Posts Tagged ‘York’

Soma Crew / Needlework / Fat Spatula – The Crescent, York, 5th September 2024

Posted: 7 September 2024 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Sometimes, I get a little fixated on an idea. And the last few days, with social media and pretty much every news outlet pounding the story around the Oasis ‘dynamic pricing’ debacle, I’ve found myself viewing the gigs I attend in a slightly different light. More to the point, I’ve come to consider them in a ‘vs Oasis’ context, and so tonight, at a show presenting three local bands, where I knew a fair few people, with a few beers in me, found myself frothing enthusiastically “three bands for a fiver! And £4 pints!”. I do sometimes – often – worry about how I come across to people in social settings, but sod it. I think I’d rather be irritatingly excited than perpetually surly, and I always shut up and watch when bands are actually playing.

But enough of my social anxiety. Let’s focus on this: three bands for a fiver. £4 pints. You simply cannot go wrong. Tonight, the bands are set up on the floor in front of the stage, meaning that the 75 to 100 attendees are packed in tighter, and what could be a large space with a lot of room and not much vibe is transformed: there’s a heightened level of buzz and a real connection and intimacy in standing mere feet from the bands. If all the bands are absolute shit, you’ve paid a fiver: less than the price of a pint in many places. If one band is even halfway decent, you’re up on the deal.

Now consider forking our £150, or even £350, or even more, to see Oasis. And imagine of it isn’t the best gig of your life. You’re going to be gutted. I mean, you probably deserved it for being an Oasis fan in the first place, but I’ll keep that criticism in check for now. But imagine paying a fiver and standing close enough to the bands that you can pretty much smell them, and they’re all absolutely outstanding. So good that you think ‘I’d pay £20 for these’, and all three bands are of that standard. Imagine. We don’t all have to imagine. Sometimes, it’s possible to take a punt and be at one of those magical events. Like, imagine seeing Oasis at King Tut’s for a fiver. You’d feel like you’d won the lottery. The point is that there are little gigs like this all around the country every night of the week. And in convincing myself I should go out tonight, despite not having a stitch to wear, I found a band who really, really hit me. This is how it goes with making revelatory discoveries: you know nothing about an act, have no expectations, and are utterly blown away when they prove to be absolutely fucking awesome. But that isn’t even the best bit: the best bit is – and here’s the spoiler – that all three bands were absolutely top-drawer.

Up first were Fat Spatula, who I’ve maybe seen a couple of times and thought were decent – but tonight shows that something has happened since I last saw them. They could reasonably be described as making lively, uptempo US-influenced indie with some strong dashes of country. Their songs are infectious and fun, and. quirky, occasional nods to the sound of Pavement… But then, also a bit jazzy, a bit mathy, a bit Pixies, with sudden bursts of noise. They boast a aturdy rhythm section with 5-string bass and tight, meaty and incredibly hard-hitting drumming. The last song of the set, with its solid baseline and monster guitar-driven chorus, reminded me of DZ Deathrays. And they’re ace. And so, it proves, are Fat Spatula.

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Fat Spatula

As often happens to me, and has since I started gig-going well over thirty years ago, midway through the set, some massive bugger stands.in front of me and proceeds to rock both back and forth and side to side, occasionally adjusting his man-bun. It’s usually the tallest person in the room, but the singer from Needlework is one of the tallest bastards I’ve seen in a good while and he spends the set hunched over the mic stand, from time to time plucking percussion instruments from the floor and tinkering with them, and sometimes plonking the keyboards in a Mark E Smith kind of fashion.

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Needlework

The guitarist, meanwhile, is wearing a Big Black T-short, and is a major contributor to the band’s angular sound as they collectively crank out some truly wild and wholly unpredictable mathy discord. With clanging, trebly guitar, incongruous clarinet, and monotone semi-spoken vocals… and the guts to shush audience talking in quiet segment, they’re something else. It’s jarring, Fall-like, a bit Gallon Drunk with cymbals, shaker, cowbell all in the mix more than anything, their lurching, jolting racket reminds me of Trumans Water. No two ways about it, Needlework is the most exciting new band I’ve seen in a while. Speaking to a few people after their set, I’m by no means alone in this opinion. With the right support and exposure, some gigs further afield and all the rest, their potential is immense, and 6Music would be all over them. The world needs Needlework, and you probably heard it here first, but credit has to go to Soma Crew for putting them on.

Soma Crew – go for the slow hypnotic minimal intro, admitting afterwards they they’re a shade nervous following the previous acts. They’re honest and humble, and not in a false way: it’s clear that they’ve selected support acts who will make for a good night rather than make themselves look good – but because all three acts bring something quite different, there’s none of the awkwardness of any band blowing the others away. Besides, they very quicky get over those initial nerves, and crank it up with the big psych groove of ‘Sheltering Sky’, and in no time they’re fully in their stride. New song ‘Wastelands’ is haunting, and again – as is their way – built around a nagging repetitive guitar line and pulsating motorik groove, where drums and bass come together perfectly. The four of them conjure a massive sound. At times the bass booms and absolutely dominates, while at other points, everything meshes. Bassist Chris stands centre stage sporting a poncho that Wayne Hussey would have been proud of during his stint in The Sisters of Marcy, and once again, I find myself absolutely immersed in their performance.

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Soma Crew

So, to return to the start: three bands for a fiver. All three provided premium-quality entertainment. Sure, people go to see heritage bands in massive venues for huge sums to hear familiar songs, but it’s a dead-end street. Where does the next wave of heritage bands with familiar songs come from if no-one goes to see the acts who are playing the small venues? Do the £350 Oasis tickets provide – to do the maths – an experience that’s seventy times better, more enjoyable than a night like this? I’m not about to prove either way, because my argument is obviously rhetorical. THIS is where it’s at if you truly love live music. And I will say it again: three bands for a fiver: cheaper than a pint in most places these days. And three great bands, at that.

Theatre of Hate – The Crescent, York, 3rd September 2024

Posted: 6 September 2024 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Unlike the majority of attendees, I’m not massively familiar with Theatre of Hate’s catalogue. There’s no real reason for this. My appreciation of all things post punk and new wave is a fundamental part of who I am, and I’m a fan of Spear of Destiny, and have seen them, and Dead Men Walking a number of times. But I know just a handful of songs by Theatre of Hate. And so essentially, I’m here out of curiosity, and to fill a gap.

To take a momentary detour, there seems to be an expectation that a deep knowledge of a band – particularly one that’s well-established – is necessary in order to review their work, and you’ll often see on social media fans lambasting critics for knowing nothing, and so on. And I feel a certain anxiety reviewing anything that’s well-known. But aa critic can’t realistically be expected to know the work of every act, and moreover, music is a daily learning curve. There is always something new. And the question should always stand, regardless of the bad’s history, ‘how does this hold up? Is tonight’s performance any good?’

It’s immediately apparent that not only do Theatre of Hate have a sound that’s a world apart from Spear of Destiny – as expected, based even on my scant knowledge of their releases – but also a very different approach to performance. There’s practically no chat. They get their heads down and play the songs. The vibe, then, is very much of a band breaking out back in the day, keeping that distance between band and audience, building atmosphere and tension and avoiding the awkwardness of chat by really performing instead.

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This was very much the thing back then – a cultivated separation between act and audience, something some acts, notably The Sisters of Mercy, took to extremes, adding a wall of smoke between themselves and the crowd. It is all performance, all theatre. And as Kurt leads an incredibly tight unit through their catalogue, I feel that this is very close to the spirit of the early 80s. The reception may not have been quite so warm at every show at that time, but the essence is key – it’s all a part of the performance. The audience engages with the music, not rapport built through affable banter. Moreover, this is not affable music: it’s dark, vaguely claustrophobic despite the space between the instruments, the sparseness of the sound.

The guitar is fairly muted and definitely takes a back seat to the rhythm section. Original bassist Stan Stammers is at once an understated and dominant presence, and the way they cohere is compelling – but more than anything, I find myself fixated, mesmerised by the drumming. It’s a thing for me: some drummers are just spellbinding, and I find myself drawn in to the point of hypnotism watching their technique. Then again, the way the sax added a dimension to the sound was another thing which drew me in. By the mid-80s, sax had become cheesy, loungey, a bit yacht-rock, Duran Duran, Tina Turner. But a few years before, you had The Psychedelic Furs and a few others – including Theatre of Hate – slinging in a load of sax and yielding some dark results.

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Given that the band lasted a mere three years, and released one album – but a lot of singles – it’s no surprise that the set is singles-heavy, and they bung in a Spear of Destiny ‘cover’ (‘Grapes of Wrath’) to help fill out a set that’s solid, but comparatively short. With no support act, they’re on a bit after 8:30 and done by 10:15, and it’s tidy. Less is more, and all that.

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The captivating intensity of tonight’s performance is more than worth the price of the ticket: Theatre of Hate really brought some power, which was sinewy, compelling, and evocative, and you couldn’t ask for more.

The Royal Ritual / Neon Fields / Material Goods – The Fulford Arms, York, 24th July 2024

Posted: 27 July 2024 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Being restricted to live shows within walking distance of one’s house really does change one’s perspective and selections. As much as it also significantly limits my options, I’m fortunate to have no fewer than three venues within this range, and spotting that The Royal Ritual – a band I’ve long been aware of but have never witnessed live – were playing at one of them provided more than enough of a poke to get out.

It’s not exactly heaving. That is to say, come 8:15, it’s still pretty quiet, even for a Wednesday night. But then, I noticed that York was conspicuously quiet all day today: driving almost empty roads to a near-dead Tesco was as welcome as it was strange earlier in the day. The first week of the school summer holidays, and it seems everyone has buggered off – apart from the tourists clogging the town centre, which was far from quiet in the afternoon. But tourists tend not to seek out relatively unknown alternative bands playing a mile or two out of town. They should. Live music is as integral to a city’s nightlife as its pubs and bars and so on. I once ditched a conference dinner in favour of a gig when visiting Stirling, having clocked that maybeshewill were playing, and in the process, discovered And So I Watch You from Afar, who absolutely blew me away, plus I got to explore a new venue. It was a memorable event, and one which has stuck with me. It’s unlikely the alternative would have had quite the same impact – and while I’ll never know, as someone who’s uncomfortable dining with strangers and making small talk, I’m as comfortable with my choice now as then.

Comfortable isn’t really my default, and caving crawled out of my bunker, this is an evening I’m quite content to hide in a dark corner with a pint and observe.

Material Goods are a last-minute replacement for Dramalove. It’s a solid, blank name which suits the duo’s style, which comprises some heavy, complex synth work paired with live percussion – and quite outstanding live percussion at that. The processed vocals are a bit muffled, but overall, the sound is dark and dense and the drums really cut through it with energy and force. Essentially, their palette is 90s alt rock, a bit NIN but with a vague dash of nu metal, and a bit Filter, too. Multitasking and a vast amount of gear affords the singer limited scope for movement on stage, but the sound has a really good, strong energy, despite the songs being pretty downtempo and downbeat.

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Material Goods

With Material Goods overrunning and Neon Fields also possessing an immense amount of flash-looking tech which needed setting up, we’re fifteen minutes behind time when they take to the stage. Sonically, they’re astonishing. Playing a hundred-and-twenty-five-capacity pub venue, they sound like half a million quid’s worth of gear in an arena. And the songs match it. They sound like they look: black clad, tattoo bands, neatly-trimmed beards, big, soaring emotional outpourings… And completely lacking in soul. Christ, this guy’s level of emotional trauma is enough to raise the blood pressure to induce a heart attack. Wracked with anguish and all of the pain of the lovelorn, the love-torn… And yet it’s all articulated so blandly, everything is so slick, and so one-level. The theatre soon wears thin, and I start to forget I’m listening to it while I’m listening to it. It doesn’t help that there’s a group of four people bang in front of me gabbing on and pricking around, pulling faces, play-fighting, the guys trying to impress the birds by demonstrating their strength by lifting one another up… they get shushed by a fan but even the absence of their distraction doesn’t really improve the experience. There’s some earnest, meaningful falsetto, and the penultimate song had some cliché tribal drumming, and they wrapped up their bombastic set ten minutes after the headliner was due on.

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Neon Fields

The Royal Ritual are also a duo who have an extremely ‘produced’ sound. But their approach to production owes more to the methods of Trent Reznor as pioneered in the early 90s on Broken and The Downward Spiral, balancing gritty live guitars with synths and fucked-up distortion and harnessing their tempestuousness in a way that creates a balanced yet abrasive sound. David Lawrie plays live electronic drum pads in addition to the sequenced beats, adding dynamics and live energy to proceedings, and flitting between the drum pads, synths, and mic stand, he’s incredibly busy throughout the set. But something about Lawrie’s delivery highlights everything that was absent on Neon Fields, and just carries so much more weight: the whole package brings a rush of adrenaline propelled by that emotional heft and solid force.

Objectively, the feel is very Stabbing Westward, and goes hard NIN at times in its combination of guitar, synths, and sequenced and live electronic drums. The Royal Ritual are strong on dynamics and atmosphere, and Lawrie is an intense and compelling performer.

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The Royal Ritual

He does break out of the moody persona to thank other bands and plug merch, but what do you do? In the current climate, bands sadly need to plug the stall. The fact that David steps out of broody tortured soul for two minutes of affable chap may seem hard to reconcile, but then, this perhaps speaks more of the human condition than remaining ‘in character’; people are complex and conflicted, multifaceted and inconsistent. And this is what truly lies as the heart of tonight’s performance by The Royal Ritual. Digging deep into the complexities of the psyche, there’s something about the duo’s performance that gouges into the flesh and demands contemplation.

Ruts DC – The Crescent, York, 18th July 2024

Posted: 21 July 2024 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Forty-five years on from the release of their debut album, The Crack, The Ruts – or Ruts DC as they subsequently became – as still going, and perhaps unexpectedly, they’ve been more prolific in the second half of their career than the first.

Having released two Electracoustic albums – stripped back versions of material from their back catalogue, they’re back on the road with this format, too. The trio seated in a line on the stage befits a band whose members are in their late sixties / early seventies. They’re done being ‘cool’ or staying ‘punk’: “punk’s dead”, Segs shrugs at one point during tonight’s set. It’s striking just how honest and open they are during the lengthy intros and meandering anecdotes which seem to spring spontaneously, often without punchlines or clear endings. These are off-the-cuff, unrehearsed, down the pub type chats, which provide some real insight into the workings of the band and its members. Unpretentious, grounded, it’s a joy to feel this kind of intimacy with a band of such longstanding who truly qualify – and it’s not a word I use often – as legends.

They’re a band at ease with one another and the audience, Ruffy particularly happy to be back in his home town and regaling us with a lengthy tale about his early life, his father, and shoplifting out of necessity.

Not being able to get out so much lately, I have to pick my nights out carefully and strategically, and I had been in two minds about this one, for a number of reasons. But within minutes, it became apparent that coming down had been the right decision. Y’see, music can reach parts that practically nothing else can. Once comes to associate songs, bands, albums, with people, places, life experiences. They become indelibly connected, for better or worse. And The Ruts are a band who carry substantial emotional, reflective weight for me on a personal level. Of course, this is about me rather than the band, but this is a contemplation on how we engage with music and how songs and bands, become the soundtrack to our lives, and it’s something we only really realise in hindsight. And I feel that sharing the details of this complex and intimate relationship with a band is part of a dialogue we need to open up.

I was around thirteen or fourteen when I began hanging round the second-hand record shop where I would subsequently become the Saturday / holiday staff. The owner was – to me, being fifteen years my senior – an old punk, and he introduced me to a shedload of bands, and would air-bass around the shop to ‘In a Rut’, a song he would also cover with his band. This song – indubitably one of THE definitive punk singles – would become an anthem to me in my life, a song I always play to remind myself to get my shit together when times are tough. If punk has a solid link with nihilism, ‘In a Rut’ provides a counterpoint, as a rare positive kick up the arse. It’s a song I play when I need to remind myself that I need to get my shit together. It must surely be one of the greatest songs of all time. And what a debut! And that was even before ‘Babylon’s Burning’…

The first time I met my (late) wife’s dad – who died in 2003 at the age of 50 – he was blasting The Ruts and Rage Against the Machine on his car stereo, and I knew immediately we’d get on well. And we did. He was a grumpy fucker who hated anything establishment, and had great taste in music.

And so The Ruts and Ruts DC are a band who run a thread through my life. I find it hard to hear them without a pang of sadness, but ultimately, they’re an uplifting experience, and this is so, so true of tonight’s show.

‘Music Must Destroy’ makes for a strong opener and provides an opening for a not-quite anecdote about number-one fan Henry Rollins (another hero of mine and my wife’s, we got to see The Rollins and numerous spoken word performances, including one which included an expansive tale of his obsession with The Ruts and how he came to front the band at their reunion fundraiser for guitarist Paul Fox in 2007), who provided additional vocals to this, the title track of their 2016 album. It provides an early reminder of the fact that they’re more than merely a heritage band, and that they’ve always been, and continue to be, political.

‘West One’ and ‘Love in Vain’ land early, and the range and quality of the material stands out a mile. The set spans punk, reggae, rockabilly, anthems… and they have songs that mean something, too.

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One thing that sets Ruts DC’s acoustic(ish) sets apart isn’t that the lead guitar has some pedals and tweaks and that it’s not a straightforward acoustic strum, but the fact the arrangements rightly bring the details to the fore. Listen to The Crack and it’s apparent that the basslines are special. And paired down, you can really hear everything that’s going on. Their material is so much more than the lumpen three-chord thud of regular pub-rock derivative punk. They switch slickly into dub mode, with echoed rimshots and booming heavy bass, and the sound – and musicianship – is outstanding.

‘Something That I Said’ arrives as the penultimate song of set one, before closing with a new song, ‘Bound in Blood’ that’s a strong new wave cut. And suddenly, with the introduction of an electric guitar, it’s louder, too.

The second set is more electric, but still minimal in terms of arrangement, and stripped back: ‘Dope for Guns’ shows the song’s solid structure. It’s a rapturous experience to hear them powering through ‘Staring at the Rude Boys’ and ‘Babylon’s Burning’ towards the end of the set, and then to hear them segue ‘In a Rut’ with a full-lunged rampant chorus of Neil Young’s ‘Rockin’ in the Free World’ was truly rapturous. Again, there’s a personal element here: a song I associate with my wife, and a song she in turn inherited from her dad, I found myself shedding a tear at hearing a great song well-played. It wasn’t just a token gesture to enhance and pad the set: they meant it and felt the power of the sentiment. And right now, we need to cling to that. These are dark and fucked-up times.

They ramped things up to slam in a fully electric, fully punk rendition of ‘Criminal Mind’ to draw the curtain on the night. And what a night. And what a band.

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While they do still thrive on their early material, and do it justice, they have so much more to offer, too, and significantly, they’re not attempting to recreate the experience of the late 1970s with some sad old punk nostalgia trip. They’re clearly happy onstage – that is to say, loving the fact they’re up there, still going, and playing these songs. They’ve every reason to be: tonight, they deliver solid gold.

Glitchers / Eville / The Strand / Averno – The Fulford Arms, York, 20th May 2024

Posted: 22 May 2024 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Just the other night I was talking with someone about how sad it is that so many venues only manage to keep afloat by packing their bookings out with tribute acts. I do appreciate and understand the popularity of tribute acts: people like to hear songs they know while having a drink and a dance, and more often than not, the original artist is either no more, or only plays stadiums every six years with tickets costing over a hundred quid. But the proliferation of tributes, especially to acts still touring, feels so, so wrong: sure, the quality of musicianship required to be a tribute is high, but these are acts who make more off the work of an established act than original artists – and how do the original artists reach an audience when they’re struggling to push their way into view? And as for the acts who are defunct or deceased? Get over it. You missed them – or were lucky and saw them – move on, go and discover some contemporary acts. So, the public gets what the public wants, but for fuck’s sake, if only the public would open its eyes and ears and broaden its horizons beyond all that sale nostalgia shit. There are SO many outstanding artists around right now in every field, every genre – artists who would likely get their own tribute acts in tent, twenty years time, if people even knew that they existed.

Glitchers are a band who really will go to the furthest extreme to make people aware that they exist. While I’ve slated a few busking bands in the past – and rightly so, because the likes of King No-One and the all-time apex of shitness, Glass Caves are the kind of ‘band’ who busk because no-one in their right mind would book them, at least until they’ve built a ‘following’ by their street gigs. Glitchers are a very different proposition. It’s all about intent, about purpose. Glitchers’ busks are an act of protest as much as they’re vehicles of promotion, and they tell us tonight that no number of viral videos of police moving in to suit down their street performances boost their sales. So, to many, police shutdown efforts are amusing evidence of heavy-handed law enforcement (or something to celebrate if you’re a right-wing tosser), but the music gets overlooked. It’s a shame, because right now, we need voices of dissent to be heard while the government tramples and silences the already downtrodden who dare to speak out. And Glitchers don’t just speak out but scream rabidly about issues.

They’ve got a nice – and diverse – bill of bands supporting them tonight, starting with a couple of local bands before current touring support Eville, who are no strangers to the pages of Aural Aggravation, the initial reason I clocked this event and decided I should get down. After all, it’s not every day a band hauls its way up from Brighton to play a support slot at a £5 entry gig in York on a Monday night.

Averno look young even for a university band, but you have to admire their commitment, prioritising playing tonight over revision. I’ve always maintained that the social education and opportunities university provides are worth as much as the degree, and while they’re a bit rough in places, with some fairy ramshackle guitar work throughout, they showcase some decent original songs and a grungy punk energy. ‘Need’ is slow and lugubrious and after a hesitant start builds into a heavy, sludgy beast of a tune, and ‘Make Room’ is a bona fide banger. Unexpectedly, things got more indie and poppy as the set went on, but while delving into more personal territory, their confidence seemed to grow and they were good to watch.

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Averno

The Strand are another uni band, but honed and with a strong style and identity. Their sound is rooted in original 70s punk but with a modern spin and an arty edge, a bit Wire, a bit Adverts, a bit Iggy Pop – although their song about being bored isn’t an Iggy cover. It is, however, a top tune. Front man Evan Greaves bounces around on the spot a lot as they crank out three and four-chord stomps, and I find myself unexpectedly moved by their cover of Nirvana’s ‘Aneurysm’, even though they mangled the start rather – it so happens to be a favourite song of mine and they really give it some. It’s also quite heartening to witness bands playing the songs I was into when I was their age. It’s also impressive to witness their stand-in drummer – an immensely hard-hitter, she powers through the set with finesse, and everything just gels in this confident performance.

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The Strand

Talking of confidence, Eville simply ooze it. It’s clear from the second they take the stage that they’re going to perform like they’re headlining an O2 arena, whether they’re playing to 25 people of 2,500. They’ve got the tunes and the chops for the latter, that’s for sure.

Recent single ‘Monster’ lands as the second track and is the perfect showcase of their sound, blending monumentally weighty riffage, melody, and cross-genre details, with drum ‘b’ bass drums reminiscent of Pitch Shifter paired with a hefty chug of guitar and five-string bass in unison.

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Eville

Ditching the guitar after a few songs, Eva stalks and prowls the stage, and she’s got real presence, strong, assertive. And fuck me, they actually did it: they called for a moshpit and got the entire room going nuts. Blasting is with ‘Leech’, they sustain the intensity, with one fan crashing over the monitors and onto the stage not once but twice. They close with ‘Messy’, and it’s fair to say that they’ve delivered a set that’s all killer here, and there can be no doubt that they’ve won some new fans tonight.

Glitchers bring manic energy and a ton of gaffer tape. And knee pads. Even the knee pads have tape on. This is a band who simply cannot be contained. They don’t just play songs: they’re a full-on spectacle. Few bands go this all-out, and even fewer manage to pull it off: Arrows of Love and Baby Godzilla are the only names which make it to my extremely short list of bands this deranged, this wild, this intense in bringing unbridled mania to songs which explode in howls of feedback. I say songs, but they’re perhaps more accurately described as screaming sonic whirlwinds, industrial-strength punk with a dash of Butthole Surfers mania. This guy is all over the stage and everywhere all at once.

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Glitchers

They blitz their cover of ‘Helter Skelter’, and follow it with new single ‘Grow Up’, a song about toxic masculinity. It would be easy to poke fun at their being ‘right on’, but they’re on point and on topic every time, and they’re on the right side. Their anti-capitalist stance extends to their costs-only ticket pricing policy, and it’s obvious that they mean it, man. They also come across as being decent human beings. They’re a rare breed, it seems. And they’re simply a great band and wholly unforgettable live.

First and foremost, you go to see bands play life to be entertained. Tonight brought entertainment to the MAX. And all for a fiver. Grassroots forever! But also, don’t be surprised to see any of these guys in bigger venues in time.

Pale Blue Eyes / British Birds – The Crescent Community Centre, York, 18th May 2024

Posted: 19 May 2024 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

Sheffield (and Totnes) shoegaze quartet Pale Blue Eyes may not have had the kind of meteoric ascent to the stratospheres enjoyed by The Last Dinner Party, but they’ve certainly come a long way in a short time for such a young band. Following a similar trajectory to Hull’s BDRMM, they started out in 2021, as we were emerging from lockdown, as a geographically distanced duo, expanding to a three- and then four-piece, releasing their debut album in 2022. No-one would likely have foreseen that two years on, they’d be opening for Slowdive. And now, here they are, on their own headline tour, playing to substantial crowds in 300+ capacity venues in places they’ve never been before. Small wonder they spend the set beaming at simply being here.

To revisit a favourite topic of late, this is why we need grassroots venues. I first saw BDRMM at the Fulford Ams (capacity c. 125), then a year or so later here at The Crescent. Now they’re headlining at the 1,000-capacity Stylus at Leeds Uni, where I’ve seen Swans and Dinosaur Jr. And on the strength of tonight’s performance, I could imagine Pale Blue Eyes there after the release of their forthcoming second album. But, even if not, it’s clear they can’t quite believe they are where they are at this moment in time.

British Birds are a sound choice of support act. There’s next to no sonic resemblance, and visually, presentationally, they’re worlds apart, too, and it’s appreciated. It gets boring watching bands who are too alike back-to-back, and there’s always the risk the support will steal the headliners’ thunder.

They seem to have had about a dozen different lineups already, and while the music press have seemingly struggled to categorise them, with descriptions ranging from ‘indie’ to ‘psychedelic’ with ‘rock’ and ‘garage’ and ‘pop’ all being lobbed their way, but it’s not prevented them getting airplay on 6Music.

Their female singer / keyboardist, centre stage, first gives us first cowbell, then tambourine during first song. Throughout the set, she seems to spend more time bouncing around with the tambourine than playing the keyboard, and behind her, some dynamic and enthusiastic drumming defines their sound, which is a bit Dandy Warhols at times. I have never seen anyone attack a cowbell with so much force, but it makes them absolutely great to watch, being a band positively radiating energy centre stage. Stage left and right, the guitarist / lead singer and bassist are rather more static, focused on their instruments rather than presentation, but this dynamic works well. The three-way vocals add some really sweet harmonies to some lovely indie pop tunes in a varied and entertaining set, where the penultimate song goes a bit rockabilly. Definitely worth seeing.

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British Birds

Pale Blue Eyes take the sound up a notch, not only in volume but quality. It’s clear, crisp, dense, with good separation and clarity, particularly in the drums and vocals, while they crank out dreamy shoegaze tunes with some rippling keyboards and lots of heavy tremolo. ‘TV Flicker’ landing second in the set provides an early highlight in a set that builds nicely, and it’s clear they’ve put some thought into this.

Early Ride make for an obvious comparison, but there’s more to it than that. The drummer plays motorik rhythms focused around the centre of the kit (incomplete contrast to the rolling, expansive style of British Birds’ drummer), barely bending an elbow, confirming movement largely to the wrists and just holding tight, steady beats.

Laser synths and repetitive riffs edge into space rock territory, locking into mesmeric grooved with Hawkwind vibes. In this combination of shoegaze and psych, I’m reminded if second-wave shoegaze act The Early Years circa 2005.

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Pale Blue Eyes

The audience demographic is split largely into two camps: twenty-somethings – the band’s peers, as you’d likely expect – and middle-agers who came to this stuff when they themselves were in their teen and early twenties. I have to confess to falling into the latter bracket, having discovered Ride and Slowdive via John Peel and Melody Maker, and seeing the former at Wembley at BBC Radio 1’s ‘Great British Music Weekend’ supporting The Cure in January 1991 (which I’d have enjoyed more if I hadn’t been coming down with flu, and the three-mile walk home from the coach drop-off back in Lincoln at 2am, in sub-zero temperatures did me for a week). But, consequently, lots of insanely tall middle aged blokes swarmed to the front, busting moves, lofting their arms, and dancing like they’re swimming with their hands behind their backs (or in their pockets) while simultaneously shooting shaky videos on their phones like wankers. I mean, who’s going to want to watch those?

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Pale Blue Eyes

Most of the between-song dialogue was about how awed the band were to be playing the city and venue for the first time, and judging by their expressions, this was a genuine sentiment. But rather than allow that awe to overcome them, they fed off the exuberance of the substantial crowd and amplified it back. The bassist in particular looked like he was having the time of his life.

Their hour-long set culminates in blistering climactic sustained crescendo. There doesn’t need to be more, and there’s nowhere to go beyond this point for an encore. It’s a satisfying and natural-feeling conclusion to a joyous performance.

Blowing Up the House II – York Vaults, York, 20th April 2024

Posted: 21 April 2024 in Live, Reviews
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2

Christopher Nosnibor

However well you plan, things just happen that are beyond your control. It’s how you deal with these problems that present themselves which counts. In pulling off ‘Blowing Up the House II’ a punk and post-punk half-dayer with half a dozen bands for free / donations, Andy Wiles has performed little short of a miracle. Looking at the poster for the event on the venue wall, with a hand-written A4 sheet stuck in the middle with the stage times, it’s apparent that only three of the acts from the original advertised lineup are actually on the bill. Losing one key act due to diary mismanagement on their part must have been frustrating, but to lose the headliners on the day due to the drummer having broken his arm surely felt like a message from the gods, and not a kind one.

Still, the replacements could not have been better; the addition of JUKU on an already solid bill proved to be both inspired and fortunate, and then for Soma Crew to step into the headline slot, hot on the heels of the release of their new album made for a fitting switch.

Among the lower orders, Saliva Birds had some steely post-punk moments that reminded me of later Red Lorry Yellow Lorry with driving bass and solid drumming, and overall, they were pretty decent, and went down well.

As was the case with Saliva Birds, I had zero expectations of Zero Cost, up from Hull. They play some perfectly passable hard, fast three-chord punk marred somewhat by excessive guitar solos. They were at their best when they went even harder and even faster for some back-to-back explosive 30-second blasts. They only half-cleared the room, and they got some old people dancing very vigorously.

It’s getting to the point where Percy are likely in the top three or four bands I’ve seen the most times, partly because they’ve been playing gigs locally since before the dawn of time, but mostly because they’re worth turning out for. It’s fair to say you know what you’re going to get with Percy, in terms of consistency, and the rate they write new material, there’s always something new in the set – namely half of the forthcoming album, with the title track getting a premier tonight.

Opening their set with the darkly paranoid ‘I Can Hear Orgies’, Colin’s guitar is a metallic clang amidst screening feedback, contrasting with the eerie synths and insistent rhythm section. The loudness of Bassist Andy’s shirt threatens to drown out the sound from his amp, a big low rumble that defines the band’s sound. The drums are loud and crisp and propel some proper stompers.

“Don’t try the wotsits, they taste like earplugs,” Colin quips, in uncharacteristically jovial form, referring to the jar on the bar.

On the evidence of tonight’s outing, the album will be a dark, jagged collection of post punk songs about alcoholic blackouts and sex parties, and even without older favourites like ‘Chunks’ and ‘Will of the People’ in the setlist, there’s plenty of earworms. The waltz-time Thinking of Jacking it in Again’ sits somewhere between The Stranglers and Slates-era Fall.

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Percy

My review of JUKU’s debut performance last Summer was the fourth most-read article at Aural Aggravation for 2023 (behind the review of Swans’ The Beggar, Spear of Destiny at The Crescent, and my interview with Stewart Home). It was a gig that warranted all the superlatives. And they’re every bit as immense and mind-blowingly good as I remember tonight. It’s full-throttle heads-down stompers from start to finish. With big, ball-busting grungy riffs hammered out hard at high volume, there are hints of the Pixies amidst the magnificent sonic blast… but harder and heavier. And the drummer is fucking incredible. His powerhouse percussion drives the entire unit with ferocity and precision. Naomi’s delivery and demeanour contrasts with the lyrics wracked with turmoil, while Dan plays every chord with the entirety of his being, and to top it all, they have some tidy post-punk pop songs buried like depth charges beneath that blistering wall of noise. It’s a perfect package, and they’re an absolute-must-see band.

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JUKU

With a lot of bands and a lot of kit, with really tight turnaround times, it’s a huge achievement that the headliners are only ten minutes late starting, and credit’s due to venue and bands alike for their no-messing approach to plugging in and playing without any soundcheck beyond checking that there is sound. The sound, in the event, is consistently good all night – well-balanced, clear, and achieving an appropriate volume.

Soma Crew are another band I’ve seen more times than I can now count, and they just go from strength to strength. Many acts would have been daunted by following JUKU, bit they’re seasoned performers who play with a certain nonchalance and slip into their own inward-facing bubble where they just play, and magic happens.

Tonight they’re out as a three-piece (the lineup seems to vary week by week, probably as much dependent on availability as by design), and much respect is due for their starting with a quintessential Soma Crew slow-builder, a crawl with crescendos which plugs away at the same droning chord for a solid six or so minutes. On the face of it, their hippy-trippy space rock is neither punk nor post-punk – but what could be more punk than doing precisely this? As their Bandcamp bio asks, ‘Why play 4 chords, why play 3. Why play 2 when 1 will do…?’ This is a manifesto they truly love by, and I’m on board with that: the joy of their music emerges from the hypnotic nature of the droning repetition, a blissful sonic sedative.

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Soma Crew

While the rhythm section throbs away on a tight groove, beautiful chaos cascades from Simon’s amp via an array of pedals that occupies half the stage. It’s seven-minute single ‘Propaganda Now’ that solidifies their taking command of the room by virtue of doing their own thing.

Once again, it’s a trip to a grass-roots venue that shows just how much great music there is to be had a million miles from the corporate air hangars which charge £7 a pint and scalp the performers for 30% of their merch takings. It’s not even about the pipeline for the next big names who’ll be on at Glastonbury in a few years: it’s about real music, music that matters.

Thank / Fashion Tips / Junk It – The Crescent, York, 5th April 2024

Posted: 6 April 2024 in Live, Reviews
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,
1

Christopher Nosnibor

I’m out on my second consecutive night of gigging and it feels like it used to in 2019, when I used to do this sort of thing all the time. Other things about this remind e of times past, too. It’s a fairly last-minute show, booked after a couple of dates in Scotland fell through, leaving Thank and tour buddies Fashion Tips with gaps in their schedule. Consequently, promotion has been a bit sparse and ticket sales have only been ‘ok’, attracting the kind of turnout that would look good in a 100-200 capacity venue, but perhaps not so good in a 350-capacity space.

Moving the bands to the floor instead of the stage really changed the dynamic, though, and it worked so, so well. Having a 100% solid lineup was what really made all the difference, though, with local guitar and drums duo Junk It being first up.

Having caught them supporting Part Chimp in the same venue back in November 2022 (how was it that long ago?), I’d dug their sound and seen potential. They’re now absolutely delivering on that early promise, and tonight they’re absolutely outstanding. The set beings with a squall of feedback (as does every song, and as often occupies the space between songs) and a mega thick grunge riff. The guitarist sports a beard, long hair, chunky boots and long flowing skirt, and carries it off well, flailing said hair wildly while blasting out hefty power chords.

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Junk It

The drummer and guitarist share vocal duties on the wild ‘Strut My Stuff’, and the former struggles to stay on his stool during the set, leaping and half standing as he thrashes the fuck out of his kit, the nut flying off the cymbal near the end of the set. The chat between songs is awkward, but amusing, and the songs are pure power. They’re a pleasant, affable pair playing hairy, sweaty grunge, the songs often becoming two players screaming ‘aaaghahah’ over hefty guitar and pummelling drums, before bringing unexpected harmonies in the last couple of songs.

Fashion Tips, whose EP I covered a bit back, and was keen to witness live, emerge a lot less poppy and a lot harsher and noisier than anticipated on the basis of the recorded evidence, and the four-piece bring a spiky riot grrrl punk racket played hard and cranked up loud. With heavy synth grind and pumping drum machine and layers of feedback plus extraneous noise, their sound is in the region of Big Black meets Dr Mix meets Bis meets Selfish Cunt.

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Fashion Tips

Singer / synth masher Esme verbalises my thoughts perfectly when she comments on how tonight’s show is reminiscent of The Brudenell circa 2006 – it’s that low-key, lo-fi, direct engagement, band on-the-floor-and in-yer-face making unfashionable noise simply because vibe that does it, and seeing the likes of That Fucking Tank and Gum Takes Tooth playing to small but enthusiastic audiences of oddballs stands as something of a golden age in my mind. You can never recreate the past, at least not purposefully, and to pine in nostalgia is to grasp at emptiness – but sometimes, thing just happen, and this so proved to be one of those things, by accident and by circumstance rather than by design. Fashion Tips were nothing short of blistering with their abrasive antagonism. Fucking hell indeed.

Between Fashion Tips and Thank, Daughters’ You Won’t Get What You Want was blasting over the PA, reminding me of one of the most incredible and intense live shows I’ve ever born witness to.

Steve Myles always looks like he wants to murder the drum kit and he looks seriously fucking menacing as he starts tonight’s set, face low and focused as he thumps hard. To return to the topic of vintage Leeds, my introduction to Thank was in December 2016, supporting Oozing Wound at – where else? – the Brudenell. It got me out of a works Christmas do, and stands out as a belter in the games room, which stood as the second stage then, and Thank, decked in neon running gear stood out as being demented, but also quintessential Leeds alternative. They’re still blazing that trail and have gone from strength to strength, supporting the likes of Big ¦ Brave and maintaining a steady flow of releases – and of course, hardly play any of the songs from those releases tonight, because, well, that’s how they roll. When they erupt it’s a fierce racket. The bassist wrestles noise from a bass with a very long neck. It’s jolting, and it’s hard.

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Thank

The set is strung together by some mental banter, a rambling narrative that expands on a fictitious account of a dialogue between the band and the show’s promoter, Joe Coates, spanning several months. It’s amusing, and grows more surreal and more stupid as the set progresses – which is Thank all over. Amidst the endless slew of new material, there’s a song called ‘Woke Frasier’, the premise of which is…. if Frasier was woke. Of course. ‘Commemorative Coin’, old yet still unreleased, is a big tempo-changing beast of a tune, and encapsulates Thank perfectly – crazed, irreverent, and daft in the way only a northern act can be. Freddie is the perfect frontperson, balancing charisma with clumsiness in a way that’s charming and entertaining, but hits the mark when they go loud, too.

With three bands out of three delivering outstanding, and utterly full-on sets, you couldn’t ask for more on a Friday night – and pints for £3.50 is just a bonus. If you missed it, you missed out.

In These Walls / Keep This Up / Negatives – The Fulford Arms, York, 11th February 2024

Posted: 12 February 2024 in Live, Reviews
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0

Christopher Nosnibor

Not so long ago, I could be selective about the gigs I attended, wading through guest list offers and free to pick – and would likely attend at least one a week in a reviewing capacity. But, my change in personal circumstances means that getting out tends to be based on a fairly short-notice scan of ‘what’s on’ and Facebook events, meaning I’m far more likely to take punts on something that will get me out when the opportunity presents itself. This does mean that while I’m less likely to witness live music overall, I’m certainly more likely to see bands I wouldn’t have considered previously, and this is a positive thing.

A Sunday night in the middle of February – what have you got to offer, eh? I’m naturally gutted that The Last Dinner Party sold out The Brudenell well ahead of time, and while I really do rate Rob Newman, I’m not sure I’m up for laughs, and besides, I’m feeling the need for bands, so take a punt on three metal acts for a fiver ten minutes’ walk from my house.

One thing about going to see bands with no expectations is that you’re unlikely to be disappointed, and tonight’s offering was very much undersold with the ticket price, because despite the place far from being rammed, despite the lighting being average, the sound and the quality of the performances was such that it was very, very easy to forget that we’re in a small venue with a stage a foot high showcasing bands no-one’s heard of. But this again returns us to the topic of grassroots venues. All three acts on tonight’s bill are of a quality that could see them playing much bigger venues, landing festival slots, and performing to thousands, rather than dozens. Maybe in a year or two they will be, but without venues like this to hit on their first tour, how is it ever going to happen?

Waiting for the first act, I might take pause to extoll the virtues of solo gig attendance. I do appreciate that this is a very personal thing – but isn’t the appreciation of music a very personal thing? It’s not just that we listen to and immerse ourselves jn music in an individual space, more often than not, but also, how we respond is personal, in the way songs touch us emotionally in ways that are completely unique and ultimately – and unashamedly – solipsistic. However much a band may capture the zeitgeist, the way you react to it, the way you feel it – comes from a unique inner space. Music creates a space for s to lose ourselves in a way that few other mediums do. And so to be here, alone, with a pint – and a decent one at that – in near-darkness, in anticipation of the first act, not having to expend energy or headspace on anyone else is, to my mind, pure bliss. This half-hour of tranquillity is of such value that the bands could be crap and it wouldn’t bother me – being here is enough in itself.

But the bands are far from crap.

Negatives forewarn us that their singer us out in the car park. Practically dying, by the way they tell it. But they soldier on, heroically. Sequenced synths bolster the monster instrumental opener, with slabs of guitar, churning bass, and some subtly-executed but nevertheless detailed technical work on the lead guitar. The burly bassist’s in-ear monitors fall out, repeatedly, until he eventually gets fed up of tripping over them and stuffs them in his pocket. Bassists do tend to be understated or exuberant, and he’s in the latter category, lumbering and flailing all over, wringing the grooves out like he’s working the booming noise with his bare hands. They’re a proper full-throttle metal juggernaut, and considering they’re accustomed to having a front man, are visually and verbally engaging.

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Negatives

The last couple of songs are covers: for the first, a cover of Limp Bizkit’s ‘Break Stuff’ with the singer from Keep This Up, and a Slipknot cover with a couple of guts from In These Walls, collaborations which have evolved on this short tour, which they’ve clearly enjoyed and formed new bonds on. So many bands would have bailed under the circumstances, but with true Geordie grit, they blasted forward and did a killer job.

Keep This Up from Peterborough maintain the quality. Their thing is ferocious melodic post-hardcore, with two guitars, drums, and no bass. What? They don’t sound like they’re missing a bass, though. Anything they may be lacking instrumentally, they more than compensate with massive energy, and the singer pours every last ounce of what he’s got into every line, leaving him wilting and panting for air between songs. It’s hardly surprising: I’m knackered just watching him leap and lunge all over, and he’s probably done the equivalent of about 10K by the end of their half-hour set. Toward the end of the set, they drop a Nu-Metal lift of ‘Hollaback Girl’. Who knew we needed that, eh? But the biggest shock of the set was that the new guitarist is only playing his fourth gig, not only with the band, but ever. You’d never know: he brings a huge presence to the stage and some snarky, sarcastic bounce to the between-song banter. They feel like a really tight and cohesive unit, and don’t set a foot wrong through the entirety of a monster set.

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Keep This Up

In These Walls spent almost as long setting up and then soundchecking their massive drum kit as they did playing their set. Despite their being from York, I was unaware of their existence, and establishing any biographical details about them hasn’t proven easy. They weren’t supposed to be headlining, but swapped after Negatives found themselves a man down, meaning they’ve also had to expand their set to fill the slow. And yet for all this, they prove to be worthy headliners, and worth the wait with the pre-set faffing. They bring an immense, brutal sound with five-string bass and ball-busting power chords… and melodic, prog-tinged choruses. Huh? There’s an epic, expansive quality to their music that certainly goes far beyond Nu-Metal, exploring the further reaches of post-metal with aplomb. There’s a lot of detail, but not so technical as to be wanking. They pack a lot of action into half an hour, with an engaging, immersive, and dynamic performance.

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In These Walls

The takeaway here is that there wasn’t a weak band on the bill, and the vibe was simply joyful and enriching. All three bands absolutely played their knackers off. and were clearly having a ball just being out on tour and bringing their noise to people, who in turn, were loving every minute. And I will say it again: this is the heart-swelling joy of small gigs. All three bands proved to be every inch of the quality of bands you might see at 500+ capacity venues, even the O2 arenas for £20, the only difference being that they aren’t well-known. But they deserve to be. At an O2, you’ll be lucky to get within ten metres of the stage: here, you’re within ten metres of the stage even when you’re at the bar at the back: at the front you can see the whites of their eyes, see the sweat running, observe the fretwork. THIS is live music. And THIS is life.

On The Ropes – On The Ropes (EP)

Posted: 9 February 2024 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
Tags: , , , , , ,
0

23rd February 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

On the Ropes started out in 2012, but called it a day with a farewell show in November 2019. Not a bad run for any band, but especially not for a ‘local’ band with dayjob commitments and all the rest. Being in a band, and maintaining it, is hard work – really hard work, especially in recent years. Even pre-COVID, unless you’re filling O2 arenas and selling fucktonnes of albums and merch, sustaining a band as anything more than a hobby was a challenge, and as such beyond the reach of most working-class people who can’t afford luxuries like guitars or amps. In the early days of punk, anyone could pick up a guitar, learn three chords, and for a band. Those days are gone: even if you can afford a guitar and learn three chords, where are you going to play? The industry is fucked – at least for all but the major labels, and acts who score deals without even playing enough gigs to build a following before being scooped up and being handed major support tours and slots at Glastonbury before the debut single even hits Spotify.

I know I’ve been sniffy – to say the least – about pop-punk. I’ve been sniffy about a lot, and I make no apology for it. As a critic, as much as I try on the one hand to be as objective as possible, I also am of the fundamental view that music is personal, subjective. Music that demonstrates more technical proficiency certainly isn’t superior because of it. But, as I say, I’ve been pretty down on punk-pop. But I’ve always said that there are two kinds of music – good, and bad, and maintained the position that there are great songs, even great bands, within every genre, even emo, nu-metal, and ska-punk. Well, maybe not ska-punk. There’s always a bridge too far somewhere.

Anyway, a full nine years on from their last proper release (discounting a cover of The Spice Girls’ ‘2 Become 1’ at Christmas, following a return to live shows last year, On the Ropes have reconvened for a new self-titled EP, with seven songs which stand some way above your identikit punk-pop template stuff, and I suppose it’s the sameness – and the endless buoyancy – of so much of the genre that grinds my gears. There’s a melancholy, a wistfulness, that pervades even the most upbeat songs on offer here, and while the vocals are super-clean and super-melodic – the pop, you might say, the guitars are beefy and up in the mix and the drumming is fast and hard, very much placing the emphasis on the punk element.

‘Deserter’ kicks off with a blast of energy and some well-timed minor chords which create a dynamic twist and an emotionally-rich – and yes, I suppose emo – edge. This is very much the characteristic form of their songs. And it works. This isn’t dumb, cheesy pop-punk, and nor is it self-pitying, whiny emo: it’s emo gone grown up, reflective, and exploring themes of love and loss, but letting it all out, and the songs are both punchy and catchy thanks to the contrast between the instruments and the vocals.

The slower, sadder, introspective ‘West Coast Living’ is certainly more Placebo than Panic! At the Disco, while ‘Broken Shutter’ packs a delicate verse with an explosive chorus and manages to be aching and epic and achieves it all in two-and-a-half minutes. ‘Saturnine’ has a Twin Atlantic vibe to it, and while it’s perhaps not the strongest song of the set, it’s hard to deny the quality of the songwriting, or the fact that this EP feels like the work of a much, much bigger band.

Local fans are going to relish this return, for sure – and given the quality on offer here, maybe they’ll actually become the much bigger band.

AA

OTR

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