Saturday, 27 September 2014

Yellow Jack Swing

I just bought a ticket to this year's Audioscope festival in Oxford.  You should too.  Anyway, here's the last ever Ocelot article (from me, I mean, I presume it will carry on without me...although perhaps the pain will prove too much).



There are 6 members of Francis Pugh and the Whisky Singers.  None of them is called Francis Pugh, but they have been in various Oxfordshire bands of quite surprisingly varied styles over the years – you’ll quite probably have heard of some of them, but we won’t waste any time on the past, because the Whisky Singers don’t belong in the past...they belong in an eternal present where rousing folk tunes are sung in warm snugs, effortlessly emotional melodies are projected into the darkness outside, in defiance of bad times, misery and, you know, not being in an inn singing at the top of your lungs.

I’ve seen them play The Jericho Tavern, starting up acoustically in the downstairs bar, and leading listeners up the stairs.  In similarly inventive fashion, they’ve arranged folk pub crawls, where trundles down the roads of East Oxford are interspersed with waystations promising shots and shanties, pints and ballads.  There are some hints of early 70s Dylan about the band’s music, although they shy away from his more esoteric lyrical tangles, but any number of reference points can be drawn up...drawn up, and tossed away again, because any band that takes the best of train whistlin’ American song and melds it with unpretentious British folk traditions will always only be important in the moment, the precise second that the smoky tendrils of song drift out and surround you, the second your voice rises to sing along with songs you never heard before, yet somehow know.

Plus, they’ve got a cornet, that’s pretty cool.



YELLOW FEVER/ BIG TROPICS/ BE GOOD, Daisy Rodgers, Wheatsheaf 12/9/14

In a world that’s increasingly market-tested one of the great pleasures of small gigs is not knowing what to expect.  When Be Good take to the Daisy Rodgers stage, most often frequented by well-kempt indie poppers, we hadn’t predicted reverby late ‘50s balladry that sounds as if it should be about milkshake and eroticised motorbike crashes.  They deliver this post-doo wop very well, throwing in a little surf tremolo, some brash 80s colours and even a droplet of grunge slackness, and if it sometimes feels as though Marty McFly put the band together by nipping into his high school prom at ten year intervals, the effect is surprisingly cohesive: a few more gigs to settle the nerves, and another couple of tunes as strong as “I’d Have Told You Anything” and we could have a real contender.

A few years ago Big Tropics’ sound would have been an eyebrow-raiser too, but inexplicably in recent years the default setting for young bands in this town seems to have become sterilised, wipe-clean soul-pop in the vein of 5 Star and New Edition.  Whilst this isn’t necessarily a bad thing – we’ll take Debbie Gibson over Stevie Ray Vaughan any day – matters aren’t helped by bands like this who churn through up-beat tunes with dead-eyed resignation in place of gay abandon.   Whilst the gratuitous synth parts, straight from the 12” disco mix of the theme from CHiPs, go some way towards excusing the limply anonymous vocals, Big Tropics seem to have forgotten the golden rule of pop performance: always get high off your own supply.  We see a punter at the bar wearing white socks with trousers that are too short, which just about sums them up: it’s fun, it’s retro, but it doesn’t really fit together.

There are no shocks in Yellow Fever’s set.  They’ve become just as excellent a band as we knew they would be when we first saw them a few years ago, finding their teenage feet.  Again their sound, melding chiming hi-life guitar parts to A Certain Ratio style introspective indie-funk, has become more prevalent in the intervening years, but they manage to make the mixture smoother than many, by building it around a core of well-written tunes (indeed, a one-off cover of “Rip It Up And Start Again” fits snugly amongst their best tracks).  The sound has got heavier and denser in recent times, every jam block break counterbalanced by a crushing crescendo, but it’s an unforced charm, a sort of polite insouciance emanating from the stage that really proves how this band has grown in stature.  Like we say, character: it could be the most important thing your band will ever have. 
 

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