Christopher Nosnibor
This is the first time I’ve felt so conspicuously old that I’ve felt the compulsion to lurk in the shadows and hope I’m invisible. The sensation is compounded by the fact I’ve done something to my back and it’s agony to transition between sitting and standing, and to pick up my pint from near my feet. It would have been so easy to declare turning out too much effort, but beer and live music usually proves to be the best medicine, and so it is once again tonight.
Still/Moving probably count as a rock band by contemporary standards, but they’re a blend of indie and emo and are, essentially, a pop band. They’re also very much a typical university band, finding their feet and padding out a limited number of original compositions with covers. They cover a song by 21 Pilots. They cover ‘Alley Rose’ by Conan Gray. The singer hasn’t quite figured out her moves or what to do when she’s not singing, but they sound solid, with some nice fluid, rolling drumming. Whether this is their limit and they’ll peter out by the time of their finals, or they’ll evolve , only time will tell.
Still/Moving
Every time I see Cowgirl I hear something different, even with the same or similar setlists. There are some new songs making their debut here, and the US alt-rock of Pavement with a light dash of country and some West Coast breeziness which define their sound are all present as ever, but now I’m hearing a bit of Dinosaur Jr, too. Tonight is their first time out in a while, but if they’re remotely rusty, it’s not evident out front. And just as was the case when I caught them back in September, they crank it up and rock out, the twin guitars and dual vocals of Danny Barton and San Coates switching back and forth. The contrasting styles work so well. Sam’s breaks, like his stage presence, is contained, displaying a certain precision and constraint, whereas Danny is far more flamboyant, at times going full Neil Young in his feedback-laden fretwork, fully wigging out. Again, the set concludes with an immense, climactic finale with a devastating wall of sound. This is how to warm things up on a cold January night.
Cowgirl
BirdLands (not to be confused with late 80s / early 90s indie act Birdland – the additional ‘s’ in conjunction with the mid-name capitalisation suggesting perhaps the enactment of a verb rather than some geographical location) have been going a few years now, performing their first gig in 2022, and released their debut album in 2024. And yet somehow, they’ve bypassed me – perhaps on account of their live outings being comparatively rare, with their last performance being in July last year. Small wonder this hometown crowd is pleased to see them.
From the moment they take the stage, it’s clear that this is a band with both confidence and ability, and confidence in their ability, too. With two guitars, keyboard, sax, and trumpet, there’s considerable scope for arrangements, and for a band who describe themselves as ‘Post-Punk-Art-Rock’ a significant amount of jazz and funk happens, quite often simultaneously. The bassist is tight and versatile, nailing down some solid grooves and occasionally slipping in some slap action, and in conjunction with the drummer, they make for one strong rhythm section. There’s a lot going on here, with Arctic Monkeys being one of the more obvious touchstones, and not just on account of the wordplay and the unabashed northernness they exude. The lead singer certainly channels Alex Turner in his inflection at times, but then there are dashes of Brett Anderson here and there, and with the incorporation of yelps and whoops, Mark E. Smith as interpreted via James Smith (of Post war Glamour Girls / Yard Act).
BirdLands
And while most of the stylings are nineties / noughties, some of the interplay between the sax and buoyant bass action is straight out of the Eighties. It’s not just that there’s a lot going on: it’s a lot to process. But there is absolutely no denying their quality. The songs are masterfully composed and arranged, they’re tight, they’re together, they perform rather than simply play. Now they need to expand their horizons beyond York.
Aural Aggravation 