Christopher Nosnibor
I’ve been frothing about the Utterly Fuzzled events for a while now, as being an absolute cornerstone of the remarkably vibrant York scene of the moment, and similarly, I’ve commented variously on the sense of community and the way the promoters support one another rather than compete. It’s perhaps a byproduct of these challenging times – noted from the stage by Objections during their set – whereby putting on gigs at this level is bloody hard work and largely a thankless task – and not without financial risk, either, which means that those who do it do so because first and foremost they’re passionate about music.
Times have certainly changed: back in the 80s and 90s, often regarded as a golden age for independent venues and new music, smaller places such as York were under the monopoly of greedy promoters who would operate pay to play and other unscrupulous policies which largely ensured that the bands – who had no money to begin with – took the risk while they got paid regardless. At least now there’s a certain sense of equality in that no-one gets paid.
This is their tenth event, which expanded into a two-nighter (A Fuzzlefest, if you will), of which this is the second, and the lineup is stacked – a veritable ‘Best of Utterly Fuzzled’, with four of tonight’s acts making a return (if we include Objections who played a pre-Fuzzled event before the name was formalised).
The fact that former headliners Dragged Up are late additions and opening proceedings, hitting the stage at 5:30 before hauling up to Newcastle (after playing Middlesborough the night before), is quite the coup, and testament to the strength of the connections organisers Jo and Pete have with the bands they put on.
Future single ‘Rapunzel’ lands mid set with guests vocals from Mel Whittle of fellow Glasgow act Count Florida – who are on later – and slides onto the chord sequence of Bauhaus’ ‘Dark Entries’ in the mid section. They close with a sprawling eight-minute monster about leopard print, which lands with far more impact in the room than it ever could on paper.
Dragged Up
Pope Joan’s performance exemplifies everything that’s brilliant about the Fuzzled events – the spread of genres and the willing ness to showcase the oddball and experimental electronica amidst the guitar-based indie and post-punk and beyond. Pope Joan – formerly of Leeds act Casino Volante – brings a host of elements together with some quirky humour and a dash of strange. Initially, we get Stereolab meets Kraftwerk, evolving into some experimental synthy hip-hop with some mutant disco going on. Then at times it gets a but noisy, a bit DAF, a bit Cabaret Voltaire. The bants are awkward, and this seems to be part of the act, too. There’s a Yeah Yeah Yeahs cover that sounds more like Suicide – the band, that is.
Pope Joan
Two weeks on from the last time I saw them, The Bricks are relaxed and on fine form. It’s a very different setting, and the fact they’re every bit as good playing through their backline as through a PA – and seem as comfortable – is an indication of just how well meshed they are as a unit. Gemma installs herself in front of the stage, and, with all the room, she makes the most of the space, charging about, radiating electric energy. And once again, she hollers her fucking lungs out, to the extent that she’s visibly and audibly spent every grain of her guts by the end of the set. It wouldn’t work if the band behind her weren’t the pinnacle of precision, though, and while they have lengthy debates about what song’s next and how it goes, once the first bar happens, they’re in the zone.
The Bricks
Second Glasgow band of the night, Count Florida espouse vintage jangly indie, hinting at the sound of C86, but perhaps more pertinently that of the Postcard Label – something which is uniquely Scottish (despite their releasing a single by The Go-Betweens, who were Australian). They’re perhaps a little under rehearsed for a few of the songs, and while not necessarily performed to peak level, I couldn’t help but feel the effect of some of their deeply personal songs about death and about loss and needed to breathe for a couple of minutes after their set.
Count Florida
Knitting Circle just get better, tighter, more confident, more comfortable with every performance. They might not think so, but they do. Even when looking tense and debating the set list, the way they react to audience call-outs and situations more generally shows an assurance that’s a measure of a band becoming truly established. They throw in the risky new material in early, and the second half of the set is, as ever, a showcase in choppy, issues-based post punk. On the subject of issues, Jo (vocals, bass) recently posted on Facebook how a recent review had made a deal of her choice of dress in contrast to the rest of the band, highlighting how deep sexism runs in all aspects of our culture – it’s particularly glaring in context of Pete’s remarkable shirt collection. When asking of the audience how the mix was, there was a call for him to turn his guitar up – fair enough, but equally, he might have turned his shirt down. Anyway, needless to say, they sound great.
Knitting Circle
Objections are also well-liked around these parts, and further afield. I made precisely no notes during their set: I was simply hypnotised by the fretwork. They’re by no means a wanky band, but they are incredibly technical, and totally kinetic in their performance. They’re not exactly in the domains of Captain Beefheart’s Trout Mask Replica, but there is very much a sense of the three bandmembers each playing different tunes – but it all comes together, miraculously. Claire Adams’ bass switches between stop/start and booming groove, and it melds perfectly with the precision, jazz-style drumming of Neil Turpin, while Joseph O’Sullivan goes nuts in his own world making noise never before wrung from an electric twelve string. They’re completely unprepared when hassled for an encore, but after some debate, we get one. This is real, spontaneous. And it’s ace.
Objections
This is live music at its best. Six bands for the price of a takeaway. Four have travelled: all six are worth the entrance fee. But it’s more than just about seeing some decent bands. It’s about the vibe, and the people, too. This is the very core of the live music scene.
Aural Aggravation 