Just time for a trio of new tracks this week, I
blame the weather. It’s darn cold up here in my Gimp Loft. First up sexy ladies
(Eli and Fur) playing some dirty electro...or vice versa. The choice is yours.
Next London trio Elephant 12 channel the spirit of
Rage Against The Machine in the kind of track you want to play in your office
at full blast on a Monday morning but don’t have the balls to. Not unless you’ve
won the lottery at the weekend that is...or unless it’s your own office I
guess. In which case you could probably dance around naked with a Barbie doll
up your ass and no one could do a darn thing.
NB: Can't embed this track for some reason but here's the link. You're welcome...
Last up some breathy psych pop from Railbird, sounds
a little like Kate Bush getting it on with Yeasayer...and that’s good enough
for me.
Rebelling against the temporary moustache growing trend bought about by the annual Movember event, but still wanting to support the cause (mens' unmentionable bits and pieces), hip 'n' hirsute poet and all round speaker of sense Scroobius Pip decided to climb MOunt Snowdon and give himself a MOhawk. Predictably the weather was pretty shocking and he narrowly avoided falling off the darn thing but...well...watch the vid for yourself and pop over to make a Mo-nation / donation when you've finished. What a dude.
PS: Scroobs out on tour now with a Birmingham date at the HMV Institute on Friday 7th December - support comes from the equally awesome Polar Bear and Kate Tempest. Tickets here.
Okay, hands up who was expecting Green Day to come
up with a musical? Their 2004 album American Idiot may have been a bit of a concept
piece originally but still, it’s a pretty big leap to transfer the whole thing
to the stage. Capturing the energy that comes with this kind of music in the
more gentrified setting of a theatre was always going to be a bit of a
challenge too. The producers have responded by packing a helluva (as they say
in the US) lot in to this show. From a set’s that’s liberally festooned with
flatscreen tellies through to a cast that literally throw themselves into their
respective roles, tumbling over staircases, flying all over the place on wires
and dancing their asses off with the kind of unselfconscious energy that neatly
recaptures the kind of energy you want from a punk gig.
At times it’s a bit of an ADD sufferer’s wet dream,
with the tellies blaring messages out at you whilst the cast spin off in a
dozen different directions but I guess that’s the point. We live in a world
with a million and one distractions, most of which are (intentionally or
otherwise) there to keep us neatly anaesthetised to the stuff that really matters
(surely one of the band’s key messages here?).
Like many jukebox musicals the plot’s fairly simple.
Three young men living in the fictional Jingletown all want to get the hell out
of there. On the verge of leaving one guy gets his girlfriend pregnant and stays
behind, one dude sets off in search of a rock n’roll lifestyle and the third
ends up joining the army...arguably three different forms of idiocy to the one
that they’re all rebelling against in the first place. This lays out three
different stories to follow and there are some fairly graphic bits in the show
that put it poles apart from your usual musical fare (the odd bit of shagging,
plenty of shooting up and the odd amputation and novacaine induced hallucination...I’m
betting you won’t get that in the new Spice Girls’ musical...sadly). None of its
overtly gratuitous though and in the context of both the music and its themes
it works well to capture the kind of nihilistic lifestyles being portrayed.
Okay, amateur analysis over, is it great night out? Yep, you bet. From the
first blast (surprisingly loud for a theatre) of the theme song American Idiot
at the opening of the show through to a surprisingly emotional 17 guitar full
cast version of Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life) there’s not a dull second. These
are some of Green Day’s best songs too and even casual fans will appreciate
hearing stuff like Boulevard Of Broken Dreams, 21 Guns and Wake Me Up When September Comes up there
on stage. Regular gig goers might feel the urge to leap up and try to form a
circle pit in the aisles during the more upbeat numbers and it might have been
nice to get some of the cast off the stage and in amongst the audience once or
twice (a little cheesy I know but a good way of recreating that punk gonzo
spirit a little more) but American Idiot successfully brings the musical
kicking and screaming into the 21st century.
With a youthful all American cast it feels authentic
and Alex Nee impressed as the Billie Joe Armstrong channelling Johnny whilst
his drug dealing nemesis St Jimmy managed to be devilishly addictive in the
hands of Trent Saunders. This really is an ensemble piece though and the show’s
at its best when they’re all up there, thrashing about like there’s no tomorrow
(kudos to Steven Hoggett for some inspired moments of choreography). You’d be
an idiot -American or otherwise - to miss it...
American
Idiot’s at The New Alexandra Theatre until Saturday 1st December
before transferring to Hammersmith Apollo for a brief run (December 4th
– December 15th).
American Idiot @ The New Alexandra Theatre(runs
until 1st December) – Okay, so this ain't really a gig but, direct from Broadway, Green Day’s hit musical
of the hit album promises to take punk rock where it’s never gone before.
Tuesday 27th November
Laura Mvula @ The Hare and Hounds – hotly tipped
Birmingham vocalist plays the kind of intimate gig people will cut their ears
off for this time next year.
Thursday 29th November
Evan Dando and Julianna Hatfield @ HMV Institute –
acoustic versions of hits and misses from The Lemonheads, Blake Babies and
their own solo stuff.
Friday 30th November
Boat To Row / Misty’s Big Adventure / Young Runaways
/ Charlotte Carpenter @ O2 Academy – Folk loveliness meets musical mayhem as
the old skool (Misty’s...bless ‘em) meet the new (everyone else).
Saturday 1st December
Goodnight Lenin @ Birmingham Cathedral – now more of
a tradition than Noddy Holder yelling “Ittttttt’ssssss
Chhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrristmasssssssssss!” the Lenin warm yer cockles just a few
months before the release of their debut album.
The gig’s already sold out but you can always stand outside and drink
mulled wine with the Goths of Pigeon Park.
There’s an insect crawling across my screen. WTF?
Shouldn’t they all be dead by now? I have enough trouble surviving the winter
and I’ve got woolly things to wear and hot drinks and stuff. Maybe he’s (I’m assuming it’s a ‘he’,
it looks like a ‘he’) come to check out this week’s new music thingy eh? Right,
let’s see what he makes of this, Glitch from fuzzy luvvy Graham Coxon approved posters
The History of Apple Pie.
Hmmm...he’s still crawling, do insects dance? Bees
do don’t they? This ain’t a bee though. Not sure what it is. Anyway, let’s try
this on him, an electro goth protest song
about female circumcision (seriously...) from Ulterior. Sounds a bit like Carter USM
in a really, really bad mood.
Imagine Cornershop getting jiggy with classic era
Jackson 5 and Laurence from Felt’s follow up project Denim...the results would possibly
sound like this frankly grin inducing new single from Brum’s very own TheVoluntary Butler Scheme. What is it with Birmingham at the moment...we seem to
be on a bit of a roll right now. Even the insect liked this one...I can see him
shaking his little insect butt now. Awww...bless...
Scuzzy surf pop anyone? Check out French Films’
Convict, purpose built for cruising down Californian beach fronts looking all
cool and indie-ish. Pity I’m stuck in Birmingham then eh?
Oooooh this is good too, at least it is if you like
a little Hall and Oates style glossy 80’s pop courtesy of Night Works If you
don’t then you’re probably better off sticking knitting needles in your ears.
Not recommended but hey, it’s a free world right?
Right, that’s it for another week. Judging by the
insect the pick of this week’s tracks was The Voluntary Butler Scheme. Good
choice. Maybe we should put it in charge of the Country? Couldn’t do a worse
job eh?
Nope, Northfield’s finest haven’t licensed their
music to Coca Cola, accepted that One Direction tour offer or agreed to appear
nude in Front magazine (not yet anyway). They have sold out Birmingham Cathedral
for their annual pre Christmas gig however, which is rapidly becoming something
of an institution here in B-Town. Not even Mary and Joseph can get in now...ho
ho ho. The gig coincides with the release of the band’s new EP A Winter’s Night
(coming out on Static Caravan), I’ve heard it and it’s ruddy brilliant (check
out the awesome Free School remix too if you get a chance).
It takes a lot to prise my lazy ass off the sofa on a nippy
Sunday evening but the lure of an intimate night of quality Americana in the Kitchen Garden Cafe did the trick. After a typically miserable journey
on the bus of the damned (aka the number 11) – just a 35 minute wait this time,
cheers ‘Travel’ West Midlands – the Kitchen Garden Cafe was a particularly welcome
sight. I’d not been here before but it’s a lovely venue, a real gem tucked away
down York Road just a spit away (and on the opposite side) from the Hairy
Hounds. Being a cafe and bar there was a superior choice of booze on offer
compared with most gig venues, some nice ciders and a decent selection of wines
too. Yeah I know...I’m a booze ponce. Sue me.
After settling down in the front row with a generous
glug of Merlot Wooden Horse, Worcester duo Jamie and Ben, took to the floor
(there’s no stage, like I say this is an intimate place) for the first of two
sets. Both of them are clearly huge Americana and blues fans, evidenced by the
impressive diversity of tracks that they covered over the next couple of hours or
so and their obvious talent for penning equally strong material that stands up
really well against the US imports. Having caught them at Moseley Folk Festival
back in September, playing a brief set, tonight was more Wooden Horse – The Director’s
Cut, a twenty plus collection of tracks played with real heart‘n’soul. Jamie’s
a fine vocalist, equally at home with the blues belters or gospel tracks as he
is on the more introspective stuff whilst fellow Horse Ben (and his seemingly
endless supply of guitars) has a wonderfully instinctive playing style that
makes it look deceptively easy. Tonight they had a little added boogie woogie
too courtesy of a guy called Stuart / Stewart (delete as applicable...I forgot
to check the spelling), which fleshed out some of the tracks nicely. For anyone
unfamiliar with the blues a night with Wooden Horse is a fine introduction with
some real crowd pleasers sprinkled in, whilst the more knowledgeable aficionados
will appreciate the quality of the performances and song choices. Pick of the
first set included a spirited rendition of I’ll Fly Away (from the gazillion
selling O Brother Where Art Thou soundtrack) and the self penned testifyin’ Hell
Ain’t Going home, which manages to be both bluesy and darn catchy at the same
time. The latter track in particular saw Jamie and Ben at their very best, with
Jamie’s vocals exhibiting a bourbon barrel richness (y’know, that smoky warm
feeling) and Ben plucking the bejesus out of his instrument.
After a bottle of wine we plumped for a hot
chocolate and brownie. Yeah, how freakin’ rock n’ roll eh? Set things up nicely
for an equally rich second half of the show though with arguably the band’s
best track to date, Yonder Calling, which rattles along like a freight train on
a mission. It ain’t all belting it out and stompin’ along though and the
poignant He Was A Friend of Mine proved the duo’s equally at home pulling on
the hearts strings as they are getting the feet tapping. A joyful clap along to
Will The Circle Be Unbroken and a radical reboot of JJ Cale’s Crazy Mamma (featuring
a snatch or two of the Baby, Please Don’t Go for good measure) capped off a hugely
enjoyable evening all round. Didn't miss that sofa for a second! Pictures courtesy of the lovely Richard Shakespeare aka Shakeypix
Just a quintet of gigs whetting my whistle this
week, although after just finishing 4 gigs in six nights my whistle’s quite wet
enough thank you very much.
Monday 19th November
Mystery Jets @ HMV Institute – This year’s Radlands
album’s the best thing the Dennis foolers have done to date...and that’s saying
something.
Wednesday 21st November Speak Up @ The Hare and Hounds - spoken word loveliness from Jodi Anne Bickley and friends. Thursday 22nd November
The Spinto Band@ The Hare and Hounds – saw this lot a
few years back and it was more fun than wrestling Lisa Riley in jelly.
Friday 23rd November
The Levellers @ The O2 Academy – there’s only ‘one
way’ to catch The Levellers in Birmingham this week...er...at the O2 Academy.
Sunday 25th November
The Milk @ O2 Academy – Fine Essex soul pop from the
hardest working band in Wickford.
In the list of great band names Fucked Up has to be
up there with Selfish Cunt for its fabulous career wrecking potential. Let’s
face it you’re never going to get on The One Show with a name like that are you
eh? And thank the lord for that too. It’s not stopped Canada’s finest purveyors
of punk rock from chalking up a decade of blood, sweat and tear soaked gigs
though and there was no reason to suspect that tonight would be any different.
First up though, from considerably closer to home than
Canada, Them Wolves, who lurch gloriously from full on Sabbs riffage to slower grinding,
skull crushing noise...then back again...repeat until eyeballs explode and ears
tear themselves from heads to seek sanctuary somewhere quieter...like the
inside of a jumbo jet engine for instance.
Twin vocalists Greg and Stuart (they’re
not really twins...they just sing together...you got that? Oh good...) stand
side on to the audience, each one trying to lacerate their throat before the
other, whilst the band’s drummer literally destroys bits of kit, prompting a
momentary ‘cabaret’ break in the glorious mayhem. Not just band, more a weapon
of mass destruction.
It’s fair to say that the Fair Ohs (well their lead
singer at least) were in a bit of a confrontational mood, baiting the audience from
the beginning with the promise that the set would suck and going on to pick on
hecklers, old mates (“Fuck off you fat bastard”) and, finally all of us with a
parting shot of “Fuck you all”. Personally I don’t give a monkey’s ass if bands
have attitude – although a lot of it tonight was more tongue in cheek than a
full on assault – just as long as they can take any flak they might get back (surprisingly
most of the crowd failed to rise to the challenge) and, more importantly, perform
their butts off.
Anyone who witnessed the earlier mentioned Selfish
Cunt shows (now the stuff of legend) will know that, as that nice butter
salesman Mr Rotten informed us, “anger is an energy”. (For anyone who didn’t see ‘the Cunt’ live, in the early days at least
the act involved lead singer Martin Tomlinson leaping from the stage and smashing
everyone’s pints out of their hands. The last time I saw them he’d progressed
to lobbing glass bottles at people...not for everyone I’ll grant you but, hell,
no chance of drifting off and texting your mates at one of these gigs eh...I
believe they ended up being banned from pretty much every venue on earth for a
while).
Anyway, The Fair Ohs did perform their butts off delivering
a kind of metal math rock with a surf twang and the odd hint of Asian flavour Yes,
really (see Everything Is Dancing for evidence).
If Vampire Weekend and popped
into a curry house in California...on route to a hardcore gig...bear with me
here...this is probably what it would sound like.
Finally, fronted by the man mountain that is Damian
‘Pink Eyes’ Abraham, it was time to get well and truly Fucked Up. Tonight’s
audience was split neatly into a small but particularly energetic pit of
moshers (who seemed to know every word of every song) and the larger majority
who just stood and watched the carnage unfurl. He might be a bit of a big lad
but Damian’s got enough energy to smash particles and for well over an hour he’s
seldom still, either jumping all over the stage or taking the show to the masses,
trailing several feet of thick black mic lead behind him...or wrapping it tightly
round his face at one point. It’s a look I suppose. Vocally it’s pure hardcore,
musically there’s a lot more going on and if you’re able to separate these
elements out from each other you could almost be watching two different bands
with more of an experimental rock feel to some of the tunes. It’s not the kind
of gig for muso beard stroking though, for the pit people it’s clearly better
than sex...a chance to get as up close and personal with their hero as Mrs Pink
Eyes gets. Damian’s clearly happy to share the moment with each and every one
of them too, proffering his mic for them to scream out his words in a primal
howl of pleasure and pain and dragging the fallen back to their feet before
they get squished. Best tracks of the set? The Who-tastic (shades of Won’t Get
Fooled Again) Running On Nothing was incendiary and the most accessible song of
the set, The Other Shoe (positively poppy compared to some of their stuff) prompted
some particularly enthusiastic sing alongs to its brutally nihilistic “dying on
the inside” chorus. After the show (and once the Red Cross had been in to
collect the casualties, sweep up limbs etc) Damian carried on mixing and
chatting with fans, posing for photos, licking faces...as accessible and down
to earth as anyone you’re likely to meet.
For the true believers a Fucked Up gig’s practically
a religious experience, a sweat anointed baptism of bruised limbs and burning
muscles. For everyone else it’s still one of the most energy charged performances
you’re ever going to catch. Miss ‘em whilst they’re still around and you’ve
really fucked up...
Ho ho ho...nearly Christmas! What? Oh yes it is...oh
no it isn’t etc etc. Well, it is. Like it or not that headlong rush into an
orgy of turkey, sprouts and bad telly’s here already. Hurrah! For any fellow
B-Town dwellers Christmas officially starts with the opening of the German
Market, a sprawling mass of increasingly humongous wooden chalets flogging
wallet busting sausages, beer, stollen and marzipan chocolates (here’s a top tip...pop
down your local Aldi and you can buy all this stuff for a fraction of the
price). Still, it’s supposed to be good
for the economy...not ours obviously...but the good folk of Bavaria no doubt
make a killing. Head to Orchard Pig cider (they’re normally in the bit near the
library) if you want a proper drink. Marvellous stuff. One of your five a day
too. Fact.
Anyway, on with the show. Whilst Radiohead’s may
have been a paranoid one, Soft Bullets' android...well, more of a robot really,
is suicidal. Bless. There’s something heartbreakingly sad about watching cute
animated characters top themselves and the soundtracks suitably mournful too,
bearing a passing resemblance to Radiohead’s glory days.
Speaking of Radiohead the band’s unofficial 6th
member Nigel Godrich has got a new outfit - Ultraista - with fellow know twiddler Joey
Waronker and Laura Bettinson (aka Dimbleby and Capper). This hypnotically
dreamy new single’s the latest fruit of their labours. Like Squeeze? Course you do. Silly question. Wrap
your ears around this one then, New Drug by Transmission Party (aka New Yorker
TJ Byrnes). It’s got a real feel of Deptford’s finest...
They’re from Manchester. They’re called Dutch Uncles. They’ve just released a rather fabulous new single (Hot Chip go mental
in a xylophone factory) called Fester. That’s all you need to know. Enjoy!
Right, I’m off to get a German sausage inside
me...fnar fnar...
Okay, this isn’t going to a normal review (wow...I
can hear the collective sigh of relief from here) because this wasn’t a normal
night. The aim was...and still is...to raise dosh to help one of the UK’s most
talented young spoken word artists, Jodi Anne Bickely, who was struck down by a
stroke a while back and is now suffering from some pretty crappy side effects
that regular doctors are struggling to sort out. I’ll let Jodi fill you
in:
“Basically
I don't have the money to go to a head neuro and although I have the most
wicked family - we aren't rolling in dollar. The blood tests I need to get are
extremely difficult to get on the NHS due to technicalities with the
test - a negative result can be a positive and therefore what’s going on
with my brain is pretty hard to diagnose. (P.S I know I'm spelling a lot of
stuff wrong, I'm trying to touch type because the computer screen is making me
want to be a little sick on my lap). This all started with a tick bite
back in last September, before then I had two jobs - performed a lot and just
y'know did stuff. Because that's what you can do when you aren't ill. I can no
longer work, otherwise I would man and I really wouldn't be asking any of you
to dive into your pockets but like - I seizure and fit and pass out a shit load
these days. I'm getting an EEG and having a scan of my neck, head and spine to
see if anything nasty is hiding. Currently I can't sleep alone, leave the house
alone, go down stairs alone - my fits are often violent which is mad because
I've never been in a fight but apparently I'm like the hulk when I'm fitting”.
It warmed the cockles of my cynical old heart to see
so many people turning out to support the cause and, in no particular order,
the following performers all deserve a huge shout out and mucho respect...not
only for donating their time but also for being a bunch of talented mofos:
Polarbear and John Berkavitch, Frank Thomas, Rachel Rose Reid, Tom Peel, Dub
Mafias Eva & Matt w/ Mr Woodnote, Bridget Minamore, Musa Okwonga, Sean
Mahoney and Nichol Keene...who also produced a darn fine handmade compilation of poems from some of tonight's performers and a host of other wonderful wordsters (is wordsters a word...hmmm...well, it is now...ain't language great eh?). I believe the entire run sold out on the night but more are being produced and should be up for sale soon at www.antlerpress.com! That's a few Christmas presents sorted eh?
Each and every performer is well worth checking out,
some lovely stuff there. The Dub Mafias set was...as the cool kids say...off
the hook, some wonderful poems too from opener Frank Thomas’ emotive ode to his
home town (well, village) through to Rachel Rose Reid’s time travelling Woody
Guthrie tribute, Bridget Minamore’s house party nightmare and Tom Peel’s
gloriously bonkers set. I had to dash off at 11.30 to catch the bus of the
damned (aka the last number 11 of the night) and the thing was still in full
flow, hell, it might still be going on now for all I know. If you’ve never been
to a spoken word show, get along to one...ideally Jodi’s very one Speak Up (the
next one’s on Wednesday 21st November at the Hare & Hounds).
They’re wonderful, life affirming nights full of passion, humour, fun,
sadness...all human emotion in fact, condensed into some of the best poetry and delivered by some of the best poets around.
Anyway, back to the main thrust of all this waffle
(I’d never make a poet) if you want to help fix Jodi’s brain...and it’s a
brain worth fixing...you can donate here http://jodisbrain.bandcamp.com/
And, finally, here’s another taste of what you’ll be
saving...
Darn it...late notice this one but a worthy addition to the many fine gigs going on at the moment in and around the place they're calling B-Town...at least for another week or two...until that much anticipated Milton Keynes scene breaks through. Anyway, this Saturday sees the second El Ghost Fest, cunningly titled El Ghost Fest II. The line up's a fine mix of thinking person's indie loveliness with six...count 'em...six bands playing including this lot. Neat eh? Oh...and if you arrive before 7pm or buy a ticket in advance (just a fiver) you get a free CD too. Blimey. If only that nice Mr Eavis was that generous eh?
Who’d have thought it eh? B-Town’s now seemingly
home to the rebirth of old skool house! At least it will be if Greg Bird andFlamingo Flame have their wicked way. Sporting a sparkly eye mask, leather
gloves and chain of fairy lights Bird knocks out the kind of tracks that crate
digging DJs would willingly sacrifice their Numark turntables for. Singing live
with a dude on an array of laptops and electronic gizmos and a guitarist adding
additional colour to some of the quieter tracks (shades of Durutti Column in
there perhaps) it was a masterclass in bringing this kind of music to life, one
of the most glorious, soul lifting, hand in the air like ya just don’t care
sets you’re likely to see. Both Animals and Skool (pick of their latest must
have EP, Black Tableaux) were stunningly good, temporarily transforming the
Hare & Hounds into some kind of fabulously sweaty gay disco in 1980’s Chicago.
That’s a rather marvellous thing by the way. Simply one of the most exciting new
bands in Birmingham.
By a strange quirk of fate (and this was only lined
up at the last minute due to a venue change) the next artist actually comes
from the windy city. Don’t go expecting any deep house from Young Man (aka
Colin Caulfield) though...deep thoughts, yes...but deep house, nope. Think of
the band as a kind of Aerial Pink Floyd and you won’t go far wrong. Playing
only their fifth ever gig in England (and the last night of this exploratory
tour) they get into some rather fabulous motorik grooves then spin off into
more of a psychedelic vibe from time to time whilst Colin ruminates (stream of conscious
style) on such subjects as...er...scraping your knee when you’re a little kid
in the Dear Prudence-ish Scrape On The Knee. A real grower.
Until recently Becky Jones, aka Saint Saviour, was
probably better known as one of Groove Armada’s vocalists, since then she’s
gone on to release some stunningly great
solo stuff. Last spotted in Birmingham in April 2011 (at a criminally
under-attended show) she’s spent the intervening time raising dosh through
Pledge Music to record and release her rather splendid debut album, Union,
together with an impressively diverse bunch of covers. Happily all this hard
work and self belief seems to be paying off and, despite the lack of major
label backing, she drew a more respectable and enthusiastic crowd this time. Anyone
who made the effort was well rewarded. Sometimes as a reviewer you struggle to
find the words to suitably capture the feel of a gig and it seems pretty futile
to even try. This was one of those shows. This is partially down to Becky’s fabulous
voice (the closest you’ll get to it is Kate Bush meets Siouxsie Sioux meets
Tori Amos meets Enya...hell, even that’s not close though) but it’s her ability
to seemingly lose herself in a performance, blurring the boundaries between
putting on a show and sharing some kind of intimate moment with her audience that
makes a Saint Saviour gig something truly special.
Playing...no scrap that, that implies
pretence...living tracks from Union together with a few older numbers (and a beautiful
reimagining of M83’s Midnight City) the hairs were seldom down on the backs of
necks, spines barely had chance to recover from their tingles and tears weren’t
far from falling. I’m actually saying no more than that. Go and see her live if
you have a chance. And soon. I had the pleasure of chatting with her after the
show and it didn’t come as a surprise to learn that this may be the last tour
for some time (a fact she’s posted on her website already). The reason? Well, for
a growing number of artists who are (either through choice or circumstance) self
financing tours and recordings it’s tough out there. You’re seemingly more likely
to be spending time raising cash and promoting yourself these days than you are
creating the very thing that matters most. The music. The whole creative sector’s
in a really odd place right now. In the music world we’re still in that state
of flux between the old days (record labels, pluggers, music press) and the new
world (Pledge Music, self management/promotion, blogs) and pioneers like Becky
(and thousands like her) deserve our support or you can just imagine what we’ll
end up with in 20 years time. Microsoft compatible pop clones, iTune friendly crowd
pleasers and ‘talent’ show rejects. It really doesn’t have to be like this when
we have a Saint Saviour amongst us right here, right now. Treasure her people,
treasure her.
Saint Saviour / Greg Bird & Flamingo Flame @ The
Hare & Hounds – Oh boy, this is a tasty combination, one of the voices
behind Groove Armada and now a stunningly good solo artist together with Birmingham’s
very own answer to Joe Smoove. Sweeeet.
Wednesday 14th
Jodi Anne Bickley’s Brain Fundraiser thingy @ The
Hare & Hounds - Fundraiser to help one of the UK’s finest spoken
word artists and sweetest people on planet earth fix her brain. Guests include another of the UK’s finest spoken
word artists, Polar Bear!
Thursday 15th
Fucked Up / Them Wolves @ The Rainbow
Aluna George @ The Hare & Hounds
Ugly Duckling @ The Ballroom
Busy night Thursday then...? Good grief. Tough
choice here but Fucked Up promises to be mental...and we all need a little
mental from time to time.
Saturday 17th
Adam Ant @ The Ballroom - Saw the rejuvenated Ant last year and he’s on fire
right now. Catch up with one of the biggest – and most interesting – pop stars
of the 80s.
Sunday 18th
Wooden Horse @ Kitchen Garden Cafe, King Heath - Quality blues and Americana from hotly tipped
Worcester duo.
Did you know that the world’s going to end on 21st
December? Well, it is. At least according to some nutters who discovered an
ancient Mayan calendar that seemed to predict the end of days on 21st
December 2012. Still, save us all a fortune in Christmas presents won’t it eh?
We can all eat, drink and make merry for the next month or two as well, safe in
the knowledge that there’s no point in counting calories, units of alcohol or
bank balances. Ha! Take that life expectancy! Anyway, if nothing else it’s also
a pretty good excuse to get out to a few more gigs over planet earth’s remaining
weeks and this one was more than worth crawling off the sofa, waiting hours for
the number 11 bus and losing several extremities to frostbite for.
First up Jack The Lad. Okay, so the name might imply
some dreadful lumpen lad rock but happily our Jack (aka James O’Gorman) swiftly
reveals himself to be more of a sensitive dude with some honest inner city
tunes and a pleasingly soulful voice. Lyrically there’s a touch of Squeeze’s Chris
Difford in there (which is as close to pop perfection as you can get) and James’
easy going delivery and the rest of the band’s fluid backing added up to an
impressive opening set.
Next up Don’t Move! a 60s beat group meets early 80s
Glasgow Postcard records scene combo sort of thing. Oh. They’ve got an
accordionist too. Yes...I know. Awesome. There’s a whole world of instruments
out there. Why does so much music rely on the holy trinity of bass, drums and
guitar eh? Break out the accordions people. And the oud for that matter. I want
to see more ouds. Er...anyway. Don’t Move! are an intriguing proposition and for
once I’m kind of stuck for neat pigeonholes to shove ‘em in or bands to liken them
to. That’s a good thing by the way.
There’s certainly some 60’s style grooves
going on there and the lead singer looks like he’s come straight from Carnaby
Street’s golden period, but elsewhere there are some jerky post punk rhythms, a
little prog noodling and the odd glorious accordion wig out. Whatever we’re to
make of it, it’s a trip...man.
Last up, seemingly deep frozen in a Detroit garage
in 1966 and defrosted for our listening pleasure, Hooded Fang. Their
irresistibly jangly Tosta Mista got plenty of spins on 6 Music a while back (although
I doubt whether it’s reached the ears of anyone else in the UK) and it’s a fine
indication of their overall vibe.
It’s instantly addictive stuff and within
seconds one particularly enthusiastic member of the audience was jiving all
over the place, something he continued to do for the entire show like a man
possessed. It’s possibly the most energetic performance by an audience member
ever witnessed, which is either down to the Fang’s winning ability to crack out
one garage rock banger after another or a particularly good batch of speed
going around the streets of Kings Heath. I’d like to think it’s a little of
both. Pretty much every single track sounded like a crate dug classic but the irresistible
pairing of Tosta Mista and the surftastic Vocationation took things to a whole
new level. Five minutes of pure 100%garage
rock perfection. Fangs for the memory.
You know what, there’s a worrying lack of girls (ladies,
females, women...whatever you’re supposed to call them these days) in music.
Sure there are some massive exceptions but they tend to be solo artists, Adele,
Sticky Minge, Lady GaGa...there are relatively few ‘girl’ bands...or indeed girls
in bands out there. This troubles me more than the lack of females in
Government (as if Government’s really change anything these days) or big
corporations (ditto). Call me an old idealist but music remains one of the
greatest art forms and communication tools in the world and it’s always struck
me as curious that considerably fewer than 50% of the bands I’ve seen over the
years (roughly 5% in fact I’d say) have any female component whatsoever. Why?
Answers on a postcard please. Savages are that rare beast though, an all female
group. And, whilst it really shouldn’t matter a toss what sex they are the
rarity of this kind of a line up has certainly bought them added attention. Being
touted as the ‘female Joy Division’ sets the bar particularly high but would
tonight bring Unknown Pleasures or would it be a case of She’s Lost Control?
Hmmm...
First up though and shipped in at the last minute
after scheduled support act Blue On Blue had to pull out, an all too rare
sighting for Birmingham’s very own Victories At Sea. I was chatting to one of
tonight’s lovely promoters after the show and this really does seem to be
something of a golden period for Birmingham bands. For the first time in ages
it’s easy to rattle off loads of great acts and Victories At Sea are certainly one
of them.
Musically they follow in the wake of bands like Editors and Interpol
(with a dash of early Foals here and there perhaps), adding huge great waves of
squally guitars or vintage sounding synths to the mix. Lead singer JP’s an
energetic frontman, constantly twisting and jerking around the stage and occasionally
dispensing with the mic altogether to deliver his words as nature
intended...raw and naked. It’s an impressive performance, emotionally rich and
booty shakingly danceable at the same time. Keep this up and victory’s theirs
for the taking.
So, Savages then. They’re riding a bit of a wave at
the moment too following some well received live shows and an impressive appearance
on Later that introduced the naggingly insistent Husbands to the wider world. Whilst
they may seem to have sprung fully formed from the backstreets of London at
least one of the band’s got previous. Lead singer Camille Berthomier aka Jehnny
Beth has been one half of Lo Fi lovers John and Jehn for the past 6 years. Cool
in a way that only the French can manage she, like the rest of the band come
onstage dressed in regulation black. Clattering drums and a wall of guitar
noise give way to the jerky post post punk rhythms of No Face as Jehnny goes
all Siouxsie Sioux on our ass. Yep, whilst the music may give more than a passing
nod to Salford’s arch miserablists vocally it’s purebred Sioux. Just to
reinforce the point there’s a touch of snarling punk attitude in there too as
Jehnny ends the song with a request...well...more like an order...for the
photographers to stop using flash. “We’re not ‘ere to report, we’re ‘ere to ‘ave
fun”. You get the feeling that any repeat offenders would end up having to
visit an experienced proctologist to retrieve their equipment but happily
everyone obliges and the room remains flash free for the rest of the set. It
would be difficult to describe this show as ‘fun’ though. That’s not really the
first word you’d associate with the often dour post punk scene. Savages are
certainly an impressive force though, with each member of the band hogging the limelight
at different times. Drummer Fay beats the bejesus out of her kit, bassist Ayse rolls
out some groovy Hooky style riffs and guitarist Gemma makes her instrument do
things that are probably illegal in 22 American states. Curiously the members
of the audience that seem to react best to the endless sonic assault are the
older blokes, presumably down to a Pavlovian response sparked by memories of
their teenage selves getting down to the sounds of Gang Of Four. Perhaps there
are one or two moments when the energy dips a little mid set but double A sides
Flying to Berlin and Husbands reignite the flames nicely, the latter in particular
providing a dizzying blast of raw energy exacerbated by Jehnny’s whisper to a
scream delivery. For a band that’s just
a few months into its live career it’s been an impressive performance, dark,
intense and brutal in a way that’s distinctly at odds with the mainstream music
scene at the moment. It’s too early to be calling them ‘the new’ anything but,
who knows, this just might be the kick in the crotch that it so desperately needs
right now. The post post punk revolution
starts here?
Hooded Fang who play the Hare & Hounds this Wednesday.
Okay, so there are plenty of great gig listings out
there for B-Town (hell, I’m sticking with it for now... at least until the
inevitable backlash) but you can’t have too many people pimping this City's great gigs can you eh? So, on a weekly-ish basis I’m going to try
to pop up a few recommendations with a distinct bias on the kind of stuff I
like. If I’ve missed anything essential feel free to stick it in the comments
section. The more the merrier.
Tuesday 6th November
Savages / Blue On Blue @ The Rainbow – first headline
tour for the ‘female Joy Division’
DZ Deathrays @ The Actress & Bishop – Aussie
thrash pop-a-loo-bop-a-whop-bam-boom
Wednesday 7th November
Hooded Fang @ Hare & Hounds – 60’s style indie garage
from the Tosta Mista touting Canadian 4 piece
Jack White @ O2 Academy - Jack fucking White. Enough said.
Friday 9th November
Maximo Park @ HMV Institute – everyone’s favourite
Geordies and still one of the best live acts around
Saturday 10th November
Shatter Effect @ The Victoria – alternative electro
rock from the West Midlands...all for £3. Bargain.
