I just had to choose my favourite local records of 2010. I hate doing that every year. Firstly, because I hardly have the time and cash to listen to every local release so I'm sure there are some great records I could vote for (for example I suspect the new Bellowhead and the Colours CD are both brilloiant, but I haven't bought them), but I have to leave them out; and secondly because it's not the end of bloody 2010 yet.
And speaking of Bellowhead, here you go. Question: are they an Oxford band or not? The debate rages on...
BELLOWHEAD – Oxford Folk Festival, Regal, 18/11/10
It’s clear and light with a surprising fruity afterbite and – what’s that? We’re not supposed to review the beer? OK, but it’s damned unusual for a touring band to bring their bespoke ale along, especially in the gutted grandeur of The Regal, a gorgeous art deco hangar held together by a lick of emulsion and a few coats of Carling and party foam. Whilst we’re not naive enough to believe Bellowhead themselves nurtured the brew, any more than Christina Aguilera slaved long nights in a lab perfecting her perfume, in some ways a thousand pints of real ale on trestle stands is the perfect symbol of Bellowhead: it clearly communes with craft and tradition, but also says unequivocably, “we are here to party”.
And party we do. It’s unfair to judge any musicians by their fans – we’d have to throw out those Wagner CDs if so – but the Bellowhead massive are so infectious, swaying like a vast choppy sea to Jacque Brel’s “Amsterdam”, and leaping like randy crickets to “New York Girls” (not bad when the room’s average age is double that of many events), until it’s physically impossible to leave having had a bad time. But then again, the music would do that if the gig were in an empty undertakers.
Spiers and Boden’s folk cabaret juggernaut has been rumbling for six years now, but we’ve only just realised the genius twist that makes them unbeatable. Yes, the vocals are seedily dramatic, yes the rhythms are thumping and carnivalistic, but it’s the four brass players who add the secret spice, pitched somewhere between Oktoberfest oompah, jazz abandon and Stax horn stabs: they turn folk standard “A-Begging I Will Go” into a taut blaxploitation theme, a stakeout outside Cecil Sharp House. At moments like this, Bellowhead remind us oddly of Blood, Sweat & Tears (owners of the greatest funk tuba solo ever recorded), being as they are a huddle of kickass musicians who don’t let their chops obscure their sense of fun, but who don’t let the craic prohibit intricate arrangements and sensitive playing. It’s a week where Oxford’s self-styled Blessing Force movement dandles the London media like a Machiavellian puppeteer; best of luck to them, but how many of the thousands of people reading encomiums of bands barely out of the bedroom stage know that one of the best acts to come from Oxford this millennium is currently touring the nation? If they gave Bellowhead a chance, they’d never look back: trad, bad, and euphoric to know.
Sunday 28 November 2010
Friday 5 November 2010
The Slip Case
I'm going to Klub Kak tonight and Audioscope tomorrow, and I saw local heroes Stornoway and old chums Foxes! last night. Some other people shall be watching explosions in the drizzle, but I think I've got the better deal.
BELOW THE FALL – COMMISSIONER (Witch Hunter Records)
Tinkering with Google in an attempt to find out who Below The Fall are, and how they’ve got a professional CD single with a really lovely inksplodge raven illustration when we’re sure they’ve never played a gig inside the county boundaries, we stumble across their record label’s website. There we discover that this record is one of five releases, two of which are by acts with the brilliant/atrocious (toss a coin if, like us, you’re not sure) names Trippy Wicked & The Cosmic Children Of The Knight and Bumsnogger; the other two releases are both by Year Of The Flood, a sludge metal act “based on the books of Margaret Atwood”, one of whom used to be in a band called – wait for it - Jesus Of Spazzareth.
Call us jaded, and enticed by the merest novelty, frippery or bagatelle, but all of these records sound as though they’re more interesting than the one we’ve ended up with. However, Below The Fall are clearly a decent act, especially considering they’d never played a gig together at the time of recording this pair of tunes, who have created a beautifully recorded and solidly played rock record with a strong melodic sense, and the tiniest hint of a goth billow to proceedings to keep the music atmospheric and on the right side of tedious emo bluster. Rhythmically it’s pretty spotless, if also somewhat earthbound, and Alex Breadmore’s drums exhibit precision without ever quite capturing the head-nodding power of great heavy rock. If the A side is an arching effort that loosely recalls locals Days Of Grace, the accompanying track “Just Run Away” is probably the better of the two, Dan Hunter’s airy voice surfing some crashing guitar on a preposterously catchy melody. He manages a convincing delivery, despite the fact that an odd Thames Valley Scandiwegian accent means he pronounces “change” as “chiynge”, and “memories” as (hyuck hyuck) “mammaries”.
If you like your rock music approachable, well structured and sounding a lot like it came from about 2001, then this could well be the band for you. This record is a great effort but, if there’s a choice between listening to an impeccably made piece of High Street rock, and just sitting back and imagining what Bumsnogger might sound like, then I’m afraid we’d choose the Eject button every time.
BELOW THE FALL – COMMISSIONER (Witch Hunter Records)
Tinkering with Google in an attempt to find out who Below The Fall are, and how they’ve got a professional CD single with a really lovely inksplodge raven illustration when we’re sure they’ve never played a gig inside the county boundaries, we stumble across their record label’s website. There we discover that this record is one of five releases, two of which are by acts with the brilliant/atrocious (toss a coin if, like us, you’re not sure) names Trippy Wicked & The Cosmic Children Of The Knight and Bumsnogger; the other two releases are both by Year Of The Flood, a sludge metal act “based on the books of Margaret Atwood”, one of whom used to be in a band called – wait for it - Jesus Of Spazzareth.
Call us jaded, and enticed by the merest novelty, frippery or bagatelle, but all of these records sound as though they’re more interesting than the one we’ve ended up with. However, Below The Fall are clearly a decent act, especially considering they’d never played a gig together at the time of recording this pair of tunes, who have created a beautifully recorded and solidly played rock record with a strong melodic sense, and the tiniest hint of a goth billow to proceedings to keep the music atmospheric and on the right side of tedious emo bluster. Rhythmically it’s pretty spotless, if also somewhat earthbound, and Alex Breadmore’s drums exhibit precision without ever quite capturing the head-nodding power of great heavy rock. If the A side is an arching effort that loosely recalls locals Days Of Grace, the accompanying track “Just Run Away” is probably the better of the two, Dan Hunter’s airy voice surfing some crashing guitar on a preposterously catchy melody. He manages a convincing delivery, despite the fact that an odd Thames Valley Scandiwegian accent means he pronounces “change” as “chiynge”, and “memories” as (hyuck hyuck) “mammaries”.
If you like your rock music approachable, well structured and sounding a lot like it came from about 2001, then this could well be the band for you. This record is a great effort but, if there’s a choice between listening to an impeccably made piece of High Street rock, and just sitting back and imagining what Bumsnogger might sound like, then I’m afraid we’d choose the Eject button every time.
Monday 1 November 2010
Gamelan Ding Dong
I have a brutal headache, so I'm not going to write anything, just paste the review and have a little rest.
PLAID & THE SOUTH BANK GAMELAN – OCM, Oxford Playhouse, 1/10/10
Promotion can really matter. We recall a Swiss Concrete gig starring ultra-twee poppets You And Me, with backing vocals from actor Ewen Macintosh. Had the promoters swapped their tasteful A4 posters for a banner across Cowley Road reading “See Keith off The Office: Fiver!” a sparse turnout could have become a sell-out crowd. With that in mind, this event advertised as Plaid with the South Bank Gamelan may have enticed the mid-30s Artificial Intelligentsia who grew up on Warp, but if anything the billing should have been reversed. The gamelan made by far the bigger impression, not only in the quality of their playing, but with the arresting sight of their exquisitely turned Javanese metalophones, xylophones and assorted percussive devices.
The physical presence of the gamelan sound is incredible, whether it’s playing with piercing volume, or with a limpid, elegant stateliness. A fascinating contrast between complexity and simplicity arises when repeated iterations of brief melodies are made on many instruments simultaneously – not only is the sound miasmic and mysterious (one piece is like the bleached bones of a 60s spy theme deep underwater), but the sight of five sets of ornate mallets being dropped in unison looks like eerie alien choreography. Plaid’s dinky electro doesn’t really mix. The duo has spent many years taking the 808 boom out of Detroit techno, and replacing it with a the twinkle and patter of a perpetual motion toybox – Rest Proof Clockwork, as their third LP would have it – so their sound hovers oddly above the surface of the gamelan’s resonant overtones. Plus, for the most part, despite the programme’s bombastic trumpeting about new vistas, the gamelan and Plaid alternate their playing. Joint composition with gamelan master Rahayu Supanggah is more a patchwork of ideas than a collaborative creation, more a musical Exquisite Corpse than a fresh stylistic alloy.
All very pleasant indeed, in short, but not a touch on the inscrutable architecture of the centuries old music that opened the evening. However, two moments showed that this young collaboration could still blossom into something wonderful. A subtle arrangement of Aphex Twin’s “Actium” revealed not only how dynasties and continents could be brought together, but also Richard James’ knack with a killer melody, no matter how fragmentary. The encore was apparently played for the first time the preceding night, and yet it was the highlight of the concert, a melding of an old Plaid track with a traditional Javanese song. The synthesised clicks and the warm percussion tones truly meld together for the first time, and suddenly we saw performers working on the same wavelength as well as the same stage, musicians who shared an exciting vision and not just a publicist.
PLAID & THE SOUTH BANK GAMELAN – OCM, Oxford Playhouse, 1/10/10
Promotion can really matter. We recall a Swiss Concrete gig starring ultra-twee poppets You And Me, with backing vocals from actor Ewen Macintosh. Had the promoters swapped their tasteful A4 posters for a banner across Cowley Road reading “See Keith off The Office: Fiver!” a sparse turnout could have become a sell-out crowd. With that in mind, this event advertised as Plaid with the South Bank Gamelan may have enticed the mid-30s Artificial Intelligentsia who grew up on Warp, but if anything the billing should have been reversed. The gamelan made by far the bigger impression, not only in the quality of their playing, but with the arresting sight of their exquisitely turned Javanese metalophones, xylophones and assorted percussive devices.
The physical presence of the gamelan sound is incredible, whether it’s playing with piercing volume, or with a limpid, elegant stateliness. A fascinating contrast between complexity and simplicity arises when repeated iterations of brief melodies are made on many instruments simultaneously – not only is the sound miasmic and mysterious (one piece is like the bleached bones of a 60s spy theme deep underwater), but the sight of five sets of ornate mallets being dropped in unison looks like eerie alien choreography. Plaid’s dinky electro doesn’t really mix. The duo has spent many years taking the 808 boom out of Detroit techno, and replacing it with a the twinkle and patter of a perpetual motion toybox – Rest Proof Clockwork, as their third LP would have it – so their sound hovers oddly above the surface of the gamelan’s resonant overtones. Plus, for the most part, despite the programme’s bombastic trumpeting about new vistas, the gamelan and Plaid alternate their playing. Joint composition with gamelan master Rahayu Supanggah is more a patchwork of ideas than a collaborative creation, more a musical Exquisite Corpse than a fresh stylistic alloy.
All very pleasant indeed, in short, but not a touch on the inscrutable architecture of the centuries old music that opened the evening. However, two moments showed that this young collaboration could still blossom into something wonderful. A subtle arrangement of Aphex Twin’s “Actium” revealed not only how dynasties and continents could be brought together, but also Richard James’ knack with a killer melody, no matter how fragmentary. The encore was apparently played for the first time the preceding night, and yet it was the highlight of the concert, a melding of an old Plaid track with a traditional Javanese song. The synthesised clicks and the warm percussion tones truly meld together for the first time, and suddenly we saw performers working on the same wavelength as well as the same stage, musicians who shared an exciting vision and not just a publicist.
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