Arriving later than expected, and after a slightly awkward affair at the entrance with a confused ticket lady, I find a room populated by about 5 people. 'Oh', I say, before deciding that gin at the adjacent Wetherspoon would be a good distraction until the bands begin. Minutes later, with my nose in a glass, I can hear the opening act. A quick swig later and a jaunt up the stairs I find the same 5 people, and a band, continue to populate the room.
They are called Eric Unseen (something I found out today, not last night) and here is what I thought of them: primarily bad. Lots and lots of enthusiasm which did not seem in the least bit genuine, as if they wouldn't have chosen to listen to these songs had someone else created them. Stage banter was some of the worst, most excruciating I have ever seen/heard. In many ways I was just watching a teenagers garage band with dim hopes. So much emphasis was placed on standard, boring vocals and uninspired lyrics. The incredibly talented drummer was almost completely ignored when he should have been the focus of the group's sound while they filled every second with guitar white noise.
I should, however, mention that they almost completely redeemed themselves with a fantastic rendition of Bat out of Hell. But, that aside, I was far less than impressed.
Then there were the Vestrals. Better. Much better, in fact. Another guitar overload but with so much more cohesion and purpose to each performer. However, despite the harbouring of a lot of potential, there was nothing distinguishing about them. You could see intelligence and interesting themes buried in there somewhere but the make-up of the band and the sound of the songs demonstrated a lack of depth and imagination. I liked them and, if they were to play in front of me again, I wouldn't walk away. But I am not sure I would walk towards them. Take note Vestrals, you need innovation, or just give up and go to the anonymous band wastelands of so many soundalikes. Sorry.
Now, I really like Sound of Guns. Both their albums are immensely enjoyable and I was really looking forward to seeing them live. Known, by me and others, for the sustained, bold and brilliant notes sung by Andrew Metcalfe compounding the heavy beats and anthemic guitar.
Unfortunately, I was disappointed. Solely because the aforementioned Andrew was terrible. The band behind played excellently, never dropping a note or missing a beat, but for a band with such a prominent front man, singing badly can ruin the whole thing. This is a band that was destined fort he biggest of arenas with their pounding rock but the horse cries and off tune bellowing that accompanied this performance spoilt brilliant song after brilliant song. Perhaps it was because of the awkwardly small venue which is the Full Moon Club (more on that later) that nothing sounded right but it was as if Mr. Metcalfe had taken up a 20 a day smoking habit since recording their last album. Some flashes of glory were there in admirable attempts to belt out Architects and Alcatraz (songs I adore) but on a whole it was too distracting having someone struggle that much. Eventually the excuse of the cold came out, but if it was going to be that obstructive, I would have accepted a postponement/cancellation.
I still think the albums are brilliant and I will eagerly await each new release, but I will also think twice before going to see them live again.
Now, I should quickly address my first experience of the Full Moon Club. What can I say... utterly dreadful. Quality of music aside, it doesn't function as a good place for live music. Half the room is around a corner from the stage and it is so small. Perhaps I am slightly bitter, for, after being short changed to the amount of a fiver (a signification amount) I was treated like a mistaken drunkard (neither of which were true) and eventually fobbed off despite the utmost attempt at being amiable and nice about the, unavoidably awkward situation. Even if I am bitter, I think that attitude is a negative enough attribute to prevent me from returning there. Anyway, I will stop complaining and go back to listening to What Came From Fire.
At the forefront of neurotic music 'journalism'.
Wednesday, 21 March 2012
Monday, 19 March 2012
Dog is Dead with Another's Blood @ Cardiff Arts Institute
Another's Blood provide a refreshing break from the faux-math-rockers populating much of Cardiff's support and small bands. In fact, they only had one guitar that was more often than not left dangling and gropeless from the lead singer's neck as he played with the keyboard in front of him.
Really very engrossing stuff. Soft, yet grand. Unassuming, but assured. Quite poppy, but not to the extent of the likes of Hurts or the Fray. More like the best bits of the Temper Trap, or Local Natives without guitar hooks.
All in all, with their scooping drums, growing synths and keyboard twinkles they were enjoyable. Casually so rather than intensely but straying away from the trap of being 'catchy'.
Dog is Dead came on afterwards. With much more gusto although not that removed from the Local Natives vibe that accompanied the opener. They had a saxophone which always secures a mention, so well done there. It added some sunny feelings which were well received by myself and the huddled masses in the corners and crevices of the oddly shaped Cardiff Arts Institute.
Foregoing some of their slower material (and overall a more upbeat showing than their recorded stuff), the performance was shaped by exciting thrusts, surges and crescendos. A fantastic accompaniment to the astounding red and yellow gigantic cloud towers above Cardiff earlier that I witnessed while everyone else was staring the team egg and spoon race everyone else was watching (rugby) earlier in the day.
Dog is Dead show much promise as a band getting bigger. Walking through doors opened by Mumford and Sons but without the cheap, horrible tactics employed by that collection. A prevalent Mystery Jets influence was present - which is good.
I have to admit that I can't read a good portion of my notes for a bit so I shall just say that it was a performance full of smart, fun, jaunty combinations and simplexity (complexity orchestrated simply).
One of my favourite free gigs ever. And I went to Live8.
NB. It wasn't as good as Live8
Really very engrossing stuff. Soft, yet grand. Unassuming, but assured. Quite poppy, but not to the extent of the likes of Hurts or the Fray. More like the best bits of the Temper Trap, or Local Natives without guitar hooks.
All in all, with their scooping drums, growing synths and keyboard twinkles they were enjoyable. Casually so rather than intensely but straying away from the trap of being 'catchy'.
Dog is Dead came on afterwards. With much more gusto although not that removed from the Local Natives vibe that accompanied the opener. They had a saxophone which always secures a mention, so well done there. It added some sunny feelings which were well received by myself and the huddled masses in the corners and crevices of the oddly shaped Cardiff Arts Institute.
Foregoing some of their slower material (and overall a more upbeat showing than their recorded stuff), the performance was shaped by exciting thrusts, surges and crescendos. A fantastic accompaniment to the astounding red and yellow gigantic cloud towers above Cardiff earlier that I witnessed while everyone else was staring the team egg and spoon race everyone else was watching (rugby) earlier in the day.
Dog is Dead show much promise as a band getting bigger. Walking through doors opened by Mumford and Sons but without the cheap, horrible tactics employed by that collection. A prevalent Mystery Jets influence was present - which is good.
I have to admit that I can't read a good portion of my notes for a bit so I shall just say that it was a performance full of smart, fun, jaunty combinations and simplexity (complexity orchestrated simply).
One of my favourite free gigs ever. And I went to Live8.
NB. It wasn't as good as Live8
Sunday, 18 March 2012
Wild Beasts with Alt-J @ The Coal Exchange
Within seconds Alt-J demonstrate exactly the reason why they have been chosen as Wild Beast's support. This is not to say that they are an imitation of the main act, but compliment them excellently as they use similar subtle tones to create the landscape of their songs.
Half the band is employed to create the atmosphere while the other half populates that atmosphere with fun and intelligent tunes. Responsibility for these roles is constantly shifted during the set so your focus follows different instruments against the delightfully constructed background.
As a unit, songs diversify themselves in an analogous manner. Sections blend themselves together with wist and waves before arriving at perfectly slotted stand-out jigsaw pieces of energy and chorus.
Joe Newman has a distinctive twang in his voice, reminiscent of The Tallest Man on Earth, which could be instantly mistaken for off putting. However, once it becomes familiar appreciating it is in no way difficult. Assisted by soft, artful lyrics it narrates performances with a delicate suitability for Alt-J's style and sound, enhancing the experience and drawing you in - capturing your captivation.
I have been waiting quite a long time to see Wild Beasts live. Since 2008's slightly camp but exciting debut Limbo, Panto they have aged exquisitely into one of Britain's finest bands. Two Dancers was brilliant, innovative and easily accessible while last year's Smother was a thing of staggering beauty. At the impressively sculptured Coal Exchange they came with a performance easily worthy of the legacy they are creating. The fact that it did not sell out before the event is a black mark against the musical judgement of Cardiff's population.
I could have spent the entire time dancing with my eyes closed if I wasn't so worried about looking foolish. I was encompassed by swathes of elegance and harmony.
It helps that Wild Beasts are in possession of two of the best band singers in Britain, if not the world, right now. Hayden Thorpe's epic falsetto counteracted perfectly by the rich, deep sound that swims out of Tom Fleming. No further proof is needed of their vocal superiority than their combination on The Devil's Crayon (just astounding live) and, in fact, almost every song released and performed since such an early triumph.
If Wild Beasts had come and performed competently, reciting the material from their albums then no one could complain. Instead they added something spectacular with a passion that could fool you into thinking they were revelling in sudden exciting success. It was music to fall in love with.
I feel privileged to have witnessed a performance as stunning as this from a band which is stating a case for being the best in Britain. As accessible as Coldplay, as intelligent as Radiohead and as thunderously beautiful as, well, I don't think there is anyone who merits comparison with Wild Beasts on that score.
Half the band is employed to create the atmosphere while the other half populates that atmosphere with fun and intelligent tunes. Responsibility for these roles is constantly shifted during the set so your focus follows different instruments against the delightfully constructed background.
As a unit, songs diversify themselves in an analogous manner. Sections blend themselves together with wist and waves before arriving at perfectly slotted stand-out jigsaw pieces of energy and chorus.
Joe Newman has a distinctive twang in his voice, reminiscent of The Tallest Man on Earth, which could be instantly mistaken for off putting. However, once it becomes familiar appreciating it is in no way difficult. Assisted by soft, artful lyrics it narrates performances with a delicate suitability for Alt-J's style and sound, enhancing the experience and drawing you in - capturing your captivation.
I have been waiting quite a long time to see Wild Beasts live. Since 2008's slightly camp but exciting debut Limbo, Panto they have aged exquisitely into one of Britain's finest bands. Two Dancers was brilliant, innovative and easily accessible while last year's Smother was a thing of staggering beauty. At the impressively sculptured Coal Exchange they came with a performance easily worthy of the legacy they are creating. The fact that it did not sell out before the event is a black mark against the musical judgement of Cardiff's population.
I could have spent the entire time dancing with my eyes closed if I wasn't so worried about looking foolish. I was encompassed by swathes of elegance and harmony.
It helps that Wild Beasts are in possession of two of the best band singers in Britain, if not the world, right now. Hayden Thorpe's epic falsetto counteracted perfectly by the rich, deep sound that swims out of Tom Fleming. No further proof is needed of their vocal superiority than their combination on The Devil's Crayon (just astounding live) and, in fact, almost every song released and performed since such an early triumph.
If Wild Beasts had come and performed competently, reciting the material from their albums then no one could complain. Instead they added something spectacular with a passion that could fool you into thinking they were revelling in sudden exciting success. It was music to fall in love with.
I feel privileged to have witnessed a performance as stunning as this from a band which is stating a case for being the best in Britain. As accessible as Coldplay, as intelligent as Radiohead and as thunderously beautiful as, well, I don't think there is anyone who merits comparison with Wild Beasts on that score.
Wednesday, 7 March 2012
Natural Snow Buildings with Mars to Stay and Sneaky Earnest @ Buffalo Bar
Today is a sad day. What follows is my most negative live review. At this point I would suggest that if you are looking for any guidance as to which bands to go and see live then you should look somewhere else. I am afraid that I am just going to tell you which ones to avoid. Of course, this is all very subjective. Oh, by the way, for this post my guest contributor will be the experimental chiropractor, William Rousseau.
Sneaky Earnest began proceedings. Here we have an undeniably talented guitar player who really needs a band. Without out one it gave the impression that a drunkard had wondered onto a stage full of discarded instruments and wobbled about improvising. Interesting and exceptional rifts were sporadic and brief and everything was hampered by the most shocking choices for loops. And the loops, instead of an opportunity for singly orchestrated layers, seemed to be being used for walking around music. Mumbled Spanish confused me and others who had heard English words spoken by said artist on entry without a hint of foreign beginnings. The whole experience seemed over-the-top pretentious or, as William testified, "extremely self indulgent". It was like listening to Rodrigo y Gabriela album filler with half the band.
Best band of the evening, Mars to Stay, arrived next with some minimalistic psych rock (maybe). Opinion forming someone stunted at start by realisation that drummer and vocalist was old classmate but real difficulty found in sussing this band was due to a mixture of them not wanting to be sussed and my experiences down this avenue very much limited to Tame Impala. So, in other words, no experience down this avenue. Echo-y lyrics indistinguishable from sometime monotonous, sometimes suspiciously beautiful notes, making it very difficult to know when the music has actually stopped and someone is saying "thank you" to provoke clapping. In the end, this band has one thing to offer, and its not especially interesting. And why did the guitarist have his back turned on the audience the whole time? A need to get over oneself perhaps, especially given the lack of mirrors (Guillemots reference that no one will get).
Long, anonymous notes return with the arrival of Natural Snow Buildings and I start to notice the background videos that have been playing all night. Attention grabbed by the prolonged image of someone's iTunes as the loop of videos has ended. This is, probably, Buffalo bar's biggest fault as a venue. The terrible, grandiloquent black and white images of people looking weird or a child wandering around. But then again, it is just what is needed to accompany similarly pompous guitars. First headlining performance I have been to where it is significantly emptier about two thirds in than at start. No one really seemed to be enjoying the experience there were whispered jokes and the obvious stances of people focused on how they were appearing to enjoy, or tolerate, the performance. You had to have something to concentrate on, the music was not distracting in any way. The little movement and meaning that arose in sections was pounced upon by the crowd before it swiftly dissipated in the rising waters of white noise. It was as if the French duo were trying to drown our senses until we succumb to the most boring of musical genres. Ethereal and ambient ingredients can give unassuming tracks the most wonderful of boosts but on their own are like a spoonfull of cinnamon, except less interesting.
Perhaps my dislike is based on an under developed musical taste and the inability to 'get' this kind of sound. If so, I am sorry. In fact, I am sorry anyway if you got this far, I really haven't got anything worth saying, to say. Not even going to spell check this one, want to put the evening in the past. Bye.
Sneaky Earnest began proceedings. Here we have an undeniably talented guitar player who really needs a band. Without out one it gave the impression that a drunkard had wondered onto a stage full of discarded instruments and wobbled about improvising. Interesting and exceptional rifts were sporadic and brief and everything was hampered by the most shocking choices for loops. And the loops, instead of an opportunity for singly orchestrated layers, seemed to be being used for walking around music. Mumbled Spanish confused me and others who had heard English words spoken by said artist on entry without a hint of foreign beginnings. The whole experience seemed over-the-top pretentious or, as William testified, "extremely self indulgent". It was like listening to Rodrigo y Gabriela album filler with half the band.
Best band of the evening, Mars to Stay, arrived next with some minimalistic psych rock (maybe). Opinion forming someone stunted at start by realisation that drummer and vocalist was old classmate but real difficulty found in sussing this band was due to a mixture of them not wanting to be sussed and my experiences down this avenue very much limited to Tame Impala. So, in other words, no experience down this avenue. Echo-y lyrics indistinguishable from sometime monotonous, sometimes suspiciously beautiful notes, making it very difficult to know when the music has actually stopped and someone is saying "thank you" to provoke clapping. In the end, this band has one thing to offer, and its not especially interesting. And why did the guitarist have his back turned on the audience the whole time? A need to get over oneself perhaps, especially given the lack of mirrors (Guillemots reference that no one will get).
Long, anonymous notes return with the arrival of Natural Snow Buildings and I start to notice the background videos that have been playing all night. Attention grabbed by the prolonged image of someone's iTunes as the loop of videos has ended. This is, probably, Buffalo bar's biggest fault as a venue. The terrible, grandiloquent black and white images of people looking weird or a child wandering around. But then again, it is just what is needed to accompany similarly pompous guitars. First headlining performance I have been to where it is significantly emptier about two thirds in than at start. No one really seemed to be enjoying the experience there were whispered jokes and the obvious stances of people focused on how they were appearing to enjoy, or tolerate, the performance. You had to have something to concentrate on, the music was not distracting in any way. The little movement and meaning that arose in sections was pounced upon by the crowd before it swiftly dissipated in the rising waters of white noise. It was as if the French duo were trying to drown our senses until we succumb to the most boring of musical genres. Ethereal and ambient ingredients can give unassuming tracks the most wonderful of boosts but on their own are like a spoonfull of cinnamon, except less interesting.
Perhaps my dislike is based on an under developed musical taste and the inability to 'get' this kind of sound. If so, I am sorry. In fact, I am sorry anyway if you got this far, I really haven't got anything worth saying, to say. Not even going to spell check this one, want to put the evening in the past. Bye.
Sunday, 4 March 2012
Truckers of Husk with Gallops and Kutosis @ The Globe
Hello.
I reviewed Kutosis a couple of months ago so I shall keep this first bit short. They did not start brilliantly. As my guest quoter stated: "They didn't sound like proper well rounded songs".
But, luckily, they were just waiting to hit their stride. Into their second and third songs their frantic combinations became more cohesive and deliberate and the furious guitar noises were soon joined by brilliant drums. An illogically logical cadence bounced and thrashed its way over the enclosing crowds.
I am, however, aware that their considerable improvement ran parallel to my pint progression and the changing opinions of my companion. I don't really think that had anything to do with it and I do really like Devo.
Gallops graced us with their presence secondly. Last year they tied with Slow Club as the best band I saw at Swn Festival (an achievement not to be trifled at) and I have been a reasonably gigantic fan ever since.
Here comes the second (grander) introduction to their review segment...
Just as mathematics transcends the apparent chaos of the universe with its precise elegance, the best math rock bands transcend the potential pandemonium of its often delirious concoction of ingredients. And Gallops definitely fall under the 'best math rock bands' category. They immediately demonstrated their bewitching complexities before launching into an unstoppable tirade of guitars, drums, keyboards and electronics. There were buttons on the floor and everything. Their sound was always advancing, much like the precarious speaker that kept edging closer and closer to falling on the drummer's head.
Mari says: "I like that they don't sing". She is right, they don't sing. They are one of the best and most interesting instrumental bands around. I do wonder if they will ever start to sing. It happens.
I must insist that you go and see this band live, and listen to their music being done un-live, like this one. Although this might be considered live by some, as the presenter lady said; "We are broadcasting this live... next week". To clarify, those three full stops indicate a pause, not a part of the sentence I have removed.
She said this just before the headlining act Truckers of Husk came on. Straight away I like them because they have a saxophone. Mari says: "Saxophone!". And they were also playing a film about Robert Falcon Scott going to the South Pole. This was very distracting - particularly when seals were fighting and people were dying.
Similar to Kutosis (but for different reasons) Truckers' first half wasn't their best half. Whilst very enjoyable they didn't distinguish themselves from the abundance of similar bands which crowd around them in our contemporary times. Gallops were also proving an extremely difficult act to follow and Truckers had included some strange samples in their songs which, to me, felt slightly uncomfortable and unnecessary.
Then there was a turning point. One song arrived with an impressively grand rise and crescendo and brought an irrepressible energy and drive spearheaded by their fearsome drummer. The energy went from irrepressible to overwhelming the players on stage and the crowd which rapidly became a mass of people leaping and bouncing along to every beat. They had to stop, momentarily, as said drummer rearranged his kit in the midst of them all before launching into the final stampede towards the end, dousing everyone in a flurry of flour and exceptional banging.
I reviewed Kutosis a couple of months ago so I shall keep this first bit short. They did not start brilliantly. As my guest quoter stated: "They didn't sound like proper well rounded songs".
But, luckily, they were just waiting to hit their stride. Into their second and third songs their frantic combinations became more cohesive and deliberate and the furious guitar noises were soon joined by brilliant drums. An illogically logical cadence bounced and thrashed its way over the enclosing crowds.
I am, however, aware that their considerable improvement ran parallel to my pint progression and the changing opinions of my companion. I don't really think that had anything to do with it and I do really like Devo.
Gallops graced us with their presence secondly. Last year they tied with Slow Club as the best band I saw at Swn Festival (an achievement not to be trifled at) and I have been a reasonably gigantic fan ever since.
Here comes the second (grander) introduction to their review segment...
Just as mathematics transcends the apparent chaos of the universe with its precise elegance, the best math rock bands transcend the potential pandemonium of its often delirious concoction of ingredients. And Gallops definitely fall under the 'best math rock bands' category. They immediately demonstrated their bewitching complexities before launching into an unstoppable tirade of guitars, drums, keyboards and electronics. There were buttons on the floor and everything. Their sound was always advancing, much like the precarious speaker that kept edging closer and closer to falling on the drummer's head.
Mari says: "I like that they don't sing". She is right, they don't sing. They are one of the best and most interesting instrumental bands around. I do wonder if they will ever start to sing. It happens.
I must insist that you go and see this band live, and listen to their music being done un-live, like this one. Although this might be considered live by some, as the presenter lady said; "We are broadcasting this live... next week". To clarify, those three full stops indicate a pause, not a part of the sentence I have removed.
She said this just before the headlining act Truckers of Husk came on. Straight away I like them because they have a saxophone. Mari says: "Saxophone!". And they were also playing a film about Robert Falcon Scott going to the South Pole. This was very distracting - particularly when seals were fighting and people were dying.
Similar to Kutosis (but for different reasons) Truckers' first half wasn't their best half. Whilst very enjoyable they didn't distinguish themselves from the abundance of similar bands which crowd around them in our contemporary times. Gallops were also proving an extremely difficult act to follow and Truckers had included some strange samples in their songs which, to me, felt slightly uncomfortable and unnecessary.
Then there was a turning point. One song arrived with an impressively grand rise and crescendo and brought an irrepressible energy and drive spearheaded by their fearsome drummer. The energy went from irrepressible to overwhelming the players on stage and the crowd which rapidly became a mass of people leaping and bouncing along to every beat. They had to stop, momentarily, as said drummer rearranged his kit in the midst of them all before launching into the final stampede towards the end, dousing everyone in a flurry of flour and exceptional banging.
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