Leeds | Aural Aggravation

Posts Tagged ‘Leeds’

Salvation / B-Movie / Loungewear – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 9th September 2022

Posted: 10 September 2022 in Live
Tags: 80s, album launch, B-Movie, Indie, Leeds, Live Review, Loungewear, old goths, Psychedelic, Salvation, The Brudenell Social Club

Christopher Nosnibor

Thank fuck that not everything has been cancelled this week. Not everyone wants to show ‘respect’ by suspending al, activity to watch tributes 24/7 on every TV channel. Monarchist or not, what’s important at any time of trouble is a sense of community, and anyone looking for an example of something that makes our country great – and there are precious few right now, for a great many – it’s a music scene that continues to thrive despite everything that’s happened in recent years. The Brudenell, in particular, represents the best of everything that can be good about people, community, and the therapeutic benefits of music, particularly in a live setting.

The place is bustling with Sisters, Mission, and Bauhaus T-shirts, and Ashford and Simpson are playing over the PA. My pocket smells of the samosa from Abu Bakir, the Asian supermarket next door, that I’ve got stashed for on the train home. This is all good; it’s all so very Leeds, so very Brudenell as I mind my own business with a £3.90 pint of local ale.

I’m as excited for B-Movie as the headliners, having been introduced to them sometime in the late 80s while in my mid-teens. Admittedly, I hadn’t appreciated that they’d been active in some capacity since 2011, meaning they’ve remained an act I never expected to see live. On top of that, the last time I saw Salvation was at Leeds Met at the March Violets reunion gig in December 2007. It’s clear I’m certainly not alone in being revved at the prospect of this show for the launch of the vinyl edition of We Gave You Diamonds… Live at De Casino!.

Loungewear are an unknown quantity, and sadly many punters remain in the bar for their set, during which they deliver a neat set of layered, jangly dream pop that’s a bit shoegaze, with a dash of The Twilight Sad, and at the same time very Leeds. There’s not much movement on stage, but it kinda works in context: they’ve got decent songs and significant potential.

Loungewear

B-Movie have a lot of synths, and are a fair bit slicker than their back in the day sound. As a duo, comprising original front man Steve Hovington, and keyboardist Black Marine, they’ve revamped the songs and initially, it’s simply good to hear the songs being played. ‘This Still Life’ lands second in the set, stripped back and slowed down, brooding, gothic, and it’s well executed and suiting the arrangement. But while the performance is solid, something is sadly lacking, namely a band, and the set rapidly falls to a tedious sameness.

B-Movie

A slow and super-croony ‘Marilyn Dream’ is led by dripping piano. In fairness, ‘Institution Walls’ works well as a drama-laden, high-tension gothic horror piece, until you remember how it used to sound, at which point it becomes slightly disappointing. ‘Nowhere Girl’ receives similar treatment. It’s a genuinely classic tune, but in this format is sadly lacking, and the volume of chatter says the audience at large aren’t exactly enthralled, either. As much as the crowd may be ageing, it looks like lounge goth is never going to catch on with the old diehards, especially with an overlong set. Half an hour would have been plenty. They close with a similarly disappointing rendition of ‘Remembrance Day’. It makes sense that Hovington, who was never the most melodic singer, should work within his range, but B-Movie songs always centred around the pace and the dynamic, and tonight they have neither.

Salvation set up to Spiringsteen’s ‘Tunnel of Love’ and I’m getting peckish for the samosas, but instead grab another pint.

There’s gothbird mumdancing galore from the first bar as Salvation kick off with ‘All and More’. The sequenced bass groove is solid as the drum machine kicks along nicely. There are people up on shoulders, spreading arms and singing back every word with gusto just two songs in, and it’s a proper old-school Leeds goth party. He may resemble Mark Kermode these days, but in contrast to Steve Hovington, Danny Mass’ is still a compelling front man, and his voice hasn’t aged a day, and he belts the songs out sounding exactly as they sounded on the original eighties releases, and as they have live in the 90s and 00s and on the new live album, and there’s no two ways about it, they’re a strong live act.

‘Puppet Master,’ the first of a handful of tracks from the 1987 debut album Diamonds are Forever goes down a storm before the spindly indie goth crossover of ‘The Shining’. The two guitars intertwine magnificently, and Ben’s lead guitar work is excellent, tight but delicate.

Salvation

Mid set, after ‘She’s an Island’ they bring on live bass and drums for the second half, in recognition of the lineup that features on the album recorded on tour with The Mission, starting with ‘Sunshine Superman’, with flipside ‘Payola’ also getting an airing. It’s more overtly ‘rock’ and brings a very different kind of energy, not least of all with the extra bodies and movement on stage.

Salvation

Sadly, I seems like they’re never going to go near the songs from the debut 12” on Merciful Release, but arguably, it was a different time and a different sound that wouldn’t sit with the psychedelic indie sound of the rest of the set.

Limited train services back to York meant I had to forgo the end of the set, which makes for a bit of a lame end to a review, and while I’ll spare the rant about the impact of privatisation and the capitalism of diminishing returns, that’s the reality of attending live shows even in nearby cities, and as much as I’m here to report on shows, I’m also interested in the how we experience music as part of life, and its place in culture and society. The journey home was shit and the train delayed by half an hour, but what matters is that Salvation were great, and the vibe in the room was truly wonderful. Old goths – they’re a decent bunch, you know.

Starcrawler / Genie Genie / Weekend Recovery – The Belgrave Music Hall and Canteen, Leeds, 2nd September 2022

Posted: 3 September 2022 in Live
Tags: 2nd September 2022, Garage, Genie Genie, goth, Grunge, Leeds, Punk, Rock, Starcrawler, The Belgrave Music Hall and Canteen, Weekend Recovery

Christopher Nosnibor

There’s a queue up the two flights of stairs half an hour before doors, and the front two rows are packed out long, long before Weekend Recovery are due on, a mere fifteen minutes after opening. Tonight’s event is something of an oddity. LA rock act Starcrawler, who are something of a hot ticket and have been since their emergence in 2015, being hailed as the saviours of rock ‘n’ roll – like so many before, and likely many to come – are playing a handful of UK headline dates in between festivals, with All Points east in London on August 28th and End of the Road on September 3rd. Having sold out Norwich and Liverpool at £15 a ticket, Leeds is a late addition to the tour, and free entry. It’s Friday night and of course it’s packed, and likely would have been if they’d charged, which is why this seems odd, even if they’re treating it as a warmup for End of the Road.

There’s nothing remotely warm-uppy or stop-gap showy about tonight, and there’s a buzz from the outset.

Weekend Recovery open with ‘There’s a Sense’, one of their poppier, woohoo-ey tunes, followed by a beefy ‘No Guts’ and they do a decent job of grabbing the crowd. Lori busts some Quattro moves as has become her style, and they look confident on the bigger stage with the larger audience. It’s the thick, fuzzy bass that fills the sound throughout the set, and they really seem to have hit their stride as a three-piece of late. Bringing on guest a vocalist for new song ‘In the Crowd’ it goes unexpectedly ragga/ska before piling into a lively rendition of ‘Going Nowhere’ that makes for an energetic finale to a set that no doubt won them some new fans, and deservedly so.

Weekend Recovery

I know nothing about main support Genie Genie, but they seem to have plenty of fans already, and the Bauhaus ripping off Bowie glam gloom schtick is no real surprise, although one guy with a laptop strutting around being menacing at the start of the set rather is. Then the band’s other dozen members flood onto the stage wielding saxophones galore. It’s high theatre, but highly derivative, as the black-mulleted singer tears his tattered t-shirt from his scrawny white torso as the brass honks and parps over quivering organ pipes. All the ham and oversized crucifixes can’t compensate the mediocre material with cornball schlock horror cabaret about Jack the Ripper, guv, and of course, they go down a storm as half the room chant along with endless nananana hooks and the like. There’s no accounting for taste.

Genie Genie

The crowd are baying for Starcrawler for a good five minutes before they arrive, and hell, they arrive. Side on, I’m badly placed for photos as lithe-as-anything beanpole Arrow de Wilde is practically a sliver from this angle and keeps vanishing behind the mic stand. What the band deliver is proper old-school rock ‘n’ roll, an assimilation of glam, punk, and hair rock played with a flamboyance and an energy that’s infectious. The crowd are rabid.

Starcrawler

As the set progresses, I find myself growing less enthused: the band are lively but the moves swiftly become predictable and the material is average, and I find myself quite unmoved by the spectacle. Perhaps people are distracted by the appearance and delivery, and as such are oblivious to the fact that this is pretty middling rock fronted by the lovechild of Courtney Love and Mick Jagger. There’s no question that they’re completely committed to putting on a show, and they play hard, but there’s minimal interaction with the adoring audience. Maybe they’re too cool for that, but in a 350-capacity venue it feels a little bit superior – but, viewed from another angle, it’s a band worthy of the 2,000+ capacity O2 kicking out their festival. Either way, it’s hard to really fault Starcrawler: they deliver a solid set of proper old-school rock, and the fans love it.

BELK – The Committee

Posted: 3 September 2022 in Singles and EPs
Tags: 7", Action Bladder Cancer UK, anger, BELK, Earache, EP Review, fas, Fury, Grindcore, Hardcore, Human Worth, Leeds, Modern Technology, Noise, Punk, The Committee, Vinyl

Human Worth – 7th October 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

Since the launch of the Human Worth label, initially as an outlet for releases by Modern Technology, we’ve witnessed the label grow – although never beyond its means and never beyond its principles. Each release sees a portion of the proceeds donated to a nominated charitable cause, and it’s so heartening to see a label and its artists use their platform for social good. With this latest release, a 7” EP from Leeds makers of noise BELK, 10% of all proceeds are being donated to Action Bladder Cancer UK, who work to support patients, raise awareness, improve early diagnosis and outcomes, and support research into bladder cancer.

But let’s never underestimate the social good of music with meaning – and by good, I mean sincere and visceral. Anyone who has ever stood in a room being bludgeoned by a full-blooded sonic attack will likely appreciate the incredible release of the experience, and the sense of community it entails. It’s not easy to articulate the way in which something that’s ultimately private, internal, is heightened by the presence of strangers immersed in that same experience, in their own personal way.

In congruence with the rise of Human Worth, we’re also seeing a satisfying upward arc for BELK, who unquestionably deserve the exposure and distribution, and one suspects that being limited to just 100 hand-numbered vinyl copies, the vinyl release of this is likely to be a future rarity.

This 7” EP packs five tracks into mere minutes. ‘Warm Water’, unveiled as a taster for advance orders on September’s Bandcamp Friday, is a minute and eighteen seconds long. It’s fast, and it’s furious – a focused channelling of fury, no less, distilled to 100% proof, and there’s no holding back on this attack.

There are a couple of additional demo tracks, in the form of ‘Net’ and ‘Question of Stress’ from their 2022 promo as downloads.

It’s all pretty raw, and ‘studio’ doesn’t mean much more polish than ‘demo’, and that’s exactly as it should be BELK trade in proper dirty noise, the likes of which Earache specialised in in the eighties and early 90s, before they went soft and became a rock and blues label, releasing stuff by the likes of Rival Sons. Human Worth have snatched the noise baton in a firm grip, though, and the quality of their releases extends to the artefact as well as the art.

‘Net’ is a stuttering slugfest reminiscent of Fudge Tunnel, only with harsher, higher-pitched squawkier vocals that are more conventionally hardcore, and it all stacks up for one killer release that delivers a ferocious slap round the chops.

The Twilight Sad / Michael Timmons – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 24th August 2022

Posted: 25 August 2022 in Live
Tags: Frightened Rabbit, Leeds, Live Review, Michael Timmons, The Brudenell Social Club, The Twilight Sad

Christopher Nosnibor

This show was originally scheduled to take place back at the end of March, but then as has continued to be the plague of touring bands, a positive Covid test meant it was postponed, and co-ordinating schedules between bands and venues who are still playing catchup from the last two-and-a-bit years meant that we had to wait a while.

It’s a great advertisement for both the Brudenell and Leeds that the venue is hosting two sell-out (or near enough) shows on the same night, with Ezra Furman in the main room and the Sad in the newer one. The bars may have been packed – and I still can’t get used to the concept of forming an orderly queue at a bar – snice when? – but the vibe was a typically convivial one, with random strangers chatting about which gig they were off to and the like while they waited.

The Twilight Sad are frequent visitors to the Brudenell, which they recently posted on FaceBook is one of their ‘favourite venues in the world’, and they’re not alone. Like many others, I’ve been coming here for well over a decade now, and always feel like I’m at home, and it’s also fair to say that in all that time, I’ve never witnessed a bad gig or experienced poor sound – and I’ve never paid more than about £4 for a pint either. Their last visit was in 2019, but the time before that was also in this room, where they debuted material from the then-forthcoming album It Won’t Be Like This All the Time, back in June 2018. They had Michael Timmons in toe, then, and it’s a welcome return for him as he promises us a night of ‘depressing music’.

Michael Timmons

He seems more confident on this outing as he delivers a set of his quiet, reflective kitchen-sink contemplations on love, life, and death – mostly death – with some delicate picking and a dense Glaswegian accent, It’s lifted by some self-effacing humour, and it’s impossible not to warm to the young guy.

In context, depressing music can be the most uplifting, and the sense of community and collectivism is a joyous experience. It’s clear from the off that The Twilight Sad – James in particular – are pumped for this show. He and the drummer are sporting utilitarian dungarees that look like a cuddlier take on Jaz Coleman’s boiler suits, but they’re straight into the bleak stuff with a double-whammy of darkness from No-One Can Ever Know with ‘Kill it in the Morning’ and ‘Dead City’, during which the vocal cut out suddenly. Joking that it sounded fucking brilliant in his in-ear monitors and that it was the best he’d ever sung it, they restart once the hitch is fixed – pretty swiftly, credit to the sound engineer – and blast it hard.

The Twilight Sad

It’s not the last track from their third album, either, with a magnificently taut rendition of ‘Another Bed’ landing mid-set. Nobody Wants to be Here and Nobody wants to Leave is represented by perhaps the most obvious choices; ‘There’s a Girl in the Corner’ and ‘Last January’, both of which are achingly magnificent, and ‘It Never Was the Same’, which, when followed by ‘The Arbour’ makes for something of a lull two-thirds through. But you can’t exactly blame them for taking things down a notch when the pace and emotional intensity are at such a pitch for the majority of the set, especially when they pile back in with a quit unexpected outing for ‘The Wrong Car’.

James isn’t especially chatty, but is sharp and focused and on strong form, and when he does talk, he gushes about his appreciation of the venue and audience, and responds to a heckler with “This one’s for you. It’s about a cunt”, before they launch into ‘That Summer, at Home I Had Become the Invisible Boy’, and it’s a song that never gets tired.

The Twilight Sad

‘[10 Good Reasons for Modern Drugs]’ and ‘I/m Not Here [Missing Face]’ are both delivered with precision and passion, while the cover of Frightened Rabbit’s ‘Keep Yourself Warm’ which has become a solid set future brought the house down. Four years on from the death of Scott Hutchison, it may not be as raw, but it’s every bit as relevant, and they’re keeping the spirit alive, while at the same time providing an essential reminder of the importance of mental health awareness.

Rabbits remain a theme, and you know it’s the end of the set when the jangling feedback and loping drums that mark the intro of ‘And She Would Darken the Memory’ start. The attempt at optimism with the lyrical shift to ‘head up, dear, the rabbit won’t die’ does nothing to diminish the song’s impact: we all know it still might, as we’re transported to another plane in a swirling wall of sound that reminds us of where it all started: almost twenty years and five albums in, they’ve still got the passion and intensity that made them stand out as special, and the fact they never give less and one hundred percent to any performance – there are truly no half-measures – is precisely why they may be very much a cult act, but one with the most ardent and devoted fanbase going. They deserve it.

It’s sweltering, and we know there’s no encore: there is nowhere to go from here. It’s a clear pinnacle, and we’re all spent, band and audience alike. The catharsis is complete.

Emma Ruth Rundle / Jo Quail – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 12th August 2022

Posted: 13 August 2022 in Live
Tags: 12th August 2022, Acoustic, Cello, Emma Ruth Rundle, Engine of Hell, Intense, Intimate, Jo Quail, Leeds, Live Review, Piano, seated, The Brudenell Social Club

Christopher Nosnibor

It’s strange but quite welcome to be seated. It’s been a while, after all, but: rather than serving as a reminder of those awkward inter-lockdown seated gigs from this time two years ago, it’s another example of The Brudenell doing a great job – the sold-out show has nicely-spaced rows and ‘capacity’ is fifty per cent of the norm, and the aircon makes for a comfortable environment compared to the thirty-degree heat outside – in which to watch two remarkably accomplished artists perform intimate sets.

On arrival onstage, Jo Quail announces that she’s made a late adjustment to her set – which proves to be completely different from the previous night’s – and opens with the sparse, brooding ‘Vigil’, which is almost folksy in its dark, mournful feel. The lighting, too is sparse, a handful of red and white spots provide limited illumination.

Jo seems relaxed and is chatty between pieces, and the low-key setting suits her set, and her ability to build layers of sound to immense cathedrals with crushing chords is breathtaking. ‘Between Two Waves’ is spectacular, and the four-piece set closes with ‘Mandrel Cantus’. She’s taking a gamble and forewarns that there will be a ‘shredding guitar solo’ if she’s feeling brave enough. With thunderous percussion, booming bass, weeping strings – all wrung from the cello – it’s a climactic finale that builds dramatically to conclude an exhilarating set – one that feels a little less full-on, but every bit as affecting as her more ‘rock’ sounding shows.

“My name is Emma and I’m going to play some music for you”. It’s a humble introduction before she says she’s going to play her new album, Engine of Hell, which is what she then does.

The album marked something of a departure, and emerged from a period of quiet reflection and detox, and being an intimate work, it was fitting that the attendant tour recreated that intimacy. The lighting is even more stark, more low-key, and she sings and plays quietly almost as if to herself, but the hush, combined with the mic placement and amplification mean you can hear her breathe, the stage and piano stool creak.

In many respects, Emma seems younger than her 38 years: she’s reserved, nervous-seeming despite her experience. But some artists simply never fully take to the stage.

She has a remarkable voice, varied, emotionally rich. She’s not so much of a talker, but a sense of self-effacing humour shines through nevertheless, as she announces the lugubrious acoustic song ‘The Company’ as “another uplifting song” She also reminisces about previous visits as far back as 2008 with Red Sparowes and the last time she toured with Jo, which saw the pair of them play the ‘other room’ at The Brudenell – which was, I can vouch, outstanding. Ah, 2019, with the tempestuous force of Dystopian Future Movies opening. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Jo joins Emma on stage for ‘Citadel’ and their chemistry is immediately apparent before a note is played – they chatter and Emma seems immediately more at ease on an evening she often complains of feeling a bit strange. It’s not quite clear exactly where her head is at, but then, we don’t need to know. Some nights, something just happens. But she plays on, and plays beautifully.

Having established that the encore is dead (and she’s right: it’s a construct so false it’s wince-worthy. Play all the songs or don’t), she plays just one further song from her back catalogue without leaving the stage "so we can all get up and go outside together". It’s a spellbinding rendition of ‘Marked for Death’, and she exists the stage almost hesitantly after exactly an hour.

With a performance this emotionally abrim, it’s the perfect set length, and even if I didn’t have a train to catch, the 10:30 finish is welcome. Less is definitely more, but especially with music this intense.

Scum – For Health and Well-Being

Posted: 28 July 2022 in Singles and EPs
Tags: alternative, Bllack Flag, EP, Fast & Bulbous Records, For Health and Well-Being, Grunge, Hardcore, Indie, Leeds, power trio, Punk, Review, Rollins band, SCUM

Fast & Bulbous Records – 22nd July 2022.

They’ve been described as sounding like the nagging repetitions of The Fall mixed with the fury of Black Flag, played at 100mph. band names don’t get much more punk than this. And they’re from Leeds, which has in recent years proved to be a hotbed of guitar-driven musical fury. This is what happens when a large city with lots of little venues finds itself in a different place from the rest of the country. Richly multicultural, innovative and entrepreneurial, with a large student population, it’s both a centre for tertiary industry and mass-scale redevelopment and gentrification as well as a place of terrible deprivation. So much for levelling up; so much for the northern powerhouse. But Leeds has always been apart, as its 80s musical heritage is testament to, and since the millennium, it’s been a hotbed of emerging styles, through post-rock and jerky, quirky indie, through math rock and all-out noisy shit, with countless bands emerging – and quickly fading again – in the process.

Scum have survived the pandemic, having formed in 2018, to drop a second EP, and the trio haven’t spent the time away figuring out how to make their millions writing pop songs.

On For Health and Well-Being, the trio are everything they’ve been described as, with a dash of Trail of the Dead tossed into the mix, and it’s a punky, energetic blend of styles that all point to energetic fury. The title tracks is a 25-second spoken word piece where a swell of noise and feedback rises in the background before halting abruptly and the full-throttle guitar attack of ‘Abuserism’ (the longest song at 3:30) piles in.

Blink and you’ll miss the 32-second ‘Vanity Support’: it’s the furious ‘Hard’ that really grabs the attention with its thick riffage and hardcore attitude, and the closer, ‘Intravenous Inconvenience’ powers it to a close.

Take same time out and give it a blast, and do it on work time. Because employers are all about supporting Health and Well-Being, right?

Deaf Kids / Fuzz Lightyear – Wharf Chambers, Leeds, 1st July 2022

Posted: 2 July 2022 in Live
Tags: 1st July 2022, cheap beer, Deaf Kids, energy, exhilarating, Fuzz Lightyear, Leeds, Live Review, Neurot Recoordings, noisy, percussive, vibe, Wharf Chambers

Christopher Nosnibor

It’s always good to be back at Wharf Chambers, and this actually my first visit this year. Since my last trip, the cost of a train from York to Leeds has absolutely rocketed. It wasn’t that long ago that an off-peak day return for the 23-minute journey was about eleven quid. Now it’s more than £17, plus booking fee. Pre-lockdown, late 2019, it was around £15. This is the cost-of living crisis and inflation in sharp relief. It may only be a couple of quid, but as a percentage, it’s substantial, and when you apply the same kind of increase to everything… My dayjob pay hasn’t gone up by anything like as much, and we know that rail workers’ wages haven’t. But the consequence is that I have to be more selective about what gigs I travel to attend, which means in turn lower attendance for live acts, and less beer sold by venues, and so on. Thankfully, with shows at Wharf Chambers, I can offset the travel costs with decent hand-pulled beer at £3.40 a pint. When was the last time you paid under £3.50 for a pint?

It’s not all about the cheap beer, of course. Live music is always about more than just the music, though: it’s about the whole experience, and Wharf Chambers is a great venue with a great vibe that hosts great bands, and there are two on tonight’s bill.

Fuzz Lightyear are infinitely better than their somewhat flippant name, which doesn’t particularly convey what they do. Sure, there’s distortion, but the guitars take second seat to busy, heavyweight drumming on songs that feature abundant tempo changes, and are weighty, and shouty. Post rock collides with Fugazi. I’m a sucker for the full tom roll rhythm, and the drummer absolutely nails it on the third song. There’s a dash of Trail of Dead in the mix, and the bassist’s manic eyes are as compelling as anything. It’s a solid set, with a lot of range, that sets things up nicely ahead of the headliners.

Fuzz Lightyear

Deaf Kids start gently with something of an ambient intro. It’s dark, and they move as shadows. There are drums played with elbows amidst drone noise. And it builds… and builds… and then it bursts. And how!

The Brazilian trio aren’t your staple Neurot act: instead of slow-lugubrious, rust-stained metal, this is a band with a vibrancy and an energy that’s positively eye-popping. It’s as if they’ve bottled everything since the release of their last album, Metaprogramação and are finally letting it all out. The set feels less like a succession of songs than a continuous overall work. They play in almost complete darkness. Briefly, there’s a percussive break that’s almost a mellow conga, but then it builds again before it explodes. The set is punctuated by bursts of noise, and – additional djembe breaks aside – it sounds like there are two drummers… There’s just ss much percussion, and so much urgency, and so much energy.

Deaf Kids

And I realise on reflection, as I relive the immense buzz of the show, that chuntering about the price of trains from York to Leeds is likely nothing compared to the effort of transporting a band from Brazil to play in post-Brexit Britain in a venue with a sub-200 capacity. Really, we’re spoiled. I can only hope we continue to be.

Power to Dream / La Costa Rasa – Santiago’s, Leeds, 17th June 2022

Posted: 18 June 2022 in Live
Tags: F-Club, goth, Grunge, La Costa Rasa, Le Phonographique, Leeds, Live Review, Post-Punk, Power to Dream, Retro, Santiago’s, Synth Pop, The Warrehouse

Christopher Nosnibor

This is probably – no, certainly – one of the oddest events I’ve attended in a while. I came because I wanted to see La Costa Rasa, who I caught a couple or so times in their 90s heyday supporting The Sisters of Mercy at Birmingham NEC and at the Off the Streets Shelter benefit at the Town & Country where The Utah Saints headlined, with a guest vocal appearance from Andrew Eldritch, in ‘93, and because their 1994 album, Autopilot, released via Merciful Release has been an enduring favourite of mine. I had been a shade perturbed by the 80s ‘theme’ element mentioned in the event description, but figured my everyday clothes should pass.

On arrival, I ordered a pint of Lagunitas IPA, got something completely different from what I’d asked for – some lager or other – then headed upstairs – and then the weirdness hit as I commandeered as table just inside the door.

Everyone here seems to know each other, not in a club or college reunion way, but more like a birthday party for someone’s granddad, with three distinct generations, none of whose age brackets correspond with my own. The middle generation all look to be around 50-odd and more, which would probably fit with the clientele of the legendary 80s club venues which provide the night’s theme. Then there are some really decrepit old buggers who look like their parents, and then a bunch of women in their early 20s. No-one looks remotely goth. It’s mostly middle-aged and older men with beer guts in check shirts. Apart from me, sitting here in black jeans, jacket, shades and Stetson. It’s the first time I’ve felt so completely out of place at any gig, let alone a supposedly goth gig. This isn’t a matter of nostalgia not being what it used to be, this is a bewildering experience where I truly have no idea. I feel lost, confused, and with maybe twenty people here early doors, I feel exposed, conspicuous, like I’ve gatecrashed someone’s private do, like… like… Like I’m a miscast extra in a bar scene.

Here’s the convoluted but relevant bit. The evening it pitched as a celebration of legendary Leeds clubs, Le Phonographique, et al, with DJ sets capturing the spirit, as well as live sets from Power to Dream and La Costa Rasa.

La Costa Rasa seem an odd choice for an 80s night, being an overtly 90s band – grunge with a drum machine, as I tend to describe them. Of course, there’s the Merciful Release connection, and Mills is, or was, with legendary F Club and Le Phonographique DJ Claire Shearsby (who is significant in Sister circles as Andrew Eldritch’s ex, and who isn’t one of tonight’s DJs, who spin a mix of 80s tune and more recent stuff like Garbage from their laptops at the back of the room). And despite having released a run of three of singles in the mid-80s, this is Power to Dream’s live debut.

La Costa Rasa’s bassist Jim Fields is wearing a Bivouac t-shirt. It seems fitting that not only has it been almost thirty years since I last saw La Costa Rasa, and about the same since I saw a Bivouac T, and within seconds of their starting La Costa Rasa transport us back to back then with their strolling basslines, wall-of-sound guitars, and thumping sequenced drums.

No-one claps. They all just carry on chatting. A huge Jabba of a grandma sits on a sofa by the stage and bangs her stick on the floor in time – or not- for a bit and waves to the people sitting on the window bench. Eventually, three or four songs in, people seem to catch on that there is a band on.

Only two of the songs in tonight’s set are from Autopilot, the first of these being ‘Like a Machine’ which lands early. Slower than the album version, it’s followed by a raging ‘Burning Idols’.

La Costa Rasa

Mills switches to violin for new song ‘White Rose’, a raging industrial stomper, and some guy looking like uncle fester sits on the sofa and starts clapping like a seal for the second half of the set, while mopping his bald head frequently with a handkerchief and waving to some of the oldies on the other side of the room. The closer is a squalling epic where Mills again switches to violin – played through his guitar FX units to build a screaming climactic wall of noise. It’s blistering, and elating to see – and hear – that after all this time, they’ve not lost the fire.

Oops. Sweaty Fester is Terry Macleay, the singer with Power to Dream. He plonks his red felt hat on and steps into character. Well, he tried, but he can’t stop grinning and gurning. He’s one of those flamboyant goths. Grating dense, dark ambience heralds the start of the set. They open with a cover of Alex Harvey’s ‘Faith Healer’, released as their second single back in the day. It’s surprisingly soulful, more Depeche Mode than Foetus.

Power to Dream

1986 single ‘Frantic’ is second, and lays down some taut grooves, although the style is somewhere in the region of Culture Club with more funk. ‘Fountain of Youth’ lands ironically. With just trebly guitar and drum machine, they sound really thin, and there’s just way too much vocal. But you can barely hear any of it over the chat. No mean feat when there are about 20 people in the room in total, all at the back. Fuck’s sake, they should turn their hearing aids up, or fuck off.

Guitarist Alex Green plays a solo rendition of Steve Harley’s ‘Sebastian’ while Macleay takes a seat. It’s barely audible above the babble. Terry keeps looking around, irritated, but to no avail, and I’ve seen enough. It’s time to split.

The Reflecting Skin – The Reflecting Skin

Posted: 24 April 2022 in Albums
Tags: budget, dirty, doomy, EP Review, Hardcore Punk, Heavy, Leeds, Lo-Fi, nouise, The Reflecting Skin

1st April 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

Details of this eponymous EP release from Leeds-based The Reflecting Skin are sparse. It’s only since the advent of social media and the ubiquity of the Internet that we’ve come to expect to know everything about an act and its releases – the who played what, the lyrics, the inspiration for and meaning of songs, who their musical influences are, favourite films, etc., etc. And why do we need to know? What actual benefit does it serve, and to whom?

What matters is that this is seriously harsh and heavy. A grinding chord booms, overloading the speakers by way of a welcome with ‘Ceramic Rash’. It’s slow, doomy, dirty and dark, and devoid of percussion, crawls like larva. The vocals are half-buries and swathed in so much reverb as to sound like they’ve coming from the bottom of a well – a well the shaft of which goes down, not to the water table, but the very pits of hell.

It stops abruptly, and it straight into the crashing thud of ‘Limb Off’, which finds The Reflecting Skin go full band and full-throttle gnarly hardcore nastiness. The production is authentically primitive – it’s so dirty, so rough and raw, with the feel of a Walkman recording, and playback with fluff-encrusted tape heads, but this isn’t an impedance, because it simply sounds right. If it slots right in along the mid 80s hardcore vintage, it’s equally very much contemporary Leeds underground / DIY. It’s not slick by any stretch, even the track editing sees each one cut and the next begin, but this is very much integral to the appeal and the form of genre – and it’s totally nonstop no-fi brutal racketing, punching in your face.

I’ve no idea what the title is about, but ‘IMA-IW-BF’ is so distorted it hurts: a raw, raging rehearsal tape from a damp basement or clungy garage, it’s a descending chord sequence that grinds and growls, like a half-pace Melvins trudge but with raw-throated roars for vocals… while ‘Split Wires’ clocks in at a half a minute and just quite simply the sound off punishment at a hundred miles an hour. They really do save the gnarliest noisiest shit for last, though: the six-and-a-half-minute ‘Nocturnal Cough’ is built around the nastiest, most gut0churning bass imaginable. It makes your stomach lurch to the point you want to puke, and it’s propelled by thumping drums that threaten to burst your eardrums.

It would be a stretch to describe The Reflecting Skin as a fun or enjoyable listen, because, quite simply, it hurts. But as ultra-heavy and uncompromisingly brutal releases go, it’s an absolute beast.

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

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

Christopher Nosnibor

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

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

Thank

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

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

Fågelle

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

Big | Brave

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

Big | Brave

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

Aural Aggravation

Recent Posts

Archives

Categories

Meta

Posts Tagged ‘Leeds’

Starcrawler / Genie Genie / Weekend Recovery – The Belgrave Music Hall and Canteen, Leeds, 2nd September 2022

BELK – The Committee

Scum – For Health and Well-Being

Deaf Kids / Fuzz Lightyear – Wharf Chambers, Leeds, 1st July 2022

Power to Dream / La Costa Rasa – Santiago’s, Leeds, 17th June 2022

The Reflecting Skin – The Reflecting Skin