This review, from the latest issue, is the last Nightshift review I have in the archives (for "archives" read "pile"). From now on you'll get them as they're written, roughly one per month. Fret not, there are still loads of Oxfordbands pieces in the posting schedule (for "schedule" read "desperate random selection").
HUCK & THE HANDSOME FEE/ BARBARE11A/ LORD MAGPIE & THE PRINCE OF CATS, Big Hair, Cellar, 7/1/10
The implausibly named Lord Magpie & The Prince Of Cats offer guttersnipe rockabilly that can hardly be called tidy, but has the clumsy alluring grace of a newborn foal. They have tiny amps that probably came from a Kinder Surprise, atrocious backing vocals, a strange ungainly vocalist who camply croons like a cross between Andy Warhol and Waylon Jennings, and enough energy to outweigh any amateurism. Some of the greatest rock ‘n’ roll is primal, and whilst Lord Magpie isn’t angry, or sweaty, or sexy, the music does seem to come from the very core of the performers. They’re also fascinating: how did this weird lot meet? How do they rehearse? Hang on, have they ever rehearsed? If there’s one thing missing in rock music today, it’s mystery; Lord Magpie is a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a butterfingered cover of "Hi-Heeled Sneakers. Seek them out.
Barbare11a grabs the attention too, looking like a horrific mixup in the costume departments of Mad Max and Two Gentlemen Of Verona: ruffs, leathers and leggings. They play greasy glam rock, and though the vocalist talks like a strange Swedish Eddie Izzard, he has a strong Bowie-inflected singing voice. They’re like a version of Borderville from out of a Christmas cracker, and as such are great fun if a touch unconvincing. Then again, they’re playing with a man down, and they do give us a wonderful lilting waltz, and a superbly slurred Booze Brothers cover of “Minnie The Moocher”, so it’s a victory in the end.
Huck & The Handsome Fee could probably give seminars on how to build a set (though, with their grubby white vests they’d best not set up as stylists). The gig is a compact, well-constructed suite of songs that builds from a quiet bluesy narrative to a punked up Sun Records crackle without a wasted second. Humphrey Astley has a voice that milks the maximum drama from his dark songs, intoning “The Fall” like a mixture of Roy Orbison and Nick Cave and his backing is rock solid. Perhaps the dour country blues balladry feels thin after the flamboyant character of the support acts, but this is a decent band for a quiet evening of listening and solid, melancholy liquor drinking.
Showing posts with label Big Hair. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Big Hair. Show all posts
Thursday, 18 February 2010
Saturday, 13 February 2010
An Emotional Gish
This was submitted to Nightshift but never used. Possibly because a mix up meant there were two writers present that night, and probably because it's a little dull. If you don't know, Simon Minter is - ah, go Google it yourself, this is the 21st century, you know.
A SILENT FILM/ COLOUR/ POLAR REMOTE – Big Hair, The Cellar 11/1/07
“Sort of post-rocky soundscapy stuff. With vocals”. So says promoter Jimmy Evil, describing Polar Remote. Well, its not award-winning criticism, but it does the job. Yes, they tick all the post-rock (with vocals) boxes, but end up making a pretty minimal impression. Highlights come when someone who looks like the brother Simon Minter’s been keeping locked in the attic trades guitar for buzzing organ, but it’s not enough to save the songs. This set’s like flicking through a haberdasher’s swatch: occasionally texturally enticing, but disjointed and profoundly unmemorable.
Borrowing Foals’ spatterjerk funk and welding on some slightly more accessible melodies, London’s Colour reminds us that there’s life in the nebulous post-rock genre yet, simply by being really tight and having a kick-arse drummer. The vocals sometimes strain to make an impact, but the overall effect is imposing. Every now and then we feel like we may have heard all this before…then we decide we’d be happy to hear it all over again, so it’s a rousing victory for Colour.
“Imagine a sort of piano led Radiohead”. We’re trying to explain A Silent Film to a friend before the gig. “What, like Keane?” Golly, careless talk really can cost lives. ASF may share an emotional simplicity with certain post-Coldplay yearners, but the similarity ends there. Aside from one Russ Conway Plays Planet Telex moment, this is forceful, intelligent song-writing delivered like a punch in the guts. Besuited frontman Rob attacks the mic with a cabaret fury that recalls Nick Cave, whilst the band fuses tuneful and bludgeoning with mystifying ease. Perhaps the emotion is a smidgin overplayed, but maybe it’s good for noisenik Wirephiliacs like us to go home with heartstrings tugged instead of chins stroked once in a while. With their huge presence and custom lightshow ASF make The Cellar feel momentarily like Wembley Stadium. Of course, the real test of a band like this is whether they can make Wembley feel like The Cellar, but that’s a question for the future. Keep an eye on this film, there may well be lots of twists and developments left to reveal.
A SILENT FILM/ COLOUR/ POLAR REMOTE – Big Hair, The Cellar 11/1/07
“Sort of post-rocky soundscapy stuff. With vocals”. So says promoter Jimmy Evil, describing Polar Remote. Well, its not award-winning criticism, but it does the job. Yes, they tick all the post-rock (with vocals) boxes, but end up making a pretty minimal impression. Highlights come when someone who looks like the brother Simon Minter’s been keeping locked in the attic trades guitar for buzzing organ, but it’s not enough to save the songs. This set’s like flicking through a haberdasher’s swatch: occasionally texturally enticing, but disjointed and profoundly unmemorable.
Borrowing Foals’ spatterjerk funk and welding on some slightly more accessible melodies, London’s Colour reminds us that there’s life in the nebulous post-rock genre yet, simply by being really tight and having a kick-arse drummer. The vocals sometimes strain to make an impact, but the overall effect is imposing. Every now and then we feel like we may have heard all this before…then we decide we’d be happy to hear it all over again, so it’s a rousing victory for Colour.
“Imagine a sort of piano led Radiohead”. We’re trying to explain A Silent Film to a friend before the gig. “What, like Keane?” Golly, careless talk really can cost lives. ASF may share an emotional simplicity with certain post-Coldplay yearners, but the similarity ends there. Aside from one Russ Conway Plays Planet Telex moment, this is forceful, intelligent song-writing delivered like a punch in the guts. Besuited frontman Rob attacks the mic with a cabaret fury that recalls Nick Cave, whilst the band fuses tuneful and bludgeoning with mystifying ease. Perhaps the emotion is a smidgin overplayed, but maybe it’s good for noisenik Wirephiliacs like us to go home with heartstrings tugged instead of chins stroked once in a while. With their huge presence and custom lightshow ASF make The Cellar feel momentarily like Wembley Stadium. Of course, the real test of a band like this is whether they can make Wembley feel like The Cellar, but that’s a question for the future. Keep an eye on this film, there may well be lots of twists and developments left to reveal.
Saturday, 12 December 2009
Hound Of The Underground
I reckon this review is somewhat hard on Dog Show, they were a good fun band.Pehaps their relentless merry-go-round of bleeps doesn't sit well with an old freidn in town and copious amounts of red wine. It's a pretty god read, however, I'm quite proud of this one.
DOG SHOW/THE KEYBOARD CHOIR/PAGAN WANDERER LU, Big Hair, Cellar, 2/5/09
Pagan Wanderer Lu’s songs are tiny crystallised nuggets of excellence, hand turned clusters of bleepy melody and literate lyrics so exquisite they should be sold from some impossibly cool boutique. Every tidy tune is catchy but creakily skewed, as if Stephen Merritt had been bashing fragments of song together after some violent pop holocaust. Pity that the live show isn’t too captivating, really. The vocals are a tad lifeless, and the guitar sounds clumsy and nasal amongst the quaint electronic backing, so we have to pay close attention to get the most out of the compositions. They are well worth it, though, especially the last number, a wonky Mario World bounce featuring the award winning line, “Christians like you are why God made lions”. Why aren’t there more lyricists like this around?
After the Oxford Radcliffe Hopsitals Trust, The Keyboard Choir must be this city’s primary employer. There are loads of them, and we’re not sure they’re all the same ones as last time, but they come together to buzz, fuzz, flutter and chuckle with a panoply of synths. We heartily applaud the undertaking involved in getting this huge band onstage to make keyboard noises that everyone probably assumes are all on tape anyway. The music takes in everything that’s great about electronic sound, from Messaien’s ondes martenot to microhouse, via Delia Derbyshire and Tangerine Dream, and the only part we take issue with are the rather shopworn, cliched spoken samples. They end with what sounds like something from The Orb’s forgotten Pomme Fritz LP versioned by Klaus Schulze and Sven Vath. Endearingly illogical.
What with their live drums, endlessly arpeggiating keyboards and slightly crappy flashing sculpture, Dog Show are pretty much what a band from “The Future” would look like on some low budget British sci fi show from the mid ‘70s (they wanted Roger Moore but ended up with Simon MacCorkindale; Nigel Havers puts in a good cameo, but Michael Elphick is woefully miscast). The set varies between pumping electro euphoria and a slightly annoying fairground jauntiness, until we don’t know whether stick on an Altern8 facemask or join the candy floss queue. In many ways this is like music for excitable children, on a constant sugary high and with a relentless, if somewhat gauche, melodic logic that just keeps going and going and bloody well going. Watching Dog Show is like endlessly riding the waltzer; refreshing and liberating, but you know that sooner or later you’re going to start feeling sick.
DOG SHOW/THE KEYBOARD CHOIR/PAGAN WANDERER LU, Big Hair, Cellar, 2/5/09
Pagan Wanderer Lu’s songs are tiny crystallised nuggets of excellence, hand turned clusters of bleepy melody and literate lyrics so exquisite they should be sold from some impossibly cool boutique. Every tidy tune is catchy but creakily skewed, as if Stephen Merritt had been bashing fragments of song together after some violent pop holocaust. Pity that the live show isn’t too captivating, really. The vocals are a tad lifeless, and the guitar sounds clumsy and nasal amongst the quaint electronic backing, so we have to pay close attention to get the most out of the compositions. They are well worth it, though, especially the last number, a wonky Mario World bounce featuring the award winning line, “Christians like you are why God made lions”. Why aren’t there more lyricists like this around?
After the Oxford Radcliffe Hopsitals Trust, The Keyboard Choir must be this city’s primary employer. There are loads of them, and we’re not sure they’re all the same ones as last time, but they come together to buzz, fuzz, flutter and chuckle with a panoply of synths. We heartily applaud the undertaking involved in getting this huge band onstage to make keyboard noises that everyone probably assumes are all on tape anyway. The music takes in everything that’s great about electronic sound, from Messaien’s ondes martenot to microhouse, via Delia Derbyshire and Tangerine Dream, and the only part we take issue with are the rather shopworn, cliched spoken samples. They end with what sounds like something from The Orb’s forgotten Pomme Fritz LP versioned by Klaus Schulze and Sven Vath. Endearingly illogical.
What with their live drums, endlessly arpeggiating keyboards and slightly crappy flashing sculpture, Dog Show are pretty much what a band from “The Future” would look like on some low budget British sci fi show from the mid ‘70s (they wanted Roger Moore but ended up with Simon MacCorkindale; Nigel Havers puts in a good cameo, but Michael Elphick is woefully miscast). The set varies between pumping electro euphoria and a slightly annoying fairground jauntiness, until we don’t know whether stick on an Altern8 facemask or join the candy floss queue. In many ways this is like music for excitable children, on a constant sugary high and with a relentless, if somewhat gauche, melodic logic that just keeps going and going and bloody well going. Watching Dog Show is like endlessly riding the waltzer; refreshing and liberating, but you know that sooner or later you’re going to start feeling sick.
Saturday, 4 April 2009
Holy Fuck
In a hurry. Nightshift review. Some good bands. One bloody dire one. Fun.
FUCK BUTTONS/ THE KEYBOARD CHOIR/ CUTTING PINK WITH KNIVES/ EDUARD SOUNDINGBLOCK, Big Hair, The Cellar, 6/7/07
It’s well known that Eduard Soundingblock is the new band from half of the much missed Suitable Case For Treatment. What might be more surprising is that Eduard also features members from such disparate acts as Phyal and The Drugsquad. At first glance the expected metal tropes and spacerock swirls are all present, but the entire effect is surprisingly rootsy. In fact, the clipped, grainy vocals put us in mind of Jon Spencer, of all people. Admittedly, that’s Jon Spencer stretched on a rack in The Melvins’ dungeon while The Cardiacs look on approvingly, but hey. It’s early days yet, but Eduard look as though they shall retain the Beefheart cheekiness of SC4T whilst edging into the scabjazz extremism of N0ught. Warning: it’s going to be good.
Good is not a word that Cutting Pink With Knives inspire – apart from “Good God, are they still playing?” A camp American and a cheap synth originally promises something like Hammer Vs The Snake, but ultimately they just crank out bargain basement hardcore laced with lame jokes. It’s a little like pre-Def JamBeastie Boys, except that it’s unspeakably, unmitigatedly awful.
Watching The Keyboard Choir is something like auditing some bloated Civil Service Administration: “Err, what exactly do you do here?” Whilst there’s probably at least 2 members and four machines more than is strictly necessary, the Choir are a great live experience, especially the flailing mixer-conductor. A lag in the middle notwithstanding, this is an enjoyable set, though oddly for such an unwieldy band the best moments are the simplest, namely the euphoric techno of the closing minutes, or the Tangerine Dream pomp of the opener.
Some acts tickle the intellect and some go straight for the groin, but there is music that punches directly to the gut. The implausibly named Fuck Buttons are a fantastic example of the latter, glorious to experience but hard to put across in words. They play keyboard drones stupidly loud, embellished with occasional loops and heavily treated vocals. It’s a tiny bit like a 90s Front 242 album with a chimp at the mixing desk, but mostly it’s just simple, thrilling noise. We think it’s majestic, but if you don’t like the sound of it you won’t like the…sound of it, it being nothing but engulfing, delicious, visceral sound. Got that? Right, we’re off to dance about architecture.
FUCK BUTTONS/ THE KEYBOARD CHOIR/ CUTTING PINK WITH KNIVES/ EDUARD SOUNDINGBLOCK, Big Hair, The Cellar, 6/7/07
It’s well known that Eduard Soundingblock is the new band from half of the much missed Suitable Case For Treatment. What might be more surprising is that Eduard also features members from such disparate acts as Phyal and The Drugsquad. At first glance the expected metal tropes and spacerock swirls are all present, but the entire effect is surprisingly rootsy. In fact, the clipped, grainy vocals put us in mind of Jon Spencer, of all people. Admittedly, that’s Jon Spencer stretched on a rack in The Melvins’ dungeon while The Cardiacs look on approvingly, but hey. It’s early days yet, but Eduard look as though they shall retain the Beefheart cheekiness of SC4T whilst edging into the scabjazz extremism of N0ught. Warning: it’s going to be good.
Good is not a word that Cutting Pink With Knives inspire – apart from “Good God, are they still playing?” A camp American and a cheap synth originally promises something like Hammer Vs The Snake, but ultimately they just crank out bargain basement hardcore laced with lame jokes. It’s a little like pre-Def JamBeastie Boys, except that it’s unspeakably, unmitigatedly awful.
Watching The Keyboard Choir is something like auditing some bloated Civil Service Administration: “Err, what exactly do you do here?” Whilst there’s probably at least 2 members and four machines more than is strictly necessary, the Choir are a great live experience, especially the flailing mixer-conductor. A lag in the middle notwithstanding, this is an enjoyable set, though oddly for such an unwieldy band the best moments are the simplest, namely the euphoric techno of the closing minutes, or the Tangerine Dream pomp of the opener.
Some acts tickle the intellect and some go straight for the groin, but there is music that punches directly to the gut. The implausibly named Fuck Buttons are a fantastic example of the latter, glorious to experience but hard to put across in words. They play keyboard drones stupidly loud, embellished with occasional loops and heavily treated vocals. It’s a tiny bit like a 90s Front 242 album with a chimp at the mixing desk, but mostly it’s just simple, thrilling noise. We think it’s majestic, but if you don’t like the sound of it you won’t like the…sound of it, it being nothing but engulfing, delicious, visceral sound. Got that? Right, we’re off to dance about architecture.
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