Alt-Rock, Lads, and Club Culture: A Reconsideration

Recently in Noisey (Vice Magazine’s music-focused offshoot) an article was published, entitled “Britain’s Alt-Rock Scene Is Misogynistic and Keeping Lad Culture Alive.” The general outline of this article by Hannah Ewans runs that Uprawr and Facedown, two of the UK’s biggest alt-rock nights, as well as the widespread alt-rock publication Front, are misogynistic, exploiting the female body for the pleasure of male consumers, and that they keep the macho, objectifying, and generally dislikeable revival of Lad culture going from strength to strength.
As a general rule, my opinion of Noisey (and to a greater or lesser extent, Vice) veers from suspecting that it is all a massive trolling exercise, to thinking that it is attempting to be serious and that it has the journalistic integrity of a bran flake.

I will acknowledge that the promotional materials for Uprawr and Facedown do little to distance these nights from Lad culture, and that what goes on in these clubs does frequently stray into the territory of sexualised male-centric hedonism, which is where Lad culture thrives like a pathogen in a moist petri dish. Furthermore, Ewans is right in pointing out that Front is for all intents and purposes FHM with more piercings and tattoos.
So, does this mean that Britain’s alt-rock scene is sexist and keeping lad culture alive?

No. For several reasons, I do not agree with what Ewns argues in her article. I believe that there is a problematic rise of Lad culture afoot right now, but I believe that this is a problem that is not restricted to alt-rock, or even symptomatic of the alt-rock scene in general. It is a much bigger issue, and one for which I propose actions very different to Ewans’ solution.

First and foremost, we need to look at the term “alt-rock.” Short for “alternative rock,” this term is variably used as an umbrella term for grunge, pop-punk, late-80s/90s US ska-punk, “skater” music, nu-metal, and a whole host of other things that sprung up in the 90s, mostly in America, that went against the grain of the L.A. scene. So immediately, we are faced with a term that is utterly vague and in no way homogenous enough to address in its entirety.
Is the pop-punk student night Uprawr infiltrated by Lad culture? Arguably yes.
Is the underground heavy rock night New Heavy Sounds infiltrated by Lad culture? No.
Yet, you could easily put forth the case that both are equally at home under the “alt-rock” banner. So, right from the start, the Noisey article tars with the same brush entire swathes of music culture that have absolutely nothing to do with one another, other than being, either by virtue of their marketing or by virtue of their detachment from the mainstream zeitgeist, “alternative” rock. For thesake of argument, I’m going to assume that by “alternative rock,” Ewans is referring to the pop-punk-dominated movement that existed in the late 90s and throughout the 00s.

My second issue is that Ewans is basing her argument not on the music scene, but on two club nights and a magazine. This, to me, seems a very small segment of a scene, and very under-representative. Having been to a lot of gigs that would come under the “alt-rock” definition used here (Alkaline Trio, Billy Talent, Green Day, AFI, etc), I would venture forth the statement that the gigs have an entirely different gender politics from the clubs and magazines that Ewans discusses.
Now, there are some pretty solid reasons for this. Amongst people my age (or thereabouts) there is still, in general, a very strong undercurrent, or occasionally even overcurrent, of Lad culture. So, we can say that Lad culture is still “in” in a fairly mainstream way amongst young people from 18 through to their early 30s. Now, look at the promotional materials for Uprawr and Facedown. There is surprisingly little differentiating them from most mainstream clubs of a similar demographic, i.e.: people in their late teens to very early 30s. They all feature bangin’ choons, cheap(ish) alcohol, and the age-old adage that sex sells. The alt-rock elements really are little more than lip service and a USP, in the same way an “I less-than-three the eighties” night or an ABBA night might work. Or, indeed, a TOWIE-themed alt-rock night.

In fact, Uprawr doesn’t even contain any live music. It is a national clubbing outfit in the vein of Ministry of Sound. With that in mind, is it little wonder that they would deploy tactics such as bikini-clad Jägermeister-ladies or sharing articles from the reprehensible Return of Kings blog? Not really. Uprawr are a brand, advised by brand advisors, and presumably have a roughly-sketched caricature or a key demographic to work from. They are one of the UK’s biggest rock-themed clubbing institutions. In other words, they are pretty mainstream. And what is the mainstream’s branding caricature of rock? Macho, oversexed, hedonistic. And they angle their marketing and club events accordingly. Resultingly, the macho, oversexed, hedonistic Lads jump on board, to show off how hardcore they are, and take advantage of the previously more level gender playing field in the alt-rock scene. And you know what? Any big company, be it Uprawr, Facedown, or Front, won’t actually care. Lads come in, and Lads spend money. So, to keep the easy cash flow, they’re not about to make a U-turn and make their products less appealing to Lads. Instead, they’ll play fairly mainstream levels of alt-rock (everything from a late-90s/00s school leavers’ party, plus newer guitar-based chart material and some stuff too racy or sweary for a school do), and research into what other clubs do to retain their clientele. And act accordingly.

At the end of the day, if you go to a product that paddles in the mainstream, you will get either mainstream attitudes in their purest form (such as Lad culture), or mainstream assumptions of what a particular subculture indulges in. And this is precisely what has occurred with Ewans’ article. Front was created, not as an alternative rockers’ magazine, but as a rival to Loaded. Furthermore, until earlier this year, it was owned by Kane Corporation Ltd, who were not exactly bastions of the alternative music scene. So, despite what its marketing claims may be, Front was, and is, first and foremost a lads’ mag marketed to the “alternative scene” rather than a publication stemming from the “alternative scene” to serve the scene. So to judge Britain’s alt-rock scene on that grounds would be like using Suicide Girls to argue that goth is a misogynistic subculture. And no one would really be prepared to do that.
As for Uprawr, it markets itself for its “its extravert and over top LA style parties” (www.totaluprawr.com/about-us/london/), which in the case of Birmingham is “Located at the ASYLUM a well known venue in the alternative scene for bands [sic]” (https://www.totaluprawr.com/about-us/birmingham/). So, it is more along the lines of a partying experience in venues known to be part of the alternative scene. And let us not forget that the alt-rock scene, or at least parts of it, were intended to go against the L.A. scene, rather than ape it in the way Uprawr does. As for Facedown, it is arguably more to do with the alt-rock scene proper, by virtue of its inclusion of live music by “alt-rock” bands. However, they also have a dubstep room and are advertised as “London’s biggest rock night” (https://www.facebook.com/facedownrockclub/info), rather than “London’s biggest alternative night.” So, again we find ourselves in the sea of mainstream caricatures of rock culture, and lowest-common-denominator club-fillers, by the admission of these very nights themselves.

In all honesty, the “alternative” scene isn’t always the best place as regards gender politics. Pop-punk has a strong foundations in songs that raged about ex-girlfriends, and bands such as Emmure and BrokeNcyde have crawled from what could well be the worst stuff imaginable that lurks within the subculture, in its utterly diverse and almost indefinable vastness. But what Ewans is targeting here is not so much the misogyny and Lad culture coming from within the scene, as the way in which mainstream Lad culture has infiltrated the more mainstream, capital-focused elements that have until now leeched from the scene and given very little in return other than clothing labels and cheap shots of Sourz and Jäger. The bottom line is that if radical feminism was fashionable in the mainstream, you’d need to be carrying the SCUM manifesto to get into Uprawr, as they would see that as the new big moneymaker. But that is not the case. So, to cash in on what´s big in the mainstream, we have Lad culture in all its putrid glory. It’s that simple.

But what galls me perhaps more than the black-and-white flattening of a vast umbrella term, more than the frankly baffling sampling techniques used to make a case in Ewans’ article, is the end statement, where she points the finger firmly at bands to fix all this.
This is not right.
Bands are a small part of a subculture, once a subculture gains autonomy and strength. Take a look at the black metal scene: in the beginning, if the big-name bands had said something (like “burn churches”), the fifty or so core adherents of the subculture would have obeyed. But could Varg Vikernes truly and honestly have any say in what the entirety of black metal subculture do with itself? No. What if Mayhem, Vikernes, Dimmu Borgir, Satyricon, and Watain all said something in collective statement? I still think it would have very minimal impact on the lives of many black metallers.
Alt-rock is an even bigger, even more nebulous scene than black metal, and so it is not squarely on the artists to make the change. It is squarely on everybody in the scene. Full stop. Each member of the alt-rock scene is a perfectly functional person capable of making their own decisions and creating their own contributions to the scene. To say that it is the responsibility of the bands (and implicitly no one else) would be like saying that it is not only the right of Russell Brand to carry on with his Che Guevara antics, but that these antics are his primary responsibility as an entertainer. To say that it is up to Russell Brand and his fellow comedians, artists, and assorted others, to stand up and make our socio-political choices for us.
This statement, or course, is ridiculous.
Of course artists should take part in a progressive movement – if they wish to save their subculture from being taken over by Lad culture, that is their prerogative and they can and should do all they can to aid the cause. But that should never be at the cost of allowing everyone else to be lazy. The subculture is, at the end of the day, an aggregate of all those within it, from clothes designers, to writers, to promoters, to people who just want a night out. A united movement from all those segments of the subculture will effect a change far greater and far quicker than anything bands could ever do to change the state of things. In the case of Uprawr, bands have an utterly minimal input into the night, and therefore to argue that bands must effect change in there is bizarre. Confronting Uprawr must be done by simply not attending. Just make a club night that has a better atmosphere.
There are pockets of resistance, of the alternative that has not been eaten by the mainstream. But these are areas that the mainstream just is not interested in, where equal gender politics and other positive elements are not statements of rebellion or reactionary gestures, but simply a naturalised state of how things are regardless of exterior mainstream phenomena such as Lad culture. That is what the rest of the subculture should aim for. But that means that alt-rock in Ewans’ definition must put on its own nights and print its own zines, free from the interference of national clubbing organisations or the input of corporations. If there truly is a pop-punk fan subculture worthy of the title left in Britain, it needs to stir itself into action and redefine itself as its own positive entity, rather than just a dead scene that is used as a marketing ploy by people selling stuff to the 18-34 demographic.

As a parting shot, just remember: alt-rock is a massive term, and there are vast swathes of it that have good gender politics, whereas some pockets are atrocious. It is with entities such as BrokeNcyde and Emmure that the true problems within alt-rock lie. With the problems that Ewans outlines, it seems to me that it is a case of mainstream clubbing culture using the skin of alternative culture to leech money out of it.
The lessons learned from here are pretty important, and the biggest that I can think of is not to generalise such a diverse subculture by tarring it with the sins of the few simply for the sake of a sensationalist headline.

My homage to the world of work

On second thoughts, let's not go to the world of work. It is a silly place.

(Apologies to Sarah Salih, King Arthur and his Knights, the Pearl poet, and anyone else who has ever attempted to teach me to know better.)

***

‘Twas the feast of the court,
amid maidens fair,
the Green Knight set foot,
to th'assembleds’ despair.

His eyes were most wroth,
a blazing hell-feu,
his comely face glowed
as vernal foliage in verdant hue.

His horse of same shade,
in gold bridle reared,
failed hoofs so dark,
twitched holly-leaf ears.

“Lo,” cried he, “Lo and behold,
I come with a game,
one new to this land,
t’offend the masters and distress the dames.

“Cut off my head, knights,
sever this voice,
from the throat whence it speaks,
you have nary a choice.”

Silence claimed all,
conquered each to a man,
‘til King Arthur stepped forth
to defend folk and land.

“I bequeath you this axe,”
quoth that knight,
“as wild as myself,
to deliver that strike,

“End this court’s plight
‘fore I take what I claim.”
The valiant king raised the leaf-blade,
defying the shame

Of a cowards’ court,
of being in a troupe
of curs and of apes,
who cower from a loup.

Yet ‘fore this great
em’rald blade took its flesh,
the king’s hand was stayed
by a knight so fresh.

He too was brave,
let no mortal contest
the valour of this man,
who wished to prove best.

“No, noble sire,” said the young chit,
“assay your gentle arm,
bloody yourself not with such deeds,
lest it bring sweet Albion to harm.”

Stepped forth this sprightly one,
radiant as the steel
of the axe he just halted,
he, that trembling aspen tree.

A sapling of a knight,
unproved there he stood,
none would grant him mercy,
offer their life as he would.

“Beau challenger,” cried the beast,
 wild green knight elegante,
“you take up my game?
You put yourself forth, I am pleased, enchanté!

“You must cut off my head,
strike visage from home,
sever mind from matter,
slice tendon from bone.”

Black was the mood
on that feast day so dour,
once so blossoming,
now curdled and sour.

The young one hefted that blade
so unseasonably bright,
over his head, over his head,
and beheld the sight

As that monster stood up
from its knees and retrieved
its head from the flagstones,
this none could believe.

“Good knight,” roared that devil,
spilling blood on the floor,
incarnadine words so drenched
dripped terrible from that maw,

“You answer my call,
now to progress on this path,
send CV and cov’ring letter
to my client who waits home by his hearth.”

With that the devil left,
spake nary a word
more of this quest,
other than that what was heard.

So our young hero
followed these commands,
took out his red pentacl’d tablet
of chastity, faith, and broadband.

Dear Sir, so he wrote, 
I am so nam’d Gawain, 
junior of the round table 
you so nearly gained.

I slay monsters and save damsels, 
I speak English and French, 
I give and take feedback 
regarding each passing wench.

I have served my king Arthur
 some years, loyal and mighty, 
yet this eve made me doubtful, 
made my constance more flighty.

List to me sir, 
I answer your call, 
I wish to guard ramparts 
of your client’s wall.

Doubt not my steadfastness, 
my aptitude in battle, 
many ghosts will attest, 
as reference, death rattles.

I merely wish to expand 
my estate, renown and power,
which I cannot do here 
under Lancelot’s glower.

I cannot be promoted to Senior Knight 
with that nepotised lake-lad 
in the throne’s line of sight, 
so to be client's SK would make me most glad.

I am no fée’s son, 
may it please you to note, 
my strength will remain 
in iron armour and rowan boat.

I sign you this letter 
in messenger’s blood, 
from its pool on the floor, 
viridi-crimson flood.

Gawain (Sir) 
Round Table Chair, 
Arthur’s Court, 
Albion Most Fair.

My education is noble 
fret not on that front, 
I fence, dance and flourish, 
speak in verses not grunts.

Experience I am plein, 
yet am thirsty for more. 
I would stare down a dragon, 
and for beauty wage war.

References are my King, 
Arthur the Great, 
and then furthermore
rogues and witches (late).

With Solomon’s wisdom
and his own hot lack of sense,
Sir Gawain pressed SEND
and from there went hence

To th’embroideried chamber
with soft ermine counterpane
to Fair Maiden Blancemal,
who wished to lose part her name.

Royal Blood's Debut Album, and Musings on "the UK Rock Scene"

Today, I woke up to the news that Royal Blood's self-titled debut album is the fastest-selling rock debut album in the past three years since Noel Gallagher's Highly Forgettable Bozos, if the UK chart people are to be believed. Let's put aside the sad fact of modern society that I, like many others, take my morning coffee with a dose of Facebook, and have a chat about this.

For about as long as I've been into music, and doubtless longer than that, there's been the tiresome debate of "is rock dead in the UK?" or "are guitar bands still interesting/relevant/sexy/etc?" To which, I'd always answer "no," and "far as I'm concerned, and who cares if you like them?"

Now, it is the unfortunate and, really, rather irritating case that by the UK rock scene, journalism really means the London music label scene, with maybe some Manchester or Brighton thrown in for a little diversity when the baying hordes of malcontent come knocking on the gilded gates of Universal brandishing burning guitar-pitchfork hybrids. And Royal Blood are one of these Brighton-based wildcards in the world of mainstream music. They're one bassist and one drummer, which  ticks some boxes my end, as I'm a bassist and I'm very partial to Death From Above 1979 and the two-bassists-one-drummer band Exit_International.

For my sins, I hadn't heard of Royal Blood until a few days back, when the record shop I work in got a shipment of their album in on LP. Then, I noticed the Marmite-like effect they were having on some goth acquaintances of mine, who all liked the cover art but were having problems with the music. 

So, I decided to acquaint myself with the umpteenth saviours of UK rock.

In fact, I was pleasantly surprised. They weren't the anaemic pile of deflated bollocks I was expecting them to be, given that the High BloodPressured Burbledewurbles were their chart success comparisons. Unlike Hugh Fernley-Whittingstall's Bumblebees, the Arctic Monkeys, The Libertines, Kasabian, or the rest, Royal Blood can write riffs. GOOD RIFFS. The kind of riffs that can lead daughters astray and grow hair on chests. Big, meaty, blues-tinted riffs, with slick pop melodies glossing the sections in between. 

Just. Riffs.

RIFFS.

RIFFSRIFFSRIFFSRIFFSRIFFS

RIFFS.

Ahem. Anyway, the next thing that I was really pleased by is how tight they are. Of course, if you're a two-piece, you have to be tighter than my best jeans after a rainstorm, but these guys are that tight, with almost surgical precision. Once upon a time, it was required that all bands be tight as a cat's claws in an uncomfortable place, but that no longer seems to be the norm. In a world where sounding like you've been out on the piss all week without rehearsing is considered acceptable, it is good to hear a band that sound like they know each other on a first-name basis.

The songs themselves aren't a particularly diverse bunch, but with the album clocking in at just over half an hour, this can be forgiven. Generally, they all revolve around cement-mixer riffs and smouldering pop hooks, which might explain why they've garnered such a buzz, as that's two large crowd-pleasers out the way. There's an aura of self-confidence and sleaze around the album too. The bass has had its mids and trebles and roaring distortion pushed up until it resembles Screamin' Jay Hawkins' voice more than it does a bass guitar, and the tempo and swing of most of the tracks here are permanently set to "swagger." And y'know what? I like that. A rock band who aren't afraid of being a big, dumb, rock band, with loads of big, dumb, rock songs. Why should we be so afraid of the big dumb rock? Why do we put it away when the guests come over? It's no more offensive than ethereally sighing indie or whatever's going on in the realms of sub-bass dance these days, surely?

I suppose, however, that's where the issues I have with Royal Blood creep in. While I'm by no means ashamed of the big, dumb rock, I'm not sure if I condone the idea that the big, dumb rock that is saving today's scene sounds the same as the big, dumb rock that's been coming out of the States for the past ten or twenty years. It's not exactly a huge leap into interesting waters.

The other main criticism I'd level against this album is that it really highlights the UK rock mainstream's utter inability to maintain good songwriting as soon as it's faced with a decent sonic punch. I'm willing to let it slide this time given the quality of the riffs, but every song sounds the same, apart from one or two moments. God forbid the next album contain power ballads, but perhaps some diversity in tone and speed and melody could be in order on the next album. Hints of spontaneity beyond the riff-verse-chorus-chorus formula?

My boyfriend's verdict on all this is that the UK music press is a load of xenophobic bollocks that navel-gazes so much that its head has become lodged in its lower bowels somewhere, and to an extent, that's true. There's a lot of phenomenal rock revival bands that are reinventing the wheel coming from all over the world currently, many of which are, when all is said and done, better that Royal Blood. The other thing my boyfriend says is "why should I listen to them if they're not as good as Cream?" Which I don't necessarily agree with, but I can see the logic in. There were better bands drifting around. In fact, there are better bands doing similar stuff drifting about right now. But that's not to decry what is, really, a good album if you're into the big, dumb rock. And I'm quite happy to sit back and allow Royal Blood to show some people that the UK mainstream isn't all about autotune if that's what it takes. At least they've got some good tracks.

To proclaim Royal Blood the second coming of sliced bread, as the charts and the press seem to be doing is, in a way, xenophobic given the wealth of great rock out there right now. It's also slightly deaf to the many, many bands across the UK that are doing rock-er things, more interesting things, or just something a bit different from the norm. And they are categorically not channelling Led Zepellin, you weird, weird people. Stop saying that every time someone holds a guitar the right way up.

But you know what? At the end of the day, it's really, really nice to hear a good, accomplished rock album that's full of power and is gloriously unpretentious, and know that people are paying attention to it. Well done, Royal Blood. You've made a good album in a genre whose mainstream is so abysmal, your actually-making-an-effort has been applauded as tantric sex in a bass amp. Keep up the good work and keep getting better.

As for the rest of you lot, please pay attention to something other than BBC Radio 2 and the world of lad-rock. There's stuff like this and better out there.

Return From the Abyss, and Musings on "Supporting the Local Scene."

Hello again! After four years of studying, music journalism, and the like, I felt that I may as well return to blogging, if only to occupy myself during the interminable period of post-degree unemployment. Living out of Lidl and being unable to afford the bus for a month or so, I now have some insight as to why Valium because so popular amongst housewives.

Anyway, something that's been bothering my circle of friends, acquaintances, and questionable Facebook denizens has been the Local Scene, and why one should (or should not) support it.

I am, in all honesty, blessed by my local scene, for it has a load of great bands, from Antlered Man, to Purson, to Cold In Berlin, to Vodun, to The Peckham Cowboys. Who are all rather excellent and you should listen to them immediately. I am still in mourning regarding Sissy & the Blisters. I managed to get concussed at one of their gigs, and whose album demos I downloaded and burned to CD, making cover art for it and everything.

But then, for every band like the ones I mentioned, there are other bands, who, for the sake of keeping the peace and avoiding too much shit-stirring, I shall not name (although my dislike of Savages is so well-documented as to merit a book in its own right, and no one listens anyway) who are part of this "local scene" and yet are about as appealing to my ears as a cat coughing up hairballs, or trying to create a skiffle band out of cardboard.

The adage goes that one should support the local scene. Implicitly there lies the word "unconditionally" at the end of that phrase, as if one is committing a grotesque act of treachery towards music if one doesn't pop off to the local to watch that rap-metal-EDM fusion band that has just started out. As one friend of mine argued, supporting the local music scene is like buying produce from the local farmers market: it gives you a much closer relationship to what is being made around you, and a much closer relationship to what you are consuming. In addition, there is the argument that all big bands started off as local bands at some point. Which are all valid arguments. Seeing the right local bands gives you a chance to be in on something unique or that isn't in the mainstream, seeing something grow in musical terms and in terms of where it plays, and so on. And there's no denying that the local scene is cheaper than the Hammersmith Apollo or Brixton Academy.

The local scene, all meme'd up and ready to go.

But the other side of the argument is that if you support the local scene for the sake of principles, rather than because you like it, you're a sycophant or a hipster. And being a grey, be-trunkèd entity wearing sandals and a fedora that stands at the back, not really approving of what is happening isn't really supporting the scene either. Sure, it might get your money, but what are you actually contributing? If the musicians just aren't that good, or the songwriting isn't good, or you're just not into it, you're giving the impression that the opposite is true. If someone who can't sing in key is constantly told by local scenesters that it was "a good set" or that they rock, for the sake of supporting the scene, well, then surely that's damaging the local scene rather than helping it.
The other argument is that the emphasis on the local scene above all else can be borderline xenophobic. If you're too caught up in the local scene, you might miss that great band who have just started touring and who need to recoup the money they've spent on van hire and hotel fees. But to see them, regardless of how much you like them, would be against your principles, as a local band you're lukewarm about are playing on the same night.

Yes, that's an extreme and perhaps unlikely scenario, but that can be what it gets like. Some people will honestly dismiss bands because they don't live within walking distance, just as much as people will dismiss a band because they're not playing "proper" venues yet. But honestly, what's the difference? If there was a disco fan in late-eighties/early-nineties Seattle who saw all the grunge bands but didn't really get what the point of it all was, then does it matter if s/he had a closer relationship with what was going on around him/her, if s/he wasn't that into it anyway? If there was a rock fan in the same city who dismissed the early grunge bands as "not worth it" because the venues they played were too small and smelled funny, but once Nirvana hit the big time was parading their shirts around like they were the messiahs of rock, then we've got the same problem from two angles.

So yes, I love bits of my local scene, but am quite open about disliking other bits. And if my favourite bands from *insert city or country here* come to play, I'll see them too. Because in the end, it's about supporting what you like, and what you think is good. It pains me to say it, but if you heart 1D, you've got as much reason and right to see them as I have dropping everything because The Vintage Caravan are playing with Grand Magus, or trekking half a city over to see The Peckham Cowboys do a gig for a cat charity in a community-run, music-funding pub. Both of which were excellent gigs, if you're into what I'm into. And I'm sure the signing you wore that onesie to was equally good, even if I do not understand the appeal of it at all.

So yeah. The local scene can be great. It can be the place where truly great bands appear, and you find a load of like-minded people to enjoy them with. Or it can be a place full or mediocre, widdling guitarists and off-key singers who make you support the local bar instead. Take a chance with it, see what's out there, and don't be afraid of seeing bands that are still at the "playing in front of the pub toilets" stage of their careers. The smell of urine may be masked by the smell of finding your new favourite band, whatever that might be (probably a wooden floor soaked with alcohol). But contrary to what people say, if it really ain't your thing, there's no point in trying to jam it down your ears like a stressed person trying to give a cat its medicine. Go see what's happening elsewhere, and try again in a few months' time.

Keep your mind and ears open to the sounds of don the road, but never at the expense of what your heart's jukebox plays.
Now, if you don't mind, I'll be on a Sissy & the Blisters binge for the rest of the day.



The bands I mentioned here, excluding One Direction 'cause they're probably a lot richer and known-about:
Antlered Man
Purson
The Peckham Cowboys
Vodun
Cold In Berlin
Grand Magus
The Vintage Caravan

Explanations

Just in case anyone was reading this and wondered about the sudden hiatus, I've got a new gig to be found here: www.aaamusic.co.uk
So yeah. Tty is moving up in the world? I'll possibly update this from time to time, but that's probably my main do from now on. See you on the other side.

Gig: The Damned 4/6/10 Shepherd's Bush Empire

The Damned were once called the musical version of the worst bits of 'Tiswas'. And yes, there's some truth to be found there, although I'd gladly argue against the "worst". Anarchic, unpredictable and borderline bewildering, they've played a massive part in the UK music scene, but they're more infamous than recognised as that band with the silly names and Dracula singing, who went all prog. But there's more to them than that.
I've seen The Damned before, supporting Motörhead as their pet punk band. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but whatever it was was totally blown away by the first moment of "hi, we're The Damned, and we sound something like this" followed by a load of gloriously fun noise. So when I heard they were playing a headline show in London, I jumped at the chance to go.

And that is the obligatory prequel to my ramble. It was my first time at Shepherd's Bush Empire, and despite a rather unpleasant toilet, I'll happily place it as a venue I like. The atmosphere is surprisingly unique for an O2 venue (the musical equivalent of a chainstore) being a repurposed theatre complete with all the decor you'd expect, a good stage, and impressively clear sound.
(Roundhouse take note: if I ever return, please fix the air conditioning, and for the love of all that is holy, sort out your sound. It is currently an indistinct splurge. You are being shamed by smaller, less iconic venues.)
Anyway. I was one of the bratty young rocker contingent. The audience was split into the younger lot and the old guard, and it was a distinct yet friendly contrast. The Damned seem to attract the more good-humoured side of punk.

The opening act was Texas Terri Bomb. How do you even begin? I suppose "if Iggy Pop was a woman" would be a reasonable starting point. They're a howling collective of that same garage-punk sound where the music sounds malignant and possibly unhygienic. Like you should go have a tetanus injection after listening, and it's all fronted by the calculatedly unhinged Texas Terri, who has a presence and then some, on and off the stage, in lurid red hair and lipstick and a voice that is almost the epitome of rocker. Some of their onstage antics seemed contrived, but with a band that fun, it is hard to criticise.

Next up was Ed Tudor Pole, who is not so much calculatedly unhinged as genuinely insane, playing a set on an instrument that seemed to be more sellotape than guitar, eyeing the audience in a way that left me unsure as to whether he thought we were a crowd of zombies and if so whether he would suddenly react in a suitable fashion, and singing about meeting his wife at a sweet shop, his nephew getting a fake moustache in a Christmas cracker, and of course the crowd-pleaser 'Who Killed Bambi?', which became a singalong with several inebriated members of the audience. In the spirit of punk, he also gave his colourful opinion on the government before confirming the location of the bar.

The Damned were perhaps more theatrical this time, I suppose being the headliners allows for more flourish. They entered the stage to the sound of 'Nature's Dark Passion', an atmospheric track from their recent album, and this was followed by 'Disco Man', and 'I Just Can't Be Happy Today'.
Unlike many bands who've experimented beyond their roots, The Damned aren't afraid of their back-catalogue, playing songs from all over their 30-year career, which is no mean feat considering their evolution. How many bands could still pull off sharp and searing renditions of 'Neat Neat Neat' and 'New Rose' alongside the gothic 'Shadow Of Love' and their druggy, chart-bothering cover of 'Eloise', and still find time to work in 'Thrill Kill' and 'Song.com'? (Please send answers along with a note of money, £20 preferred but £50 welcome, to etc.)
The Damned, as well as being in possession of a collection of songs and a fanbase many bands would give limbs and otherwise to have, also have a smart way of being able to blend their material, and the setlist flowed, Sensible's stage banter filling the gaps with the familiarity of a mate down the pub. The pacing may have been a little uneven, but for every moment of instrumental showing off and poking at the softer side, there was a rattling freight train of a punk milestone to get us all pogoing and shouting like it's 1976 again. Seeing as I missed it the first time, this is a welcome opportunity.

It might disappoint some to find that Vanian no longer dresses as Dracula, but instead has matured into a suitably ageless frontman, and his voice is still as impressive as ever, ranging from a deep croon to sudden barks, especially the immortal 'Neat Neat Neat', where it is greeted by a good couple of thousand raised fists and raucous voices. As for the rest of the band, Pinch provides a sturdy and talented backbone behind his lightshow of a drumkit, Stu West is able to handle any and all basslines, be they chugging or finger-bending, that come his way with ease, and Monty Oxymoron still causes no end of confusion, intermittently pogoing behind the keyboards while looking like a cross between the prog rock generation and the Victorian era while adding his own contributions to the early punk material as well as driving the more recent melodic tracks.
And Captain Sensible? Oh Captain Sensible, where do we even begin? In possession of a long-suffering roadie who seems to function as a nanny (last time, Sensible refused to leave the stage and was carried off while determinedly singing 'Happy Times', this time the roadie was fussing over a guitar strap and was shooed off with a towel) and a contingent of fans who chanted, conga-style no less, "Sensible's a wanker!" at every opportunity. This is a man who steadfastly refuses to look on the upper side of 23, and the band is all the better for it. He provides the anarchic side of the proceedings in his trademark red beret and sunglasses, goading the crowd and joking with them in the best of bad taste. That said, he is a truly underestimated guitarist able to rattle off some impressive solos and riffs without batting an eyelid.
They held off playing 'Smash It Up' until last, and some might feel like they were on the windup, but what else could you expect, and the waiting only makes it sweeter.

The set was over much too soon. No two ways about it. Jumping around drenched in sweat and covered in eyeliner, I realised that this was the most fun I'd had at a gig in a while. And this is an important thing to remember. For every deep and meaningful sharing of wounds with music, you do need a band who aren't afraid to crack jokes involving Michael Jackson and heavenly llamas. All this with knobs on and a light-up drumkit and we could jump and sing along to 'Love Song' all night long.

Gig: Sunny Day Real Estate 31/5/10 HMV Forum

And so after an explosive act of God (in their words) postponed their first-ever UK gig for a month, Sunny Day Real Estate finally get to play in London. I would have said something along the lines of "introduce their music to London", only the audience were more than familiar with it. And was it worth the wait? Hell yes.

So after a small adventure in the Underground, the almost revelatory discovery that Sainsburys has self-service coffee machines, and sitting outside the venue for a couple of hours, it was that most-loved of nondescript evening hours. 7pm.
The HMV Forum (or Kentish Town Forum, for those of you able to remember a time when venues weren't all owned by a brand) is one of those venues I have a love/hate relationship with. It's far from bad but the sound is uneven, being ear-nukingly loud up front and almost inaudible further back.
In the absence of Saves The Day, a "surprise support act" had been threatened, and so most of the audience were none the wiser as to who was to be opening for such a massively influential band. We watched a semi-acoustic setup being assembled with an air of mystery.
The support came on, and it was none other than Biffy Clyro! It was only a short set (seven songs or so) but it was sweet. They weren't their normal rock-god selves, but they have a gift in that their songs can translate very well to soulful acoustic numbers. I got the distinct impression that they were quite humbled at being asked to open for Sunny Day Real Estate (perhaps even a little afraid of trying to upstage them) and hearing the two bands together in one gig it suddenly made sense: Biffy Clyro are Sunny Day Real Estate fanboys. Albeit with a rockier edge and a different take on things, but the bones of their music come from Sunny Day Real Estate. Their performance was muted slightly in the lack of electrics and a drumkit, but it allowed for the subtleties and emotional power of the songs they had chosen to shine through. So that was a lovely set and a great surprise.

Sunny Day Real Estate were next, and this signalled a return to the land of electric instruments with a bright red bass, Gibson SGs, and a spangled drumkit. (I am too shortsighted to see what Dan Hoerner was playing.)
The band came on stage at nine, and launched into their set after greeting their fans, and believe me, they were fans. Sunny Day Real Estate may have passed under the radars of many, but the people who love their music really and truly adore it. And after watching them tonight, it is easy to see why. The original lineup haven't been together for a decade, but watching them last night it felt as if they had never taken a break. The whole set seemed natural and each member knew what to do and how to work with one another, and looked genuinely happy to share a stage again.
They are often namedropped as the creators of emo, but that may be a little unfair. "Emo" suggests angst by the shedload and a sense of gravitas that weighs as much as a shed, but Sunny Day Real Estate don't have that. Yes, their songs are emotional, but that's just what they are: emotional. There are sad songs, but their music style is an uplifting thing, a kind of grungey pop sound with some interesting tweaks in melody and rhythm that adds not one but several new dimensions to their songs. It's a beautiful, beautiful moment for everyone involved. Their lyrics are cryptically mournful, describing love gone wrong and emotional pain, but the sound upon which they are carried delivers a message of hope. Yes, you may feel bad, but it will get better.
The funny thing is, that although they are known as a rock band and they do indeed rock out with the best of them, it's all done at their own pace. There's no urgency. You couldn't rush a band like this, and you wouldn't want to. The songs need time to sink in. This meant that the set felt slow, but it didn't drag. Stage banter was kept to a minimum, but they don't seem the kind of band who need to make small talk.
They left the stage profusely thanking their fans and came back for a small but welcome encore.

After their encore, the stage lights remained up, but for all the cheering and clapping, the band didn't reappear for a second encore. It was never established whether they decided not to reappear or if the venue had made a mistake, but either way, it felt like the show we were given was worth waiting for.

Gig: I Am Ghost 20/5/10 Camden Underworld

Post-hardcore, screamo, scene, metalcore... call it what you will, there's a music style coming over from America that in its own quiet manner is claiming a substantial and obvious fanbase over here. At best, it combines the powerful spirit of American hardcore punk and combines it with the technical meedly-meedly flash of metal. At worst, it squeezes the messiah complex of hardcore and the egotism of metal into the aggression shared by both scenes.

I felt slightly out of place among the queue given that I've toned down my 14-year-old sartorial dabblings in emo/scene as I discovered goth, whereas many people were there in their hairsprayed fringes and skintight neon/black ensembles. After slightly too much time in the sun, we flooded into the Underworld, which I'll happily list as one of my top venues on accounts of being small, independent, and above all, nicely air conditioned. Slightly treacherous due to the lack of light, but that's all part of the charm of a reputable metalhead sweatbox, as you'll agree.

The first band up were Lower_Than_Atlantis, a young band that is very much part of this emerging scene, embracing its questionable incorporation of internet-inspired namings. They had some problems with their instrument tunings at first, but were acceptable enough once they got going, provoking a rather impressive circlepit with their chugging guitars and habit of jumping. Musically they were entertaining if unremarkable, but I'll readily say that their drummer was impressive, taking fast-paced hammering and adding a little zing and showmanship. If they find a way of breaking into an individual style, they could be worth keeping an ear out for.

Next were Confide, who are the epitome of scene - a five-piece ensemble of near-total androgyny and technicolour tattoos, most of whom shared vocal duties to some extent. The guitars were chugging like Megadeth on a caffeine rush in between rattling off your typical metal solos to the crowd, and the impassioned screaming about being different provoked more and increasingly violent circlepits. As a sidenote... I'm not a fan of metalcore moshing - it seems to involve a lot of showing off and attention-seeking and very little in the way of respect for others. If you fall on the floor here, it is entirely your own lookout, even if you were pushed over, and a lot of people will insult one another, which is something I haven't really encountered anywhere else. However, that said, there are nice people to be found here and there, and I'm not here to review the crowd. Confide, for all their posturing, noodly guitars and "we really mean it, man" left me unimpressed. I would say it was the use of an ironic basketball shirt, and say that they are in truth talented individuals whom I do not understand, only I have an issue with anyone who decides that their fast-forward drummer isn't quite fast enough and so their breakdown involves a lightspeed drum machine and bewildering techno happenings.
The first two bands left me with a punched ear, a feeling that I may be losing touch with "tha kids" at the ripe old age of 17, and worryingly, a sinking feeling that the gig may continue in this vein.

Eyes Set To Kill are one of the more established bands of "post-hardcore", and are in all honesty an intriguing band. Yes, they have the obligatory drummer than sounds like a cymbal being machine-gunned, as well as the caffeinated Megadeth guitars and a lot of Godzilla vocals. However, they've got a certain flair and individuality incorporated into their sound that may be a byproduct of having been around for a while, but it is enough to hold a crowd together without feeling the need to beat the snot out of one another, and the biggest selling point of Eyes Set To Kill is in fact the vocals. For all intents and purposes they have two vocalists: one does the screaming and the other does clean vocals and guitar. This leads to some interplay and overlap between the two, and this contrast actually works. They played their known songs, including 'Darling' and 'Liar In The Glass', which the crowd ate up, and for their last song the female guitarist/vocalist was left on her own to do a quieter solo number. This proved to be a rewarding moment of beauty, as she has a soulful voice that, while flawed, is able to carry a tune with a passion normally reserved for acoustically-inclined songer/songwriters. This versatility in being able to switch between snarling rage and soulful solo numbers along with some inventive musicianship and a genuinely good stage presence from the two frontpersons left me in a much more optimistic mood.

The headliners, I Am Ghost, occupy a darling space in my heart as they were one of my earliest "favourite bands" as it were. At the time they incorporated a violin, choral chants, duelling guitars, screaming, male and female vocals and generally played all the bells and whistles set to broodingly teenage and poetic lyrics about death and vampires, somewhere between Byron's little-known emo phase and Bach's lesser-known metalhead years. However this lineup rutured and they rearranged themselves as a much purer blood and thunder metallic band with a tendency to dress like vampires, leaving aforementioned bells and whistles behind for a sound that is like a classically-rooted cross between a more intellectual Aiden and a louder modern AFI, with rumbling ominous bass and angry, angry guitars. And many cymbals.
However, as much as they have indeed put out some gubbins in their time, they are able to form a huge rapport with their audience, putting on one hell of a show while making sure that people feel they are played to rather than at - the guitarists and bassists throwing shapes and grinning/glowering at the crowd like their lives depended on it while their frontman Steve Juliano thoroughly engaged with the front row to the point of practically being a part of it, allowing people to sing into the mic, holding hands and hair of those he could reach and generally making sure those near enough felt as though they were part of the show. It has to be said... Juliano is not in possession of the world's most tuneful voice, but what he lacks in range he makes up for in ability to utilise the notes he can hit, and an impressive capacity for screaming.
The rest of the band are equally good at their chosen tasks, with Chad and Timmy the guitarists duelling and harmonising with equal skill, and Ronnie doing his usual trick of spinning while rattling off heavy bass, and Justin drumming a sturdy backbone into the affair.
The set was one that was built to please fans from across the eras, including the unhinged hardcore-influenced 'Eulogies And Epitaphs', the poetic singalong 'We Are Always Searching', 'Dark Carnival Of The Immaculate' - a personal favourite of mine with an atmosphere think enough to suffocate a lesser human, and the arguable juvenile yet hard-rocking and intense 'Smile Of A Jesus Freak'. The biggest surprise of the setlist was the inclusion of 'This Is Home', their only "true" love song that lifted many members of the crowd into a state of euphoria.
Throughout their set, crowdsurfers and stage-divers were coming in thick and fast, often pounced upon by a bandmember before being thrown back into the periodically seething moshpit. This reached its inevitable climax in the final song, where the crowd flooded the stage, your intrepid reviewer included, and the band, valiantly playing on after having redeemed the evening, were lost in a sea of moshing fans.
If you ask me, the bill was a little mismatched, but one and a half years on I Am Ghost still have the ability to deliver a blinder regardless.

So. This new scene of ours. It thinks it is big and it thinks it is clever... and for all its embarrassing features, if it springs more live bands like I Am Ghost, it may just have a point.

Gig: Voices Of Masada 15/5/10

And so somehow in the course of a day I had managed to rehearse Sartre and follow fashionistas around Brick Lane costume shopping for a pencil skirt, and now found myself in the Electrowerkz/Slimelight, a venue that is almost like Fight Club in that if you don't know about it, chances are you really don't know about it.
I'm perching on a cushioned seat, looking warily around this room and for the first time in a long time I am the least gothic person in the building, which is about right. The whole place is done up very... goth, with lighting fixtures that look like a razorblade, a candelabra and a fluorescent tube had an orgy, mirrored walls and a crazy green scribble projection, and the DJ is playing a mix of Gene Loves Jezebel and Specimen. Oh, and there is an unclaimed half-pint of milk sitting on a ledge.
The bands in question were as follows: Nightporter, The Mumbles, Luxury Stranger and Voices Of Masada. I was, for all intents and purposes there to see The Mumbles, although I'd done my research on the other bands playing too. This was Voices Of Masada's last ever UK show.

First band up was Nightporter, who had supplied their own lights, and had enough effects pedals to outfit any self-respecting shoegaze band, leading to a guitar sound that was... well, it was in many different ways. Musically, they're not exactly my do as it does get goth-by-numbers, however they were having fun up there and what audience there was that had shown up for the opening act were dancing away. I suppose that if you imagine Fields Of The Nephilim via Specimen (or vice versa) you've got a half-decent idea. The main gripe here was the sheer amount of technical problems: the backing track was producing evil levels of humming and feedback and more than once they got the songs mixed up. Also, the guitar wasn't working for a while. However, they soldiered on nonetheless and played their set with any shame and self-consciousness left firmly under lock and key at home, so I'll tip my hat where it is due: good on ya, brave men, long may you continue having fun and making people dance.

Second were The Mumbles, and I will admit to probably having a rather biased opinion on them (lovely, lovely people, very good music) so I'll try to remain objective as I can. I suppose that if I was to try and describe their sound in a nutshell, they took the song '1959' by The Sisters Of Mercy in the sense of utilising keyboards/piano-driven melody and deep vocals and made a band out of it. In the process they've carved some interesting and individual facets into that sound. Their stage presence is a little out of the ordinary given that they are two guys and their iPod, but they make the most out of this, and can hold an audience well enough with an understated power in their music and a sense of confidence and unity. Their more minimal sound (keyboard, vocals and backing track) was also a lot easier on the venue's rather beleaguered PA system and so the sound was clearer for their set than most of the others. They're still a young band, but they show promise in their rather unique take on goth music and assured stage presence.

Third were Luxury Stranger, who were the only band of the evening to have a drummer, and so didn't have backing tracks, which made the boozed-up rocker that lives in my head happy as he/she wasn't too keen on the people always fiddling with their gadgetry before each song. The rest of me then promptly smacked him/her over the back of the head and told them to sit quietly in an out-of-the-way synapse.
Anyway, the band... another X via Y combination would have me place them as 'Faith'-era Cure via Motörhead. I have not seen such guitar shapes thrown by goths outside of a 69 Eyes gig, and this is quite a different school of goth. Recorded, their songs are actually very good - I'd enjoyed them and put them as firm second favourites as I have a strong weakness for gothic post-punk type sounds. However someone had decided that the venue's sound system could handle going up to 11 and so their set was drenched in NOISE OF THE HIGHEST ORDER, which fair do's, I would not normally complain about, but it seemed out of place and in such a small room proved to be an uncomfortable volume. The band themselves played on, seemingly oblivious to this. Shame, really, as they seemed like kind of band that if at audible levels could prove good.

As a result, I watched Voices Of Masada's set from a bit further back to give my ears a chance to recuperate without losing out on the show. Unfortunately my being short meant I couldn't see sometimes. As for sound, Voices Of Masada could be closely compared to Rosetta Stone. Their set was very much a bidding farewell to their crowd, with smiles and that little extra bit of show thrown in for good measure. Their cover of 'Cuts You Up' was a poignant moment, and there were some islands of people in their own emotional worlds among the crowd of dancers. 'Shine', their closing song, was majestic in its own low-key manner, and the music and atmosphere meant that its position as the band's favourite was well-deserved, as the set closed with a lift that comes when a song is loved by both band and audience. And as their music presence fades into the goth music afterlife of dry ice and eyeliner, I am left feeling that even if a massive resurgence isn't happening, the goth scene is far from dead.

Review: Black Sugar Transmission

So I'm sure most people who have encountered me are aware of my love for Acey Slade in his various musical incarnations and projects, and if you're in most rock/alternative music circles you'll probably have heard of him anyway. Anyway, moving on... via his latest project, I got introduced to an intriguing guitarist by the name of Andee Blacksugar. His approach to music struck me as being an neat take on things, and so I looked into his other projects and discovered his mostly solo project: Black Sugar Transmission. So here I go with the 3-year-old (how current am I?) self-titled release, 'Black Sugar Transmission'.

The Review

This album opens with the fist-pumping Shock My Blood Into The Bitter Sun, a genre-bending piece of glittery punk metal many artists would give fingers to have made, complete with a fist-pumping chorus and a drums that are begging to have people from all walks of life feeling an irresistible urge to jump and headbang. Compliment all this with melodies so infectious they are likely to cause an epidemic very soon. This melts seamlessly into the chugging Bangin' The Door. While perhaps not as visceral as its predecessor, it is a great showcasing of Andee's talent for merging sarcastic, up-yours punk rock with a sense of fun so glam it sneezes glitter.

An abrupt stop brings us to Slide, a tongue-in-cheek track featuring a distortion sound Nine Inch Nails would be proud of and a loop to end all loops, over which Andee's unique vocals drawl another tale of wasted efforts. It has to be said that Andee's vocals are something you either like or hate, and perhaps given another music setting might prove irritating (bearing a similarity to Perry Farrell), however here it works very nicely. Kiss The Ground brings back the heavy-boots pogo stamp drumming of the first track, hybridising it with something that could be tentatively referred to as disco-funk with jangling guitars, a dancy bassline and a chorus melody that flirts playfully with pop falsetto, and the guitar solo is a great example of Andee experimenting with more unusual melodic forms (is that a harmonic minor interval I hear?) with an almost metallic framework. The Burning Wreck Of Love drops the disco to rock out with its devil horns shamelessly on display, yet keeping the seductive X-rated pop sound of its predecessor, which works well with the dark lyrics, Andee happily unleashing one hell of a chorus that while not exactly singalong is a fantastic collection of words to have going through your ears, and yet more of his guitar mastery is hiding just below the surface.

Gotta Be On Top Of Me slows the mood to a pretty little drumkit, guitar and keyboard interplay for a pop number that once again gives Andee's melodic side a chance to shine as the pace picks up again. Things do get repetitive towards the end though, and you find yourself waiting for This Is The Night which, after a momentary dip into the surreal world of what can happen with vocals and editing tools, is a sharp-toothed guitar-driven rocker with a sense of urgency in the tense lyrics and the up-and-down guitar solo. Wind It Up is a manic hybrid of industrial and pop, skipping about rhyming words with carefree abandon to drums a metal band would be proud of. A fine piece of distortion-pedal sunshine for the boys and girls to enjoy.

Girls Gone Wild takes the decision to suddenly spring a techno song on the listener, and if it weren't for Andee's distinctive vocals and subtly aggressive lyrical style, you'd swear it was a different band. This makes for a slightly jarring moment in an otherwise fluid album, however it does manage to find its glittery DM booted footing in time to tiptoe into Nine Butterflies, which once again shows Andee's exploration of melodic forms unusual in American rock music, fusing a distinctly Oriental scale form with gritty synths, and distorted guitars. The lyrical content is a little confusing, however it is poetic and slots into the song nicely.

Dressed And Desperate careers wildly into chaotic drums and desperate guitars, channelling Jane's Addiction here to good effect, occasionally teetering into copycat territory, however never quite falling in, being much more contained and focused, and keeping its individual stamp on things even when Andee's guitar playing is almost wearing a sign saying "Hello my name is Dave Navarro". Mary Jane Child Interlude is pretty throwaway, however it is a nice enough way to spend a minute, if a little confusing as to why it is there other than to perhaps lead into the grinding closer Losing My Mind which gives a sound so heavy it is like lead on a neutron star, pounding any notion this album has given way to commercialised pop into the ground. Andee's vocals sound like they are underwater half the time, whereas the other half of the time they are very raw. A NIN-esque synth provides the rusted icing on the iron cake, and the only issue is the confusingly abrupt ending.

So I suppose if you wanted to know what would happen if you put the 1991 Lollapalooza lineup all in one band, this might be a good estimate. It gets confused in places and some tracks seem superfluous or cut short, however it is overall an interesting little diamond in the rough that deserves recognition in a market flooded with identikit this that and the other outfits. Andee, we salute you and your relentless drive to do something unusual.

8/10

(And if that isn't enough to pique interest, the disc not only looks like a vinyl record, but is textured too.)

http://andeesvault.com/index.html

Gig: Ash 4/5/10 Electric Ballroom

Yes, I have branched out into gig reviews. Might as well have a stab at it. What could go wrong? (Don't answer that.)

So. Ash. I'm pretty sure that most people have encountered Ash at some point in their lives, and they are so sci-fi that having been in space for the past seventeen or so years is not an excuse.
They're one of those bands who are well-known for their hit singles as opposed to whole albums, although it gas to be said that with songs like 'Girl From Mars', 'Burn Baby Burn' and 'Return Of White Rabbit' among a huge list of great stand-alone songs, you don't really need albums to justify them. So they've recently taken a very logical approach to their music by deciding to release a series of singles over a period of time as opposed to a whole album all at once.

The Electric Ballroom is a great venue as it is neither too small nor too big to pose any real issue, although they sold this show out and had to book another at the Koko, and the sound capability of the place is definitely up to standard.
First support act was Joe McAdam (thanks for the name reminder, Emma). It was centred around the frontman and they did a nice line in semi-acoustic songs of the vaguely blues/folk thing that is sweeping indie music right now, although it was far from a bandwagon act. Out of the two support acts, I think they suited the venue much better, and were more enjoyable as they connected with the audience much better. Remember folks: Joe McAdam.
The second support band were the Parlotones, who are a massive stadium band in South Africa according to the music oracle that is my friend Will. This was very evident as they put on one hell of a show, however it has to be said that while the music was enjoyable, it was much less of a connection between band and audience. I got the sense that being in a smaller venue cramped their style somewhat, especially the frontman, who had an almost messianic approach to being on stage, as well as some rather impressive eyeliner. Musically, they weren't half bad. I'll admit that I'm not a huge fan of that Killers-esque style of rock, but it was good to watch and nod along to although I passed on making a note of getting anything to seriously listen to. If you're into The Killers you'll like them, and if you get the chance to see them in their arena/stadium environment it might be worth going, but it was a bit lost in translation on a smaller stage.

Ash completely blew them out of the water, as they should. They're possibly one of the most pop bands I'll admit to listening to on a regular basis, however live they are surprisingly heavy, even their more gentle and casual listener-friendly songs having a grunge edge to them that really helps hit home exactly how good they are as a live band. In addition to this, they are loud. Incredibly loud. In fact, I can honestly say from barrier experience of both that they could quite easily give Motörhead a run for their money in terms of volume.
Their stage presence is that of a truly gifted and passionate rock band, with all the moves and attitude combined with a rapport with the audience the the Parlotones could take a note of and all the skill that comes from doing this kind of thing for most of your life. Adorable enough is the fact that they are at heart still nerdy teenagers, of course greeting the audience with "May the Fourth be with you", and the fact Tim Wheeler seemed to be constantly switching between an effortlessly cool rock frontman expression and a massive grin.
The setlist itself was a blinder, combining songs from all through their considerable career, and they treated both new and old material with the same explosive energy. The audience were slightly more receptive to the familiar songs, going absolutely crazy during 'Kung Fu', however the band's massive enthusiasm for every single song they played was contagious, and there wasn't a single low moment for the whole set, even though it lasted for nearly two hours. This alone is a testament to Ash's gift for writing great songs that are able to stand as great songs outside the context of an album. Yes, they can vary the tempo and mood with the best of them (the aforementioned total chaos of 'Kung Fu' easing into the emotional and soaring 'Arcadia' without a single awkward moment) but there was no "okay you can go to the bar now" songs that many bands slip into the setlist to retain some of their better standalone material for later. No, this was solid. This came at the cost of not being able to play everyone's favourites, but I don't think anyone could possibly be disappointed. Except perhaps the bloke beside me for the latter half of the set, who was totally motionless and looked abjectly miserable. However, he is definitely the exception as the whole crowd from the punks to the indie kids to my vaguely gothy self and beyond were all jumping around and having fun. And in the end, what more could you want from an Ash gig?

After all these years, Ash are still able to pull off a truly fantastic gig, and with their music as fresh and interesting as you could hope for, now's a good a time as any to get yourself their songs, and get yourself down to a gig ASAP.

Tty reccommends: The Night Terrors

I suppose this isn't really as review as such, but I'm going to be plugging a band I rather like without reference to any particular album. More a general overview.

Back in November, I went off to see Dope Stars Inc. at the Scala. Just for the record, they're a great live band and I highly suggest seeing them. Totally chaotic, but even the things that go wrong seem like a part of the set and are just part of the evening's fun, and in between the mishaps they're a much underrated band.

Anyway, they had three support acts: the first I can't remember and weren't much cop (hence not remembering) and then there were two enjoyable ones: Ghost Of Lemora are a London-based goth band that have a good handle on distorted-guitar post-punk goth, all done with a sickly sense of humour and a surprisingly powerful stage show. (Once again, worth seeing. I'll probably work my way round to mentioning them again some point.)

However, the band I'm writing about here is The Night Terrors, who are from Australia and are really unlike anything I've heard before or since. I suppose that if you have any familiarity with Nine Inch Nails' 'Ghosts' double album you might sense some similarities, but this is an entirely more surreal beast.
I suppose I should've been aware that this won't be a normal band as soon as the skinny blond guy started setting up a box with metal bits sticking out of it and my friend said "oh my god, he's got a theremin!" The guy then proceded to have technical difficulties setting it up (the tech problems plagued all the bands, yet all but the first forgotten lot battled with them and came out victorious) and a man at the back shouted: "More power, Miles! Give it more power!" Which provoked a smile from this enigmatic man with his box. To be honest, as a general rocker I was a bit confused by the drums/synth/theremin setup that seemed to be growing on stage.
Anyway, Miles came back on stage with his other theremin that worked, went away, and came back with a rather fetching bass guitar and the other two members came on stage and got ready to blow some minds.

How do I describe The Night Terrors? Well, for a start, it is an instrumental act. Miles is for all intents and purposes the frontman, but instead of using his voice he alternates between grindingly distorted yet melodic bass playing, and some of the best theremin playing I've ever come across. He treats it not as a novelty wee-woo spookbox, but as an honest instrument in its own right, and it serves as good as any vocals when he uses it, bringing out some really great melodies. Not to mention a rather adorable accidental thumbs-up noise. Complimenting this dual-layered sonic attack is the synths, that once again are treated as a real instrument, creating some really amazing soundscapes. The drumming is like a schizophrenic metronome, skittering around the melodies yet holding them together brilliantly.
Live, they're a truly surreal phenomenon: totally enigmatic in their style, yet incredibly approachable in their occasional good-natured banter with the audience in between launching into fierce yet beautiful pieces of music. Despite the lack of a conventional lineup that might prove fatal for many bands in a live setup, this lot were able to keep a floor of cyberpunks, deathrockers, goths and metalheads pretty much awestruck for a whole set. Despite the synth and theremin, there's an incredible sense of energy and passion in the band, with the musicianship holding you in place and if things start getting a bit static, the bass comes out and you watch Miles suddenly launch from mysterious master of the box with bits sticking out of it into his own little metal act. Hell, they even rattled off a recognisable Motörhead cover with style, although apparently on that night they were "a bit more jazz-sounding" than usual.

On CD, their musical ability is even more evident. They've got one full-length album out: 'Back To Zero', and two EPs: 'The Night Terrors' and 'Lightless'. In all of them, the bass offers up a crunching undercurrent that gives a real momentum to the strange, often eerie and intensely atmospheric synth playing. The drums clatter madly from start to finish yet never overstep the mark, and the whole thing blends together fantastically right from their earliest work. The only complaint I can think to offer is that occasionally they get a little carried away in the chaos, and it begins to feel slightly confusing and/or self-indulgent, but these moments are few and far between, even over the course of three CDs. I could happily listen to their entire discography without break and feel like I've spent my time well.
Despite the lack of vocals and lyrics, each track has a recognisable 'mood' and feel to it, with some obvious tearjerkers and moments of beautiful melancholy mostly provided by a fluid synth/theremin duet, some raging punk rock rants, often heavy on the growling bass and pounding drums, and even some uplifting moments where the synth really comes into its own. But in all honesty, I have never come across a lineup like this, and neither have I come across anyone able to express so much through a theremin. It can go from wailing dirges through to angry tirades to expressions of joy with no contrivance and not a single word, and even though it is constantly masked in a fog of growling distortion that sounds like an angry jet-propelled train coming at you over cobblestones, the bass is capable of just as much pure human expression. If these make the characters, the synth is the scenery. It uses a multitude of sounds to create a backdrop to the emotion, expressing anything from the shadowed recesses of the human psyche to a beautiful innocent realm. The drums are wonderfully versatile, being both arrhythmic yet constantly keeping everything in line with itself, and at times are what saves the whole thing from getting a little too artsy and noodly for its own good.

Basically, this band are a totally alien experience, but definitely something worth experiencing. Entrancing on both stage and CD, they're a necessary part of the musical underground and deserve a huge recognition for being brave and adventurous enough to do what they do. And anyone who names a track 'Existential Revelation In The Circle Pit At Slayer' has my respect.
Whether you're into Pink Floyd or Motörhead, anyone with an ear for melody or just a good sound will probably find at least one thing to smile about here.

http://www.myspace.com/thenightterrors

Things you should have part 1

Sorry for the delay, it's that ridiculous pre-holiday push right now and there are essays coming out my ears when I'm not discussing the possibility of breeding ovens with my friend. Anyway, this is your typical cop-out "I can't think of an actual thing to write about" list of things that will improve your life. If you do not own these then I look sadly at you.

Katie's Albums to Improve Your Life

1) The Holy Bible - Manic Street Preachers
My close friend and musical adviser handed me his copy of this CD with the words "this will change your life" or something to that effect. And it really has in a subtle way. I didn't have much of an epiphany, but it dwelled on me enough to buy my own copy and it has wormed its way deeply into my head. This is a pretty infamous album for, in all technicality, being Richey Edwards' last, not counting the use of his lyrics in later work. It's a chilling descent into the visions of someone with a razor-sharp observation of culture that still rings eerily true years later in its criticisms of politics and society, and exploration of the darkest parts of the human mind backed by a truly gifted band. Terrifying, intelligent, inspiring.

2) The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me - Brand New
This was my answer to the above album, as it was my epiphany. I got hold of it at the tender age of 14 in my early musical explorations and I am very grateful I found it. The music here can and does shift effortlessly and passionately from whispered and tired acoustic into passionate raging emotion in a split second. The vulnerable and eloquent lyrical musings cause you to question your own deepest convictions in sympathy with Jesse Lacey's own anxieties and stories of lives turned bad with a single unclear wrongdoing. Relaxing and beautifully chilling.

3) Devils - The 69 Eyes
Just in case you felt things were getting a little too serious, here's something to shake up the stagnant goth/sleaze scenes. As far as this band goes, there is a lot to be said for 'Blessed Be' being their finest moment, however this album is well worth a special place in your collection as well as a great starting point to open the avenues of both sides of this band, the gothic and the glam metal. From start to finish it's a tour de force of enjoyable rock 'n' roll in the vein of a gothed-up AC/DC, both darkly poetic and utterly silly. This band are here to prove you can have fun in leather and eyeliner, and they succeed in this task with incredible style. Catchy choruses, fantastic guitars, and horns cues you can set your watch to.

4) Join Hands - Siouxsie & The Banshees
The Scream was groundbreaking. Kaliedoscope the hit machine. Either side this is surrounded by incredibly worthy records that need to be heard but this deserves a huge mention that it doesn't often get. This is a galloping ride around the twisted fairytale world that this band seemed to occupy. Childhood seen through a house of mirrors, guitars that sound like they're jet-propelled around paper bags and tin cans, driving rhythms and a fifteen-minute stream-of-consciousness track that replicates the incredible energy of this band early on. This is possibly one of the finest moments of Siouxsie & The Banshees showing the art and punk of their music in equal measure.

5) The Downward Spiral - Nine Inch Nails
Many people say this is overrated, and perhaps it is but only in comparison to the overall genius that is Trent Reznor. By turns beautiful and savage, this rips too close to the bone for a full listen sometimes no matter how big a fan you are. It's not his angriest, nor his most artistic, and perhaps less deep than some but this is a total epitome of a talented man at his devastating best.

6) Who Killed Amanda Palmer? - Amanda Palmer
What can I say? This woman has a totally unique take of life and music that shines through perfectly here, talking of the world in all its ugly hilarity. There's something incredibly endearing in the honest eccentricity shown here and a clear ability to embrace the total absurdity of life in the highs and lows. Simple yet effective piano and a unique voice, great.

7) Love - The Cult
If you only own one album by this band, make it this one. It borders on nonsensical but the band here are so obscenely good at what they do that it's all excused. Passion and talent just ooze off the guitar riffs here, and the sound is something else.

8) Jane's Addiction - Jane's Addiction
If you haven't heard of this lot through 'Ritual De Lo Habitual' then you've probably experienced one of their many "reunions" or at least encountered Dave Navarro somewhere. There's more than enough to be said and that has been said about 'Ritual' as a masterwork of rock, but this is a live album of grotesquely unappreciated proportions. Here is the power and urgency of a band just coming into a world that will never fully understand it but love it, albeit in the way someone loves a slightly embarrassing cousin who tells confusing and controversial anecdotes in polite company. There's an incredible energy and fun that is a little lost in some of their studio work, and it is this energy, where you can find it, that made this band complete.

9) III - Billy Talent
I was hard-pressed to decide between I II and III as in their own way they're all blindingly good. However I chose this because it seems to be the one tying together everything this band have learned over the years. Although some argue that they've lost the driving anger that made them stand out so much in the earlier days, in its place they've got a gravity and maturity in both lyrics and musicianship that cements them as a truly great modern band. They've always been unique and why would they suddenly stop developing if they still have things to do?

10) Disintegration - The Cure
This has a huge reputation and deserves every single fragment of said reputation as a pinnacle of whatever it is you're comparing it to. I think it's all been said before.

I tried to restrict myself to 10, so with my habit of liking too many things, there is of course a lot more to add, but as a starting point, find these albums and hopefully you'll love them as much as I do.

Review: Max Raptor EP

Well hello there. Once again reviewing an EP. Shorter CDs make me ramble less so it's probably a good thing. Today is Max Raptor's EP. I have a lot of love for Max Raptor. Saw them supporting Billy Talent back in June and fell in love with their music almost instantly, and strong enough to remember to actually look them up afterwards which, considering that any Billy Talent show would normally blast any lesser support bands into total insignificance as far as I'm concerned, is a big achievement.

The Review

The good thing about this CD is that it does actually retain a lot of the energy that makes Max Raptor such a great live band. If you could imagine The Cribs with rabies you're part of the way there - they've got a fair amount of the 2000s 'indie' in their sound, but enough punk rock to really give it some oomph and reach an almost transcendent level of good for such a recent band.

First up is 'The Great And The Good', which kicks off with pounding drums and a chant that leads fluidly onto guitar noise. The gang vocal interplay is very well-done here, and the change in tone and dynamics between song and chant work very well. The instruments here are straightforwards enough but with more than enough flair and enthusiasm, vocals are tuneful yet powerful, lyrics powerful, and the structure and style of the song very enjoyable.

'Ghosts' is much more immediate in noise, although this is no bad thing. The melody here is very distinctive and adds another level of enjoyment. Once again the gang vocals feature heavily, although the singer on his own is a very good vocalist. The distortion and fuzzy bass work very nicely with cutting drums to create a wonderfully dark and paranoid sound. This is where Max Raptor rise above other bands of a similar sound: they're able to inject the most unlikely aspects of other things into their music. This is in-your-face indie punk via film noir thriller. Also, their lyrics once again prove to be smart and to-the-point, attacking the disappointment of modern life.

'Sparks' starts out with an incredibly upbeat and bouncy riff, although the lyrics, despite their soft and cheery delivery, reveal yet another sarcastic and vicious attack on modern life, and the song builds frantically towards an explosive chorus with pounding cymbals. Gang vocals get slightly superfluous here but this can be forgiven. The handclaps and guitar break only add to the tongue-in-cheek happiness of this song. The screams aren't the most impressive recorded but trust me, live they're something to listen for.

'Conversations With Death' is the closing song, opening with a stilted stop-start riff and a clear vocal sound that works well before the gang reappears for the pre-chorus. A definite strength of this band is the intelligent way they fit their lyrics into songs, toying with pacing and delivery to create something that really holds the attention. Their guitar sound is another enjoyable part, sounding like it's coming (very loudly) from a tin well, creating a nice contrast with the thundering train sound of the bass and drums.

So yeah. Four songs that are totally necessary in your life. How many other bands can produce a debut EP of four consistently great songs that not only work together but also as stand-along anthems for us new generation to jump around to.
You don't quite understand exactly how you're missing out or how much you're missing out on until you put the CD on and wonder where these guys have been your whole life. (Answer: Birmingham.)

Expect big things from these guys.

Review: A Little Something For You - Voodoo Six

Ack, sorry about the delay. The life of a student is never easy, ahaha. It is incredibly hard to find the time to doss about like the lazy sod you are when you need to research gothic literature ('Carmilla' by Le Fanu being my favourite traditional gothic story) and learn scripts. And try to remember how on Earth A-level co-ordinate geometry works.
However despite that, I have found time to attend gigs last week. One of which was a spontaneous decision on the part of my dad to go see Albert Lee. Country music isn't normally my thing, but I know when someone is good and damn that man can play guitar.

The other gig was my idea, and it was Voodoo Six, a local rock 'n' roll band that are sadly neglected. This was their first live outing with their new singer, and so it was a bit touch and go and you could tell he was a bit shy at first, but as the set progressed he found his feet, and to be honest, the rest of the band were so fantastic that you sometimes got the impression that the songs were more a conduit for musicianship than a focal point. This might just be due to his being new, as the studio recordings have a slightly more even focus. However, either way their songs are great. Tonight I'm going to be rambling about their latest release: 'A Little Something For You'. Lucky for you guys it's a five-track EP, not a full-length album, so you don't have to read my ramblings for too long.

The Review

So I suppose it ain't exactly easy being in the music business, and Voodoo Six are definitely a casualty of this. Not that they've been majorly screwed over, it's more an ongoing lack of recognition. If you want to know how I found them, you're going to be disappointed because I can't for love nor money remember. (Although money is readily accepted. Love may be negotiated.) Anyway, this EP in its purest form is just the band introducing their modified sound to their fans, with Luke's passionate bark taking over from the previous vocalist who, while good in his own way, had a higher and vaguely more 'glam metal' vocal style that sometimes got lost.

'Live Again' kicks off with one hell of a driving sound. The kind that makes the boozy rocker in my straight-edge kid's heart smile. Luke's vocals are an interesting and enjoyable mix of hard rock, heavy metal and a tiny tweak of grunge. The instruments here are masterful. Backing vocals slightly questionable but easily forgiven. The guitar-work is just delicious. The structure of the song does get a bit repetitive, but in all honesty, I could listen to that chorus many times and still enjoy it.

'Long Way' starts in much the same way, with the distinctive twin guitar and cymbals attack the band seem to favour. However this time the verse vocals are left alone with a throbbing bass and the other staple of rock 'n' roll drumming: kick drum. The whole effect gives the impression of a musical motorcycle revving up. And yes my friends it is turbo-charged and driven by Ghost Rider's brother. Not much differentiating this from the previous track as far as chorus sound goes, but instrumental breaks are where this band excel. Just sit back and enjoy. These guys, as I discovered when seeing them live, seem hell-bent on rehabilitating the guitar solo as something totally unapologetic. These guys are good and they aren't afraid.

'Something For You' is slightly heavier and deeper from the outset, but once again employs the full-throttle charge. However there's a tantalising little riff happening here in the verse, adding texture to the sound. Luke's talent for "yeahs" really comes through. Trust me, it is a useful skill. Lyrically they aren't anything phenomenal, but they're not hideously derivative either. It's forgiven. The chorus here slows and soars nicely. I am tired and will write pretentious imagery. It has to be said, there's a whole new layer in this song in the way it sounds that hooks the listener in.

'Take The Blame' was the first thing I heard by these guys. It starts with a brief a capella bit that is admittedly a slight nonsequiteur (spelling out the window) but works nicely with the overall feel. There's a bit of a Hendrix vibe happening here. Lyrically this actually makes more sense too, so it's definitely a highlight, as well as the rather catchy nature of it as a whole. The whole band are really going for it full throttle here, and it pays off no end. Vocals soulful, guitars controlled and skillful, bass driving and rhythmic, drums crashing and possessing the momentum of several runaway trains. The slower sections (complete with effects pedals) are also well-thought-out and expertly placed, exploding into action perfectly.

As an amateur rock bassist, I have to say the riff at the start of 'Where You Want Me' is the kind of riff I want to have a wild and torrid love affair with. It's easy to learn and sounds bloody good. Whatever he's using for that sound, I want it. The guitars follow this riff once they come in. This is a slightly more bluesy track in its own way, adding to the variety of things happening here. (And it has to be said the Hendrix thing is happening here too.) Lyrically there's a hint of the pseudo-spirituality happening. They're one of those bands who have that kind of thing not in any specific form apart from the worship at the altar of good rock music. Overall, nice little closer.

Basically, this is a bloody good set of songs by a bad who've really found their footing and had a lightbulb moment. Recommended to anyone who enjoys unapologetic guitars, heavy sounds, and fists-in-the-air ROCK.
I believe that 'Take The Blame' is kicking around for free download if you're curious. I shall leave you with two things from the gig I went to:

First up, a video of 'Live Again'. Pretty good as far as youtube quality goes. And you can have a fun game of spotting my hands. Hint: black fingerless glove/armwarmer hybrids, studded wristbands and a camera.


Next up: a photo from aforementioned camera. METAL FACE!!!