Posts Tagged ‘Leeds’

31st January 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Whether they like to admit it or not everyone likes to have the opportunity to say ‘I told you’. And so Leeds feminist punk four piece Helle, who describe themselves as ‘a flurry of blistering riffs, unflinching lyrics and explosive live intensity’ and ‘an irresistible firestorm of grit and glamour that takes no prisoners’ drop their fifth single at the end of the longest month in history. And while revelling over witnessing one of their first gigs, supporting Weekend Recovery three years ago, and being blown away, leaving absolutely convinced – and rightly so – that this was a band to watch, I find myself wondering where the fuck has the time gone?

But there’s no time to wallow, and ‘Hyper Bitch’ goes a few steps beyond merely blowing away the cobwebs.

It starts with some dialogue, some chatter, it’s probably staged, but is the perfect representation of the superior music snob wanker who lectures at gigs, not only between bands, but talks over them because his opinion is so much more important. And yes, it’s always a him and it’s always some middle-class white twat who knows he knows best and could do far better. And then – BAM!

This is punk done proper: guitars, bass, drums all going all out – nothing fancy, just full-tilt, four-chord aggression, providing the perfect foil for vocals which bring that same, angry energy.

There’s some sass in the lyric department, too, constructing lines with a patchwork of movie titles in a fashion that we might have nodded to as an example of postmodern referencing and intertext not so long ago: the chorus hits with ‘I don’t wanna be a Mean Girl / I don’t wanna be Clueless like you’ as their tear into the object of antagonism.

It could be that I’m simply more aware now than before, but it seems that masculinity got even more toxic of late, that the shittiest, twattiest representations of the males of the species are pushing back against all of the progress made by feminism in preceding decades, presumably because the idea of strong women makes them feel somehow emasculated, or, put straight, scares them and wounds their pathetic egos and deflates their pathetic dicks. But what’s not necessarily worse, but harder to fathom, are women who are complicit in this, and who go out of their way to undermine others. I suppose this song is for them. But as a package – and a fiery one at that – Helle are part of a new wave of strong female bands who rock harder and rage harder than almost any of their male peers and are all about taking no shit, shouting up, and kicking ass.

‘Hyper Bitch’ encapsulates all of this perfectly.

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COP International – 6th December 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

What a year this is proving to be for bands who have lain dormant, at least on the studio front, for quite literally decades. And when it comes to Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, it really has been a long time. The last Lorries release was an ultra-limited gig-only affair back in 2015, with just 50 copies pressed for Leeds in the August and 100 for Valencia the following month. Said EP featured two new songs, ‘Safe as Houses’ and ‘Piece of my Mind’, which were listed as being from the ‘forthcoming album Strange Kind of Paradise’. Time passed, and it really didn’t look like the album would ever see the light of day. But now, this official EP presages its arrival in February 2025, some thirty-three years since they called it a day with Blasting Off (1992).

The Lorries always stood apart from their contemporaries: whereas the Leeds post-punk scene of the early 80s clearly favoured black in every possible way, the band’s guitar sound was steely grey and like scraping metal, and paired with murky bass and relentless percussion, they forged an industrial clang that, was the perfect mirror to both the landscape and the times. Chris Reed’s baritone was less theatrical and more gnarly and angry-sounding than your archetypal goths which would follow. Fans will already know and appreciate all of this, but with so much history – and so much time having passed – some context is worthwhile, especially for those unfamiliar.

During their 80s heyday, they built a catalogue of outstanding 12” releases, with some of their best cuts not on the albums, and with Driving Black, they’ve added another. It contains six tracks, with two mixes of the title track – I gather the original will feature on the album – long with a mix of the as-yet-unreleased ‘Chickenfeed’. ‘Safe as Houses’ and ‘Piece of my Mind’ finally get to be heard – and owned – by more than 150 people, and hearing them again in this context reminds me of the buzz I got when first heard them almost a decade ago: they’re unmistakably RLYL, and if they’re more in the vein of the material on Blow and Blasting Off, the one thing that’s remained consistent throughout the band’s entire career is their sonic density, that claustrophobic, concrete-heavy heft, with ‘Piece of Mind’ being a solid mid-tempo chugger and a grower at the same time. It seems that the two tracks from the 2015 EP didn’t make the album cut – but this can be seen as good news, if they have material of this quality going spare. The same is true of ‘Living With Spiders’, a frenzied track which has spindly guitars crawling and scratching all over it. It would be a standout, but the consistency of quality across the EP means it’s one more cracking tune.

The strangest thing is how time – or our perception of time – seems to become evermore distorted. Perhaps some of it’s an age thing, but… I remember at the time, The Sisters of Mercy’s release of Floodland was hailed not only as the rebirth it was – stylistically and in terms of commercial success – but as a huge comeback after a great absence. But Floodland arrived only just over two years after First and Last and Always. Even more remarkably, I seem to recall the release of Crawling Mantra under the name The Lorries that same year was considered something of a comeback and a departure, even though Paint Your Wagon was released only the year before. The world seemingly lost the plot when The Stone Roses delivered The Second Coming after a five-year gap (and they really needn’t have bothered). And now, while Daniel Ek is advocating the production of ‘content’ on a constant basis, we have bands putting out their first new material in an eternity, and rather than having forgotten about them, fans are fervent – and rightly so.

Chris Reed’s reuniting with David ‘Wolfie’ Wolfenden – Leeds alumni who first appeared with Expelaires in 1979 along with one Craig Adams, who would do a stint as a member of The Mission’s touring lineup – is most welcome, because they’re simply a great pairing, and this is nowhere more apparent than on lead track ‘Driving Black’, which is vintage Lorries, kicking off with urgent, driving drums, before the throb of bass and rhythm guitar and a sinewy lead guitar, sharp and taut as a tripwire cut in and casts a thread right back to their earliest work in terms of style and structure.

The parallels between now and the 80s are uncomfortable; we may have ditched a Conservative government, but workers are still feeling the pinch, and global tensions are off the scale. That the BBC’s apocalyptic movie Threads is getting only its fourth screening – to mark its fortieth anniversary – feels worryingly relevant. And so it is that Red Lorry Yellow Lorry still sound essential and contemporary is equally testament to their songwriting and delivery, and the bleak times in which we find ourselves. Putting the social and political backdrop to one side, the Driving Black EP is an absolute triumph. There are no half-measures, nothing is weak or half-arsed, and it’s – remarkably – as if they’ve never been away.

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‘Woke Frasier’ is the third and final single from the Leeds band’s upcoming second album I Have A Physical Body That Can Be Harmed, out on November 8th via Big Scary Monsters.

They write: “You can think of this as a sort of sequel to the ‘Torture Cube’ video, also by George Chadwick. Who can say whether or not Rodney Fipplecash will make further appearances within the Thank cinematic universe? Only time will tell.”

Check it here. It’s woke gone mad, I tell you!

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27th August 2024

Christopher Nisnibor

Just read that bio, and reflect for a moment:

Beige Palace was a band from 2016 to 2024. During that time we released two albums, an EP, a split 7" and some other miscellaneous bits. We toured the UK a bunch, we managed to play shows in France and Belgium, and we opened for some of our favourite bands like Shellac, Mclusky and Dawn of Midi. It has been lovely!

These are no small achievements. But for all of them, Leeds’ leading exponents of low-key lo-fi have been humble and kept it DIY throughout their eight-year career. Fans inevitably feel a sense of loss at the demise of any band, but as someone who was present at their first ever show and having followed their progress through the years, this feels like a particularly sad moment. It shouldn’t: the members have moved on to become Solderer, with the addition of Theo Gowans, a Leeds luminary, gig promoter, purveyor of mad noise as Territorial Gobbing, and one-time member of Thank, another of Freddy Vinehill-Cliffe’s vehicles, and of course, they’ve all received coverage here along the way.

So we shouldn’t feel sad. Instead, we should celebrate the achievements of a band who seemingly set out with no ambitions other than to make music for themselves. But still… I was in attendance at their first show, and as I documented at the time, and as I’ve mentioned in subsequent reviews, they were ace. Unassuming, a shade awkward, perhaps, but warm, human, and appealing in the way they presented their set of sparse, minimal tunes, Young Marble Giants were my first-choice reference point.

How YMG, a band whose album was released on Rough Trade and who have been the subject of a number of articles, not to mention being referenced and covered by the likes of Hole, remain obscure, I will never comprehend. But no matter: Beige Palace picked up their baton and, er, hid it under the settee.

In contrast to the wildly flamboyant dayglo-sporting Thank, Beige Palace were always the introspective, introverted musical counterpart who hung back, heads down as they looked at their shoes. Beige Palace’s successes happened almost in spite of the band themselves. That’s no criticism. They were a great live band, and they released some great music, too. I’m reminded of one of the other great DIY Leeds – via Bradford – bands, That Fucking Tank, who bookended their career with recordings of their first and last shows. Without the documents, the events would be but myths and legends.

This looks like being the first of two retrospective releases, and as a recording of their last live show – which neatly bookends my experience of the band, having attended their first – makes my case about the quality of their performances.

LIVE For The Very Last Time (2016-2024) presents a career-spanning set, with opener ‘Mum, Tell Him’, ‘Dr Thingy’, and ‘Illegal Backflip’ representing their 2019 debut album, Leg, and a fair few cuts from Making Sounds for Andy packing out a varied set, which culminates in single ‘Waterloo Sublet’.

But there are a handful of unreleased songs here, too: like Thank, Beige Palace were always focused on the next project, the next release, and as the very naming of ‘Waterloo Sublet’ illustrates, irreverence was their thing. ‘Local Sandwich’ is a perfect illustration of their quirky irreverence, as Vinehill-Cliffe rants about, yes, a local sandwich shop.

LIVE For The Very Last Time (2016-2024) captures everything that was great about this trio. Awkward, honest, slightly disconnected between-song chat is integral to the experience, and there’s plenty of that – including comments on someone’s wind – on this warts-and-all, as-it-happened recording, captured in Leeds in the intimate but awesome grassroots venue, Wharf Chambers, where the sound is always good – and loud – the audiences are friendly, and the beer is cheap.

There are no overdubs, there’s no polish or pretence, and LIVE For The Very Last Time (2016-2024) is all the better for the fact. The mix isn’t always balanced – the vocals are half-buried and times and the guitars are way loud at times, but what you get is a feel for being in the room.

The music is gloriously wonky, skewed, angular math-rock with some valiant forays into noise. The vocals and guitar both veer wide of melody; it’s the lumbering, loping, rhythm section that keeps everything together: without them, it would be a complete disaster. But this is how some bands work, and Beight Palace always sounded like a band on the brink of falling apart, in the same way Trumans Water always sounded like they may or may not make it to the end of the song as they jerk and jolt their way through waves of chaos.

‘Update Hello Blue Bag Black Bag’ which lands mid-set making its debut and final appearance is unexpectedly evocative, and the eleven-and-a-half-minute ‘Dinner Practice’, also unreleased, hints at the trajectory they might have taken on their next album.

Beige Palace were never going to be huge: they were cut out for cult fandom, and comfortable with that, being one of those bands who made music for fun first and foremost. It’s the sense of fun that come across here. Even in the most downtempo songs, what comes across is that they’re enjoying playing. They will be missed, but we look forward to their next incarnation.

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Metropolis Records – 19th July 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

Metropolis Records – 19th July 2024

Cut back to not so long ago – in real terms – and the prospect of a new album from The March Violets was simply not something you’d imagine. 1987/88: The Sisters of Mercy had broken through in a major (label) way with ‘This Corrosion’ and Floodland; The Mission’s ‘Tower of Strength’ almost reached the UK Top 10 before Children scaled the heights of number two in the album charts, and this was the commercial heyday of goth… and one-time peers, The March Violets were a footnote in the genre’s history, having gone pop and signed to a major, only to go nowhere far and call it a day. They were fondly remembered by those who did, and compilation The Botanic Verses documented their body of work in the early 90s, but… Rosie was busy doing poetry and the like and Si was hiding behind smog as Nurse to Dr Avalanche as part of The Sisters of Mercy’s touring crew.

Then, in 2007, twenty years after they vanished, the band reconvened for a show in Leeds at what was then still the Met. It was a glorious celebration, not only of The Violets and their career, but also the heritage of the Leeds scene, with The Chris Reed Unit representing one of the city’s most singular and longstanding acts, and Merciful Release stalwart James Ray presenting thee magnificently eccentric ambient dance grooves of 25 Men.

Health issues stalled things for a while, but miraculously, 2013 saw the eventual release of Made Glorious – which was in fact their debut album, since the three previous long-players had all been compilations (I’m including the US-only Electric Shades among these). And now, after further setbacks – notably Denbeigh’s departure from the band following a stroke, but also some not insignificant touring under their belts – they deliver album number two, Crocodile Promises a mere eleven years later.

No-one could, or should, expect a band who’ve been going for so long and undergone so many changes – both personnel and personal – to sound exactly the same as they did when they started out. And nor should anyone want a band to exist in a state of suspension or arrested development. Here’s where The March Violets are a rare thing: a band which has evolved, expanded, grown, but equally has never lost sight of their roots. As their Bandcamp bio summarises it neatly, ‘Original Post Punk Drum Machine Band From Leeds. Started at the Beginning, Imploded, Reborn for the 21st Century. Play Loud Play Purple.’ Yes, they’ve even retained their original slogan. And it still works, too.

Whereas Made Glorious was a sprawling beast of a release, comprising sixteen tracks – a double album, effectively, Crocodile Promises is a taut, succinct nine-song document.

Single release ‘Hammer the Last Nail’ kicks the album off in classic style with a snaking drum-machine groove and twangy gothy guitar interweaving behind Rosie’s sultry, vampy vocals.

Where Made Glorious felt a tad slick, Crocodile Promises returns to the pumping, gritty sound that made the band one of the greatest first-generation post-punk acts. ‘Bite the Hand’ is a tangle of metallic, trebly, chorus-hazed guitar against a thrumming bassline and pumping mechanised drum machine, and it’s got the hunger and edge they displayed back in ’83. It’s likely a coincidence that the title is a phrase which featured in a quote from Andrew Eldritch when commenting on the Violets’ departure from Merciful Release… right?

‘Virgin Sheep’ maintains the angular energy, and once again recaptures blistering force of their first iteration, calling to mind the frenzy of ‘Radiant Boys’. ‘Mortality’, the title track from the album-in-progress which was shelved on account of Denbeigh’s stroke is another classic Violets cut, and what becomes apparent while listening to Crocodile Promises is that feels natural, comfortable, not a struggling, forced effort to recreate the past. Of course, the timing is beneficial: the next generation of new music-makers are discovering grunge, post-punk, shoegaze, and goth, and suddenly, the bands who were the progenitors of these styles are finding new audiences, and instead of sounding dates, the styles feel fresh once more.

Of course, great songs are timeless, and great songs are a feature of Crocodile Promises. ‘Crocodile Teeth’ is perhaps more fractal dream pop than goth or post-punk, but it’s got that late-80s Siouxsie vibe that gives the dreaminess a serrated edge. Its inclusion brings balance and space to the album, too.

It would be wrong to say that The March Violets are quite the same band they were without Denbeigh’s snarling interjections, but it would equally be a mistake to criticise the current iteration on account of this. The March Violets are survivors – and a great band. Ever-present co-founder Tom Ashton continues to prove pivotal in defining their sound, and, equally, their attitude. As much as they were a part of that early 80s Leeds milieu, The Violets stood apart, and that slightly wonky, sharp-edged, skewed guitar was, and remains, integral. And moreover, Crocodile Promises is a great album. Its strength lies not only in its consistency, but also its energy and its atmosphere, both of which it brings in abundance. But best of all, this is a true return to form. There isn’t a dud cut here, and every song is up there with the singles up to ’86. It’s incredible that a band at this stage in their career could drop a definitive album – but that’s exactly what The March Violets have done.

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Christopher Nosnibor

The prospect of Objections making a return to York was incentive enough to snaffle a ticket for this some time in advance, without even paying too much attention to the rest of the lineup initially, but Teleost and The Bricks provided two strong reasons to get down early, and a fair few others clearly thought the same.

All-dayers tend to have a couple of acts people aren’t especially fussed about at the bottom of the bill, often newer acts cutting their teeth, so kicking off with a brace of well-established local talents proved to be a combination of coup, genius programming, and an indication of the quality of the bill – which, in the event, didn’t include a single weak or dud act from beginning to end.

Another rare – and impressive – thing about this lineup is that it features just one all-male act. When you hear so many promoters responding to accusations of gender inequality and a lack of representation by whining about how they struggle to find and book bands with women, it feels like a massive cop-out. And here’s the proof. Eight bands, and only one that slots into the stereotypical white male bracket – and then again, they possibly get an exemption on account of their age bracket (that is to say, they’re probably about my age bracket). Anyway.

The last time I saw them, supporting Part Chimp, Leo Hancill and Cat Redfern were playing as Uncle Bari. Now they’re Teleost, and they’ve totally nailed their slow, sludgy sound. The guitar sounds like a bass, the drums sound like explosions, and it’s a mighty, mighty sound. Slow drumming is always impressive to watch, and hear, and Cat it outstanding, in every way, a hard-hitter who makes every single slow-mo cymbal crash count. They’re properly slow and heavy, with a doomy heft, but with folky vocals. The contrast is magnificent and makes Teleost a unique proposition.

It’s been a few months since I’ve seen The Bricks, and yet again they seem to have upped their game. Their set is punchy and forceful, led by a fierce vocal performance from Gemma Hartshorn. As a band, they’ve really hit their stride, and having got a fair few gigs under their belts now, they’re super-tight.

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The Bricks

Instant Bin are a busy-sounding indie duo who knock out short songs packed tightly, and they’re good entertainment, while Knitting Circle are very unlike the somewhat twee, whimsical and fluffy indie band their name suggests. They offer up some tense, mathy, angular noise with a hint of The Fall and Gang of Four, and are very much about tackling issues, with a strong anti-war song, and a song about menopause (‘Losing My Eggs’) while ‘I am the Fox’ which about fox hunting (and no, they’re not in favour) which takes its stylistic cues from Gang of Four’s ‘Not Great Men’.

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The Knitting Circle

Objections – who I also last saw supporting Part Chimp, but on a different occasion – are out hot on the heels of the release of their debut album. As you’d expect from a band with their pedigree, they’re seriously strong. A tight set of noise played with precision, propelled by some magnificently crisp jazz drumming and busy baselines that nag away, they’ve got everything nailed down. The three of them each bring something unique as performers, and they’re simply great to watch in terms of style and technique. Joseph O’Sullivan’s guitar work is so physical, lurching and bouncing here there and everywhere, and working magic with an oscillator on top; Neil Turpin looks like he’s in another world, a drummer who seemingly feels the groove instead of counting time, while Claire Adams is intently focused – seemingly on the vocals, while the fast fretwork on the bass seems to happen subconsciously. They are, in so many ways, a quintessential Leeds act, both sonically and in terms of cult status. They’d have made worthy headliners, but public transport dictated their much earlier slot. Then again, there seems to be a lot of merit to spreading the quality more evenly.

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Objections

After a clattering avant-jazz intro, The Unit Ama launch into some sinewy math rock with some serious blasts of abrasion interspersed with some meandering jazz discordance. They’re certainly the most unexpected act of the night. Despite having been around some twenty-three years, having played around the north and north-east quite extensively in that time, even opening for Fugazi in their early years, and releasing music on a label that also gave us music by That Fucking Tank, they’re still completely new to me. Their set is wildly varied and intriguing: deep prog with an experimental jazz element – showcasing the kind of shudder and judder, rattle and crash cymbal breaks that you’re more likely to hear in Café Oto than a pub in York on a Saturday evening, whereby it’s hard to determine at times if they’re highly technical or just tossing about like chimps messing about to see what noise they can make. It’s expansive work which makes for a compelling and intriguing set.

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The Unit Ama

Wormboys are again interesting, and varied, but in a completely different way. The four-piece present a broad range of indie stylings with some strikingly athletic vocals. In places, they’re atmospheric, haunting, moving. Elsewhere, there are some motorik sections and big blasts of noise, and visually. they’re striking, with an imposing and lively bassist centre stage with the two guitarists, who also share vocals, either side.

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Wormboys

The crowd had thinned a little by the time Cowtown took the stage, meaning a few missed out on their brand of buoyant synthy indie with good energy. Another frequent-gigging stalwart act on the Leeds scene, they provide another reminder of the quality of the scene between Leeds and York, and this magnificently-curated event showcased that quality.

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Cowtown

That a number of the bands took time out during their sets to speak out on political issues, from giving praise for bands pulling out of Download, espousing people power, encouraging people to vote, and trans rights  – to use their voices, in any capacity, and even simply providing a ‘fuck the Tories’ call of disenfranchisement, it’s heartening to feel that we have bands who are politically engaged and using their platforms for more than mere entertainment. In bleak times, that there is a real sense of artistic community among such disparate acts gives a sense of hope. That hope may be misplaced, but to just step sideways from all of the shit for a few hours, immersed in a bubble, with beer and live music is the perfect escape. We should do this again sometime.

LAAG Recordings – 10th May 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

Over the last couple of decades, Leeds has thrown out some truly amazing acts, and while few have achieved the kind of commercial success of Kaiser Chiefs, in terms of creativity and sheer range, it’s come to stand in a league of its own. It was round about twenty years ago that The Brudenell began to build its reputation as being s place that provided a space for non-mainstream acts, notably becoming something of a residential spot for iLiKETRAiNS in their early days, hosting their Signal Failure nights. While I saw a lot of post rock there around this time, I also got to see the likes of That Fucking Tank, Pulled Apart By Horses, Blacklisters, as well as visiting acts which included Whitehouse and Unsane. The Brudenell may have expanded in terms of what it offers now, but it remains in many ways the essence of the Leeds scene, an open and accommodating space where pretty much anything goes, with emerging local acts still getting a platform and, significantly, high-profile support slots. And then that are – and have been – an array of smaller independent venues which have all been integral to the crazed melting pot which is the Leeds scene, from Wharf Chambers, to the Packhorse, via Chink and Mabgate Bleach.

From the quirky alternative noise of Thank to the banging rave mania of Straight Girl, Leeds in 2024 really does provide a broad span of representation, in every way. And if further evidence is needed, step forward queer-dance-punk five-piece DRAAGS, who offer up their debut album on their own DIY label, LAAG Recordings.

Their bio and album pitch set out their stall nearly, as they recount how the album was ‘Made in their home over 2023’, where ‘the five-piece explored themes of escapism, queerness, rebellion, anti-capitalism, -police and -mass-media, creating melodies and lyrics to reflect their feelings at the time. No one song sounds the same, just as no member of DRAAGS is the same.’

They go on to explain how ‘In Headlines we are grappling with the alienating nature of post-internet capitalist society, fuelled by a will to understand our surroundings and not succumb to normality and drudgery. The album is an unraveling of self-purpose, self-destruction and escapism vs reality in a world that distorts the truth and seeks exponential growth through false ambition. The work as a whole intends to reflect the overstimulating impact that a possessive individualist society has on the human psyche. How this obstructs our ability to connect and the challenges we face to not degrade our beings to reflect our bleak surroundings. This project has been a driving force for us to rebel, find togetherness, community, collective joy and purpose and we hope others feel that too.’

Headlines is a deranged mash-up of absolutely everything. ‘SPINNER’ is exemplary: starting with a recording of a standard call-queue experience – we all know that that the reason all the agent are busy and an agent will be with us shortly – or not – is because no company ever hires enough staff because paying staff to provide any real service eats into their profligate profits… and then everything goes crackers, a head-on collision between Age of Chance and iForwardRussia!, in turn continuing the lineage of Leeds bands who dare to be different. Then it goes a bit operatic, a bit Sparks, a bit drum ‘n’ bass, a bit Foetus, a but Mr Bungle, a bit Selfish Cunt. To say that it’s a crazed and bewildering three-and-a-half minutes would be an understatement.

Every single song on here is ABSOLUTELY WILD! It’s quite difficult to pay attention to the lyrics when there’s so much going on. It’s arch, it’s arty, it’s a bit campy, it’s WAY over the top. It’s a RACKET! And as the song titles evidence, THEY LOVE CAPITALS, because SHOUTING AND IN YOUR FACE IS THE THING! I don’t even mean that critically: this is an album that feels like a relentless blizzard of barminess, and everything is just brain-melting. ‘PAPERS’ is a full-on, brain-melting slice of jazz-flavoured derangement, and there isn’t a moment’s let-up here, with helium-filled freneticism leading a cacophonous carnival of dementiture.

Twisted jazz and grinding funk coalesce, or congeal, into a maniacal mess, and sometimes, it gets noisy, too. How do you possibly keep up with this, or stay sane? Maybe you don’t. HEADLINES isn’t really a SONGS album, so much as an EXPLOSION that leaves you shaking our head to get clear as you find yourself sitting dazed, utterly floored.

There is no sane or objective response to this album. There is no easy way to process it: there is simply too much.

DRAAGS are going all out here to push and test themselves and their potential audience. Surrender to the CRAZINESS.

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Christopher Nosnibor

Having shown a remarkably consistent rate of output, with three albums in just over three years (four if you include their collaboration with The Body), BIG | BRAVE have also maintained a similarly solid touring schedule, which has for the lucky people of Leeds brought them to the city on each of their last three circuits which have brought them to the UK.

On record, BIG | BRAVE achieve a rare intensity, and while heavily reliant on drone, feedback, slow, heavy percussion – things familiar to fans of numerous bands like Earth, Sunn O)), and Swans, they demonstrate a unique approach to songwriting and structure, and an ability to tap into raw emotion in a way which goes far deeper than mere words. Live, however, they’re simply so much more. All of these elements are amplified – and not just in the literal sense by means of their towering backline. Oftentimes, the first time of seeing an outstanding live act draws you back in the hope of recreating that initial ‘wow’ moment. But anyone who’s seen lots of live music will likely agree that great as subsequent experiences are, they never have quite the same impact. It’s incredibly rare – in fact practically unheard of – for an act to hit that same spot more than once. BIG | BRAVE are that rare thing: despite high expectations, they always seem to pull out something extra and surpass those expectations.

The hype from people I know in real life and virtually for these shows, particularly in context of the new album, A Chaos of Flowers was huge. And, it soon proved, entirely justified.

Keeping tour costs to a minimum, Aicher, who provided the main support previously, is the sole support this time around. The solo project of their live bassist, Liam Andrews, he’s joined this time around by BIG | BRAVE guitarist Mathieu Ball, and his presence adds further layers to the deep, rumbling sounds emanating from the PA. Playing in near-darkness, Andrews conjures thunder and heavy drones and explosions, while Ball wrings epic howls of feedback. Much of the sound is derived from the use of open contact with the guitar lead when disconnected from the metal-bodied bass he grinds against his immense rig, and there looks to become modular lead switching going on, too. This set feels darker and more structured than a year ago, and captures – and expands on – the sound of the Russell Haswell mastered ‘Lack’ single.

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Aicher

BIG | BRAVE’s ‘quieter’ new record does not translate to a lower volume live, but a balanced, dynamic approach to the sound. From the opening moments of the set, I find myself experiencing the physical sensations of enormous volume and strong lower-end frequencies, powerful vibrations shake my nostrils, my legs, even my scrotum, in a slow build. Frone hereon in, my notes are sparse as I find myself completely immersed in the performance. For an hour, I forget where I am, and the entire room is transfixed: there’s no chat, no-one’s jostling to be here or there, pushing forward, going back and forth to the bar. Time stands still, and so do we, utterly captivated by every moment.

‘The blinding lights facing out,’ I note… ‘A hypnotic, mesmerising, immense wall of shimmering sound. Each strike of the bass yields a shuddering quake. Sparse, subtle percussion’. I recorded very little else, but the rest is etched into my memory with such vividness it’s as is I can watch it all back in my mind’s eye.

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BIG | BRAVE

Watching the neck of Ball’s guitar flexing under force against the amp one minute, and seeing him move, light-footed around the stage, with the deftness of a point-toed ballet dancer is remarkable, and compelling. And the sustain! Without striking a note, with headstocks pressed against cabs, both his guitar and Andrews’ bass hold notes for near eternities. Robin Wattie is an understated yet immensely powerful presence, with instrumental segments far outweighing the vocal elements, but her guitar, too, is immense, and Tasy Hudson is outstanding – slow, measured, precise, powerful.

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BIG | BRAVE

Andrews applies a violin bow to the bass for ‘I Felt a Funeral’, bringing an even weightier, dronier facet to the heavily textured sound. And that sound – and beyond, every molecule of their essence – stems from the contradictory elements of fragility and force, and they pull against one another at every moment. And it’s from the space between that the magical power of BIG | BRAVE emerges.

It’s only at the end, as the rapturous applause fades, that Robin finally speaks. The rest of the band are packing down leads and things around her as she tells us, her voice quiet and choked with emotion, how grateful they are to us for coming, for listening. It’s moving to see an artist so humble, so genuinely touched and amazed to be doing what they’re doing, that they’re playing to full venues who are so engaged. They’re doing steady trade at the merch stall a few minutes later, too, and deservedly so.

I leave, clutching my pink vinyl copy of A Chaos of Flowers after gushing at Mathieu about how they blew me away – again – while he served me, and step into the rainy night completely awed by the intensity of what I had just witnessed.