The Pre New @ The Lexington

The Pre New
Islington Lexington. 03jul10.

In April 1998, I went to see Earl Brutus at the University of London Union. We had travelled up from Portsmouth for it, got lost for two hours trying to find the venue, then our headlining heroes did just 30 chaotic minutes and cleared off, with no encores. All killer, no filler and no feeling of being short-changed; in short, it was one of the greatest gigs I’ve ever seen.

At this point they had made two albums and had built up a decent cult audience. However no more records were to follow and gigs slowly trickled to a halt in 2004. Four years later, singer Nick Sanderson succumbed to terminal illness, having spent his final years driving trains on the London to Brighton line.

Those of us still holding out for one more great show naturally believed that this sad turn of events would draw a line under it for good. However while Earl Brutus, quite rightly, cannot exist without their front man, Shinya Hayashida, Gordon King and Jim Fry from the group have come together once more as The Pre New to be both a tribute to the fallen, as well as a creative force in their own right.

As such Earl Brutus songs such as East, Navyhead and The S.A.S. & The Glam That Goes With It appear alongside a good mini-album’s worth of new material as well as a version of Sons Of The Stage by World of Twist, another of Sanderson’s former groups.

During their performance of Brutus’ Universal Plan, the changing of the line “I get up/go to work/eat my lunch/come home/cure cancer” to end “wish I’d cured cancer” is a subtle, and poignant, reminder of the “absent friends” mentioned by way of dedication earlier in the set.

However this was not an evening for melancholy as The Pre New more than capture the unruly, bundling spirit of their previous incarnation. Jim Fry, looking like a terrace bruiser in their court suit, does an admirable job of filling shoes and channelling some of the anarchic spirit, spiking his band mates with the mic stand, frequently dropping his burly frame into press-ups and straddling the drum set mid-song as his tubsman Gordon Phillips repeatedly tells him to “fuck off”.

The Pre New are to all intents and purposes an art-school glam band, but one that is piloted by a combination of boilermakers, dockworkers and granite-faced shop stewards, in a dance hall where the glitter balls are lined with asbestos.

“I like our band” says Jim Fry, as one song draws to a close. He’s right to do so.

More photos here

Gaggle, Viv Albertine, Fiction @ Bush Hall

Gaggle, Viv Albertine, Fiction.
Bush Hall. 17jun10.

Following Fiction’s lively set where post-punk met 80’s sheen-pop head on, former Slit Viv Albertine ascended the stage got up in a dress that had the elegant sweep of something pulled from Pan’s People’s mothballed wardrobe. Stood alongside Viv as she played guitar, sang and waxed cheerily scornful, were a cellist and a player that moved between Theremin and cool sharp harp. A promising arsenal but one which proceeded to condense an apparent mid-life crisis into thirty minutes that was too often trite (see Couples Are Creepy, particularly) and too infrequently adventurous.

No such problems with Gaggle, who alighted upon the stage via a procession through the audience whilst bearing flags and a large standard that read “This is merely a distraction from the inevitable.” All in all it appeared to be some kind of anti- shuffling-on-from-behind-the-drum-set protest march.

Wearing face paint and outlandish colours, Gaggle are a colossal 40-legged voicebox aided and abetted by a live drummer, a laptop firing off low rumbles and euphoric blasts, and a choirmaster issuing important instructions like “sing louder!!”

What do they sound like? Well, the following options will be placed in the sweepstake beany for you to select from…

*A cyberpunk Gospel choir.

*A multi-tracked Lady Gaga having a live mash-up with Trash Kit and The Slits.

*An Afrobeat bonfire-side ceremonial.

*David Byrne putting on a for-the-community-by-the-community concert for women living in a Welsh mining village in the 60’s.

*A shamanistic Bananarama.

*Dull-arse bint-collective.

If you pick out the latter: llllll-loser. Any of the others, well, you are in possession of a winning ticket.

There will, of course be Polyphonic Spree comparisons but where Tim DeLaughter’s mob were more Branch-Davidian-cultish in spirit, Gaggle are much more vibrantly tribal.

Primavera Sound: One liners

The thing about the Primavera Sound is that it’s not even just the nine gigantic and wee stages on the actual festival site. A number of smaller showcase gigs featuring homegrown and international artists pop up all over the city in the week surrounding the mainstream fest.

Wanting to squeeze out all the goodness available in that one wristband I turned up to as many of these as possible but, as you might imagine, this means an obscene number of bands. In terms of writing it up, you’re looking at one heck of an essay, and my shtick is verbose enough as it is.

Thus this review will give each band witnessed for a decent length of time (20 minutes plus) a line to call their own. No more, no less; equality writ, err, small.

To break it up into bite-size chunks, you can find the various days linked here:

Days 1 & 2
(covers Atleta, First Aid Kit, Los Campesinos, Montañas, Nacho Umbert, Peggy Sue, Pelea, Toundra and Two Dead Cats)

Day 3
(covers Bis, Biscuit, Broken Social Scene, Chrome Hoof, Edredón, The Fall, Fuck Buttons, Macaco Bong, Mission of Burma, Pavement, Superchunk, Surfer Blood, Tortoise, Ui and The XX)

Day 4
(covers Beach House, Cuerpos, Forzudo, Fuel Fangando, Les Savy Fav, Low, Shellac, Wilco and Wire)

Days 5 and 6
(covers The Antlers, A Sunny Day In Glasgow, The Big Headed Trouble Boy, The Bundles, Circulatory System, The Clean, Dum Dum Girls, Florence & The Machine, Ganglians, The King Khan & BBQ Show, Matt & Kim, McEnroe, Mujeres, Pet Shop Boys, Rother/Shelley/Mullan, Thee Oh Sees and Thelematicos)

…and now to sleep for a week!

Primavera Sound 2010: days 5 & 6

One-line reviews of bands seen on my fifth and sixth days in Barcelona.

Introductory posting here. Catalan and Spanish acts denoted red.

Parc Joan Miró, 29may10 (12:30 to 16:20)

Big Headed Trouble Boy: Light acoustic pop with a Gabrielle Cilmi-with-an-edge thing going on.

Thelematicos: Rock n’ roll with a slacker’s unkempt swagger.

Circulatory System: Cello and violin further enliven Gang Of Four like guitars and stubborn bass.

Thee Oh Sees: A terrific band absolutely made for this outdoor palm tree’d setting, as they strut through a set of grimy rock n’ roll that takes in all points between The Stones and Suicide; stops like The Monks, Phil Spector, “Have Love Will Travel” and surf.

A Sunny Day In Glasgow: If they didnt have me at the song intro of theirs that sounded a lot like the one for Killing Joke’s ‘Love Like Blood’, then they certainly did upon their fairly straight cover of Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Everywhere’.

Ganglians: Wispy post-country psyche, not nearly as engaging as I had expected.
 

Parc del Forum, 29may10 (19:00 to 02:45)

Michael Rother and Friends play Neu! music: That billing makes it all a bit sound ‘An Audience With…’, which is not a concept one might readily associate with motorik-fuelled krautrock, although being heavily infectious certainly is. 

The Clean: That I have made sure I see this lot again despite having seen them only a fortnight ago in Brighton and yet never heard a record by them, should tell you all you need to know with regards to whether these Flying Nun era Kiwi heroes can still cut a vibrant brand of mustard.

Mujeres: Garage rock, The Beatles and a whole lot of pep upside it all.

The Bundles: With Kimya Dawson absent owing to flight fear in these volcanic ash days, and Karl Blau never scheduled to appear, Jeff and Jack Lewis and Anders Griffen plug on gamely and brilliantly regardless.

Florence & The Machine: I know it’s all about Flo rather than her Mo, but by christ can her voice beat the life out of her songs sometimes, although it must be said they she can work up a pretty entertaining show.

The Antlers: Some might not think that songs from a concept album dealing with a terminally ill bone cancer patient would be ideal festi fodder and they, therefore, would be mistaken as Antlers were euphoric here.

Matt & Kim: On this energetic evidence, it would appear that the world needs drum n’ Korg duos, but in a marketplace that is hardly saturated, Matt & Kim are clearly far from complacent.

Dum Dum Girls: The ideal antidote for those experiencing withdrawal symptoms for a lack of The Bangles and Go-Go’s in their life.

Pet Shop Boys: Never mind the undoubtedly brilliant spectacle of their live show and feel the breadth of hit after hit after hit.

Parc Joan Miró, 30may10 (16:00 to 17:30)

McEnroe: even with the wear and tear of a long few days, that I should nod off during their earnest hard rock doesn’t speak well for them being an enlivening outfit.

The King Khan & BBQ Show: Rickety and grizzly rock n’ roll as well as drag outifts are a plus, the relentless abuse of the soundman a major minus.

King Khan & The BBQ Show @ Parc Joan Miro

The Clean @ Vice Stage

Matt & Kim @ Vice Stage

Primavera Sound 2010: day 4

One-line reviews of bands seen on my fourth day in Barcelona.

Introductory posting here. Catalan and Spanish acts denoted red.

FNAC Diagonal Mar, 28may10 (16:30-17:00)

Forzudo: Duo making swirling electro psychedelia, along Animal Collective lines, and bound for bigger stages than this I’d warrant. 

venue: A small gallery space in what is essentially a Spanish HMV equivalent, only with more tellies and that.

Parc del Forum, 28may10 (17:30 to 01:15)

Cuerpos: Shadowy Siouxie-esque and at the join of punk and post-punk, the keyboard stabs not unlike Eleni Poulou’s work with The Fall.  

Low (performing ‘The Great Destroyer’): By the end my long held scepticism towards this particular long-player (despite being a fan of the band generally) had been won over, and the unanimous standing ovation from the seated Auditori crowd was richly deserved, Low having reminded us all just how incredible they can be.

Fuel Fandango: Perhaps a little too much of the soul diva gymnastics but the ratlling funk delivered by the guitars and drums make them quite infectious.

Beach House: Ideal really to closely-ish follow Low, being similarly downbeat and prone to spartan arrangements, however Beach House’s melodies take a more Brian Wilson-esque approach.

Wire: A great deal punchier than I’ve found them on record, they work up and down the gears with seeming effortlessness without, it must be said, reaching 5th.

Wilco: One imagines all eyes turn to Jeff Tweedy when something needs doing in the world of Wilco so thankfully there is a twinkle in his tonight, as he cuts quite the genial figure.

Les Savy Fav: With lights smashed and a mic lead snapped during a deep wade out into the heavy throng, Les Savy Fav are purveyors of chaos and mayhem and amidst it all an equally energetic live music performance sometimes breaks out.

Shellac: As opening remarks go, “Fuckin’ kill him, fuckin’ kill him already” must rank up amongst the weekend’s very best particular as they shine an early spotlight on the spiteful sound to come.

**Further scribblings 28may10

>Early out tonight, dancing to them Buttons until 0345 before returning to site at 1700 with only 2 hours kip in between (body working against me once more) and some battery recharge required. Apologies to The Pixies and Yeasayer, who I had planned to see but while the mind was willing, the flesh was weak.

Forzudo @ FNAC Diagonal Mar

Shellac @ ATP Stage

Primavera Sound 2010: day 3

One-line reviews of bands seen on my third day in Barcelona.

Introductory posting here. Catalan and Spanish acts denoted red.

Parc del Forum, 27may10 (17:00 to 03:45)

Macaco Bong: Instrumental head-jutting rock that sounds in need of a vocal or at least a solid groove, although happilly they eventually come upon the latter.

Biscuit: The Who and Beatles t-shirts are the giveaway, as beefy pop-rock plays out.

Bis: That, despite time marching them into their mid-30′s and pattern baldness attacking two of the original trio without mercy, they can still play ‘Teen C Power’ and ‘Icky Poo Air Raid’ with a straight face merely endears them to me even more than was ever thus.

Surfer Blood: With the Drums also occupying this Smiths-to-Strokes middle ground, can we expect a bare knuckle battle royale at a festival later this summer?

The Fall: At the end of 50 mins and a rigorous ‘Wolf Kidult Man’, Mark E. Smith slips back on his black jacket and departs, triumphant; as do I, knowing that so early in the proceedings, I have already had my money’s worth.

The XX: The splicing in of ATB’s ’9pm (Til I Come)’ is a masterstroke (I frugged massive to that at my Grad Ball in 1999) but one can’t help wondering if this set had played out in the pitch black of night rather than the creeping lightly precipitative dusk, it would have been raised from very good to very special.

Ui: Laying the bass on thick, the drums take a musical, as well as geographical, back seat, while the guitars have licence to make the whole pot bubble.

Superchunk: Been around the block a few times but the energy’s not deserted them, and guesting Tim Les Savy Fav is clearly overexcited at his task this evening, screaming “this is the best thing ever!”

Tortoise: Why I don’t own more records by these titans of jazz-tinged post-rock becomes an even greater mystery with each note.

Broken Social Scene: Any number of musicians littering the stage but not cluttering the sound, showing out a breezy Americana that breathes the same air as Gram Parsons without being in many respects ‘country’.

Edredón: Overcoming a myriad of lengthy technical issues, they eventually unleash a blanket of comforting electro which them morphs into chiming post-rock then back again.

Mission Of Burma: Chunky college rock meets post-punk pizzazz.

Pavement: Consider myself well ‘eared’ musically, and yet these headlining kings of indie rock have remained off my radar all these years, something which on this evidence needs rectifying.

Chrome Hoof: Glam rock walks into a bar and says “hey fella, my mates funk, doom metal, soul and disco in?” to which the barman replies, “oh don’t you worry, they’re all here too”

Fuck Buttons: Saw them three years ago in a Brixton boozer, but it is for exactly this kind of massive outdoor ampitheatre for which their beautiful noise was made.

**further scribbles from 27may10

>I have been on the festival site for five minutes. Not one band has struck an opening chord and yet I am already mentally booking my ticket for next year.

>The rolls and baguettes stall has sandwiches named after some of the major acts. Naturally I opt for The Fall one. I imagined this to be a sandwich that would refuse to go stale and constanly refresh it’s ingredients. Turns out it was cheese and ham, which doesn’t seem quite as apt.

Get your Wilco baguette here. Roll up! Roll up!

 

Macaco Bong @ Adidas Originals Stage (pretty much the first band on stage at the festival proper)

 

Chrome Hoof @ Vice Stage

 

"Good evening, we are The Fall" @ San Miguel Stage

Primavera Sound 2010: days 1 & 2

One-line reviews of bands seen on my first and second days in Barcelona.

Introductory posting here.  Catalan and Spanish acts denoted red.

Fantasticos Club, 25may10 (18:30 to 20:00)

Pelea: Short but uproariously peppy vignettes.

Montañas: Sharing personnel with Pelea, without being nearly as breezy.

venue: Back room of bar with chalk  tributes to The B52s, The XX and Lucky Strike cigarettes amongst others littering the walls, and the toilets an awkward stage invasion away.

LA2, 25may10 (21:00 to 23:45)

Atleta: Post-rock, muscular to the point of thick veins appearing across the front of the stage, and giving the remaining two acts much to follow.

Toundra: Begin more ponderously, but come alive once the cellist and keyboardist clear off after whats seems about three minutes.

Two Dead Cats: Not in keeping with previous, strident post-punk yelping peppers rolling guitars and prodding bass.

venue: Black box with a long bar dog-legging towards the bogs, tonight hosting a showcase for the Aloud label. 

Fantasticos Club, 26may10 (18:00 to 19:00)

Nacho Umbert: Oakey acoustic guitar folk punctuated with guesting cello to a cross-legged and attentive crowd.

Sala Apolo, 26may10 (20:30 to 23:30)

Peggy Sue: Pointing a harmonic pop-gun up the hoop of rusticism within folk.

First Aid Kit: Naif-types from Sweden playing indie-pop with such a pastoral, bluegrass tinge, one might be tempted to rest an Amish bonnet upon each of their heads mid-performance.

Los Campesinos: Despite being a good deal more lively than at Rough Trade East earlier this year now that the new songs have bedded in, I still find them, despite my best efforts, rather unenchanting.

venue: Ornate ballroom basked in red light with wooden booths lining the dancefloor.

Peggy Sue @ Sala Apolo

 

Nacho Umbert @ Fantasticos

Omar Souleyman @ Scala

Omar Souleyman
King’s Cross Scala. 17may10.

Call me superficial if you like, but my understanding and desire to witness Omar Souleyman was largely based on his enigmatic appearance, on a poster seen during his last UK tour, in 2009. The fact that his London shows are promoted by the Upset The Rhythm folks sealed the deal that it was probably worth checking out on his return. His actual sound though? No idea. I imagined though, judging a book by its cover, a kind of dusty folk-rock, kind of in the Tinariwen mould.

What I hadn’t expected was dance floor scenes that couldn’t have been more rave if a giant yellow smiley had been rolled onto the back of the stage and the head-scarfed Syrian gentleman in the middle of it had started squealing “ACIIIIIEEEEEED’ and blowing a neon whistle.

Not that there wasn’t similar punctuating intonations in each tune, yer ‘yallah’s and ‘aaaaahhhhyyyyy’s, regular as clockwork. Indeed, a great deal of Souleyman’s time was spent with the microphone tucked under his arm as he geed the crowd with soft ‘come with me’ gestures, fingertip-led hand-claps or genial waves.

You’ll appreciate; this is all pretty incongruous behaviour from a middle aged chap looking like a cross between Scatman John’s desert-dwelling cousin and a prototype mould for a Middle Eastern version of the joke shop Groucho Marx kit, yet all the more beguiling for its eccentricity.

Turns out the Souleyman set consists of a variety of musical styles from Syrian Dabke to Iraqi Choubi, and since his debut in 1994, he and his group have issued over 500 studio and live cassette albums in Syria. On this form, you can understand the demand for it.

For when the hard beats kick in over Rizan Sa’id’s chaotic dual-keyboard playing; when one of the bands associates removes his suit jacket to take centre-stage and, like a quiet and reserved uncle startling his family at a wedding, begins to gradually work up a slinky sweat; when Ali Shaker barrels out notes on the electric saz as though doing so whilst falling down a staircase; and when Omar takes time out from low-key cheerleading to fire out the poetry, it’s virtually impossible not to be exhilarated by their projected joie de vivre.

Omar Souleyman @ MySpace

library pic by Crimson Glow Photography found on Sublime Frequencies label website

Carla Bozulich & Francesco Guerri @ Café Oto

Carla Bozulich & Francesco Guerri
Dalston Café Oto. 03may10.

Each time Carla Bozulich brings her Evangelista band to the UK, it is rarely with the exact same personnel. This tour is a little different still, seeing her on equal billing with the cellist Francesco Guerri. The fact that they used to group themselves under the name Bloody Claws might give a few clues as to the coarseness of the music. Guerri bows and plucks with free-improvisational dexterity, whilst Carla works over her guitar and effect pedals to parade a dissonant, abrasive blare.

These passages, it might be fair to say, can meander a bit, particular when both Carla and Francesco, at various points in a set attacked at the shins by technical issues, are forced to cover the frantic swapping of leads and desperate sound-seeking strum of the other with some hectic noise on the fly.

When it works, it’s powerful stuff but, as with any Carla Bozulich performance, it is when she opens her mouth to sing that the performance really comes alive, and particularly when it is just her voice in unison with Guerri’s innovative, thorny playing. In this duo scenario, one might suggest she ditch the guitar altogether, as the best moments, and some of the more inelegant ones, happen when it is sitting untouched at the back of the stage.

Without it hanging from her neck, Carla instead trails the mic around as she weaves in and out of the crowd. One initial foray ends awkwardly as she catches an ankle on her foot monitor and falls dramatically backwards, like David Jason through an open hatch.

This does not curtail the abandon of her movement though as she continues to venture out, commandeering chairs, pirouetting like a toddling ballerina lost in a daydream or leaning her entire body weight onto the back of one chap sat in the front row whilst unleashing the full callused power of her vocal range.

When fully flaunted, it is like a feral growl contained in a rickety cage; burnt yet eager, sharing the kind of ragged timbre one might associate with the Rev. C.L. Franklin as he looms over a pulpit roaring the gospel. It is torch singing as though from the gaping mouth of a fiery apocalypse.

Whether layered over cello drone, guitar spite or just unaccompanied, Carla Bozulich as a performer and as a vocalist is arresting, spell-binding and not a little haunting.

Previously, on Vanity Project.
27apr08:  Evangelista @ The Old Blue Last.
06jun07:  Carla Bozulich @ The Spitz.

pic: Carla Bozulich (Evangelista) playing at Café Oto in October 2009

Micachu & The Shapes with The London Sinfonietta @ King’s Place

Micachu & The Shapes with The London Sinfonietta.
King’s Place. 01may10.

When a piece of work provokes what the cynical might call ‘the law of diminishing returns’, there is a positive spin that can equally be applied, relating to the strength of that initial impact.

For example, in the four times I watched Micachu & The Shapes in 2009, they were never so good as they were the first time around. The only exception to this rule was during the encore to that fourth show when they hooked up with tour-mates The Invisible for a collective cover of Paul McCartney’s very-80’s electro single Temporary Secretary, which was astonishing. Thanks, one assumes, to that element of surprise.

This is perhaps The Shapes’ greatest weapon in much the same way the first Fall album you come across tends to remain your favourite. However, it does put pressure on them to turnover the material, and indeed their style, at a rapid rate. Although, of course, this is no guarantee of artistic success.

Indeed, the non-album material that was aired on those later dates last year hinted at a more dirge-based direction, rather than the scratchy giddiness of great album tracks like Lips and Vulture. If I’m honest it didn’t quite seem to fit.

However, this collaboration with the London Sinfonietta, as part of the latter’s ‘Experiment’ festival, makes sense of it. Mica Levi, Shape-leader, is a classically trained musician and composer and, despite her youth, has already composed for the London Philharmonic Orchestra.

This is her 50 minute score, Chopped & Screwed, essentially a brand new set-list weaved together like the Bayeaux Tapestry; an avant-garde symphony sharing its aesthetic quality in places with both the austere and the more aggressive moments in Scott Walker’s string score for ‘The Drift’.

There are sparse moments which complement the John Cage and Christian Wolff pieces that five of the Sinfonietta had performed in the first half by way of warm-up, whilst other interludes see all the players tapping at their violins, cellos and wind instruments like amphetamine-fed woodpeckers. Reflective vocals and samples weave in and out whilst one passage is reportedly anchored on the speech patterns from slowed-down hip-hop records.

It’s never been in doubt that Mica is brimming with musical ideas, perhaps too many for a common-or-garden band making an assault on the pop charse or even just the indie/alternative consciousness. As such, so you can well see her and the Shapes (whose contribution should not being ignored, drummer Marc Pell doing a fine job of conducting the pace of the Sinfonietta players at various points) ploughing a more ambitious furrow than merely the indie toilet circuit.

Then again, you can imagine that that ambition might not necessarily manifest itself orchestrally, it could equally be a hardcore grime record, an album of ‘English folk music’ to reflect the modern shape of East London, or the pursuit of the perfect avant-pop sound.

Hopefully it won’t be any of those and Micachu & The Shapes will continue to strike out with the shock of the new.