honesty it was support act The Grand Old Dukes who stole the show. Clearly playing to a Sunday night audience eagerly anticipating the headliners, the Manchester band wasted no time in garnering attention. Frontman Steve Noire immediately catches the eye with a narrative vocal-style reminiscent of Bad Seeds era Nick Cave.
With tracks such as the outstanding Let It Out, they have an awful lot to offer. From the blues-infused Blackspot to the highly contagious Running Out My Mind this is a band with ideas aplenty. Driven by the expansive grooves of guitarist Lez Paul Dennis and within the constraints of a half-hour set the group shifted through the gears effortlessly. Yet inspiration is hard to pinpoint.
Whilst the songcraft isn't so far removed from the mainstream as to make them inaccessible, this is a group who know what they're trying to do and indie by numbers it is not. With a nod to '60s west coast vocal harmonies and an inclination towards the cohesive powers of the trumpet and the harmonica, they're a difficult one to quantify.
Clearly not struggling to find their own identity they are musically assured in whichever direction they turn. Moreover, the sheer infectiousness of offerings such as Get Your Own Back provide a point of entry, demonstrating a delicate balance between minimalist structure and layered instrumentalism. There is also invention in abundance; showing dynamism without ever seeming indulgent. An exciting discovery.
Pete Robinson.
For more on The Lambrettas:
www.thelambrettas.co.uk
For more on The Grand Old Dukes:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Ambush/94937910421#!/group.php?gid=52582856544&ref=ts
The Lambrettas
The Grand Old Dukes
Stepping into Manchester's Moho Live to the sight of shaven heads, checked shirts and braces, it was apparent that nostalgia was high the agenda for many of the punters. Seemingly unaffected by line-up changes, The Lambrettas were far more than competent in their reproduction of choice cuts from their own back catalogue.
Crowd favourites such as Ford Cortina MkII, Da-a-a-ance and their version of Poison Ivy in particular made for a loyal following going home very happy. Having seemingly lost none of the energy that sparked their mod-revival success back in the '80s, the four-piece rocketed through the set with the sort of verve which denotes a lasting belief in the movement.
Whilst often over-looked as being too derivative and always, to an extent, living in the shadow of The Jam, the band reminded us that they have both the songs and the live shows to stand up to scrutiny. Even without songwriter Jez Bird, who sadly passed away in 2008, The Labrettas were able to recreate an atmosphere it was hard not to get caught up in. Originating in Brighton, their strongest suit is perhaps their ability to pen pop gems such as the aforementioned Ford Cortina which if anything transcend the genre. To a certain extent, their devotion to all things mod has held them back, pushing them on occasion towards cliché. Without ever having the pioneering zeal of some of their contemporaries, they are in danger of being remembered as nothing more than 'also-rans', which would be a shame.
As passionate and committed as the new look Lambrettas were, in all honesty it was support act The Grand Old Dukes who stole the show. Clearly playing to a Sunday night audience eagerly anticipating the headliners, the Manchester band wasted no time in garnering attention. Frontman Steve Noire immediately catches the eye with a narrative vocal-style reminiscent of Bad Seeds era Nick Cave.
With tracks such as the outstanding Let It Out, they have an awful lot to offer. From the blues-infused Blackspot to the highly contagious Running Out My Mind this is a band with ideas aplenty. Driven by the expansive grooves of guitarist Lez Paul Dennis and within the constraints of a half-hour set the group shifted through the gears effortlessly. Yet inspiration is hard to pinpoint.
Whilst the songcraft isn't so far removed from the mainstream as to make them inaccessible, this is a group who know what they're trying to do and indie by numbers it is not. With a nod to '60s west coast vocal harmonies and an inclination towards the cohesive powers of the trumpet and the harmonica, they're a difficult one to quantify.
Clearly not struggling to find their own identity they are musically assured in whichever direction they turn. Moreover, the sheer infectiousness of offerings such as Get Your Own Back provide a point of entry, demonstrating a delicate balance between minimalist structure and layered instrumentalism. There is also invention in abundance; showing dynamism without ever seeming indulgent. An exciting discovery.
Pete Robinson.
For more on The Lambrettas:
www.thelambrettas.co.uk
For more on The Grand Old Dukes:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Ambush/94937910421#!/group.php?gid=52582856544&ref=ts
Friday, 2 April 2010
New Young Pony Club review
New Young Pony Club, live at Korova, Liverpool, Friday 26th March.
When a pop group's rise to stardom is heavily enhanced by the use of one of their songs in a TV commercial, it can be a mixed blessing. As one such band, New Young Pony Club will be hoping the release of their second album, The Optimist, can shake off any 'one hit wonder' tags and help the foursome build on their earlier success.
Following the release of Ice Cream back in 2005 (and subsequent re-releases), NYPC found themselves in popular demand. With an album in the charts, extensive was touring to follow. Returning with a second album the band have made an effort to reinvent themselves by adding an extra dimension to their punk-infused dance pop. Now with the experience to match the on-stage flamboyance of lead-singer Tahita Bulmer, the new album is something of a darker affair.
Entering the stage with the crowd in good spirits (after being thoroughly woken up by special guests Teeth) the band opened with new single Chaos. Still upbeat but slightly edgier than anything from the first offering, there seemed to be a conscious decision to showcase a new sound. Whilst there is undoubtedly a freshness to the new stuff, the energy associated with the group remains and this is my no means a sea change. The decision to bring an element of the noire, however slight, into what is essentially a dance pop act is always a risk and NYPC are, in reality, at their best when they stick to what they know.
With a set-list comprising of a fairly even mix of new material and favourites from 2007's Fantastic Playroom, the band sounded sharp and moved seamlessly through the show. All it should be said, well received by a buoyant crowd. It was through 'Hiding On The Staircase' though, that the band shone. No coincidence then that it was during this song and 'Ice Cream' when Bulmer was able to show off that contagious exuberance of hers, and NYPC could really sparkle. Seeing a band trying to develop beyond the tunes that made them successful is something that should indeed be lauded. However, the truth is that although this group knows how to push the feel good and rouse a crowd, the new songs will not perhaps allow them to shift gears in the way they may have hoped. They have achieved some rare moments of pop magic in the past but these days may unfortunately now be behind them.
When a pop group's rise to stardom is heavily enhanced by the use of one of their songs in a TV commercial, it can be a mixed blessing. As one such band, New Young Pony Club will be hoping the release of their second album, The Optimist, can shake off any 'one hit wonder' tags and help the foursome build on their earlier success.
Following the release of Ice Cream back in 2005 (and subsequent re-releases), NYPC found themselves in popular demand. With an album in the charts, extensive was touring to follow. Returning with a second album the band have made an effort to reinvent themselves by adding an extra dimension to their punk-infused dance pop. Now with the experience to match the on-stage flamboyance of lead-singer Tahita Bulmer, the new album is something of a darker affair.
Entering the stage with the crowd in good spirits (after being thoroughly woken up by special guests Teeth) the band opened with new single Chaos. Still upbeat but slightly edgier than anything from the first offering, there seemed to be a conscious decision to showcase a new sound. Whilst there is undoubtedly a freshness to the new stuff, the energy associated with the group remains and this is my no means a sea change. The decision to bring an element of the noire, however slight, into what is essentially a dance pop act is always a risk and NYPC are, in reality, at their best when they stick to what they know.
With a set-list comprising of a fairly even mix of new material and favourites from 2007's Fantastic Playroom, the band sounded sharp and moved seamlessly through the show. All it should be said, well received by a buoyant crowd. It was through 'Hiding On The Staircase' though, that the band shone. No coincidence then that it was during this song and 'Ice Cream' when Bulmer was able to show off that contagious exuberance of hers, and NYPC could really sparkle. Seeing a band trying to develop beyond the tunes that made them successful is something that should indeed be lauded. However, the truth is that although this group knows how to push the feel good and rouse a crowd, the new songs will not perhaps allow them to shift gears in the way they may have hoped. They have achieved some rare moments of pop magic in the past but these days may unfortunately now be behind them.
Wednesday, 31 March 2010
New Young Pony Club (interview for Glasswerk)
Following the release of their second album 'The Optimist', New Young Pony Club are back on the road and touring the UK. Pete Robinson caught up with singer Tahita Bulmer and guitarist Andy Spence in Korova, Liverpool.
Hi guys, to kicks things off, it'd be nice to find out who influenced the music. What did you listen to growing up?
Tahita: I was really into the usual indie stuff, Blur and The Verve.
Andy: I listened to a lot of Prince when I was young.
Yeah, it's hard to argue with a bit of Prince. Ok, you've been reported as saying your mission statement is to 'get people to dance'. Does this conflict at all with the darker, more introspective sound of the new album?
Tahita: Well, we still want to get people dancing and we still do but we also want to get people thinking. Thinking and dancing.
Andy: Yeah, we haven't changed in that we haven't taken anything out, we've just kind of added an expansion pack, [laughes] a goth expansion pack.
Tahita: I don't like bands that don't entertain the crowd, I think it's a band's duty to entertain and that's how I see us as a live band.
When do you feel most in your element as a band, during the recording process or performing live?
Andy: For me it's always the writing because it's where it all started.
Tahita: But it's also our duty to entertain, to give something back to the fans.
Your song 'Ice Cream' put you in the limelight, any worries it will become your 'Creep' or has it acted as a springboard?
Andy: 'Ice Cream' is a great track and its helped us so much.
Tahita: And I think if people listen to the album wanting more of the same then it's their loss.
Andy: It says a lot about the state of the music industry in general at the moment, there's just so much music out there, which is a good thing, but it also means people will just listen to one song and move on. 'Ice Cream' got us recognition but there's a lot more to the (first) album.
You've been described as 'Synth Pop', 'New Wave' and 'New Rave' in the past. How would describe yourselves musically right now?
Andy: Art Pop maybe [laughs], we've actually been described as the best Art Pop band in the world.
In terms of image and the energy of your live shows, you've often been compared to the likes of CSS amongst others, is this a fair comparison?
Andy: I think it's a lazy comparison to be honest, the media always want to make comparisons but we're our own band.
Tahita: They're a band with a lot of energy like us but apart from that I can't see where that comes from.
So how are you finding being back on tour?
Tahita: Last night was great, (Academy, Newcastle) it was brilliant to see the same familiar faces again this time around. We've got a real loyal bunch of fans that we see at all the shows so it's good to see them getting into the new stuff.
And finally, the new album seems to be a bit a departure from the first (Fantastic Playroom) in terms of style, is this 'NYPC mark II'?
Andy: Yeah, I think it is in a way and the second album definitely is more introspective lyrically.
Tahita: And seeing the same fans that came to see us touring the first album and seeing them taking so well to the new songs is fantastic.
Andy: I think that almost validates the record for us.
Excellent, well thanks for that guys. Good luck with The Optimist and enjoy the gig!
Sunday, 21 March 2010
The Smiths Indeed (review for Glasswerks)
To some, it seems almost perplexing, the sight of a group of talented musicians choosing to ply their trade as a tribute act. Surely they'd rather have a shot at making their own music for all the potential fame and adoration that comes with it. Whatever your view of the copycat acts, you certainly can't fault this Liverpool-based tribute for lacking ambition. In Morrissey, lead singer Jurgen Wendelen has taken on the task of mimicking one the most charismatic, enigmatic, not to mention idiosyncratic front men to ever grace these shores. Whilst guitarist Mckelvie has the unenviable task of reproducing the innovative, pioneering sound of alt guitar hero Johnny Marr.
Playing a set-list in honour of the 25th anniversary of much celebrated pro-animal rights album Meat Is Murder, the band opened accordingly with 'The Headmaster Ritual'. From here they worked their way through the album in its entirety, resisting the temptation to fall back on the more crowd-pleasing indie floor-fillers such as 'How Soon Is Now?' or 'This Charming Man'. Indeed, it was only in the second half of the set, having stayed true to their homage by weaving their way through the album that they cut loose on the singles collection. By this point though, the band had already demonstrated their worth beyond simple notions of nostalgia and novelty. Through staying true to the real thing in both sound and looks the group are able to establish real credibility, essential when mimicking a group held so dear by so many.
Although the performance was by no means flawless and Wendelen did, on occasion, fall short in his bid to replicate the vocal dexterity of the Smiths frontman, the band's performance was well received by the crowd who had no problem filling the O2 Academy. Moreover, for all the authenticity achieved in reconstructing Meat Is Murder, it was during the epoch-defining 'Panic' that the group really shone. It is surely a must for any tribute act to enable the crowd to forget they are not in the presence of the genuine article and just for a moment, it was Morrissey on the stage, rhythmically swinging the noose above his head and crooning anti-pop sentiment. Memories were invoked for those fans who were there with The Smiths during their all-too-brief peak and for those who weren't, the legend was certainly kept alive. The Smiths Indeed? On this night, indeed they were.
Playing a set-list in honour of the 25th anniversary of much celebrated pro-animal rights album Meat Is Murder, the band opened accordingly with 'The Headmaster Ritual'. From here they worked their way through the album in its entirety, resisting the temptation to fall back on the more crowd-pleasing indie floor-fillers such as 'How Soon Is Now?' or 'This Charming Man'. Indeed, it was only in the second half of the set, having stayed true to their homage by weaving their way through the album that they cut loose on the singles collection. By this point though, the band had already demonstrated their worth beyond simple notions of nostalgia and novelty. Through staying true to the real thing in both sound and looks the group are able to establish real credibility, essential when mimicking a group held so dear by so many.
Although the performance was by no means flawless and Wendelen did, on occasion, fall short in his bid to replicate the vocal dexterity of the Smiths frontman, the band's performance was well received by the crowd who had no problem filling the O2 Academy. Moreover, for all the authenticity achieved in reconstructing Meat Is Murder, it was during the epoch-defining 'Panic' that the group really shone. It is surely a must for any tribute act to enable the crowd to forget they are not in the presence of the genuine article and just for a moment, it was Morrissey on the stage, rhythmically swinging the noose above his head and crooning anti-pop sentiment. Memories were invoked for those fans who were there with The Smiths during their all-too-brief peak and for those who weren't, the legend was certainly kept alive. The Smiths Indeed? On this night, indeed they were.
Monday, 1 March 2010
A Day In The Life Of Conrad Barnabus #1
I woke up. There I was, in bed. Again. Morning after morning this had been happening to me just lately. Judging from the amount of sleep I discovered in the corners of my eyes, I guessed the time to be around 8.15am. I looked at the clock, it was 11.54am. Such a lack of synchronization with the world around me was disturbing. Not only that, it was indicative of how my days have been unfolding lately. I'm out of touch. I got up and walked to the bathroom, half-naked and scratching my head, with the distinct feeling that walking to the bathroom at this given time, on this given Sunday morning had become passé. The originality had gone walkabout. My routine seems to lack routine.
I went for a walk. Through the city and down towards the water's edge, giving myself a good airing, I don't want to get stale after all. As I went I watched the seagulls; despite being deeply unpopular amongst us semi-civilised apes, these noisy white aviators have always seemed to me to convey an astonishing degree of confidence. The sort of confidence steeped in arrogance i'd previously only ever noticed in the most unattractive of humans, yet somehow the birds carried it so much better. I think they know something that we don't. Anyway, I walked through the streets, and passed some time noticing the little things. I wanted to memorise the city, to see if I could permanently etch the details, all of them, into my mind, maybe so as to revisit them at will at a later date. The walls, the windows, the significance of the direction of the roads, occasionally even the odd odd person all taken into account. I gazed at the water for an extended moment and then went home. It was time for a think.
...so I spent the rest of the afternoon wondering: if my cat wrote an autobiography, what exactly would he call it? These are the kind of questions which need answers. Surely this isn't very normal, ya know, to think such things. I must find out, I must find out if this is normal. Someone must know. They SAY there's no such thing as normal but there must be someone somewhere who knows. There's got to be SOMEONE. Well there we go, I now believe in the existence of a 'Human Normal Barometer'. The old HNB for short, he definitely needed an abbreviation, good choice my fellow general publics. What happened today? It's Sunday 4.56pm and these are my thoughts. These. Maybe i've had too much tea. Maybe I haven't had enough tea. I do want another cup. But then, on the other side of the mirror, now that i've deduced that i've had either too much tea or not enough tea, I should really stick rather than twist. I'll let the last pot do its caffeine dance and see where it gets me. Except, do I need to maintain my caffeine levels though if this is to be a fair experiment? I don't even have test tubes or a Bunsen burner, I wonder If Tesco sells them. No, no, i'll have one of those tins of mixed fruit instead, I think they have cherries in them, and a cherry can really turn a day around, I'm sure I read that somewhere.
It was an afternoon in the winter of 2009 by the way.
I went for a walk. Through the city and down towards the water's edge, giving myself a good airing, I don't want to get stale after all. As I went I watched the seagulls; despite being deeply unpopular amongst us semi-civilised apes, these noisy white aviators have always seemed to me to convey an astonishing degree of confidence. The sort of confidence steeped in arrogance i'd previously only ever noticed in the most unattractive of humans, yet somehow the birds carried it so much better. I think they know something that we don't. Anyway, I walked through the streets, and passed some time noticing the little things. I wanted to memorise the city, to see if I could permanently etch the details, all of them, into my mind, maybe so as to revisit them at will at a later date. The walls, the windows, the significance of the direction of the roads, occasionally even the odd odd person all taken into account. I gazed at the water for an extended moment and then went home. It was time for a think.
...so I spent the rest of the afternoon wondering: if my cat wrote an autobiography, what exactly would he call it? These are the kind of questions which need answers. Surely this isn't very normal, ya know, to think such things. I must find out, I must find out if this is normal. Someone must know. They SAY there's no such thing as normal but there must be someone somewhere who knows. There's got to be SOMEONE. Well there we go, I now believe in the existence of a 'Human Normal Barometer'. The old HNB for short, he definitely needed an abbreviation, good choice my fellow general publics. What happened today? It's Sunday 4.56pm and these are my thoughts. These. Maybe i've had too much tea. Maybe I haven't had enough tea. I do want another cup. But then, on the other side of the mirror, now that i've deduced that i've had either too much tea or not enough tea, I should really stick rather than twist. I'll let the last pot do its caffeine dance and see where it gets me. Except, do I need to maintain my caffeine levels though if this is to be a fair experiment? I don't even have test tubes or a Bunsen burner, I wonder If Tesco sells them. No, no, i'll have one of those tins of mixed fruit instead, I think they have cherries in them, and a cherry can really turn a day around, I'm sure I read that somewhere.
It was an afternoon in the winter of 2009 by the way.
Thursday, 11 February 2010
Sunday, 7 February 2010
Monday, 1 February 2010
Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, it just makes sense!
HOME by EDWARD SHARPE AND THE MAGNETIC ZEROS
There's absolutely no reason why this song or even this band should excite me. They just do. There's no reason other than the fact that this really is just an excellent track. Sometimes that's all that counts. In the music industry's seemingly endless obsession for originality Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros don't really tick many boxes. I mean, they do come across as rather pseudo-hippie what with all that bohemian get-up et al. They even tour together in a converted silver bus!
If anything, Home, from debut album Up From Below is one of those songs that you feel like you already know. This though, is very definitely a positive thing in this instance. In a similar vein, this is without doubt a feel-good song, which again would usually be a turn off (see: British 'heart-warmer' Wimbledon, or anything by Mika, apparently) but from the Mamas and Papas-esque vocal harmonies to the Arcade Fire-like arrangements, this tune is unbelievably and relentlessly contagious.
There's not really anything revolutionary in the lyrical content either. The familiar tale of two lovers, it's a sort of Fairytale Of New York, without the suggestions of domestic violence. What makes it work though is the energy of it all, which allows the song to repeatedly hammer home the big chorus in a way which, in the hands of others could become irritating. Yet somehow it doesn't.
When it comes down to it though, for all the lip-service I could pay to this tune, the fact is it makes me feel so good I may very well start my own hippie commune. Watch this space. (for more Edward Sharpe, not my hippie commune)
There's absolutely no reason why this song or even this band should excite me. They just do. There's no reason other than the fact that this really is just an excellent track. Sometimes that's all that counts. In the music industry's seemingly endless obsession for originality Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros don't really tick many boxes. I mean, they do come across as rather pseudo-hippie what with all that bohemian get-up et al. They even tour together in a converted silver bus!
If anything, Home, from debut album Up From Below is one of those songs that you feel like you already know. This though, is very definitely a positive thing in this instance. In a similar vein, this is without doubt a feel-good song, which again would usually be a turn off (see: British 'heart-warmer' Wimbledon, or anything by Mika, apparently) but from the Mamas and Papas-esque vocal harmonies to the Arcade Fire-like arrangements, this tune is unbelievably and relentlessly contagious.
There's not really anything revolutionary in the lyrical content either. The familiar tale of two lovers, it's a sort of Fairytale Of New York, without the suggestions of domestic violence. What makes it work though is the energy of it all, which allows the song to repeatedly hammer home the big chorus in a way which, in the hands of others could become irritating. Yet somehow it doesn't.
When it comes down to it though, for all the lip-service I could pay to this tune, the fact is it makes me feel so good I may very well start my own hippie commune. Watch this space. (for more Edward Sharpe, not my hippie commune)
Five Songs You Will Definitely Not Regret Listening To #1:
5 songs (not necessarily that new but usually new to me) that make the world that little bit better and genuinely deserve to be heard. By everybody. Now.
1) Home- Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros (SEE REVIEW)
2) Daniel- Bat For Lashes
3) Do You Hear Me Now?- Bert Jansch
4) After The Storm- Mumford & Sons (don't be put off by Hollyoaks using it)
5) Here Before- Vashti Bunyan
1) Home- Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros (SEE REVIEW)
2) Daniel- Bat For Lashes
3) Do You Hear Me Now?- Bert Jansch
4) After The Storm- Mumford & Sons (don't be put off by Hollyoaks using it)
5) Here Before- Vashti Bunyan
The Legacy Of Big Brother
After almost a decade of vanity, vulgarity and headlines one of the most talked about shows of the 21st century is drawing to a close. To a cynic Big Brother may have been nothing more than a barrage of aural and visual pollution but it is an undeniable truth that it has been a programme adored and indeed watched by millions. Viewers though, have always ranged from the fanatic, proud to wear the badge and indeed display it proudly whilst discussing the previous night's viewing over morning coffee, to the more apologist in nature ('it's just so addictive' or 'it's my guilty pleasure'). In opposition though, stands the repressed minority, instantly angered by words such as 'eviction', 'diary room' or 'Davina'.
Love it or hate it, the show's impact on popular culture in the last ten years is undeniable. The lasting implications of the celebrity culture it has helped nurture are however, more contestable. Whilst Big Brother cannot solely be held responsible for creating the 'famous for being famous' TV personality all too common on our screens today, it can be seen as something of trend-setter. Indeed, the likes of The X-factor, I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here, Pop Idol along with other reality TV shows too numerous to mention and of course the adoring tabloid press have all played their part. We have entered an era where style is all too often championed ahead of substance and where the old 'fifteen minutes of fame' adage is not a pejorative sleight but rather something to be aspired to.
Furthermore, this is no longer a new thing, a fear of what the cultural future may hold. Enough time has passed with reality ruling the screens that the public has become desensitised in much the same way that it is now possible to watch news bulletins of human catastrophe, such as the recent disaster in Haiti, cup of tea in hand, without batting an eyelid. Possibly even acting as a mild inconvenience clogging up the filters of conscience before the nightly dose of 'BB' action arrives. It would be unwise to read too much into the fact that Big Brother is not the crowd-puller it once was, indeed the fate of the culture it has helped to create is in much better shape than the programme itself. Big Brother is by no means bowing out at the top of its game. Several years and umpteen series have passed since the programme was at its peak but it can certainly rest assured it has left a legacy, of sorts. But the fortunes of Big Brother and reality television in general whilst once synonymous, are now in stark contrast. This however, is probably more indicative of the death of one specific variant of the reality pandemic. Big Brother has in fact, been moribund for some time now but make no mistake, other equally infectious shows, namely X Factor have picked up the baton.
So how just will Big Brother be remembered? With a slight mocking affection as we reflect upon all the fuss that was made about a silly game show? Or perhaps, instead, Big Brother will be acknowledged as the forefather of a new breed of light entertainment show. Will producers look to Big Brother as a pioneering, ground-breaking revelation which had forged a blueprint for sky high viewing figures? Will tabloid editors pine for the days of a headline-spewing godsend like Big Brother, a vehicle for minor celebrity creation, a factory churning out the fresh new household names the tabloids feed off so readily?
One curious bi-product of Big Brother's decline is the ever-fading distinction between the contestants entering the house in the respective 'celebrity' and 'non-celebrity' incarnations of the show. Confusingly, the 'celebrities' have often come out of the show slightly more famous than before they went in and often no more famous than the 'regular' contestants have become upon exiting the show. For example, it's probably a safe bet that the majority of the British public whether they like it or not have heard of the late Jade Goody, whose return to the house as a 'celebrity' having been made famous by Big Brother 3 probably says a lot about Celebrity Big Brother. Fewer households will be familiar with Ben Adams, former member of former boyband A1.
Perhaps i'm getting a little bit too analytical, coming over all Mary Whitehouse. Afterall, Big Brother is just a show isn't it? Albeit an incredibly successful one. Unbelievably, the final curtain call for Celebrity Big Brother (Channel 4 has made 2010 the final year for Big Brother) currently on our screens is, including both celebrity and non-celebrity, the programme's seventeenth series so clearly people have liked the programme. Maybe it is best to take Big Brother and the like at face value, to look at these shows for what they are and approach them with light-hearted wonder and whimsy.
To do this though would surely be to overlook the sheer domination that reality TV has enjoyed in our culture over the last decade, and as with any period-defining trend this means it will be remembered. Furthermore, if the likes of Big Brother are to be remembered in years to come then inevitably their contribution to our lives will be weighed-up. At present it seems that Big Brother's contribution to the cultural world is akin to Mcdonalds's contribution to the culinary world and perhaps Big Brother plays a similar role its domain; the brand leader to which all others will be compared, a generic label for reality TV and celebrity culture alike, like 'tannoy' or 'sellotape'. There may indeed be more to the name Big Brother than simply a clever gimmick, though one that surely has Orwell turning in his grave. The Big Brother depicted in the novel was too an inescapable behemoth, an unrepentant force against original thought.
Love it or hate it, the show's impact on popular culture in the last ten years is undeniable. The lasting implications of the celebrity culture it has helped nurture are however, more contestable. Whilst Big Brother cannot solely be held responsible for creating the 'famous for being famous' TV personality all too common on our screens today, it can be seen as something of trend-setter. Indeed, the likes of The X-factor, I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here, Pop Idol along with other reality TV shows too numerous to mention and of course the adoring tabloid press have all played their part. We have entered an era where style is all too often championed ahead of substance and where the old 'fifteen minutes of fame' adage is not a pejorative sleight but rather something to be aspired to.
Furthermore, this is no longer a new thing, a fear of what the cultural future may hold. Enough time has passed with reality ruling the screens that the public has become desensitised in much the same way that it is now possible to watch news bulletins of human catastrophe, such as the recent disaster in Haiti, cup of tea in hand, without batting an eyelid. Possibly even acting as a mild inconvenience clogging up the filters of conscience before the nightly dose of 'BB' action arrives. It would be unwise to read too much into the fact that Big Brother is not the crowd-puller it once was, indeed the fate of the culture it has helped to create is in much better shape than the programme itself. Big Brother is by no means bowing out at the top of its game. Several years and umpteen series have passed since the programme was at its peak but it can certainly rest assured it has left a legacy, of sorts. But the fortunes of Big Brother and reality television in general whilst once synonymous, are now in stark contrast. This however, is probably more indicative of the death of one specific variant of the reality pandemic. Big Brother has in fact, been moribund for some time now but make no mistake, other equally infectious shows, namely X Factor have picked up the baton.
So how just will Big Brother be remembered? With a slight mocking affection as we reflect upon all the fuss that was made about a silly game show? Or perhaps, instead, Big Brother will be acknowledged as the forefather of a new breed of light entertainment show. Will producers look to Big Brother as a pioneering, ground-breaking revelation which had forged a blueprint for sky high viewing figures? Will tabloid editors pine for the days of a headline-spewing godsend like Big Brother, a vehicle for minor celebrity creation, a factory churning out the fresh new household names the tabloids feed off so readily?
One curious bi-product of Big Brother's decline is the ever-fading distinction between the contestants entering the house in the respective 'celebrity' and 'non-celebrity' incarnations of the show. Confusingly, the 'celebrities' have often come out of the show slightly more famous than before they went in and often no more famous than the 'regular' contestants have become upon exiting the show. For example, it's probably a safe bet that the majority of the British public whether they like it or not have heard of the late Jade Goody, whose return to the house as a 'celebrity' having been made famous by Big Brother 3 probably says a lot about Celebrity Big Brother. Fewer households will be familiar with Ben Adams, former member of former boyband A1.
Perhaps i'm getting a little bit too analytical, coming over all Mary Whitehouse. Afterall, Big Brother is just a show isn't it? Albeit an incredibly successful one. Unbelievably, the final curtain call for Celebrity Big Brother (Channel 4 has made 2010 the final year for Big Brother) currently on our screens is, including both celebrity and non-celebrity, the programme's seventeenth series so clearly people have liked the programme. Maybe it is best to take Big Brother and the like at face value, to look at these shows for what they are and approach them with light-hearted wonder and whimsy.
To do this though would surely be to overlook the sheer domination that reality TV has enjoyed in our culture over the last decade, and as with any period-defining trend this means it will be remembered. Furthermore, if the likes of Big Brother are to be remembered in years to come then inevitably their contribution to our lives will be weighed-up. At present it seems that Big Brother's contribution to the cultural world is akin to Mcdonalds's contribution to the culinary world and perhaps Big Brother plays a similar role its domain; the brand leader to which all others will be compared, a generic label for reality TV and celebrity culture alike, like 'tannoy' or 'sellotape'. There may indeed be more to the name Big Brother than simply a clever gimmick, though one that surely has Orwell turning in his grave. The Big Brother depicted in the novel was too an inescapable behemoth, an unrepentant force against original thought.
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