Gig Review: Magazine @ The Junction, Wednesday 2nd November

30 years on from their original dissolution, Magazine played at the Cambridge Junction on Wednesday night to an audience which predominantly looked like they caught the post-punk legends the first time around. Coming out on stage with a signboard carrying a typically oblique message, Howard Devoto, now 59, cuts as enigmatic and compelling a figure as ever. 

But in truth, the early signs were not at all great - the sound mix for the opening moments of Definitive Gaze was horrible, with Jon White's bass threatening to overwhelm everything - yet whilst the sound was never truly perfect all night long, matters did improve considerably within the first few songs. Aside from the cutting wit of Devoto, the real star player of Magazine has always been keyboardist Dave Formula, and despite looking worryingly like he belonged in The Lancashire Hotpots, he didn't disappoint, displaying his full expressive range of sounds over four keyboards: elegaic on Parade, spooked out on Permafrost, and bonkers practically everywhere else.

The tour was in support of their fifth album No Thyself ("it was nothing, we had so many years to write it" joked Devoto on it being the band's first recording since 1981's Magic Murder And The Weather) and if nothing else, it was impressive to hear how authentically Magazine-esque the likes of The Worst of Progress... and Happening In English actually sound. Devoto's not lost his way lyrically either; Hello Mister Curtis is a typically acerbic homage to suicidal rock stars. They fit pretty well into the band's canon, but the band wisely chose not to overegg the pudding with new material, but rather sprinkle it like Hundreds-and-Thousands amidst classic material; the likes of Shot By Both Sides and set highlight The Light Pours Out Of Me from 1977 debut Real Life (in my mind one of the greatest musical documents of the original post-punk era) still pack a hefty punch.

Not all of Magazine's material has aged so gracefully; their tacky funk cover of Sly Stone's Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Again) should be cast to the anals of history and left there. But when playing old and new material alike, Magazine remain a thrillingly odd, unique and indispensible player in the post-punk story.

 

Gig Review: Mercury Rev play Deserter's Songs @ The Roundhouse - Sat 21st May

Mercury Rev are an undoubtedly fine band, and 1998's Deserter's Songs is an undoubtedly very fine album. I have to admit that until now I've never held the album in quite the same high esteem as contemparies such as The Soft Bulletin and Under The Western Freeway. I may have to reassess that.

But as Johnathan Donahue was keen to point out, tonight was not merely a victory parade for their own crowning achievement, but a chance for them to also acknowledge the bands and albums that they too held close to their heart, hence the inspired choice of Manchester 80s post-punk legends The Chameleons (right) as the support. Generously awarded a 45-minute slot, the Chameleons grasped the opportunity with both hands and delivered a terrific set, their chorus-laden guitars given just enough bite by their tight rhythms and their expressive frontman Mark Burgess, clearly loving every minute. It was evident that some of the crowd were here specifically to see these guys, whilst seeing the guy infront of me looking up the Wikipedia entry for The Chameleons on his phone suggested that they'd made a number of new fans. If any band is deserving of a critical reappraisal, it's surely these guys.

Mercury Rev walked out onto a stage lit with battery-powered candlelights, adding to the ethereal wonder of the likes of Holes and Endlessly. Despite his waif-like voice, Johnathan Donahue was a commanding stage presence, wide-eyed and beaming throughout, ushering his hands towards the sky. For every sonic detail that was sadly missing - the sax from Hudson Line, the female backing vocals on Opus 40 - they compensated elsewhere, with a singing saw on spooky instrumental Pick Up If You're There, or with an almighty wig-out to Opus 40, making for a monumental centre-piece. The Funny Bird was a transcending experience, with the ever-charismatic Grasshopper wailing the hell out of his guitar, during its epic bridges, before the Madchester-like keyboards of closer Delta Sun Bottleneck Stomp (thankfully removed of its Tom-and-Jerry-on-acid keyboard coda) really got the crowd moving, bringing a fittingly celebratory end to the main set.

After a great rendition of Peter Gabriel's Solsbury Hill, the remainder of the encore predictably comprised a greatest hits selection. Yet with the likes of Senses On Fire from 2008's more electronic-rooted Snowflake Midnight put alongside the acid-rock squall of 1991's Car Wash Hair, it really hit home that against all the odds, this band has survived major-label failures, in-fighting and copious amounts of drugs to become one of the great mainstays of Weird America. This gig was not merely the celebration of a timeless album (which I am now firmly convinced that Deserter's Songs is), but of a glorious and richly rewarding career.

Gig Review: Wire @ The Scala, 2nd Feb

On asking a Wire veteran what Wire were like as a live band, he answered with one word: "Awkward". This was my first live experience of the evergreen post-punkers, but I knew enough to appreciate how accurate that summation was; Wire gained a reputation of always being one step ahead of their audience, shunning older or even current material in favour of songs they hadn't even recorded. My hopes of hearing I Am The Fly, which were already slender at best, now hung by the weakest of threads.

But the Wire of 2011 seem a little more willing to please. Last month's concise and pretty damn catchy Red Barked Tree is as ideal an entry point as you're likely to find into the Wire canon, and tonight they were willing to mix up a host of tracks from their new LP with material from across the ages. It took six or seven songs for things to really ignite - in the early going, the band both looked and sounded their age (with the exception of touring guitarist Matt Sims, who had a very unfair monopoly on hair) - but after those tentative early songs, the band roared into life, those chugging chords roaring through the venue. The new songs sat very well alongside the likes of Two Men In A Room, Spent and Pink Flag, Moreover rocking particularly hard during the ferocious mid-section of the set. There were moments of dry humour too, with bassist Graham Lewis apologising for the "excessive soloing" after unleashing a chunky bass riff all over set highlight Boiling Boy. And whilst that performance of I Am The Fly never did materialise, the band did at least admit to being "accused of copying themselves" before playing Clay which, it has been noted, sounds just a bit like I Am The Fly.

Credit too must also go to the outstanding Belgian support-act Madensuyu who seriously threatened to steal Wire's thunder on the night (and may continue to do so, as Wire's support act for the remainder of the tour). Comprising just of guitarist and drummer (with some eerie vocal harmonising between the two), their tense set combined Fugazi intensity with clanging Sonic Youth chords and post-rock progressions to magnificent effect. One power duo may have called it a day this week, but here is another one well worth cherishing.

Gig Review: Godspeed You! Black Emperor @ The Troxy, Mon 13th Dec

2010 has been some year for re-unions; first Pavement, and now Godspeed You! Black Emperor, rising again from a 7-year hiatus. I've read a fair share of negative feedback on the choice of venue and the sound quality of the night's gig - even with their own sound engineer, arguably any venue's acoustics is going to struggle with the proposition of  GSY!BE - and whilst a couple of the early climaxes were perhaps a little muddied, I can't say I noticed too much from where I was standing. In truth, save for the annoying clinking of bottles from the bar staff, the lofty heights of the Troxy seemed an ideal place for the post-rock demi-gods to flex their muscles.

They did so tentatively at first (they had time on their side, after an all too fleeting set from the Dead Rat Orchestra), entering one by one and adding to the ominous drone which slowly engulfed the room (it was a mere matter of minutes before the first screwdriver-on-guitar action), until all eight members were on stage. The opening songs (okay, movements) also felt like GSY!BE were moving through the gears. Playing in almost pitch-black and with little or no acknowledgement of the audience, one's eyes were left to stray to the flickering (and expertly edited in real-time) backdrop images; the haunting shimmer of Sleep was appropriately set to ghostly images of Coney Island's amusement park, whilst I found myself hypnotised during Storm as it actually appeared as though a number of members were playing aboard the top of a moving train. The band bowed out of Sleep and worked themselves up into a cacaphony of industrial-orchestral-metal which, whilst scintillating at first, threatened ten minutes later to undermine the band's mastery of the crescendo.

Yet when Godspeed seeped their way into the quiet menace of Static, it was clear that the magic was still there, as the band accelerated inexorably towards the all-consuming denouement. From there on in, there was no let-up; Dead Metheny was followed by the apocalyptic waltz of Rockets Fall On Rocket Falls, shaking free the shackles originally placed upon it by Steve Albini's limiting production. With the night being brought to a close by Blaise Bailey Finnegan III, all of Godspeed's major releases had been represented, and represented well.

By the time they'd all put down their instruments to shred the speakers with feedback, GSY!BE had been on stage for a collosal 140 minutes. They'll be doing it all again on Tuesday, and once more on Wednesday, and as phenomenal as Godspeed were by the end of the night, you got the sense that they will only continue to get better as the nights go on.

Gig Review: Titus Andronicus @ The Haymakers Thu 18th Nov

I spoke to a number of people at the gig on Thursday, and the general consensus was this; The Monitor is the best album to be released all year, bar none. I don't expect to see it topping too many critics Best-Of lists, as there are too many other artists out there which seem to have reached a wider audience (Arcade Fire, Deerhunter et al), but those who have stumbled across The Monitor seem to hold it dear and know it word for anguished word. The visceral delivery of Titus Andronicus appeals at the very lowest level, but they offset this with passages from Shakespeare and famous figures of the American Civil War, and clever poetry ("reasons for living are seldom and few, and when you find one you'd better stick to it glue"). Placed in the cauldron of The Haymakers, and you had the makings of an unforgettable gig.

To say that the band didn't disappoint would be a gross understatement. Stripped of some of the embellishments of their records (no horns, no sax), the band let their sheer punk energy do the talking, and the crowd duly responded. Things really took off  half-way through No Future Pt.3; Titus Andronicus cast out angst-ridden mantras ("The enemy is everywhere"/"It's us against them"/"Your life is over") like particularly tasty bait, and the crowd ate it up like bloodthirsty piranhas. The only let-up subsequently was on the histrionic ballad To Old Friends And New (the ever-affable Patrick Stickles joked that they would play slow songs for the rest of the night).

The only remotely anticlimactic moment was the lack of bagpipes on The Battle of Hampton Roads, but by the time the band had wound up a particularly explosive version of Four Score And Seven, my voice was shot and I was soaked in sweat (lord only knows how Stickles keeps it together). Over the last year the Haymakers has emerged as a terrific music venue in Cambridge, and this really felt like a gig for the ages.

Here's some pics; a special mention to the guy who responded to Stickles' comment about the brit who's done the most for the band with "what about Shakespeare?".

Gig Review: Of Montreal @ The Koko, Wed 6th October

Is there a more fitting setting for an Of Montreal gig than the Koko? The decadent red and gold of the former theatre provided the perfect setting for Of Montreal to play out their unique and, frankly, homo-erotic stage drama to an enthusiastic crowd.

Looking back over the colourful mayhem which ensued, it's easy to forget that the night began with the rather excellent support band Cats In Paris. The Manchester-based trio dished out a frenetic set; Michael J Watson dashed between keyboards and violin on songs about vampires, serial killers and traditional English cookery, all to a colourful video backdrop. Great fun, and the perfect mood-setter for what was to follow.

Whilst on record False Priest falls short of its two illustrious predecessors, there was never any doubt that the songs would translate into a whole barrel of fun in a live setting, and so it proved. Kevin Barnes, dolled up in a skirt, bandana and a technicolour dream-coat, was given free reign to prance around the enormous Koko stage and his army of musicians, immaculately clad out in white. Amongst a set almost exclusively comprising material from Hissing Fauna... onwards, the new songs found their natural home; Like A Tourist aspired to hit the R'n'B heights it never quite reached on False Priest, thanks to its throbbing basslines and diva chorus , whilst our Riotous Defects (known to one and all as Crazy Girl) cemented itself as a firm fan singalong favourite. The one disappointment? No Janelle Monae; following on from her Jools Holland appearance the previous night, I could have put money on her duetting with Barnes on Enemy Gene, but it was sadly not to be.

Amidst it all, Barnes et al were constantly molested by the usual (for want of a better word) array of costumed fiends, including gun-toting fish-robots, silver-winged creatures and crazed men in blood-stained strait jackets (who on freeing themselves confirmed that the lunatics truly had taken over the asylum). The crowd too were not immune to molestations, with frequent invasions from masked misfits and band alike; one such moment of indulgence during She's A Rejector gave Barnes sufficient time to drape a silver veil over himself and put a noose around his neck, appropriately morbid attire for the set's sole downer Casualty Of You, before immediately bouncing back with Heimdalsgate Like A Promethean Curse. The main set closed in spectacular fashion with an explosion of streamers and confetti fired from the palms of Barnes' hands.

Once a guy in a pig mask and another guy in a blonde wig had roused the crowd into a frenzy, the band returned with the now-obligatory encore of The Past Is A Grotesque Animal. Officially recognised (well, by me) as one of the 10 or 15 greatest songs of modern indie, an intense Barnes actually played it straight (for once), fixated to the mic over the song's 12 stormy minutes, before throwing a fit in the middle of the stage. In short, a gay time was had by all, quite literally; the sight of Kevin Barnes singing "we can do it softcore if you want/but you should know I take it both ways" over a video backdrop of male body-builders may have scarred me for life.

I've included more pics than I usually would for these things; it was the only way to do an Of Montreal gig any justice.

Gig Review: Fuzzy Lights @ The Portland Arms, Thu 30th Sept

Still riding on the high of some fantastic performances at last Saturday's Wish You Were Here Festival, Cambridge's the Portland Arms held another spectacle in the form of local orchestral rock band Fuzzy Lights, who released their second album Twin Feathers on Little Red Rabbit Records last month. The night was made all the more memorable by the two support acts who both successfully proved that less can be more.

First up was Hitchin's own C Joynes, whose nimble and unorthodox playing of both banjo and acoustic guitar, occasionally coupled with hiss-ridden tape recordings, proved utterly bewitching. He was followed by the no-less-impressive You Are Wolf, a one-girl act (save for some sparse bass-playing from her husband) performing  forlorn folk music carefully constructed from vocal loops and melodica. As well as her wide vocal range, her ability to mimic the sound of waves crashing was second to none.

Fuzzy Lights tick all the orchestral/post rock band boxes. Female violinist? Check. Songs that start quietly and then crescendo into behemoths? Check. Guitars played with violin bows? Check. Singing saws? Actually, I wasn't expecting that so much. And that's the thing with Fuzzy Lights; whilst they undoubtedly evoke the likes of Dirty Three and Do Make Say Think, they are no mere copyists. Even the drummer felt the need to stroke his kit with a bow (no euphemism intended). Over the hour-or-so length of their set, Fuzzy Lights continuously wound up their songs into cathartic, yet graceful blasts of noise, steadily increasing the intensity, until they wound everything down again by closing with the gentle swoon of a lap-steel guitar on The Sea & The Heather, the closing track from Twin Feathers. It was a fine ending to a successful homecoming.

The Naira Project rock Harmstock!

Providing a more-than-welcome break from the dad-rock bands playing either side (and actually playing a set of entirely original material - halllelulah!), the Naira Project were the undisputed highlight of a particularly windy Harmstock 2010. Yes I may be biased since my Dad counts amongst their ranks, but nobody who witnessed the Naira Project last Sunday could deny what was a thrillingly original and varied set, not to mention just how far they've progressed from when they stood on the very same stage a year ago.

Thanks to my sis for the photos. The Naira Project will be playing an Introducing session on BBC Radio Lincolnshire on October 15th.

Gig Review: Pavement @ O2 Academy, Wed 12th May

When reviewing a gig of a band that you love dearly, reforming to play their first gigs in decades, it's very hard to remain objective. The occasion tends to overwhelm the performance itself, and just being in the presence of songs that you thought you might never hear live, regardless of how sloppily they may be tossed off, is enough, especially if you're singing loud enough to drown out the din.

So let's sidestep this dilemma by discussing support act Sic Alps. They were okay. They certainly weren't Broken Social Scene. Guitars chugged through countless identikit songs, and whilst there were odd flashes of inspiration, it was pretty forgettable stuff. For bands like Sic Alps, mere existence is sufficient.

And arguably the primary reason they exist is the five guys taking to the stage after them. Pavement are the blueprint of indie-coolness, if such a thing exists: the rangy Stephen Malkmus plays with legs stretched apart, casually tosses off witty and obscure combinations of words which you wish you'd come up with, and skilfully balances his guitar upside-down on one hand; Spiral Stairs dons a flat-cap; drummer Steve West dons spectacles and a beard; you just want to give the round, baby-faced figure of bassist Mark Ibold a big hug. Then there's percussionist/vocalist/weird noise specialist Bob Nastanovich, truly the band's secret weapon, whose boundless energy is infectious (perhaps being irradiated from his vibrant shirt).

So now I've had time to lay down the rose-tinted specs, I can review this gig in a balanced and considered manner. Pavement were fantastic. Utterly and undeniably fantastic. Over two hours, the band dug their way through a back catalogue laden with treasures, and the offerings were every bit as good as you 'd hope they would be. Unfair was a riot, with Nastanovich at the forefront, whipping the crowd into a frenzy. Fight This Generation was zonked out in that special Wowee Zowee kinda way. The band played call and response between themselves during In A Mouth A Desert. Main-set closer Here had the lighters aloft in a manner which was in no way ironic or embarassing. Two encores were rapturously received, the first closing with the swooning Fin from Brighten The Corners, the second bringing Nastanovich back to the frontline for one final assault with Conduit For Sale.

The crowd certainly played their part in proceedings, singing and screaming their way through every song, no matter how non-sensical the lyrics. Everybody was buzzing; it's impossible not to have fun with these songs, and one can hardly imagine the reunion performances of Godspeed! You Black Emperor later conjuring up such an atmosphere later this year. Crucially though, the band gave back to the crowd in spades (plus a gracious acknowledgement of the late-great John Peel always goes a long way). It was a performance befitting of the occasion.

Gig Review: Crystal Antlers @ The Portland Arms, Cambridge, Tue 4th May

N.B. Picture taken from the Lexington, January 2009

Long Beach, California five-piece the Crystal Antlers brought their swampy psych-rock to Cambridge on Tuesday. Following on from their explosive debut EP, the band released their debut full-release Tentacles to disappointingly luke-warm reviews, so it perhaps wasn't surprising that their set was rather light on Tentacles material, focusing much more on new songs from their forthcoming sophomore album.

The new stuff was notably mellower, airier, and more melodic, with singer/bassist Johnny Bell not always resorting to shredding his vocal chords. There's no question that the band will need to display a greater range on their second album to regain some of the plaudits lost with Tentacles, but how this more toned down approach will work on record remains to be seen. Reassuringly though, the band played with the same vigour throughout, in particular live-wire percussionist Damian Edwards, who proceeded to get steadily more naked as the set wore on.

Ultimately though, it was the EP material which provided the highlights. The various ebbs and flows of A Thousand Eyes still make it the finest amalgamation of everything the Crystal Antlers do, whilst their scorched set-closer Parting Song For The Torn Sky demonstrates why the band should break the shackles of the 3-4 minute song more often.

All in all, it was an excellent performance from a band that finds itself at a difficult crossroads, but it remains hard to say just how well the Crystal Antlers will navigate it.

Gig Review: Mount Eerie @ London Scala, Tue 6th April

I came to this gig with absolutely no idea what to expect; both Phil Elverum's recordings and his performances can range from being very spare and haunting, to a blitzkrieg of noise. His most recent entry under the Mount Eerie moniker, last year's outstanding Wind's Poem, frequently veered towards the latter, and so Tuesday's night's performance, which included a full band, was a suitably loud affair, but even during its heaviest moments maintained a level of intimacy so pivotal to his recordings.

Opening support act Team Brick, aka Bristolian Matt Williams was fascinating; using a mix of effects pedals, a couple of mics. a few instruments and the art of throat singing, he cooked up a varied set which stayed on the right side of experimental. That was followed by No Kids, a twee-looking bunch who eschewed guitars in favour of keyboards. Their bitter-sweet pop had plenty of groove, but the set was too long, and they couldn't sustain interest for the duration.

However, it was a welcome sight to see many of them walk on stage again, this time as part of Mount Eerie. After a few awkward but genial words from Elverum, the set was opened with a gut-wrenching burst of noise as the band commenced Wind's Dark Poem. They proceeded to play Wind's Poem in its entirety, but this was no mere run-through, as every song built, and improved upon its recorded original. The loud moments (of which there were many) were made doubly devastating by the inclusion of two drummers, and during these points Elverum cut an animated figure on stage. These noise assaults made the moments of serenity all the more affecting; album highlight My Heart Is At Peace was achingly beautiful, and the haunting closing words of Summons, assisted by the shimmer of cymbals, almost seemed to flutter away on the wind as they left Elverum's mouth. It's the imagery of Elverum's words, coupled with his soft, plaintive voice that makes his music sound so organic, so natural, whether it's accompaniment is the sound of thunder, or a gently blowing breeze.