It makes sense for a band renowned for their killer live shows to release a live album, but it takes a band with a certain amount of guts to make that album a project that’s part of a festival’s proceedings, and to go for the live album by way of their third full-length. Post War Glamour Girls have got guts, alright, and Live at St Austin’s was recorded as the ‘watch a band record a live album’ Sunday night session at the end of this year’s Long Division festival in Wakefield.
They open with a very curious hybrid of ‘Sestra’ and ‘Brat’, which respectively stood as bookends to their debut, Pink Fur. In parts completely unrecognisable in relation to either of the originals, it’s a more sedate and altogether less fiery reworking. James Smith shows remarkable restraint, his rowdy raving replaced by a crooning style, which sits alongside some soulful harmonies, the likes of which haven’t been heard from the band previously. Structurally, it’s also completely different… and comes to an abrupt and ungainly halt that sounds like the tape being chewed. Well, it is live, after all. Anything can happen and you only get one take.
‘That’s probably it for music,’ James quips. ‘I’ll now be doing my stand-up set’. Granted, there’s a lot more music and no stand-up, but you wouldn’t put anything past this band. So premiering a new track from their upcoming third album by way of a second track is pretty much par for the course. There’s something of an early- to mid-eighties guitar pop feel to ‘Polyanna Cowgirl’ (commercial pop was seemingly a fair few shades darker then), and it boasts a bold and hooky chorus.
If making their first album a greatest hits / best of set seems like the obvious a to go, you know that’s precisely what you’re not going to get, and second album Feeling Strange (released less than six months before this performance) is largely shunted to one side in favour of their debut, new material, and a handful of covers – which, naturally, are off the beaten track and are drawn in from far out on the left-field (and their version of Elvis Costello’s ‘Shipbuilding’ is as moving as it is unexpected… not that it should be expected for a band who’ve previously covered Robert Palmer).
The vinyl, which presents an abridged version of the occasion to present a different aspect of the set-list (in an alternative sequence) omits the spiky, goth-tinged rendition of ‘Stolen Flowers Rust’ and two of the tracks culled from their second album, presumably on account of space. ‘Cannonball Villages’ (not on the vinyl) is one of the standouts of Feeling Strange and builds an immense, dark, brooding twisting epic journey. As Smith growls the refrain ‘I knew the moment I laid my eyes on you / that I would do anything to get my hands on you,’ it sounds as much like a threat as an expression of desire. Closer ‘Count Your Blessings’ – a bleak choice of a set-ender, if the truth be told – is also omitted from the vinyl, and the fact that such a great rendition can be relegated to the download is testament to the depth of their material – and of course, their unswerving perversity in selecting unreleased tracks and covers over others. Single cuts like ‘Jazz Funerals’, ‘Southpaw Stance’ and ‘Felonius Punk’ don’t get a look in
The slowed-down version of ‘Black Dolphin’ and the dreamy version of ‘Gustave’, on which Alice takes lead vocal duties, offer very different perspectives on established songs, and the piano motif which runs through the Curesque take on ‘Red Terror’, with its crazy reverb action, again places the familiar in an unfamiliar context. The addition of organ and keys to a number of tracks also adds a new dimension to the sound.
Live at St Austin’s works precisely because of its imperfections and its – superficially, at least – perverse set-list. As a live album, it captures the immediacy of a band who thrive on live performances, and at the same time, are all about taking risks and showcasing new material. Go to a PWGG gig and you’ll see a band testing themselves and the audience with new material. This makes the inclusion of debut single ‘Spitting Pearls’ all the more surprising and welcome. They’ve probably played it about twice since its release: it’s a personal favourite, and they more than do it justice here, Smith finally unleashing his full-throated Tom Waits holler. It’s fucking brilliant, and met, briefly, with a stunned silence.
Live at St Austin’s is an honest live album: it’s not that the sound is rough, because it isn’t: but in places, the instruments aren’t perfectly balanced and there are some dud notes and off-key harmonies. And that’s precisely why it’s so good: it sounds like you could actually be there, it’s not dressed up and overdubbed and polished to studio quality. It’s very much a document of the band that Post War Glamour Girls are, a snapshot of a band who are continually evolving, forever restless, always trying out new arrangements and new material. And yes, they’re the kind of band who place art over commerce, who really are bursting with creativity and are making music for the right reasons. And they truly are one of a kind.
Doing what I do, I get to hear a lot of music. I’m talking 30 or so CDs in the mail each week, and at least twice that in terms of emails offering downloads and streams. It might sound glamourous, but actually, with time, it gets increasingly dull. So many dull, derivative bands, all being hailed by their PR and labels or themselves as the next big thing, the most exciting band to emerge in a decade or whatever. On first hearing ‘Sick’ by Mannequin Death Squad, I found myself getting properly excited for the first time in a while.
On meeting the Australian duo, consisting of Daniel Cohn and Elena Velinsky – who surely have one of the best band names around – just before their gig at Santiago in Leeds, as main support to Hora Douse, I was immediately struck not only by how down to earth and thoroughly pleasant the duo are, but by their insuppressible enthusiasm and the fact they’re so genuine. We meet in the downstairs bar of the little venue and sit around a table. The idea is that I’ll do a five to ten-minute quick-fire Q&A, but we end up chatting and talking around stuff instead. El is the ultimate rock chick, sporting a faded Led Zep T-shirt, shades perched on top of her head, and immediately I get a sense that these people were born to do this. They may be about to play to room with a capacity of 100 or so, which looks and feels like someone’s living room, but they’re rock stars irrespective of sales or fanbase. That said, on the strength of tonight’s outing and their Eat Hate Regurgitate mini-album, they won’t be playing venues of this size for long.
I ask them how their first trip to the UK as a touring band has gone so far.
‘Good,’ they both reply without hesitation. ‘I think the Adelphi’s probably been our favourite show so far,’ El expands. ‘It’s a cool, real, dirty venue…’
‘…and a big community,’ Dan adds.
I’ll admit I’m slightly surprised, but then, Hull is a surprising place. It’s not the first place that springs to mind when you’re listing cities with buzzing music scenes, but as the City of Culture for 2017, there does seem to be a lot going on there these days.
‘It’s amazing. It’s a lot like the scene back home in Newcastle,’ Dan says. ‘It’s got a strong community, and big bands…’
‘Everyone takes care of each other, and likes each other’s music and supports each other, it’s cool’ El adds.
They’re archetypal Australians, in many ways: they’re paid back, and say ‘cool’ and ‘awesome’ a lot. They also finish one another’s sentences in a way which shows a real synchronisation and intuition, and I feel that I’m witnessing the key to their music-making in action.
They’ve been equally impressed by the reception of their shows in London, and in Brighton, at the Hope and Ruin. Their tour has certainly taken them to some of the country’s less obvious cities and venues: not only Hull, but also Scunthorpe… Still, that gig (along with a second Hull date) was supporting Slaves, which a big deal and remarkable exposure for a band with only two singles to their credit. I’m eager to find out about how they scored that slot on their very first trip.
‘We had a gig booked in Scunthorpe, at the Café independent, which clashed with theirs,’ Dan begins
‘…so they wanted to book it,’ chops in El.
‘They listened to our music and they liked it, so they asked us…’ and being rather a music-starved backwater, the show went down particularly well, ‘They really appreciate musos coming up that way. I think it’s like an ego thing for those big cities that are really highly rated with music, that people take it for granted, and then at the other end of the spectrum, you go to small towns and everyone makes the most of it.’
How have you found UK audiences have differed from audiences at home?
‘They’re pretty similar,’ El observes.
‘We were getting a good response in Melbourne just before we left,’ adds Dan. ‘We’re a relatively new band, kinda like a year of playing gigs, but we’re getting really good responses here, probably even a bit better.’
‘We’ve got a lot of our friends back home, so it’ always going to be a good response,’ El says with a laugh.
It’s a fair observation: the test of any band is how they go down when playing to strangers and non-fans. The reactions of audiences on this tour indicates it’s a test they have nothing to worry about. El talks about the number of people going up them to compliment them on their sets – particularly the diversity of their style – afterwards, which is gratifying.
‘We’ve got a good mix of songs in there, there’s only two of us, and people seem to like them all differently, evenly.
They certainly do have a good mix: the band pitch themselves as existing in the space between The Melvins and Taylor Swift, which I suppose is a fair summary of their balancing sludgy riffs and magnificent pop melodies. Are their individual tastes conflicting or simply diverse?
El laughs. ‘Well, actually, I listen… he’s like the heavier guy, but I do heavy too, but he actually loves ‘Shake it Off’, and I like Melvins, but we both like Melvins, and we both like I all sorts. We listen to things that are heavy and poppy.’
‘We listen to absolutely everything,’ Dan confirms. ‘It helps to break the monotony of one genre.’
‘Slaves are awesome, because they’re so heavy, but when you look, they’ve got really catchy, poppy choruses,’ says El.
Dan feels compelled to explain the Taylor Swift thing in more detail: ‘The Taylor Swift thing came from when we were backpacking in Thailand and we went and did karaoke, and I absolutely smashed that ‘Shake it Off’ song…. Terribly’, he adds at El’s prompt.
They throw an eclectic and quite unexpected mix of acts into the ring when listing other artists they listen to: (Led) Zeppelin, (Pink) Floyd, Breeders, Hole, Marilyn Manson… ‘Going back to my roots, I used to be a thrash metalhead,’ Dan adds, and we love grunge. But we love pop as well. I’ll like something completely left of centre and not be embarrassed to say it.’
England has a strange perception of Australia, filtered through Neighbours and Home and Away, and internationally, Australia has been represented by the likes of Kylie and Savage Garden. How do you reconcile that with the actuality of bands like yourselves and, say, DZ Deathrays? I imagine they, and you, are more representative of what’s actually going on…
‘For sure!’ Dan says.
El gives some cultural context: ‘Neighbours and stuff is for, like, stay at home mums, I mean, you can watch it, it’s a good show and all, but…’
Dan: ‘The whole country’s obsessed with AC/DC still, but…’
El: ‘…we’ve got this whole buzzing music scene in Melbourne, we just keep going to gigs and there are so many awesome bands…’
Dan: ‘It’s an amazingly diverse scene in Melbourne. You can find anything in there: there’s an underground punk scene where everyone’s playing in squat houses that no-one knows about, you have to know somebody, there’s this rock scene that’s happening in all the bars, and little grunge scenes…’
Do you think, in your experience, that music scenes have fragmented and that there’s more underground than there ever was but you really have to seek it out?
‘Yeah’, they reply in unison.
Dan: ‘There are so many venues in Melbourne, that you’re spoiled for choice. There’s this avant-garde thing happening…’
El: ‘There’s a good gig guide, and if you go on the gig guide in Melbourne, you can just see all these bands, and you can just choose one and go and I’ll always be pretty cool.’
Dan: ‘There’s always something on. We’ve been all around Europe and we’ve tried to catch gigs, and haven’t really taped into the underground bands, but we came here and playing in Hull, and there are all these good bands. We went back to the same venue the next night and have drinks at the Adelphi, and all the bands are great. It reminds us of back home in Melbourne, there’s talent everywhere.’
I suggest that in terms of getting bands to an audience outside their local catchment, the Internet, far from killing the music industry, has simply made it different, particularly where small bands are concerned.
El concurs. ‘I think it’s made the game more creative,’ she says. ‘And we certainly have more access to bands.’
Do you consider yourselves primarily a live band? How do you enjoy the studio work?
‘’Cause we’re really new,’ El says, her voice going up at ‘new’, ‘we’ve only done one studio session, for the EP, so we’ve played live more. But we love both. I think you have to play live if you’re recording an album, that’s the fun part.’
‘We love all aspects,’ Dan adds. ‘Our favourite thing is to record a song, listen to it back, and change it, and experiment, but then, there’s nothing like playing a show, either. But even promoting can be fun, putting so many different mediums of art into it.’
They’ve certainly been creative with their own promotion. ‘Sick’ was a hell of a debut, and the video is fucking brilliant. How did the ‘zombie’ video come about?
El: ‘Well, we had a different idea, and it kind of failed… and then we came up with this idea really quickly, ‘cause the lyrics are “cigarettes and soda pop” and we wanted to pretend that it’s really easy to sell something like that…’
Dan: ‘It’s a bit of stab at consumerism in a way, and how everyone’s pretty easily manipulated by branding. It goes for everything, where you like stuff because you’re told to like something: don’t be a sheep and figure it out for yourself.’
El: ‘And then we came up with the branding thing, like a stamp…’
Dan: ‘It wasn’t supposed to be zombies, but kinda just escalated really quickly, and it worked.’
El: ‘It was fun, a lot of fun. My brother directed that one.’
So you’ve got elements of social commentary and criticism in there, and there’s a certain venom and angst in your songs. Are you angry? Or is the music just a release?
El takes a moment to consider this. ‘I think it’s more… it’s fun. It is fun, yeah!’
‘From my side, it’s pretty much all expression,’ Dan says. ‘We like just getting in a rehearsal space and just jamming songs, and it’s good fun: you’ve got good vibes going round…’
El again: ‘We’ve got older songs that I wrote where I was upset about something, as well, and then you put them in, and it’s sort of attitude behind it…’
Dan: ‘Lyrically, usually there’s a lot to be said…’
‘Yeah, it’s definitely a release,’ El concludes.
That release is clearly apparent in the medium of the live show. They explain how they like to layer things up, with bass tracks and additional guitars to create a full band sound, something which isn’t possible on stage, however much instrument-swapping they engage in. Still, this gives the live sound an immediacy and when cranked up loud, it works a treat. And, of course, such multi-instrumental capabilities afford them a lot more flexibility than the average two-piece. How do you decide who plays what on which track?
‘It’s kinda like who writes the guitar part does guitar and sings’ El explains. ‘And then if I have an old song, I’ll bring it in and if he has one, he’ll bring it in, and I’m like “right then, I’m drumming for this song”. We work together to make the song, though. We try to make it equal, but at the moment, I’m doing more guitar than him, so he’s going to get at some writing.’
‘That’s our opposite instruments, too’, says Dan.
‘I’m originally a drummer,’ El confirms.
‘I’ve only been drumming for about a year,’ Dan admits. ‘El smashes it on drums. It’s good to mix it up.’
So, finally, the burning question: when can we expect an album proper?
Dan hesitates. Can they say?
El steps in: ‘We’re going back to Australia – ‘cause we have to, and we’ve got gigs set up after this tour – and the we’re going to start writing. We’ve actually already got about half the album done…’
‘…about six tracks,’ Dan confirms.
El: ‘…yeah, about six tracks, so we only need a few more. So once we get back, we’re going to save up money to actually do the album. We might even try to do a Kickstarter.’
Dan: ‘Yeah, maybe.’
El: ‘Yeah, I think an album by the end of the year.’
Dan: ‘Hopefully, next time we come here we’ll be promoting it.’
Here’s very much hoping. Meanwhile, the mini-album Eat Hate Regurgitate is a blistering five tracker, and it’s out on October 7th through Integrity Records.
I’ve been saying that Post War Glamour Girls are one of the best bands to have emerged from anywhere ever since I first clapped ears on their debut single, and never once have they disappointed since, thus justifying my opinion. Actually, it’s not an opinion, it’s a fact. And here they are on a split 7” in the mega-cool Too Pure Singles Club series on a Leeds showcase edition shared with Menace Beach. The occasion? The 45th anniversary of legendary Leeds record store, Jumbo Records. I’ve spent a fair few quid in there over the years, and the fact they’re still trading is a testament to the fact it’s as great an independent music outlet as you’ll find.
The two tracks couldn’t be more different: Menace Beach’s ‘Hex Breaker’ is a hazy, fuzzed-out lo-fi drifter, a mid-tempo slow-burner that sounds like it was recorded on a condenser mic. With laid-back vocal and hefty, plodding riff, it’s something of a departure from their conventional feedback-drenched motoric slacker indie. That said, it’s still a brilliantly loose performance and boasts an effortless melody that’s breezy and accessible. File alongside your early Pavement EPs if you do that ‘by style’ thing. If, like me, you file your vinyl alphabetically, you might struggle with this.
Despite what the title might suggest, the PWGG offering on the other side, ‘Welfare by Prozac’ is anything but sedated, a characteristically tense and angular burst of post-punk that’s over and done with in a fraction over three minutes. It packs so much in, too: a nagging, jangling rhythm guitar is cut by a howling angular lead. A stonking bassline and thumping tom-led drum track meld together to provide the backdrop to the contrasting vocals: Alice’s nonchalant monotone is the perfect counterpoint to James’ wired hectoring, calling to mind the best of Brix era Fall and then adding a twisted pop sensibility.
This is a perfect example of why 7” singles are cool, and why not only records, but the split single endure. A split MP3 release just doesn’t cut it.
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!
It’s the hottest day of the year so far: the mercury’s teetering in the top twenties and I’ve had a hectic and predictably crap day at work. The train from York to Leeds is fucking rammed, and I almost melt as I make my way from the station to the little underground space that is Leeds’ primary dedicated rock venue, The Key Club. At least I can attribute my heavy perspiration to atmospherics rather than anxiety over interviewing full-throttle sludge metal masters Raging Speedhorn. The simple fact is, I don’t know what, or who, to expect.
In the event, tour manager Jim is as welcoming and affable guy as you’re likely to meet, and while I’m amazed just how busy it is backstage – it seems the entire world ants to interview Raging Speedhorn tonight, and the press are out in droves for video interviews and other kind of features – things are simultaneously organised but laid back. It’s not surprising it’s busy: the release of their first new album in nine years, which also sees Frank Regan return to the fold, has reignited interest in the band.
I’ve been booked in to chat with drummer Gordon Morison, and I’m reminded of the first interview I conducted with a ‘proper’ band, (the local bands I shot the breeze with for the local paper back in the 90s really don’t count) when I waited an age outside The Well in Leeds to interview Rolo Tomassi and was given some five minutes with drummer Edward Dutton. In the event, he was cool and eloquent, while I was shamefully anxious and anything but cool.
Settling into some big leather sofas at the back of the venue’s extended backstage area – really, the backstage area is bigger than the public space, but then, there’s a lot of kit in for these bands, and I expect that’s not uncommon – I immediately feel at ease: there’s no pretence or celebrity bullshit here. Nevertheless, I promise a quickfire Q&A, not least of all because I like to get in and out as efficiently as possible, and without outstaying my welcome. Besides, I have to transcribe the exchange afterwards, and wading through over half an hour of audio is a real chew. And so, with the thunderous drums of By Any Means soundchecking, we quickly get down to business:
AA: You’re back on tour: how have the shows gone down so far?
GM: Really good. It’s just been really nice to get back out and play some more shows. This is the longest we’ve been out, probably the longest tour since we’ve been back together, so it’s hard – we’re not used to it any more – but…
AA: Does it get harder as you get older?
GM: I think it does, but…
AA: Everything does?
GM: Yeah… I think the alcohol numbs the pain until the next morning, and then you’re feeling it again but yeah, it’s been really, really good.
AA: You’re playing some pretty small venues this time around, but you’ve also played some big festival sets since returning to the live arena. Do you enjoy the intensity of the more intimate shows, getting up close and personal with the fans?
GM: Yeah, we’d rather play the small venues, to be honest. But sometimes it’s not really up to us. We’ve got to work with our agent, and it’s got to be about the fees and stuff.
AA: Well, you’re not going to turn down a major festival show.
GM: No, I mean, the major festivals, we’ve been blown away by what we’ve done… headlined a stage at Sonisphere, headlined a stage at Download this year… So it’s moving in the right direction of where we want the band to go. We’re getting back to where we want the band to be now, and it’s better now, because we’re in charge of the whole situation. There’s no-one telling us we have to do this, or we have to do that. We decide as a group if we want to do it or not.
AA: Your new album, Lost Ritual, was crowd-funded through PledgeMusic and smashed the target. How does that feel?
GM: Awesome. Amazing. I mean, it was just a little idea, like ‘should we do a new record?’ and it just… It took a while to get to the target, and we were a bit nervy about it, but then as soon we get to the target, and then it went ‘Boom!’ and it went crazy. I think the crowdfunding this is the best way, especially for our band, because we’ve been signed to these big major labels and sometimes it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be.
AA: There’s no question that the Internet has revolutionised the music industry? A lot of people – a lot of them major artists and industry people – complain about it, but you’d say that for some people, like yourselves, it’s a change for the best?
GM: Yeah. I think that PledgeMusic is the best way for bands to do it. It’s quite stressful, and if you’ve got a manager it’s easier, but me and Jim manage the band, so we have to deal with day-to-day stuff. And it’s great, because you actually see the product from nothing to having it in your hand, and that’s amazing.
AA: And the end product is amazing. Lost Ritual is a belter, one seriously intense record. Historically, you’ve a reputation for songs about nihilism drugs of various kinds. What was the inspiration and driving force behind the new album?
GM: The only thing we really wanted to do was go back to our roots, like the sound of what made the band successful in the first place, the first two records. Especially ‘cause Frankie’s come back into the band.
AA: What was it like being back in the studio with the original twin vocal assault reinstated? Was it a powerful feeling?
GM: Yeah. To be fair, I love Kev, and he’s still one of my best friends now, but it was never Raging Speedhorn without Frankie being in the band. And I think he needed the break, and I think we needed the break, not from him, but other things were going on at that time. It’s just the best thing we’ve done. we all got in a room and practiced, and finally thought ‘this is gonna work’. So yeah, it’s great.
AA: You emerged from the Nu-Metal scene, but were never actually a Nu-Metal band. How do you think the metal scene, particularly in the UK, has changed since you first started out?
GM: It’s changed a lot, definitely. I think it’s changed… I don’t know if it’s changed for the better. I think it’s a lot better for the UK bands now because they seem to be getting out there a lot more than when we first started, it was all American bands coming over here.
AA: It also seems a lot more grass roots now, with bands emerging from local scenes with bands getting up and doing things for themselves.
GM: Exactly.
AA: So the drive has changed, with things moving from the bottom up. And I think in the current climate, people are angry, and metal is a response to that in a way.
GM: Certainly, especially with what’ going on. I think it’s going to turn out some fucking bangin’ bands. There’s amazing young bands coming out, not only in the metal scene, but in the rockier scene as well. I see it a lot because I work with bands, I tour manage bands. I have my own splitter van company [vanmorisontours]. So I see it first-hand, seeing bands going from no-one really giving a shit to being quite biggish bands, and it’s great. There’s a band called Milk Teeth now, they’re more grungy, and they’re fucking great. I work with them quite a bit, and it’s just so good to see these bands just doing it on their own.
AA: What do you think it is about Raging Speedhorn that sets you apart, and has been the main factor in your enduring appeal?
GM: I think it’s just because we’re completely different. I mean, there are bands around like us, but we’re just lucky we got through the mainstream and had that for a while, I think it’s just that in this scene, there’s no one-one really sounds like us. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a band that sounds like us.
AA: And perhaps the ferocity gives you the edge?
GM: Yeah, I think it’s the attitude. I just don’t think people get what we’re all about, and I don’t think we know what we’re all about. We’re just a bunch of six guys out to have a fucking good time. But then, I read an interview the other day that said we’ve got a ‘yobbish’ attitude, and it made me laugh because I’d never thought of it in that way. Basically they said that we were like six chavs playing metal. I suppose it could be seen as yobbish ‘cause we don’t really care.
AA: Who wants middle-class metal?
GM: Exactly, and that’s just it. We’re all from complete working-class backgrounds, so we’re just who we are, and we don’t really care if anyone likes it or not. But luckily people do, so I think that must be the appeal, I think it’s ‘cause we’re just normal people. When you go to these big festivals, you see bands going backstage and they won’t go out front and don’t hang out with people, we just go straight out, we’ll go and see our mates in the camp, we don’t really care. The only thing that’s different between me and the people watching us is that I’m up there playing drums, so why the fuck shouldn’t I go and speak to people? It’s stupid, really.
AA: Your Facebook page describes the band as a ‘12 legged, beer fuelled hate machine’, which I’d take over an 8-legged groove machine any day. But what’s your beer of choice?
GM: Oh! There’s too many now. I’ve really go me and James, our guitarist, really into ales now. It’s unbelievable. I love it all, to be fair. There’s not really many beers I don’t like. I love Brewdog stuff. I live in Wales, so there’s loads of really nice ales. I like more pale ale kind of vibes. But I just love it all. We were drinking white Russians last night till five in the morning. Frank literally hasn’t stopped since we got out, so the last five days…
AA: Got to keep the momentum.
GM: Yeah, you’ve got to, ‘cause if you don’t then you crash and burn. This morning I was thinking ‘I’m going to be fucked today’, but I feel alright again now. But they’ve just been drinking. Jim, our tour manager, and Frank, came with these big stein glasses. We’d stopped at Morrisons earlier on, then they had a bottle of… something, and poured it into these steins, and then orange juice, strawberries, in the van. Fucking hell. They’ve already started smashing it. Idiots!
He laughs. I applaud the band’s commitment to living the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle on the road. It seems a good time to wrap up, not least of all because it’s sweltering and all this talk of beer is making me all the more thirsty for a pint of something fresh and hoppy.
It’s the hottest, or second-hottest, night of the year so far, with temperatures teetering at the top of the twenties. I managed to knock off work early to get the train over from York to Leeds in order to conduct an interview before the show, and having managed to chill with a pint in the North Bar for half an hour before the gig, I’m now back underground in the small, dark, box venue that is The Key Club, trying hard to make my £4.20 330ml bottle of Punk IPA last more than five minutes while I sweat my tits off and wait for the first of tonight’s three bands, By Any Means.
Sporting beards, vests, tattoos, and knee-length shorts, the Belfast band crash in hard. Their front man may strongly resemble Brian Blessed, but I suspect he’d be more likely to crush Flash’s oesophagus with his bare hands than proudly declare him to be alive. They crank out a set of intense, dense, throbbing metal and these no shortage of chug ‘n’ grind(core) in their meaty riff-driven tracks.
By Any Means
Next up, Stoneghost, sporting beards, vests, tattoos, and knee-length shorts take to the stage with a holler of “Leeeeeds! How the fuck is everyone?” Everyone is fucking melting, as it happens, and the relatively restrained response is by no means an indication of a lack of appreciation. In comparison to By Any Means, Stoneghost are sonically denser, the guitar lines more technical, the drums more frenetic, the sound more brutal, and the front man more bullish. He’s got a mean look, and I certainly wouldn’t mess with him. But for all the thunder and aggression, they’ve got some monster choruses, and they earn themselves a one-man slam-dancing moshpit for their efforts.
Stoneghost
Raging Speedhorn may be purveyors of gnarly sludge metal, but they’re certainly not uncivilised: drummer Gordon Morrison pours beer from bottles into (perspex) glasses before they play. After an inter-band playlist that featured, amongst others, Fudge Tunnel, they walk on to ‘The Heat is On’ by Glen Frey, and yes, the compact basement venue is fucking boiling. With the stage drenched in feedback, vocalists John Loughlin and Frank Regan stand, silent, at the front of the stage, simply leaning out toward the crowd, looking menacing, they hold it for a full minute. This is showmanship, and it’s the band’s commitment to the performance element of the show is integral to the live experience. That said, they’re not posers, by any means: in fact, they’re just a bunch of middle-aged guys with beards and tattoos, wearing vests / T-shirts and long shorts, but they give one hundred percent to the music, and the aggression, the brute force with which the songs are played is so genuine it’s scary. Their contrasting styles work well: Loughlin screams maniacally and looks deranged as he charges he stage, while Regan is almost nonchalant and looks like he’s relishing goading the crowd with ‘come on’ hand gestures before he spits and snarls into the mic.
Raging Speedhorn
They pile in with ‘The Hate Song’ from second album We Will Be Dead Tomorrow, although much of the set focuses on the new album Lost Ritual, which is fair play, and no bad thing given that it’s a riff-led stonker. ‘Bring Out Your Dead’ and ‘Motorhead’ are slammed down early. Delving back to their debut for ‘Redweed’ elicits a strong reaction, and before long there’s a tornado of bodies frothing in front of the stage.
Raging Speedhorn
One guy who’s filming the set on his mobile has his phone confiscated and starts whinging like a kid about how he wants to show his friends the show. No doubt he’ll be gutted that his footage won’t include the ball-busting climax: they close the set with a pulverising rendition of ‘Thumper’, and still have it in them to return for an encore of ‘Ten of Swords’.
Raging Spedhorn
The full set – twelve tracks – may have lasted just under an hour, but no-one’s feeling short-changed. In the blistering heat, they’ve delivered a relentless set that shows Raging Speedhorn are as vital now as ever.
Beacons Metro have revealed the latest acts taking part in this autumn’s invigorating music programme. Having announced Local Natives, Roots Manuva, Hookworms and Anna Meredith earlier last month, this next announcement sees Beacons firming up their forward thinking curatorial muscles.
Leading the announcement is American Alt-Rock and Grunge pioneers Dinosaur JR, who will be performing at the Beacons Metro opening party at Leeds University Stylus on October 26th, joining the Massachusetts titans are Canadian Post-Hardcore heroes Fucked Up who will be performing their highly acclaimed debut ‘Hidden World’ in full at the Belgrave on October 27th joined by one of the brightest lights of Nashville’s thriving DIY rock movement, the quad guitar’d chaos of Diarrhea Planet.
The 27th of October will also see Boxed In, the project of songwriter & producer Oli Bayston descend on Headrow House, hot on the heels of their most recent single, the punchy and electronic ‘Jist’. The reigning Queen of UK hip-hop Lady Leshurr will be returning to Leeds to lay waste to the Belgrave Music Hall, elsewhere Cats Eyes, consisting of the Horror’s Faris Badwan, Italian-Canadian soprano, composer and multi-instrumentalist Rachel Zeffira and a huge supporting cast of musicians will perform at the beautiful Howard Assembly Rooms on November 2nd. Leeds’ own Krrum returns to Headrow House on 3rd November and finally, New York based Singer Songwriter Margaret Glaspy who is quickly establishing herself as an exciting and forward thinking songwriter, will be making her Leeds debut at Headrow House on the 6th November.
Head Booker, Ben Lewis says: ‘‘We are really proud of this new batch of artists we’re announcing. Building on our eclectic first announcement we’re bringing together huge names from the indie rock world; Dinosaur Jr and Fucked Up, alongside Grime Queen Lady Leshurr and freak folk, head turning teenagers Let’s Eat Grandma. It’s going to be a very exciting, very busy week, and with a few more top names still to come at the end of the month, it’s only getting stronger”.
A limited number of Season Pass tickets priced at £50 are on sale now via the link below. This gives you access to all the Beacons Metro show with a significant discount.
What does it take to distinguish an album launch from a regular gig? A sense of occasion is definitely a major factor, and having built themselves a pretty formidable reputation as a live act, and showcased some killer tunes in the run-up to the release of their second album, NARCS have set this launch up nicely. Said new album is a real step up, harder edged and heavier than its predecessor, and is an album of our times. And where else could it be than at the Brudenell, the venue stands at the very heart of the vibrant Leeds scene? It takes some chops to invite Fighting Caravans to support, given that they’re one of those bands who are capable of blowing pretty much any act off the stage.
Perhaps not so much guitar and drum duo Mouses. Fronted by an androgynous nerd in heinous trousers, their glammy indie punk teeters on the brink of parody. But cranking out chords from one of the most fucked-looking yet still functional guitars I’ve seen, they’re lively and good fun and do the job of getting the crowd warmed up nicely.
Mouses
It’s pretty packed by the time Fighting Caravans take to the stage, Daniel Clark looking most fetching in full toreador getup. Their seven-track set shuns pretty much all of their debut EP, but does feature ‘In Sicily’, the b-side of their latest single release, which is corking. The small stage doesn’t allow much room for movement, but Clark can only be contained so long and sure enough, before the set’s out he’s disappeared to somewhere near the back of the venue.
Fighting Caravans
It’s rammed and absolutely fucking roasting before NARCS go on, and the cliché of the atmosphere being electric is entirely justified. They’re fired up, alright, and so are the crowd. Radiating waves of aggression, strident in their demeanour, front man Wilko’s face set in a scowl while guitarist Joe peels off sinewy guitar lines, pinned down by a full-throttle rhythm section, they’re on full power from the get-go as they kick off with ‘Mile Die’. The set’s focused primarily on the new album, the taut, highly-charged post-punk blast of energy that is A Thinking Animal, with ‘19’ and ‘Coast to Coast’ from their 2013 debut airing around the mid-point.
Narcs
Songs like ‘Bullingdon Boys’ and ‘Head Boy Sonnet’ give a fair indication of the primary targets of their fury, and there are some hefty riffs behind the venomous politically-charged lyrical delivery, too. A perfect and momentous gig requires the coming together of band and audience, and the show ends with Wilko being lofted around the venue above the crowd, the guitarist somewhere in the melee and drummer slumped on the floor behind a kit in disarray, amidst strewn guitars and trailing cables, which is a fitting climax to an intense and euphoric night. Most definitely an album launch, and not a regular gig.
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.
Given the vast array of microgenres and the broad spread of metal itself, curating a metal festival must be quite a challenge. A number of friends of mine have, in recent years, complained of events leaning too much towards a certain part of the metal spectrum, with an overemphasis on doom or sludge. A lot of credit is therefore due to the organisers of the first Hearth Life event, hosted in one of Leeds’ hottest new underground venues, Chunk. To describe it as intimate would be an understatement. A rehearsal room for arts and music which doubles as a two-room venue, it’s smaller than some living rooms. And yet they’ve managed to host 14 bands representing a huge cross-section of noise from the more extreme end of the scale. And there isn’t a dud act on the bill.
Using the two ‘stages’ to optimum effect, and keeping sets to half an hour or less means the bands are on back-to-back with no more than a few minutes in between, for eight hours straight. But by alternating the faster and slower bands, it’s neither a non-stop frenzy nor a marathon slog through hours of droning doom. That they’d not only got in a decent range of beers, but taken the time to mark up on the price list the vegetarian / vegan friendly beverages, not to mention having food courtesy of local ‘real junk food’ nosh merchants Armley Junk-tion on a pay-what-you-feel basis, all showed an attention to detail and general thoughtfulness you simply don’t find in larger commercial ventures. And most miraculously, the bands ran to time on what was an insanely tight schedule.
I’d seen around a third of the bands on the bill previously, so my expectations were set, at least to an extent. That said, the lineup’s diversity is the key, and discovering Human Certainty more than justified getting down early. Combining heavily chorused / flanged goth guitars with grindcore vocals buried in a fuck-ton of reverb and delay, while the singer battles invisible demons as he charges maniacally to and fro, they’re a unique proposition and a compelling live act.
Human Certainty
A whole lot less heavy were Beige Palace, and despite not being very metal, it as pleasing to see the young band, making their debut live appearance, receive a warm reception. Not for the last time during the event, I was reminded what an accommodating and thoroughly decent bunch of people attend the events with the most extreme bands. With shades of Young Marble Giants, Beige Palace make sparse-sounding music that’s jarring, dissonant and hints at a clash between early Pram and No Wave angularity.
While the space given to manic full-throttle thrashing was extremely welcome given the current vogue for doom, stoner and sludge, the grindcore acts on the bill felt a bit throwaway in their delivery here: Ona Snap announced themselves as being ‘fucking idiots’ before launching into 20 minutes of frenetic mayhem made up of short violent jolts of noise. They were tight, and went down well, but felt a bit too much like a party band to really pack a punch. Similarly, Famine – who I think are ace, and have seen evolve considerably over the last couple of years or so – seemed more about getting the crowd whipped into a frenzy, and consequent, their set felt more like an excuse to go mental than a serious assault on society. That said, having bemoaned the too-cool-for-school audiences at bigger gigs, they played hard and insanely fast, and it’s good to see this crowd going bonkers with some wild moshing and even crowd surfing in an extremely confined space. A tidal wave of bodies almost threatens to upend the makeshift bar during Horsebastard’s set. There is carnage. It’s good-natured, but carnage nonetheless.
Famine
Horsebastard
Ghold, touting new long player PYR are a band on the rise. Having expanded to a three-piece since I last saw them 11 months ago, they’re sounding denser and more layered than before. The drumming is explosive, and there’s a perverse sense of performance, as Oliver Martin plays and sings with his back to the audience, and Aleks Wilson, while forward-facing, hides behind his hair and is hardly conversational. But cultivating this distance between audience and band work well, and adds to the intrigue of a band who trade in pulverizing heavy sludge riffs while also incorporating elements of psychedelia and offering radical changes of tone and pace. Epic sludge workouts are contrasted with fast-paced attacks, although thy always keep the ‘heavy’ cranked up to the max. One-dimensional they aren’t, and in the space of their half-hour set they demonstrate more diversity than some band manage over a whole career. They’ve got some chops, alright, and I’m not talking about Wilson’s monster ‘burns.
Ghold
The heavy trucker metal of Nottingham monster mofos Moloch bring the noise and a different kind of density. Dark, sludgy and burning with anguish, they embody pained nihilism, they’re unphased when the mic completely cuts out – that or front man Chris is simply too immersed in the thunderous wall of brutal rage he and his cohorts are churning out to make a deal of it. Either way, the sound guy is quick with a replacement and they power on through triumphant.
Palehorse, playing their last Leeds show and penultimate gig in a sixteen-year career, are given an extended, 45-minute slot, which is the day’s punishing highlight. Although not the last band to play (that slot is given to The Afternoon Gentlemen), they’re effectively the headliners. I took no notes during their set, too engrossed in the immense, brutal sound, and too crushed by the clamouring front rows to even consider anything beyond the immediate experience. The event page describes them as ‘noise shitting bass bastards’ (they’ve got two basses, but no guitars), while their bandcamp page heads them as being ‘London Powerviolence’. Call their music what you like, it’s as heavy as fuck. The vast bottom-end is enough to rearrange internal organs, and contrasts with Nikolai Grune’s sharp, seething vocals. But it’s music that’s textured, articulate and powerful beyond mere brute force.
Palehorse
It’s hard to stumble out of an event like this feeling anything other than elated. Live music is all about escape, release, and the more brutal and cathartic the music, the greater the release, and seeing so many incredible, intense bands in such close proximity is exactly the way it should be. It’s personal, intimate to the point of exclusive, interior. There may have been a few crazies in the crowd, but there were no out-and-out cunts: the vibe was one of camaraderie and companionship, the event a coming together of outsiders and misfits in a celebration of all things outsider and beyond the grasp and cognisance of the mass media and general populace. Let’s hope this is the first of a long run for Hearth Life.
Aural Aggravation 