‘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!
AA
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.
AA
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.
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.
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’.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
AA
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.
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.
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.
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.
Christopher Nosnibor
Thursday night in Leeds, and while the extent to which grassroots venues are struggling is a hot topic right now, you’d never think it on arrival at The Brudenell, who are packing two sold-out shows simultaneously tonight, and it’s getting busy the moment they open the doors.
They must have done a massive batch of wristbands for Yard Act’s recent residency, as they’re still using them tonight. I was glad to whip that one off the moment I’d left – I’d hate for anyone to think I’d actually gone to see them. But it’s good to know they’re not going to waste, and they’re using surplus wristbands rather than increasing beer prices (the fact there’s a major-league venue where you can still get a pint – and a decent pint at that – for £3.40 in 2024 is amazing and testament to The Brudenell’s operational model).
It might have been while watching an episode of Law and Order that I quite recently discovered the significance of jade hairpins as a thing, but the band? They’re an unknown quantity. Sometimes surprises are a good thing. Others, no so much. The only positive about turning up for this acts is that… no, there’s not one positive. They are fucking awful. I’ve come to give leeway to acts who aren’t my thing, who are a bit ropey, who may be having an off night, who are new… and as such it’s rare that I actively dislike a band. But Jade Hairpins are so awful it hurts. They sound like they can all play, individually, but together? No. They make a horrible uncoordinated mess of doing big 80s radio rock and everything about it is simply wrong and their set drags for the longest and most painful half hour imaginable.
In contrast, Pissed Jeans power through their set in the blink of an eye. This review has taken considerably longer to write than the set’s duration. The fact of the matter is that it’s difficult to really do justice to a performance of this calibre. Bassist Randy Huth is wearing a Poison Idea T-shirt, in case anyone needed reminding of the band’s hardcore credentials. They shouldn’t: their latest album, Half Divorced, is a really gnarly beast of an album that really does dig deep into their roots, and is a blistering roar of a record, which was always going to translate into some intense live performances.
They’re straight in with a couple of cuts from the new album, Half Divorced, dispatching ‘Sixty-Two thousand Dollard in Debt’ up front with a corpuscle-busting ferocity.
The thing about Pissed Jeans, as I mentioned in my review Half Divorced, is that they’ve evolved as they’ve aged, and if Why Love Now was a nasty and at times awkward and uncomfortable discussion of office politics, shoving the wrongness of toxic masculinity in our faces, Half Divorced is the sound of midlife crisis articulated as rage thrown in every direction, but none more forcefully than inwards.
Matt Korvette’s performances have always been centred around his being a guy who’ s not especially cool playing at being cool because he’s on stage – the slightly off-key office team leader who resents his job and everything corporate and yearns to be a full-time rock star but has bills to pay, so sucks it up while seething, and then pouring all of this festering frustration into the music. For me – and surely many others – much of the appeal of Pissed Jeans has been around their knack for ‘keeping it real’ – uncomfortably so, grappling with the aggravations of mundane white-collar existence. Drummer Sean McGuinnes’ frayed sticks (I spend half the set wondering how long before one of them splinters mid-song: he doesn’t play gently) aren’t an affectation: he’s got bills to pay which take priority over having a sackful of gleaming fresh sticks hanging off his – very modest – kit.
So how do Korvette’s cool slick moves and poses work now he’s no longer cool and dynamic, that rad and right-on, go-getting new team manager, and instead he’s bald (shaven head to hide the onward match of hair loss) and flabby in his vest and bust-out-at-the crotch and back pockets ragged jeans? It could be cringey, like seeing fat Elvis or Guns ‘n’ Roses. But no: perhaps it’s my age, but this performance channels a powerful energy, a recognition that life is racing past and there’s no stopping it, so when the opportunity’s there, you go all out.
The audience spans a massive demographic, and the reaction says no-one here thinks they’re past anything. The exchanges between band and audience are magnificently difficult, even tetchy – the ultimate bantz.
While much of the set – unsurprisingly – showcases Half Divorced, with ‘Moving On’ standing out as a ragged anthem with an upbeat sentiment that sounds more like a delusional self-spoken pep-talk than a real statement of positive intent – ‘Love Without Emotion’ and ‘Ignorecam’ from Why Love Now are raw and ragged. They blast through the songs so as to render them a blur, and the set doesn’t delve too far into their back catalogue for the most part, but ends with a blinding rendition of rabid slacker anthem ‘False Jesii Part 2’.
An encore isn’t always guaranteed with Pissed Jeans, but they’re back on about a minute later to blast out a two-song encore that lasts about three minutes and probably featured ‘Monster’ and ‘Boring Girls’.
It’s all over in an hour and fifteen and the lights are up at 10:15, but no-one’s leaving feeling short-changed: we’ve just witnessed a total sonic tornado, and a band on top form.
15th December 2023
Christopher Nosnibor
Among their tags, garage / punk / alternative rock band The Würmen have included ‘super-edgy’. Fair enough: they are German, right? Wrong! They’re from West Yorkshire – Leeds to be precise – and this, their debut EP, which features two previous singles, offers a set of four songs, all with medical / related titles and puns. ‘Vas deferens’ was the punchline to a joke I’ve completely forgotten after being told some twenty-five years ago. This is a recollection which helps no-one, but simply adds a layer off intertext to the experience of hearing this primitive punky racket. The songs are raucous, shouty, not too mention a tad zany, equal parts Pixies and Leeds legends Bilge Pump, the choppy, skewed guitar slaloming all over a dominant bass sound.
‘Ceiling Funny’ – the EP’s only track to run beyond three minutes – feels like their stab at a song that might get some traction, if not necessarily airplay, with the angularity yielding to a hooky chorus that’s not quite Foo Fighters, but clearly aspires to a more ramshackle reimagining of Biffy Clyro.
‘Cognitive Dissonance’ is quirky noise rock that’s quintessential Leeds, channelling the roaring grunge of Pulled Apart by Horses and the nagging mathiness of Wintermute and This Et Al. ‘Remediation Policy’ is a hell-for-leather riotous race to the end, wrapping up a snappy release that’s exploding with energy, urgency, and raw power, and which is great fun.
AA
Christopher Nosnibor
To observe that my quota of nights off for beer and live music has been subject to a dramatic cut in 2023 would be an understatement, and any ambition I may have had of becoming York’s answer to JG Ballard as a stay-at-home dad cranking out novels has been rather stifled by the dayjob. But, it pays the bills and I have achieved a writing space that resembles Ballard’s mighty shit-tip of books and all kinds of odds and sods, of which I am rather proud.
Having just the other day stumbled upon Ooberfuse’s latest single, ‘Hard Times’ in one of my virtual submission piles, and having felt compelled to write about it, spotting that they were playing for free at a venue ten minutes’ walk from my house seemed like an opportunity not to be missed, particularly after I’d given Shine Path a bit of a listen on SoundCloud.
Matt B pitches his project as ‘Leeds Based Surf Punk Goth Pop noise’, and it’s a solo thing with ‘Drums and Beats’ provided by sidekick Bruvver Boom. He’s up first and he’s sporting a Sonic Youth T-shirt and some sturdy hiking boots, which he used to stomp on his not insubstantial array of pedals. The pairing of guitar and drum machine is a quintessentially Leeds sound. He appears to use the same rhythm throughout his set, and with no fills or fancy stuff, he seems to be from the Andrew Eldritch post-1997 school of programming. The set consists mostly of tracks from his eponymous EP that’s on SoundCloud, with a few covers thrown in to pack things out. There’s a bit of Bizarro-era Wedding Present jangle in places, too, and when it comes to northern indie, ‘workmanlike’ isn’t a sleight. He delivers a hefty rendition of REM’s ‘The One I Love’, and a sparse echoey swampy, even vaguely gothy drum-free rendition of ‘Where Did You Sleep Last Night?’ before wrapping up with a stompin’ take of ‘20th Century Boy.’ I’m assuming he’s friends with a fair few people who are in tonight, but the warm reception is deserved.
ShinePath
The event listing had led me to expect Ooberfuse to be headlining as part of the promotion for the new single, bit they’re up next, and I’m immediately struck by Cherrie Anderson’s bright yellow puffa jacket and her superbly melodic vocals. The pair bring a tidy set of pop tunes with a fairly minimal setup of synth drums and acoustic guitar, with urban beats and sequenced bass grooves. The songs are quality pop with positive energy and outstanding musicianship. ‘Go’ brings both in spades, with a Latin flavour. Rounding off a short but perfectly-formed set, ‘Hard Times’ marks a bit of a shift stylistically and it’s not only well placed but incredibly effective and moving. Snoop Dogg’s vocal sits as a sample in the mix with the dramatic piano and it’s a strong way to close the set.
Ooberfuse
As there’s little mention of faith on Ooberfuse’s social, it’s something which seems to have bypassed Tom Robinson and The Guardian alike in their rave reviews, but there is – reflecting on Shine Path’s logo taped to his amp – very much a Christian thread running through tonight’s acts. But then, in the main, they seem more concerned with esposing Christian values than preaching Christianity. As these are values which are sadly absent from our abhorrent government who seem incapable of even espousing the most basic and fundamental human values, it can’t really be grounds for criticism.
Hibari, however, I might sleight for false advertising. He’s certainly a lot less mean-looking and mean-sounding than the poster had led me to expect. Heavily tattooed and billed as ‘ONE MAN POST BLACK METAL BAND STRAIGHT EDGE/CHIPTUNE/RAP PUNK’, when Hibari bounds on with some buoyant bit-tune rap that’s so, so ultra-poppy it makes so much J-Pop sound like the most brutal doom, it is something of a surprise. The thin sound is sort of part of the chiptune schtick. He’s a showman, and no mistake, windmilling the mic and bounding and leaping with limitless energy. The crowd is comparatively small, but there are a lot of phones out for pics, suggesting that many of the crowd know the man and his work. Given how difficult it is to track him or his music down online, there must be some Christian channels or something. It’s fun enough and all and the numbers dancing down the front increases with every number, but there isn’t the vaguest hint of black metal or punk in evidence here: this is super-clean Japanese electropop at its absolute cleanest and most minimal and most effervescent: it’s almost as dazzling as his very yellow trainers. After a few songs it becomes abundantly clear that anything remotely metal is off the table and the relentlessly upbeat and uptempo energy begins to sap the life from my limbs. It’s always a good idea to monitor and limit your sugar intake, and following the skyward-facing positivity of Ooberfuse, Hibari hits with enough positive froth as to induce a hyperglycaemic coma.
Hibari
The stylistic differentials between the three acts isn’t easy to assimilate, but it makes for a dynamic lineup – perhaps a shade too dynamic even for my tastes, but the floor’s getting progressively busier with each song, which says loud and clear that this is Hibari’s crowd.
Christopher Nosnibor
When you don’t get to see bands playing live very often, it’s important to be selective and make sure the ones you do make it to are worth turning out for. When this show was announced, there was simply no way I was going to miss it. I’ve written extensively on Human Worth and their roster, and have even had the privilege of performing a few gigs that they’ve put on, alongside Modern Technology and others. The main reason I always do my utmost to provide coverage is because I absolutely love the label: it’s pretty much a cast-iron guarantee of being a great record of it’s on Human Worth. And that’s not just my biased opinion: I have a mate who places advance orders for every release because he’s that confident it’ll be worth having if it’s on Human Worth. The quality of their releases is exceptional, and they’re also thoroughly decent guys. And then there’s the charity aspect. It’s not virtue signalling to make it label standard to donate a proportion of proceeds of every album to a nominated charity. It’s simply illustrative of the name being a mission statement.
They’re already responsible for two of my favourite albums of the year, and both of those bands are featured on this colossal eight-act lineup for a ridiculously cheap £8, at one of Leeds’ finest venues. Wharf Chambers always delivers killer sound at high volume, and it’s also a welcoming, accommodating ,safe space for all, with an atmosphere which feels accommodating and safe.
There have been some last-minute lineup and sequencing changes, partly because Grub Nap aren’t able to play, and have been subbed with a different Steve Myles band in the form of #FAxFO, and, as an unknown quantity and no label release, they’re first up. With his arm in a sling, it’s obvious why Steve isn’t drumming, and in his capacity of vocalist fronting this heavy dirty thrash collective, despite the physical encumbrance, he still charges around man possessed. His vocals roar against a beastly backdrop of churning noise, underpinned by a six-string bass. It’s barely half four in the afternoon and already we’ve been subjected to a monster noise assault.
Belk are next up, and they just get nastier and gnarlier. It seems that finally, they’ve got a fair bit tighter, too. Their set consists primary of feedback and overloading guitars, gut churning bass, and distorted vocals. The set starts at the sludgy pace of early Swans before hitting brutal grind. The vocals are unique, flicking form a high hair rock squawk to a nasty grindy guttural growl midway through a single line: it’s like listening to Judas Priest and early Pitch Shifter at the same time.
I frothed about the Friend album a bit back, and have also been extremely excited about the members’ various other projects, of which there are many, having even shared a bill with Lump Hammer, featuring vocalist James Watts and guitarist Tim Croft. It’s fair to say this is a band made up of lovely people. Tim’s running his guitar through both bass and guitar rigs and it sounds absolutely fucking immense. And they’re a joy to watch, because this is a band which portray distinct and very different individual personalities – Skylar brings a lot of energy and is quite a flamboyant drummer, while in contrast, Croft is stooped, humble, and Watts, in his onstage form at least, is rabid, and his energy level suggests he had a particularly satisfying poo beforehand. His vocals range from a cavernous vocal drone like Gregorian chants, guttural chthonic growls and raging demonic screams, and at the end of the set, it’s all pitched around thunderous drone guitar which draws the set to an eye-popping and tempestuous climax.
Friend
AL Lacey’s set of piano-led neoclassical works with soft yet moving vocals provided a well-placed change of tone and tempo. No earplugs are needed here: the graceful sound is clear and the experience is beautiful and life affirming. Alice’s voice has a folky quality and the performance is understated but hypnotic, and the room is quiet. And this is the measure of the event, and exemplified precisely why this is the perfect gig: everyone is just really nice and respectful towards the artists and one another. People who clearly have an ear for the most brutal noise are broad-minded enough to appreciate the most exquisitely delicate music, and to shut the fuck up and listen when the volume level drops. Yes, you really could have heard a pin drop. Given just how truly awful and apocalyptic and hate-filled the world is right now, it’s hard to fully articulate the heart-filling joy of standing in a room where, just for a short time, all of it is placed on pause, and there is escape. It’s a magical and quite moving experience.
AL Lacey
It’s around this point that it also registers just how eclectic the Human Worth roster is. None of the noisy bands really sound alike, and if further proof were needed, we get The Eurosuite next. I dug their last album, but have to admit it’s not one which has particularly stuck with me. But witnessing them live gives me reason to review things. Jarring, jerky, their sound is dominated by processed vocals. The overall experience is of a band which is twitchy, frenzied, and incredibly tight.
The Eurosuite
Modern Technology’s Conditions of Worth is one of my two top albums released on this label this year. It’s slow, it’s heavy, it’s oppressive and yet has space. And it seems that live, too, the pair are at the top of their game. I’ve seen Modern Technology a few times now, and they’ve never disappointed in terms of performance or volume, but this is something else. They look just so regular, too: Chris Clarke sports what I can best describe as a corporate haircut and the guys looks like the biggest straights. In contrast, they define the anticorporate spirit. Clarke’s gritty baritone vocals ring out bleak observations to harrowing effect, while he grinds the most body-smashing bass. It’s like being run over by a bulldozer. The combination of a Nonchalant delivery, vitriol and punishing volume and mega sonic density is devastating. ‘The Space Between’ stands out in the set just as it does on the album as being particularly stark and brutal. They take things down for a quieter spell mid-set…and then return harder, harsher, and stronger. Teeth bared, Owen looks murderous behind the kit. It’s a truly killer set on every level.
Modern Technology
Tonight is also notable as the album launch event for Leeds’ own Beige Palace, whose Making Sounds for Andy was released on Friday. I effused substantially over the both the band and the album in my review just the other day, and everything I wrote remains true here – only with the added bonus of some new, unreleased songs. They open with ‘Not Waving’ from the new album, but ikt seems that the next album is already in progress, and in the fashion of The Fall, Beige Palace are so forward-facing that they will launch their new album by playing a slab of the next one. It’s fucking brilliant, as is the between-song banter, which is hilarious as they trade insults and nudges and bat self-effacing comments about all over. There’s nothing contrived about any of it: what you get is a band consisting of three mates doing onstage the same as they do in rehearsals, in the studio, down the pub. It’s human, it’s real, and it’s fun. There are false starts and fuck-ups, and it’s all part of the enjoyment of an entertaining set.
Torpor are worthy headliners, and they’re every bit as immense live as they are recorded, and as showcased on their latest album, Abscission. It one of the most punishingly heavy albums I’ve heard in a while, but at the same time, it’s beautiful and redemptive. This translates to their live sound, too, which is defined by soaring shoegaze beauty and crushing weight. Apart from the metal drummer, they look positively straight. It’s a real contrast with the heavy beyond heavy noise and subterranean vocals. My notes peter out here as I’m blasted away on a tidal wave of megalithic guitars, big and bold enough to flatten trees.
There wasn’t a weak band on the bill or a single twat in the venue (however much I jibe my mates). If proof were needed of Human Worth’s capacity as curators, this is it. The world might be descending into aa tsunami of shit right now, but at least we know there are at least some good guys on the planet.
Aural Aggravation 