Brudenell Social Club | Aural Aggravation

Posts Tagged ‘Brudenell Social Club’

Big | Brave / Fågelle / Thank – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 11th April 2022

Posted: 12 April 2022 in Live
Tags: BIG | BRAVE, Brudenell Social Club, Fågelle, Heavy, Intense, Leeds, Live Review, Loud, Noise, Swans, texture, Thank, transcendental, Volume

Christopher Nosnibor

Big | Brave have been garnering increasing attention with each release, but album number five, Vital, released last year represented something of a breakthrough, not because it was a departure, but the perfect fulfilment of all of the promise shown previously, distilling the full force of their sonic elements into one mighty, megalithic document. Consequently, anticipation for this tour has been getting pretty warm, with a number of UK dates – including tonight’s – selling out in advance.

We’re in the newer, slightly smaller Community Room at the Brudenell tonight, and the room benefits from being wide rather than deep, meaning there’s more stage to be in front of, and first to tread the boards are Leeds noisemongers Thank, who are no strangers to Aural Aggravation, And it’s Freddy Vinehill-Cliffe’s second time on stage at the Brudenell in just four days, after his turn with Beige Palace supporting Mclusky on Friday. While the two bands do share some similarities, Thank are very much of the noise-rock persuasion, with the emphasis on noise, and they’re straight in with some twisted shouty funk noise that collapses into a maelstrom of noise.

Thank

Throughout the set, there’s a lot of feedback and a lot of noise, and it’s remarkably heavy in places. It’s typically Leeds noise rock par excellence. The current lineup is something of a supergroup, and there are so many personalities in one band: Steve Myles’ tom-heavy drumming is hard but also nuanced and his technique is fascinating to watch, and only Theo Gowans would play a bank of FX with a spring and a fork, and Freddie manages to scoff a few crisps between songs, too. Penultimate song is new, ‘Dead Dog in a Ditch’ is Fall meets Sonic Youth meets Blacklisters, while the closer, ‘Dread’ is pure Fall, Leeds style, with a bass riff reminiscent of ‘Blindness’ while Freddie hollers on that ‘there’s never been a good band from London’. It’s chaotic and discordant, but also quite wonderful.

Fågelle proves to be an absolute revelation. An understated presence, her music combines trickling ambience and screeding noise swirling around the most delicate of post rock… But when the distortion kicks in, things get heavy. She rode out some early technical issues, which were perhaps to be expected given the mountain of pedals, seemingly unphased. The setup appears to be a combination of guitar and electronics, and she switched from conventionally-played guitar to using a bow, and paired with an eerie, haunted-sounding voice, the effect is powerful. Towards the end, she Contact mic on throat? The performance hits levels of volume that makes the ears itch, particularly as she builds to a tempestuous finale.

Fågelle

There are no itchy ears when Big | Brave strike up: it’s ear-bleeding in an instant. As someone who likes to get right down to the front to see close-up what’s happening on stage, I find my face melting, positioned as I am with Mathieu Ball’s immense rig just feet away. Fuck! Look at those guitar rigs! The interplay between Ball and Robin Wattie is something to behold; Ball barely strums a single chord during the entire set, instead shredding shards of sculptured feedback from amps the size of tanks, and he does so in the most physical of ways, lurching and lumbering like a wounded beast.

Big | Brave

The setup is sparse, but effective: retina seering white lights are directed forward toward the crowd, and the punishing glare is a fitting backdrop to the trio’s eardrum-busting volume. It’s immense, intense, and powerful, but wouldn’t work as well without Tasy Hudson’s powerhouse percussion, which is heavy and so, so slow. Seconds elapse between beats. Every crushing chord is the sound of breaking. Wattie’s vocals sit somewhere between Bjork and Alison Shaw of Cranes – manic and vulnerable – against the pulverising chords matched by the most punishing volume. Despite the absence of a bass guitar, there’s a gut-gripping low-end churn as they grind out a sound reminiscent of the sawing trudge of Swans circa 1986. My skin crawls and I itch all over. There are no breaks between songs, just more feedback and sustain. Ball and Wattie squeeze more existential pain from their guitars by jamming necks against amps and bending against the headstock: Ball gives a masterclass in brutal guitar work. They don’t speak lest the spell might be broken, and the audience is silent, stunned, awed.

Big | Brave

Time stands still as Big | Brave blast out the most blisteringly intense set: its weight is cataclysmically devastating. This is more than merely music. This… this is transcendental. This is where words fail me. Beyond awesome.

Emma Ruth Rundle / Jo Quail / Dystopian Future Movies – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 27th September 2019

Posted: 28 September 2019 in Live
Tags: Brudenell Social Club, Cello, Dystopian Future Movies, Emma Ruth Rundle, Emotive, Goth Shoegaze, Jo Quail, Leeds, Post Rock

Christopher Nosnibor

Over the course of the last eleven years, Emma Ruth Rundle has been busy, and has built a fair body of work in various forms, and her third solo album, On dark Horses has not only cemented her position with existing fans but also expanded her fan-base, resulting in tonight’s 400-plus capacity show close to a sell-out in advance.

It’s getting busy by the time Nottingham’s Dystopian Future Movies take the stage at 7:30, and on the strength of their releases to date and a strong set supporting Grave Lines at Wharf Chambers back in February, it’s not entirely surprising. The demographic spans a fair range of ages, but is characterised by long-haired gothy / hippie women and bearded hipster blokes. I swear they follow me around.

With a lineup of two guitars, bass, and drums, they’re a fairly conventional rock act, but their blend of post-rock, shoegaze and a dash of sludgy metal, they’re far from conventional musically. The set begins with an ethereal intro. The songs are defined by delicate, detailed, musicianship and spectacular crescendos, but they’re also liable to pulling back when least expected. With rolling drums and soaring vocals, ‘Countenance’ exploits the quiet / loud dynamic to the max. Their allure is not in the volume or force, but the threat, as if they’ve got a lot in reserve, simmering beneath the surface. And with grace and dynamic range, they’re a uniquely exciting act.

Dystopian Future Movies

It’s nice to see Jo Quail play a set that doesn’t start before the doors open (as was the case when she supported both Mono and Boris last year). She’s an artist who’s hard to place, but on a bill between Dystopian Future Movies and Emma Ruth Rundle, her brooding, turbulent cello works are a wonderful fit. Rapping out military tattoos and rolling thunder and sounds like nothing on earth, her mastery of her instrument is only matched by the passion with which she plays it. She opens with ‘White Salt Stag,’ and puts everything into her playing: hers is a very physical performance, which sees her channel the music through her body, while she conjures drama and otherworldly sound, layered upon layer of sound. It’s not quite going to plan for her technically with the looping, but it keeps it real and exciting. The third track of her set is ‘Reya Pavan’, the bonus track on the forthcoming Exsolve vinyl, which she’s performed (and by her admission, fucked up) only three times previously. It’s dark, spare, and brooding. She plays ‘Mandrel Cantus’ next, and it a bass throb and thrust with subsonic grooves and mewling top strings draped over an industrial rhythm. She finishes with ‘Adder Stone’, and it’s completely captivating.

Jo Quail

From the off, Emma Ruth Rundle and her band create captivating shoegaze cathedrals of sound, the likes of which have the power to evoke deep emotions. Despite being a solo artist, this is very much a band effort. The drummer looks particularly young, but they’re a tight unit. Watching the audience responses, it’s evident that for some, this is a deeply moving, spiritual experience. ‘So, Come’ hits a peak of near-transcendence. If she veers into vaguely emo territory at times, it’s actually okay. I wouldn’t normally say that, but she carries off those softer, more accessible moments with sincerity and the bursts of noise that characterise her set convey more than words ever could. Her delivery is disarmingly straightforward. She’s not big on between-song chat and mumbles a bit. And that’s okay. We’re here for the songs.

Emma Ruth Rundle

They depart – and swiftly return – in a tempest of noise to perform an encore consisting of the new single ‘You Don’t Need to Cry,’ before Emma performs ‘Real Big Sky’ solo. It’s an incredible moment, and as the lights come up, many remain rooted to the spot transfixed by the performance they’ve just witnessed. And when you see that, you know you’ve seen something special.

Daughters / Jessica93 – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 19th April 2019

Posted: 20 April 2019 in Live
Tags: Brudenell Social Club, Daughters, Grunge, Industrial, Intense, Jessica93, math rock, Shoegaze

Christopher Nosnibor

I simply wasn’t prepared for this. I’ve been digging the latest Daughters album, You Won’t Get What You Want so hard for months. I’d been told by various sources that live they were killer: in particular, they absolutely fucking slayed at Roadburn. I’d not had the best of days, and was primed for beer consumption and catharsis through the medium of music. And yet, I was nowhere near prepared.

It’s a sell-out and filling out nicely early doors, and despite having been advertises as being in he community room, I’m elated to discover that it’s the (also sold-out) Alabama 3 gig that’s in there and that Daughters are playing in the (and it pains me to say it but it’s true) iconic main room. It’s a broad demographic, ad while there’s the inevitable proliferation of beards, the age span is broad, there are several Dillinger Escape Plan T-shirts and a gothy woman is sporting a ‘Visualise Total Annihilation’ Swans T-shirt like the one I’ve left in the laundry at home.

Jessica93, it transpires, is usually a band, but on this occasion is a solo artist, and a guy in a baggy wide-striped jumper and faded blue jeans with long hard and a fairly simple-looking pedal set-up, although it turns out said pedals run through three separate amps, and there’s a loop pedal in there. Geoff Laporte arrives on stage, throws down his leather jacket with zippy clatter and after some trouble with leads, he kicks the drum machine into action. He thrashes out a few guitar chords, and then swapping the guitar for bass, begins to layer things up. The songs are a grunge meets goth hybrid with a hefty shoegaze twist. The expansive, layered, guitar-driven and emotionally-wrought opuses call to mind the late, lamented and criminally underrated God Machine; elsewhere, snaking guitars, solid basslines and humping, fill-riven drum sequences are pure March Violets / Red Lorry Yellow Lorry / Sisters of Mercy. Cranes and The Cure are also worth a mention as reference points. And while a lot of loopers are hesitant, and tend to focus in vocals and simple arrangements, this performance stands out by virtue of Laporte’s first-take assuredness, and the fact he actually manages to sound like a full band – and a bloody good one at that – creating a dense, driving sound. At the end of a fantastic set, he petulantly kicks his kit tone side and walks from the stage. On balance it’s a cool finale and finish.

Jessica93

Daughters don’t immediately strike as cool as such. They’re rapturously received as the packed-out crowd press forward and they open with ‘The Reason They Hate Me’, a jarring, jolting mess of Jesus Lizard-influenced nihilism that’s ruptured by a nagging synth groove just when it threatens to collapse into noise. For all the squalling fury and abrasive intensity Alexis S.F. Marshall presents quite affably: he may be overtly channelling hard, but bouncing back and forth from foot to foot and side to side with each beat, the suited and booted front man seems almost buoyant, chipper, as he bounds through a set dominated by cuts from the latest album, ploughing into ‘The Lords Song’ second and throwing down the magnificent groove of ‘Satan in the Wait’ third. Small wonder the moshing gets going early: for although ‘Satan’ is sparse, sinewy, it’s got all the ingredients of a monster. And delivered at eardrum-pummelling volume, with that snarling, gnarling, subterranean bass grind, it’s hits hard, balancing emotive euphoria and cathartic release. People loft their arms and sing along… up… up….

You Won’t Get What You Want dominates the set list, but they do venture back to their 2010 eponymous album for ‘The Virgin’, ‘The Hit’, and ‘Our Queen’, and dredge ‘Daughters Spelled Wrong’, ‘Recorded Inside a Pyramid’ from 2006’s Hell Songs. Tracking back over their career, their evolution has been immense, but ignoring their earliest work and compressing their last decade actually sits well in context of a band who almost ceased to exist midway through a now-expansive career, it’s a reminder of how unpredictable a band Daughters are.

Daughters

And everything starts to turn toward the end of the set, following the submerged sleaze of ‘Less Sex’, which provides some respite and a moment’s simmering amidst the squall. From hereon in, the band become more manic, and the audience more frenzied. It’s a subtle but gradual shift that accelerates as they announce the last three songs, which culminate in an extended rendition of ‘Ocean’.

Daughters

It’s a blur. Marshall is out in the crowd more than once and deliver his anguished hectoring from various points at the back of the auditorium for a lengthy spell. On returning to the stage, bloody bashes on his forehead, his shirt’s off, his thick leather belt’s off and he’s lashing himself with it, while standing on a monitor turned on its end. Welts appear before our eyes on his back and chest and he flagellates and the crowd frenzies.

There is nowhere to go from here.

Amenra / Boris / Jo Quail – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 20th February 2018

Posted: 25 February 2018 in Live
Tags: Amenra, Boris, Brudenell Social Club, Double Headline, Heavy, Jo Quail, Leeds, Live Review

Christopher Nosnibor

Talk about a serious double-header: two very different bands for different continents, Boris and Amenra offer different types of heaviness, which, it transpires, compliment one another nicely when performed side by side. For tonight’s show, the last UK date of their extensive European tour together, they’re not so much side by side as in the vicinity or cross-aisle. The Brudenell’s compact stage paired with the vast backline of the two bands means there simply isn’t space for one band’s kit to stack in front of the other, meaning that they’ve been forced to split the event across the venue’s two rooms.

Walking into the recently-constructed, custom-built and really rather nice ‘Community Room’ which is situated to the rear of the original venue space and incorporates a lobby space and toilets, I find the entire audience facing toward the sound desk, in front of which Jo Quail is playing, wringing sounds beyond imagination and in manifold layers. As the PA is to the rear of the auditorium as it’s facing, it’s a little disorienting to hear the sound before you swelling in waves from behind. Quail is a superb performer, and her performance is captivating. I lack the guts to tell her so as she orders a drink standing next to me at the bar afterwards.

Jo Quail

Celebrated amplifier worshippers Boris’ most recent album, Dear, marks something of a return to their most thunderous, Melvins-influenced, riff-centric form, and the set for this tour to promote is essentially the album in sequence. It works well.

Boris

The set begins sounding like the end, i.e. the same, but also with extended power chords and fractured percussion that conventionally signal, the slowing and crashing finale of a performance. In between, while dominated by colossal guitars and thunderous drums, often hammered at a BPM that barely hits double figures. Drummer Atsuo Mizuno stands proud drum stick held aloft for what feels like forever before landing a stick against skin once more, to devastating effect. And that’s before he rains blows against the immense gong to the rear of the stage, sending seismic ripples of oud every whichway.

I forget where I am as smoke fills the stage and even from the front row the band become invisible. The set is essentially based around playing Dear in sequence. But rather than being predictable, pushing it in this way in a live setting highlights the band’s – and the album’s – diversity, switching between crawling doom and face-melting psychedelia. It also features some of the most unconventional-sounding accordion work you’re ever likely to witness.

Boris

They depart to rapturous applause, and rightly so. They’re on form, and to witness the Japanese trio crank out this much guitar and smoke in a 400-capacity room feel like a real privilege.

Moving to the main room, the front rows are rapidly filling out, and, like Boris, Amenra are uncommonly punctual in starting their set following a very short gap between bands. There are signs up around the venue to remind punters that segments of Amenra’s set is extremely quiet and that they’d appreciate the artists be respected. It’s fair play: I’d like to think the band’s fans are the kind of people who’d be respectful, but then, I’ve attended many shows where people have paid £20 for a ticket only to blab loudly to their mates, drowning out the band and ruining my experience in the process. It’s a bit different here tonight: when the band are whacking out megawatts even when quiet, there’s no danger of chat interfering. Nevertheless, it’s pleasing to see that everyone is happy to shut the fuck up and watch the band.

While Boris are notable for their range, Amenra tread a much narrower furrow and grind deep into it, working instead the dynamics of the quiet, moody passages against explosive riffs that plough on slow and heavy for an eternity. It begins with darkness and incense and a clanking monotonous rhythm. Their set is a career-spanning effort, which focuses on the more succinct and direct songs from their albums to date and only lifts a brace from their latest megalithic offering, Mass VI.

Amenra

Colin H. van Eeckhout spends the majority of the set with his back to the audience, either with the hood of his hoodie pulled up tight, or his distinctive and substantial back tattoo making a strong visual statement. In contrast, the guitarists clamour toward the front, throwing the heaviest chords into the crowd with a punishing force. This is dynamics. The band revel in utilising the full force of the extended quiet passage followed by sudden and well-timed explosions of monstrous riffage. And when they hit overdrive, you know it. This isn’t just music, they’re not mere chords: every bar is a body blow, and Eeckhout’s howls of anguish are almost drowned in the immense wall of sound blasting from the towering backline.

It’s intense, and then some, and to witness Amenra and Boris in succession is more than some humans could possibly handle. But ultimately, it makes sense. The differences make for a much-needed contrast, while the parallels make for the perfect compliment. It doesn’t get much better than this.

Black Moth / Grave Lines / Dream Tröll – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 16th February 2018

Posted: 19 February 2018 in Live
Tags: 16th February 2018, Anatoical Venus, Black Moth, Brudenell Social Club, Doom, Dream Tröll, Grave Lines, Hard Rock, Heavy, Leeds, Live Review, Metal, Riffs, Stoner

Christopher Nosnibor

It’s clear we’re in very (old-school) metal territory here. Denim jackets with patches galore, and T-shirts emblazoned with pointy lettering. Studs. Piercing. Tattoos. Beards. At least I have a beard, even if it’s not very metal.

Dream Tröll (let’s not even start on that) have brought a fair few mates, most of whom are willing to participate in their awkward waving of rock ‘horns’. They’re polished (apart from the false start at the very beginning of the set) but seriously overblown in their Iron Maidenisms and the Spinal Tap posturing. Each of the guitars has additional strings – all the more to widdle on. It’s corny, cliché, and a bit cringey, especially the singer’s moves. The ten-minute overrun on a half-hour slot really doesn’t swing it for me, although no-one else seems too fussed.

Grave Lines, who’ve supported the mighty Moth on this tour are an altogether different proposition. Stripped back, minimal and uncluttered inn every way, theirs is a sound that’s dark, slow, and spacious. Dolorous bass notes boom a sonorous death knell. It’s heavy, the anguish and nihilism pouring in a copious spate from every note, every thunderous, crashing beat, every crushing, pulverising power chord. It’s epic and then some: the guitarist unleashes one of the most insane and brutal screeching solos I’ve heard in ages around eight minutes into the set’s opening song. Drummer Julia Owen looks demur but is a hard hitter, and hammers out some complex, machine-like rhythms. It all coalesces to create something grainy and intense that sits somewhere between Neurosis and Godflesh. Oh, and the guitar sustain! It really does go on forever.

Grave Lines

Last night of the tour, and the well-polished Back Moth are back home to celebrate their return. And it’s a triumphant one. They’re straight on, straight in, heads down and banging. On their third album and after extensive touring, they’ve got it nailed.

‘Istra’, ‘Moonbow’, and ‘Severed Grace’, all from the new album, Anatomical Venus kick start the set. The album isn’t even out yet, but they feel well-embedded, and the audience respond like they’re familiar favourites.

They don’t chat all that much, but instead let the songs speak for themselves. Actions speak louder than words, and guitars speak louder than anything. Harrier air-guitars unselfconsciously, and everything about the band feels natural. Moreover, they do really look like they’re enjoying themselves. And so they should. Especially when the members of Grave Lines race on stage and empty sacks full of balloons (black and purple, of course) all over during ‘Loomer’, giving the show an 80s Top of the Pops / party vibe, and the support act’s front man Jake Harding joins the band to perform ‘Tourmaline’: the dual vocal brings an almost Alice in Chains quality which accentuates the band’s more grunge-inspired leanings, and reminds that Black Moth, for all of their classic hard rock credentials are a band with some range.

Black Moth

If my numerous of Black Moth from over the last few years – and, indeed, over the span of much of their career – could probably be boiled down rather embarrassingly to riffy riff riff, it’s a fair summary of what they do, and now more than ever. With Anatomical Venus they’ve draw it all righter and kicked it up heavier, and with the new set drawing largely – and confidently – on the new material, the Moth really pack in the riffs to deliver a cracking set. If ever a band was at the top of their game, it’s Black Moth right now.

Post War Glamour Girls / Blacklisters – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 21st April 2017

Posted: 22 April 2017 in Live
Tags: album launch, Blacklisters, Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, Live Review, Post War Glamour Girls, Riffs, Swan Songs

Christopher Nosnibor

As if the promise of hearing Post War Glamour Girls’ third album in its entirety on the day of its release in the best venue anywhere ever wasn’t quite enough of a draw, then the addition of Blacklisters to the bill had clincher written all over it.

Billy’s chugging red wine from a plastic cup and Dan’s guitar’s feeding back continuously as they piledrive into ‘Swords’ to start the set. Billy’s down in front of the stage, limbs gangling as he sways and lurches around unpredictably. The feedback between songs proves to be an issue throughout the set and becomes a running gag, but it doesn’t blight the music itself, and a thunderous ‘Shirts’ is dispatched early on. Most of the set is culled from second album, Adult, which makes for a succession of brutal riffs, and with the band playing in near darkness, it doesn’t make for an easy gig from an audience perspective. But then, since when were Blacklisters about making things easy? That said, they do round the set off with a couple of crowd-pleasers from the back catalogue, in the shape of ‘Clubfoot by Kasabian’ and, of course, the obligatory ‘Trick Fuck’.

Blacklisters

Having spent the last two months listening to Post War Glamour Girls’ Swan Songs on almost a loop, I knew exactly what to expect from Leeds’ finest tonight, and it looks as though there are a few others in the room who’ve had the privilege of an advance listen. For the remainder, though, only a handful of tracks have been streamed on-line (that, and a spin of ‘Big Trip’ on Radio 1 a couple of weeks back).

James Smith leads the band on and sets the tone in typically brazen style, promising a set with ‘none of that old shite – fuck that.’ “Progressive – move forward,” he says, setting a pitch which pretty much encapsulates the band’s ethos as it’s been from day one. You can bet that by the end of the tour, half of tonight’s set will have been ditched as being ‘old shite’ in favour of material in development for album number four.

There aren’t many albums, even among the ones I would consider my favourites and would happily listen to day in, day out, that I’d actually want to hear played in sequence live. A live set is simply a very different animal, and while it’s generally done to reserve the best material for the end of a show, the album format more often places the stronger tracks to the fore – or in the case of great albums where the songs are all consistently strong, then there’s a greater attention to the balance of the material. So, what tonight’s set highlights is just what a diverse and well-sequenced as well as consistent album Swan Songs is.

Yes, it opens with a hooky indie rock tune in the shape of ‘Guiding Light’ before piling in with one of my personal favourites, ‘Chipper’. Eighty percent of bands would plummet into a descent for the remainder of the set having shot their load at the start, but with the softer, subtle nagging groove of ‘Gull Rips a Worm to Rags,’ Post War Glamour Girls change tone and tempo but without tailing off. The band are sounding good and very much together, and the sound quality out front is excellent – which is a good thing as there’s an awful lot of detail and texture on Swan Songs of the kind often lost in a performance setting.

Smith dominates the stage, prowling and hollering, occasionally stepping to the edge of the stage and looming into the crowd as he moves into messianic rant mode: this is Post War Glamour Girls at their best, at home in front of a receptive audience and jamming out some hard volume.

Post War Glamour Girls

Another reason Swan Songs works as a live set is because it actually does pick up the page and the edge toward the end, and after the bruising pop dynamics of ‘Pollyanna Cowgirl’, the delicately chiming ‘Golden Time’, and the lugubrious reflections of ‘Sea of Rains’, ‘Welfare by Prozac’ cranks up the angular angst with its sinewy guitars, thumping drums and thick, rolling bass.

I’ve already frothed effusively about the album’s climactic closer, ‘Divine Decline,’ and sure enough, they more than do it justice on the night. And, as the stage is deluged in thousands upon thousands of white feathers, it feels like a fitting finale to a proper album launch.

Post War Glamour Girls

They leave the stage briefly (to get more beer, it’s not a fucking encore, we’re told) and return with ‘Sestra,’ which affords Smith the opportunity to give full throat to his hollering style, and returning to the epic closers they excel at, end the set with an immense rendition of ‘Cannonball Villages’, where, incredibly, they step it up a gear for the closing minutes. Finally, they depart in a screed of feedback and a drifting carpet of feathered carnage. Swan Songs has officially landed.

Near Meth Experience / The Membranes / Chris Catalyst – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 27th November 2016

Posted: 2 December 2016 in Albums
Tags: Batfish Boys, Benefit, Brudenell Social Club, Chris Catalyst, Fundraiser, John Robb, Leeds, Near Meth Experience, Simon Denbigh, Simon Detroit, The March Violets, The Membranes, Utah Saints

Christopher Nosnibor

Some years ago, Andrew Eldritch mooted the proposal that if Donald Trump became president there would be another Sisters of Mercy album. He probably thought it was a safe bet – surely we all did – and if anything, considered it as a joke rather than a serious threat. But that was before Brexit and the coin-flip which saw the mad world take a turn for the madder, and in an instant, The Day Today ceased to be satire and became reality. It’s a reality many of us are still struggling to come to terms with.

Still, the Trump’s election to presidency has afforded Eldritch a fair amount of press exposure, not least of all courtesy of Louder than War, which coincided perfectly with a Sisters UK tour. It’s all coming together: Manchester legend John Robb is the man behind LTW, and also the firebrand frontman of The Membranes, and also Goldblade, who supported The Sisters a while back (and were cracking at the Leeds show). And then there are the DJs: none other than Utah Saints. The last time I caught the Saints, it was at the Leeds Town & Country (now the O2), playing a benefit gig for Shelter, with The Wedding Present, Cud, The Mission, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, La Costa Rasa, and others, on the bill, and a certain Andrew Eldritch joining them to perform ‘New Gold Dream’ and ‘Gimme Shelter’ (badly). Tonight, they’re spinning some awesome cuts, many of a 90s vintage but also some cracking mash-ups and mixes.

Like that show back in ’93, tonight isn’t really about The Sisters of Mercy, or their premier covers band, Near Meth Experience who are the headliners on this occasion. This is a fundraiser for March Violet and longstanding Sisters tour crew member Si Denbigh (aka Nurse to the Doktor), who recently suffered a life-changing stroke and facing an immense bill for reconfiguring his home to accommodate his needs. As a member of the Violets, The Batfish Boys, and a general stalwart of the Leeds scene for over 30 years, it’s unsurprising people are keen to chip in, and as a fan of both the Violets and the Sisters since around 1987, I include myself among them.

But this is still a gig, albeit one with a raffle and suggested donation of at least a tenner for entry, and I’m here as a punter rather than press. The atmosphere is brilliant: strangers talk about previous Sisters shows and the like, and I chat with a guy who’s travelled from Brighton for this, and it transpires he first saw the Sisters play live at the same Wembley Arena show I attended in 1990, as well as the tenth anniversary show at Leeds University Refectory a year later – and he’s wearing the T-shirt to prove it (mine’s in a drawer at home). It feels more like a party, a gathering, than anything else. And so, the music is in many respects secondary, but seeing acts of this stature in such a setting – not only intimate, but the best venue anywhere ever – is a big deal.

Chris Catalyst entertains, and makes for a good opener: in fact, he’s good fun, kicking out a mix of original songs and covers, with a singalong rendition of A-Ha’s ‘Take On Me’ proving to be something of a highlight.

The Membranes are the fucking Membranes, and frankly, no-one can match them for sheer power. John Robb has all the (dark) energy in the world, and The Membranes power through a blistering set culled primarily from Dark Energy, with one backwards nod to their initial 70s iteration. Their power is immense and Robb is eternally ferocious in his bass-brandishing antics as he charges from one end of the stage to the other and leaps, pouring sweat, like he’s hardwired into the mains. He wears crazy shoes. I’ve no idea about the bird heads.

The Membranes

Near Meth Experience recreate the high drama and atmosphere of a Sisters of Mercy show to absolute perfection. Credit has to go to both band and venue for the fact that a band who frequently play festivals and immense venues on the mainland and in South America, and who have just run a tour packing out venues of 1,500 to 2,000 capacity can create the same sound and visuals in a 400-capacity space. The buzz is intense: there’s no barrier and the stage is just the right height for sitting your pint on while observing, and getting down.

The set – shaved to a precise hour – is immaculate in every way. Von doesn’t engage in any chat: in fact, he doesn’t speak and looks pretty uncomfortable, lurking as far back as its possible on such a small stage for much of the set. But the fact he’s an introvert who happens to be in the contradictory – and uncomfortable – role of fronting a rock band is justification enough, and being in such close proximity to a fervent crowd must only make it harder. Even with all the smoke, there’s not really anywhere to hide at a show like this. Besides, it’s all an integral part of the band’s mystique / appeal. Ben Christo slings his axe with wild abandon as they crank out classics old and less old (‘Crash and Burn’ was an instant classic when it first appeared in the set in 2000, and I never tire of hearing it, and ‘Arms’ is similarly ace now it’s bedded in).

They open with ‘More’. ‘Amphetamine Logic’ is delivered with a bolt of adrenaline, and the inclusion of their cover of Red Lorry Yellow Lorry’s ‘Gift That Shines’ alongside ‘Giving Ground’ and the inevitable ‘Alice’ makes for a satisfying set-list. Winding up with an encore comprising ‘Vision Thing’, ‘Lucretia’, ‘Temple of Love’ and ‘This Corrosion’, it’s a perfectly formed show. But of course, it’s more than that: this is a perfectly formed show in a tiny venue, in relative terms, it’s a big deal. For me, it’s my all-time favourite band in my all-tie favourite venue. It really doesn’t get better than this.

Colossus of Destiny: A Melvins Tale

Posted: 20 November 2016 in Films and Documentaries
Tags: Bob Hannam, Brudenell Social Club, Buzz Osborne, Colossus of Destiny: A Melvins Tale, Dale Crover, Dinosaur Jr, Documentary, Film Review, Ipecac Recordings, Jello Biafra, Krist Novoselic, Mike Paton, Nirvana, Special Screening

The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 13th November 2016

Christopher Nosnibor

As I’m not a resident of Leeds, my time in the city largely consists of pegging it to and from pubs and music venues on an evening. It’s a cold, damp November Sunday afternoon, but the city streets are bustling with shoppers. The Christmas Market is teeming. I watch some people enjoying a fake snow fight in a giant snow globe. Passing through the university campus there are virtually tumbleweeds. Where are the students? In bed or shopping at 3.30pm, I suspect. Or working to earn a crust towards their immense tuition fees. The Brudenell is the perfect oasis, something of a home from home for me. I’m early so settle with a pint of Kirkstall Back Band Porter (5.5% ABV), a packet of salted peanuts and an Ed McBain novel.

Ahead of its global DVD release in the spring of 2017, producer Bob Hannam is taking his film – many, many years in the making, and finally realised with the assistance of Ryan Sutherby and a well-supported Kickstarter campaign, which saw some 982 people chip in to enable the film to be edited and ultimately released – around a select number of venues. After a handful of US dates and a London screening, and ahead of a return stateside, it feels like an immense privilege to be able to sit and enjoy the fruits of his labours in the Brudenell Games Room.

The roll-call of interviewees all pitching in with reminiscences or simply expressing love for the band is remarkable, and is credit to Hannam’s networking skils, and testament to The Melvins and just how well-liked and respected they are. Krist Novoselic. Jello Biafra. Josh Homme. Mark Arm. Lou Barlow. Keith Morris. Donita Sparks. JG Thirlwell. Mike Patton. David Yow. Greg Anderson. Frank Kozik. Lustmord. The list goes on: many of the talking heads are collaborators, Gene Simmons! Even J Mascis manages more than three words, and seems uncharacteristically animated. And then there are of course the band members: Buzzo and Dale contribute lots of recollections, and many former players are also featured, which is quite something, especially considering just how many former players there are.

The Colossus of Destiny is an achievement simply by virtue of its existence. I mean, where do you start with The Melvins? They’ve been going forever and have released more tracks than Metallica or The Rolling Stones. And what the film achieves over the curse of its two hours and ten running time (including the seemingly endless credits) is to give a fair chronology of their history, while at the same time giving a real sense of what the band are about.

The one thing that every last one of those talking about the band attest to is The Melvins’ singularity, and this also shines through in the interviews with Buzzo and Dale. Often whacky, sometimes deeply serious and occasionally grumpy, their genuineness and honesty – and above all, their commitment to making music, and making the music they want, in the way they want – shines out throughout. Eternally heavy, but also a lot of fun, there really is no other band like The Melvins.

There are heaps of archive photos and reams of cover art and gig posters, and masses of grainy footage of early gigs, as well as some great footage of their more recent, utterly pulverizing, double-drummer lineup, which really make The Colossus of Destiny a must for any fan. But equally, watching Buzzo running off CD covers and posters and .giving an insight into the workings of a band who – apart from a brief stint with Atlantic, which they knew was destined to fail before they even signed the contract – have existed as a largely DIY concern since 1983, is essential viewing for anyone with an interest in making it in (or perhaps, more accurately, outside), the music industry.

Some of the audio during the interviews is a shade wobbly, and during the informative and entertaining Q&A (being a local las by birth, Bob Hannam is familiar with a large portion of the audience, making for some good-natured banter, with his dad is sitting behind me and Danny Mass of Salvation a row or two ahead), Hannan admits it’s a source of irritation. But this is a first-time work, and the product of passion and dedication, and as a ‘warts and all’ rockumentary, it’s entirely in keeping with the band’s ethos.

It may be lengthy, but moves at a decent pace, and is entertaining and informative throughout. Whatever your position on The Melvins, there’s something to be taken from Colossus of Destiny.

Living Body / Shield Patterns / Buen Chico / Mayshe-Mayshe – Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 31st July 2016

Posted: 5 August 2016 in Live
Tags: 31st July 2016, Brudenell Social Club, Buen Chico, Glissando, Juffage, Leeds, Living Body, Mayshe-Mayshe, Post Rock, Post-Brexitcore, Shield Patterns, Sky Larkin

Christopher Nosnibor

The last decade has seen The Brudenell evolve from a low-key space used by local and lesser-known visiting bands of the type most other venues wouldn’t let through the door (my first visit to The Brudenell was to see Whitehouse) to one of the UK’s most renowned music venues. Despite this – and perhaps one of the reasons people truly love the place – they still cater for the smaller bands and locals, and open their doors to unusual events, in the way only a non-profit organisation can. Tonight’s show is a classic example: four quality acts comprising one of the most eclectic bills I’ve seen this year for the grand entry fee of precisely nothing. It may be a way of enticing people in on a Sunday evening after the end of the academic year, but I can’t imagine anyone would grumble at paying a fiver for this. Take the headliners, for a start: Living Body is the new musical vehicle for Jeff T. Smith of Juffage renown, in collaboration with Katie Harkin (Harkin, Sky Larkin, Wild Beasts, Sleater-Kinney), Vessel Tom Evans, Alice Rowan (Mayshe-Mayshe) & Sarah Statham (Esper Scout).

It’s a busy night for Alice Rowan. Starting the evening’s entertainment off after a few technical hitches with a Mayshe-Mayshe set. Something amongst the myriad wires that connect her loop pedal and various other effects and one of her mics isn’t sending the right kind of signal, but after she skips the first song and gets going, she very quickly has everyone’s attention. Airing songs from her new November EP, she showcases an enticing and intriguing brand of minimalist electronic pop with hints of Young Marble Giants. There are some interesting beats and some resonant bass notes in the mix alongside chiming bells, whistles and hair dryer and Alice’ meek and understated style of performance is an integral part of the appeal of a set that’s utterly compelling.

Mayshe-Mayshe

I caught the tail end of Buen Chico’s set at Long Division Festival in June, and found their brand of quirky indie entertaining enough. On that day, they suffered for appearing alongside and in between so many outstanding acts. Singer / keysman Morgan has hair and a frame which suggests he was born to be in an indie band, and the foursome channel a certain nerdiness which is self-effacing and charming: their clever-clever lyrics are delivered without smugness or superiority. They have some decent tunes and they play well. Concluding their set with a dilogy of theologically-themed songs inspired by Job. They’re good fun, but again, prove to be the night’s least memorable band simply by virtue of the outstanding nature of the other acts on the bill.

Buen Chico

Despite their having been in existence for a few years now, and despite the fact I have – and very much like – all of their releases to date (the album Contour Lines (2014) and 2015 Violet EP), this is the first time I’ve seen Shield Patterns perform live. With the duo – Richard Knox and Claire Brentnall – largely static behind a vast bank of synths and digital kit, they cultivate a certain distance from the audience. Swathed in smoke, illuminated primarily by fixed red backlights, they’re almost silhouetted from the audience’s vantage point.

Shield Patterns

The stark yet shrouded visuals compliment the music perfectly as they build deep, murky swells of blooding sound. Knox – sporting a Melvins T-shirt which suggests he’s not all about the atmospheric and ethereal 2/7 – has a particularly interesting device with which, using a conventional drumstick – he ‘drums’ to create immense, thunderous drum sounds which boom vastly and echo as if the sound is travelling six miles up a valley in a grand mountain range. Theirs is a sound which evokes immense spaces and transports the listener to places far beyond the confines of a room. While I always admired Glissando (Richard’s previous musical venture), the hushed nature of their performances meant that if you couldn’t hear a pin drop, then you probably couldn’t hear half of their music either. The Shield Patterns sound is altogether bigger, bolder, and denser, and more than manages to drown out the endless babble of the chubby tosser behind me. Moreover, their music is completely captivating and everything else fades to nothing in the face of their immersive, texture-filled songs.

Shield Patterns

That Katie Harkin is absent from Living Body’s first tour – being a member of about half a dozen other bands as well as having a solo career, it’s not entirely surprising she has other touring commitments – isn’t an impedance to their creating a rich and varied sound. Adopting a standing position behind the drum kit, Sarah Statham makes her presence felt physically and sonically, and it’s clear from simply looking at this ragtag collective (who could also easily qualify as a Leeds supergroup, Alice’s residence in York notwithstanding) that they’re different, and that each member has something unique to offer. The resultant output is fittingly different too.

Living Body

Jeff T. Smith and Alice Rowan co-front the band and banter their way through the set with a disarming naturalness, mock-bickering over which songs are ‘rock’ and which ones ‘pop’ (the way to tell a rock song is by Alice’s wearing of shades). The fact is that there are elements of both to all of the songs, with shoegaze, post-rock, folk, sunny indie-rock and even 70s radio-rock all spun into an inventive aural cocktail – or, as they refer to it, post-Brexitcore. Because everything’s post-something and everything is something-core. As such, it’s perfect. Moreover, a month on from the referendum and the reality of what the future may bring is still sinking in. Recent weeks have brought political and financial turmoil, a terrifying upsurge in racism and hate crimes and if only one thing is certain, it’s that Britain is a nation horribly divided. But for a short time, everything is ok. In this small corner of Leeds, thanks to great bands and cheap beer, there is no disunity, and life is good. Hail the Living Body!

Shellac / Helen Money – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 29th May 2016

Posted: 30 May 2016 in Live
Tags: 2016, Brudenell Social Club, Helen Money, Leeds, Live Review, Shellac, Shellac of North America, Steve Albini

Christopher Nosnibor

Shellac performing in the UK outside London is a big deal. That it’s their second time at the Brudenell in less than three years is an immense deal: the fact that Albini declares his love of the venue from the stage only reaffirms what pretty much anyone who’s ever attended or played a show there already knows: it’s the best venue going.

Needless to say, it’s sold out, and was sold out within days of tickets going on sale. And Shellac reward the crowd by walking on stage, playing some songs, and packing up at the end. Literally: Steve Albini’s guitar and pedals are in their case and Todd Trainer’s drum kit is disassembled and in covers before Bob Weston’s played the final bars of an immense rendition of ‘The End of Radio’. It’s this lack of pretence and un-rock ‘n’ roll approach that’s an integral part of the band’s appeal. Albini’s critical observations on the mechanics of the music industry are almost as legendary as the countless band’s he’s recorded (the fact he ‘records’, rather than ‘produces’ the music is telling), Shellac know that people have paid money to watch a band play songs, and that’s precisely what they do, for almost an hour and three quarters.

Helen Money does a great job of getting the audience warmed up. If you haven’t heard Helen before, then you’ll have never heard such noise from a cello. Despite being as thin as a lath, she has a wiry strength and dominates the instrument with a range of techniques for creating soundscapes that range from the mellow to the tempestuous. For all this, never once does she abuse her instrument, instead using a vast array of effects pedals to sculpt sounds which span near-ambience to something approximating overdriven guitars amidst a squall of feedback. Her presence is disarmingly understated: her music is breathtaking.

Helen Money

With five albums and a bunch of EPs in their back catalogue, Shellac have no shortage of material. But they know what works live and how to pace a set, and they’re as tight as hell – not simply in the rehearsed sense, but the intuitive sense that is the intangible element that defines the best live acts. Having spent the last 22 years listening to the band, I know the songs as well as anyone in the room, but am still blown away by the tempo changes: it’s the way they’ll accelerate and decelerate over the course of one or two bars to create those lurching moments of disorientation that really hits home. That, and the immense sonic force they deliver the songs with. Not for the first time, I’m reminded that they’re not a ‘guitar’ band: they’re a powerhouse rhythm section band who use guitars to provide multitudinous textures and tonal variety, and to bring dynamics to the thunderous drumming and bass that sounds like two basses and a guitar all at once. And they play hard, working up a real sweat.

Shellac

The lack of gear is actually quite remarkable: Albini has just a couple of pedals, and switches his lead from his amp to run through (what I assume to be) a preamp of some description. There’s no trickery here, just three guys with big amps and some real skills.

It’s testament to the depth of their catalogue that they can open with ‘My Back Ass’ without shooting their load for the rest of the set. And when said set includes ‘Squirrels,’ ‘Prayer to God’, ‘Crow’ and an epic ‘Wingwalker,’ it makes sense. They absolutely nail ‘You Came In Me’, and ‘Dude Incredible’.

Shellac

Albini straps his guitar round his waist and attacks every chord. He doesn’t talk much: it’s Weston, the man with the box of ‘Shellac’s Tea’ (a modified ‘Yorkshire Tea’ box) on top of his amp who leads the entertaining Q&A sessions when Steve needs a moment to tune up his battered guitar, from which he trips endless jolting shards of clanging metallic abrasion.

They play a couple of extra songs to compensate fucking one up earlier. I doubt anyone out front noticed, in truth, and certainly no-one’s complaining, and no-one expects an encore. Set closer ‘The End of Radio’ may run for almost a quarter of an hour, but it flies, and it’s all there: the tempo changes, the explosive drumming, the dynamic range.

Shellac

You’d be hard-pressed to find a band who in the live context succeed in replicating effect of the studio recordings while adding new dimensions and a yet more thrusting immediacy than Shellac. You’d also be hard-pressed to find a band committed to giving the fans value for money, or an outstanding performance Better than good: they are, indeed, incredible.

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