Motion Colour Seen

Some of this was not published in the latest Nightshift, presumably for reasons of space. Inevitably, it was the more negative elements that were omitted, so if you're craving some light criticism, you're in luck, bucko.

MOVEMENTS, Bully/ Truck Store/ Library/ James St Tavern, 14/2/26 

Mount St Helen open this multi-venue all-dayer, but they may also have opened a black hole in the corner of The Bully, so huge and dense is their sound. From a rich drone swelling behind malleted cymbals at the outset the music continues to build constantly, as do the blinding and intricately programmed strobes. The ostensible reference point might be the blustery noughties indie of Editors and Interpol, but really they’re more like the most intense chunks of Mogwai colliding epically with the vastest peaks of Waters-era Floyd. Talk about stadium-ready, Mount St Helen make Kanadia look like a back-yard skiffle combo, and in Aris they have a born frontman from whom it’s hard to look away.  

Down the road at Truck Store, Philippe Nash’s mournful grunge-influenced balladry is a strong contrast, with spidery guitar twisting around sepulchral cello. Their final number reminds us of Nirvana’s ‘Something In The Way’, and is rather lovely. Later in the same room, Mazawattee’s stripped back acoustic pop is also delightful, with a brace of excellent vocalists, and if their breezy songs are only an artisanal macchiato away from ‘Kumbaya’ they’re still the band whose tunes we’re humming at the bus stop hours later. Genevieve Miles offers a similarly light and airy set of pop tunes at the Bully, albeit in a somewhat chunkier format, with plenty of guitar and keyboard to bolster the sound. She has a pleasingly pure, smiling voice that reminds us of Edie Brickell, but the overall effect is cloying after a while. Perhaps this is music best experienced in a sunny festival field, not on a cold February afternoon, even one warmed by the romance of Valentine’s Day, as about a third of the acts jokily point out (you’re right, this does get old very quickly). Joining them in camp Fine But Forgettable are Fawlers, who open The Library’s stage with a set of cohesive and well played tracks with a mid-90s feel – are they Foo Fighters playing Shed Seven, or Cast channelling Semisonic? - that would probably make someone’s day but which fails to make any meaningful impression on us. 

Objectively, Slow Lane and Suspire aren't as good, being messier round the edges and less fully formed, but both have enough character to make them far more fun. The former bring a shoegaze fuzz and just a dash of Stone Roses swager to their chunky rock whilst the latter bundle through their songs with the energy of a good-natured punch-up behind a youth club. No such criticism could be made of Premium Leisure, probably the most skilled set of musicians on the bill, who could doubtless play anything. We suppose with that much talent on tap they might stretch further than lightly countryish jams and 70s AM rock that falls between Gram Parsons and Three Dog Night, but it’s still an enjoyable ride, especially the breathy vocals which evoke both Marc Bolan and Evan Dando. Bristol’s Grack Mack & The Pack could challenge Premium Leisure in a battle of the chops though, and we love the complex but restrained jazz patterns the drummer brings to their smooth folky pop, as well as the strident yet soft singing which is pure Dolores O’Riordan. We just wish the band could let themselves go and be a little less bloody nice and bleeding tasteful. Hopefully they popped down to the James Street Tavern to see Max Blansjaar, another act peopled with technically top-notch musicians, but whose set is, as ever, bursting with tunes and charm. 

Also at James Street are Shock Horror, a band we’ve loved watching evolve from grunge slobs through slacker experimentalists to the assured act we see today, making music that is spacious and controlled, introspective but in your face, angular and enveloping by turns. At one point a taut, chilly rhythm reminds us of cerebral post-rockers Ui, which we never would have predicted from the band’s early shows. Tonight they surprisingly have more in common with Baby Maker than you might expect. Ruairi Kester has added a second member to the band – it takes two to make babies, as he points out – but the set retains the understated wit and low-slung grooves of the solo shows. Sometimes the music sounds like a bleary-eyed, sleep-deprived take on industrial - Up-All-Nightzer Ebb, perhaps – whereas at others there’s an impressive head-nodding groove under the lo-fi, nerdy exterior, and crowd favourite ‘Rather Be In Berlin’ sounds like a band we’ve invented called Sebadub. More explicitly infectious dancefloor action from a very different duo, No Worries If Not, who meld sleek French house and vibrant Italo disco with very English smut and irony. Every onstage movement, every eyebrow arch is meticulously planned and choreographed, but they still exude joyful energy. 

A contender for favourite set of the day comes from Manchester’s Sweet Gene. Their drummer sports a Geese T-shirt, and like that feted band they take vintage Radiohead vibes, throw in a bit of Talking Heads artfulness, and then hone the resultant alloy ruthlessly to a razor’s edge – if this set were a physical entity, you wouldn’t be allowed to take it through airport security. We love exciting, unexpected new music forms, but sometimes a rock fourpiece playing like their lives depend on it in a tiny pub basement is more than enough. We’re not sure exactly what the name Movements implies, but Sweet Gene certainly made our heart beat faster (you’re right, a Valentine’s Day joke here would have been cheesy). 

 

Cabaret Voltage

 I was very happy with this review, and pleased that the editor was prepared to print it.  Apologies for the over-zealous spacing, I can't fix this when pasting the text in, and don't fancy retyping the whole thing. 

JEFFREY LEWIS & THE VOLTAGE/ MAX BLANSJAAR/ THE DUMPLINGS, Divine Schism, Florence Park Community Centre, 30/9/22

Jeffrey Lewis has a method of accompanying tunes

With a bunch of rhyming couplets and some Powerpoint cartoons,

And with these micro-TEDx talks he gives us the straight dope

On the birth of NY punk acts, and on Star Wars: A New Hope;

Also covered, just to show the breadth of scope that Jeff’s got

Are the second Evil Dead film and the great Fitzgerald, F. Scott.

These poems are instructive and they entertain just fine

Even though there are sometimes far more syllables than can comfortably fit into a single line.

His songs are also playful, and are certainly conducive,

All new wave lofi antifolk with rhymes like Dr Seuss’s.

Lewis’s guitar-playing is neither big nor fancy,

But listen closely and you’ll find it’s sweet, and quite Bert Jansch-y

(Although it must be said he is not wary of the joys

 Of extended abstract passages and grating feedback noise).

The lyrics touch on common themes with open honesty,

Like the pains of breaking up or taking too much LSD.

The backing band is hot, but know not to get in the way

Of the neat melodic songs nor all the witty things they say –

In this respect he’s mirrored by Max Blansjaar, his support,

A young local songwriter who has definitely sought

Some of the best musicians to be found in Oxford city

But they never overshadow any quirky little ditty.

(We also saw The Dumplings whom we’d hardly say were tight 

But those who don’t enjoy it must have hearts of anthracite.)

Some of the show is clownish, and some of it even loonier,

Like a song on getting ghosted borrowed from Ray Parker Jr.

But for all we’re painting Lewis like a wacky old gag-vendor,

The lyrics often turn out to be touching, sad, or tender,

And the jokes end up quite moving, must have been the way he told ‘em -

And walking home through Florence Park we swear we saw Will Oldham.

Jolly Jack, Ta

"Bank holiday comes six time a year, actually it's seven, and there have been occasions where another has been granted for special occasions, eg the millennium".
"Do you want to have another crack at that, Damon, mate?"

Happy bank hol weekend, you rapscallions.

JACK GOLDSTEIN/ MAX BLANSJAAR/ DESPICABLE ZEE, Beanie Tapes, Deaf & Hard Of Hearing Centre, 12/5/19

Despicable Zee’s recent EP Atigheh is likely to be one of Oxford’s releases of the year when the dust settles, but we were interested to see how Zahra Tehrani would translate its chilly introspection to the live stage.  Tonight’s performance is denser and more oppressive than the original recordings, whether that entails adding an insouciant MIA grove to “Counting Cars”, or smothering sample lattices with drums and synthesised skreek drones.  Electronic drum pads add some salad crisp snare tones, but there are one or two moments when acoustic drums overbalance the sound, reminding of us of that early 90s moment when bands like Pop Will Eat Itself explored building rock songs around sequenced backing, generally ending up with clunk-funk rhythms that didn’t quite gel.  This is a minor criticism, though, and it’s impressive that Tehrani has taken such a strong recording, and created a different, but equally intriguing, performance.

Max Blansjaar’s set is less intense, consisting of primary colour poster paint pop, all light bouncy guitar and smiling vocal lines. Imagine rough demos of 1987 hits by Go West or Wax, and you are in the right zone, although there is a choppier Graham Coxon feel to “You’re Always On My Mind”.  As much as we love Self Help and Easter Island Statues, who provide Max’s rhythm section, the strongest track is a solo piece, which resembles “The Girl From Ipanema” rewritten by Lou Barlow, featuring bonus kazoo.  It’s enjoyable stuff, though we do feel that, for a set of pure pop, there could be more euphoria – we want whoops of wild abandon, not quiet, contented smiles.

Although Jack Goldstein seems to balance sweaty pop abandon with the diffuse reticence of an academic at their first conference on Coptic etymology.  After having the organisors make us all stand up he treats us to a long, rambling monologue about pop tropes and presentation.  We’re not sure whether the message is that lofi artists should admit they’re no different from mega-stage pop Pepsinauts and so make a theatrical effort, or that a classic song will work anywhere so keep things simple. It’s possibly both.  What we are sure about is that Jack, leaping round the venue in a camel tracksuit like a life coach on a busman’s holiday, is always a pleasure, and that backing tracks mixing 80s pop, 90s rave and (inevitably) The Beach Boys sound great anywhere.  The campaign for Goldstein Eurovision 2020 starts now!