P!nk – Beautiful Trauma World Tour 2019
Anfield Stadium, Liverpool
June 25th 2019

American pop superstar Alecia Beth Moore AKA P!nk brought her Beautiful Trauma World Tour to a sold out Anfield Stadium. P!nk earned her reputation as a world-class performer after bursting onto the music scene in the early 2000s with a string of hit albums, the latest being the recently released ‘Hurts 2B Human’, which is her seventh studio album.

Arriving on stage suspended from a giant glittering chandelier, the show kicked off with P!nk singing her huge hit ‘Get the party started’ whilst carrying out aerial acrobatics; as her troupe of male and female dancers clad in hot pink outfits danced on the stage beneath her. Setting the pace for what was to be a dazzling, memorable show that would see P!nk perform twenty one songs from across her career, the crowd pleasing huge hits were included alongside tracks from the new album, in addition a cover of Cyndi Lauper’s ‘Time after Time’ and ‘River’ by Bishop Briggs. The huge stage and T shaped catwalk (with travellator) would be fully utilised, into the bargain we had aerial acrobatics, costume changes galore, video interludes and pyrotechnics and more, the pace was relentless, she sounded and looked stunning and the crowd loved it.

During the third song ‘Just Like a Pill’ she received a huge roar of approval when she held aloft a Liverpool FC scarf that had been thrown onto the stage. The pace would change from big showy productions with the full support of the dancers and aerial acrobats, to her rocking out with the band and then just P!nk and her guitarist. This was a busy and varied show that really did aim to please the appreciative crowd who sang along, prompting her to say that the Liverpool crowd were the best singers she had ever heard.

At one point she climbed down off the stage to take selfies with members of the audience, paying particular attention to a couple of fans who had seen her perform 25 times. She was clearly loving every minute of the show as much as the audience were and it was a delight to see an artist interact so well with her fans and humbly thanking them and acknowledging their support.

Interspersed throughout the show were several video messages where she spoke of love, human rights, women’s rights, acceptance, freedom, body positivity, politics and change as well as LGBTQ rights of which she is a huge advocate and an icon to that community, “I don’t want there to be gay marriage, I just want there to be marriage” she said. These messages were poignant, thought provoking but not preachy or contrived.

One of the biggest cheers of the night came after introducing the dancers; her six year old daughter then cartwheeled onto the stage and enjoyed cuddles with her Mum whilst waving at the crowd.

The show continued with more big hits, slick choreography and great vocals from P!nk who was clearly having a ball before the crowd were showered in confetti and she disappeared from the stage.

For the encore P!nk was launched high above the crowd on a bungee wire, whilst singing her signature mash hit ‘So what’ she then tumbled and danced through the air, literally flying around the Stadium. This was a breath-taking and spectacular finale to an exceptional show.

P!nk proved that she is worthy of her reputation and status and this busy, fast-paced packed show left the audience delighted. Anfield Stadium may be home to the Reds but last night it was undoubtedly P!nk.

Setlist

Get the party started
Beautiful trauma
Just like a pill
Who knew
Funhouse / Just a girl
Hustle
Secrets
Try
Just give me a reason
River
Just like fire
What about us
For now
Walk me home
Time after time
I am here
F**kin’ perfect
Raise your glass
Blow me (one last kiss)
Can we pretend
So what

Please note: Use of these images in any form without permission is illegal. If you wish to contact the photographer please email: mel@mudkissphotography.co.uk

You can follow P!ink on Facebook, Twitter and her website.

Words by Martin Mathews, you can find more at his Author profile and you can follow his tweets here

Photos by Melanie Smith. More work by Mel on Louder Than War can be found at her author’s archive. You can find her on Facebook and Twitter. Photography portfolio can be found here

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EVAN CARSON: OCIPINSKI

CD / DL

Evan Carson Music

Albums from percussionist/drummers as rare as hen’s teeth. However, Evan Carson has enough on the bench to supplement his not inconsiderable skills to produce a work of impressive quality.

A man whose presence graces the great and the good in both the folk and progressive music fields (cue Sam Kelly & The Lost Boys, Stark, The Willows, iamthemorning), Evan Carson’s address book must be a veritable who’s who of musical talent.

An array of musicians from faraway fields join forces on an album inspired by the story of Evan’s Grandfather, Jerzy Ocipinski and the Polish Resistance Movements of the Second World War. His tale, where he eventually changes his name to George Carson (and you can guess the rest), is played out in a series of pieces packed with drama and tension. Bringing together musicians from the folk and progressive music worlds that rarely cross paths, Evan’s created a fascinating hybrid and to be honest it’s stirring stuff.

From folk stalwarts and fellow Lost Boys Toby Shaer and Graham Coe to Jim Grey – the voice of prog metallers Caligula’s Horse – to chamber prog piano virtuoso Gelb Kolyadin (who shares musical writing credits in an interesting Carson/Kolyadin partnership there’s a combination of styles that comes together in a unique vision. Hannah Sanders and Georgia Lewis add lyrical and vocal contributions that add a haunting and ethereal quality aided and abetted by the violin and viola of Karl James Pestka.

Musically, Shards provides both prologue and epilogue;  there’s a train journey to a labour camp, an escape, running as fast as he can away from the wreckage, making for the trees in a life or death dash that’s accompanied by the desperation and chance of escape  and the lighter touch of relief expressed around the juddering rhythms. It builds towards  Chrysalis and the emergence of realisation from a childlike innocence – it provides a threatening Eastern vibe, the musical box time bomb tick tock, exploding into a machine gun attack of the piano. However, the centrepiece may well be Otriad, where a mesmeric  Kolyadin piano flow, a patter of percussion and combination of voices, finally centres on Jim Grey, setting up a claustrophobic anxiety. “We are the anchor, we are the ones who stand alone” he sings with an empathetic passion. “In the name of God for our freedom and for yours.” Gripping and intense.

The contrasting and easier flow of  Bloodlines segues into the album epic,  Fireflies Of Falaise, the latter including some colossal instrumental passages with a burst of vocals that lie low in the mix and again calling on an Eastern mystique until finally, we drift into the industrial atmospheres that underlie the haunting Anders’ Prayer. A tribute to Wladyslaw Anders’ heroics in liberating concentration camps it brings to a close a thought-provoking and meaningful journey. A monument to the battle against oppression and the fight for freedom, yet one that hints at the other side of the coin with the oppressed being forced into becoming as violent as their oppressors; one expressed with an intensity and an empathetic vision.

Watch Evan and Gleb on a mesmerising rehearsal version of Shards

Listen to some excerpts  from the album here:

 Evan Carson online:

Website, Facebook, Instagram, Bandcamp

~

All words by Mike Ainscoe. You can find more of Mike’s writing on Louder Than War at his author’s archive. He can be found on Facebook and is currently revamping his website…

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Stray Cats
Manchester Apollo
June 25th 2019

Ian Corbridge reports back on the iconic rock n’ roll trio the Stray Cats, featuring original members Brian Setzer, Lee Rocker and Slim Jim Phantom as they strut their rockabilly tunes once more on their 40th Anniversary tour as it stops off in Manchester.

The Stray Cats are on the prowl once again and are now celebrating 40 years since their inception. My first live encounter with the band was in Manchester in 1989 and there was little doubt then that they had firmly established themselves as torchbearers for a whole generation of rockabilly fans who were intent on keeping that free spirit alive and well. They pioneered a somewhat unexpected rockabilly revival in the 1980’s drawing significantly on influences in both music and fashion from a previous generation. 30 years on from that and it is evident that none of the passion and drive has diminished in any way, and thankfully neither have the quiffs, but without doubt the polish, slickness and pure musical ability has increased exponentially with experience. Over that whole period, there have been many years of downtime for the band as they pursued other projects, solo or otherwise.

It is now 15 years since the Stray Cats last played in Manchester, a period extended due to the ill-fated events of the 2010 tour when Slim Jim Phantom had the misfortune to break his wrist in London the night before they were due to play in Manchester. But we did have a Brian Setzer solo tour in 2011 and a Slim Jim support slot for the Damned in January 2018 both of which comprised a fair sprinkling of Stray Cats numbers and certainly kept the flame burning brightly.

But tonight we have the real deal, live and proud and rocking all the way as they walk on to the sound of Eddie Cochran over the PA, their original architect and mentor, without whom none of this might even have been possible. With their first album for 26 years having been released earlier this year, ingeniously titled ‘40’, the band now have a wealth of excellent new material to add to their set. And with the album drawing very strongly on the very roots which gave birth to the band, with more than a nod to the classic surf sounds of Dick Dale, the new material segues seamlessly into the older classics.

The opener, Cat Fight (Over A Dog Like Me), is the first song on ‘40’ and is an instant classic, setting the tone for the night perfectly. Then the heat really gets turned up through Runaway Boys and a great take on Gene Vincent’s Double Talkin’ Baby. New songs Three Time’s A Charm and Mean Pickin’ Mama are certainly not out of place either side of the swagger that still exists throughout Stray Cat Strut. Gene & Eddie follows on and there is absolutely no doubt what that song is about. The band, and the audience, are now in full flow and you now realise this is what the Gretsch was made for, and Brian has quite a few of those on the show tonight. Put that alongside the primitive sounds of Slim Jim’s sparse drum kit and the rock solid bass lines from Lee Rocker’s double bass which keep everyone in line and you have nothing short of perfection.

Following more guitar riffs which plunder the Dick Dale songbook, we get Lee Rocker on vocal duties on new song When Nothing’s Going Right and Bring It Back Again from the Blast Off album some 30 years earlier. In between those we get a storming version of (She’s) Sexy + 17 which sees Setzer playing on top of Rocker’s bass for a song which, alongside Fishnet Stockings which follows later, hark back to a different and perhaps more innocent era, but which still stand the test of time.

More songs from the back catalogue keep the mood, tempo and high energy going until we get to the set closer of Rock This Town, their biggest hit, which totally brings the house down and prompts an overwhelming response from the adoring masses. There was no doubting that the band were having as much fun as we were and all that translates into one amazing evening. Of course we get an encore as the band rip through Rock It Off, another stand out track from ‘40’, Built For Speed and a thundering Rumble in Brighton which proves to be the grand finale. The 90 minute set was a pure celebration of a classic genre of music which proved beyond all doubt that the Stray Cats are strutting with a very big spring in their step and long may that continue. Brian apologised for taking so long to return and promised it would not happen again. Past form suggests that cannot be guaranteed, but we can but hope!

Also worthy of mention are The Living End who proved to be a very able support for a band who are clearly their heroes too. They brought their fusion of rockabilly, punk and hard rock all the way from Australia, replete with their own double bass, with the clear intention of having fun and it certainly warmed the crowd up as the anticipation for the main event built.

You can find Stray Cats on Facebook and their website.

All words and photo by Ian Corbridge, you can find more of his writing at his author profile.

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Pixies’ 1988 album Surfer Rosa has made an undeniable impact on alternative rock and pop culture in general. When I was twelve and totally infatuated with the 90s grunge era, I was recommended this album by a friend’s parent. It may have been a mistake to have exposed my young ears to such an album but nonetheless I can proudly say it remains among my favourites. Its sheer oddness, the way it deconstructs clean rock with sporadic noise and distortion, is what makes it so unique and a total staple. 

Surfer Rosa is an album with a sound people had never heard before, and to be quite honest it’s pretty scary. The lyrics are disturbing at times, but there is a creepy charm to them once you look past the rampant references to violence and incest. Steve Albini’s production left bits of spontaneous dialogue from the recording process, which in my eyes completely makes the album. It’s almost like listening in on a rehearsal, and there’s something so much more personal about hearing genuine speech between the members. The distance that sometimes appears between an album and its listeners is broken – sometimes it is hard to view artists as real people, but Pixies effortlessly destroy it and create a sense of intimacy with the listener. 

There’s something so jarring about the sound that runs through the album. Spanish is mashed together with English in a disorganised fashion throughout, and the Puerto Rican influence is seen frequently (particularly in title track Vamos (Surfer Rosa)). Furthermore, the use of distortion and noise plays a role in the unsettling qualities to tracks like Broken Face, in which the vocals are diced up and high pitched for parts of the song. It just sounds wrong placed against a melody that could be clean if you stripped away the distortion – contrast seems key here, between a melody that makes sense and a frighteningly unpredictable tone. This juxtaposition is unnerving, especially when paired with the unpleasant, at times obsessive lyrics (take the closest they ever get to a love song, Cactus, as a perfect example of this). 

Surfer Rosa is an album that fully credits the concept of a non-easy listen, and yet despite this I cannot stop coming back to it. I’m sure it’s the same for many of you – we are fascinated with the macabre, and it fuels so much of what we make. Its influence on other musicians is also totally undeniable. Famously, Kurt Cobain claimed he was essentially trying to rip off the Pixies on Nevermind. Radiohead’s Creep is full of their influence, including their song formula of quiet verses with a creepy feel and louder choruses, paired with the unnerving lyrics that bare resemblance to those on Surfer Rosa. This formula has been used so many times by other bands and is almost instantly recognisable. Not only has this album influenced musicians, but I am sure that its listeners have been affected by it. I know personally that the first time listening to this oddly twisted collection of songs, I was baffled and yet absolutely in love with the charm of it all. I believe there isn’t another album the same, no matter how long you look.

A couple of key tracks:

Cactus – 

This brooding track is about the most romantic thing on the album. Backed with a seething baseline which essentially makes up most of the minimalist instrumentation, the vocals are unsteady and throughout the song feel like at any point they could explode into screams. There is an uncomfortable feeling of desperately trying to hold back. The lyrics tell the story of an incarcerated man, obsessed with his lover and requesting for her to send him her ruined dress so that he can cling to the hope that she is still alive. As the song increases in intensity (gradually reaching the lyric “wear that dress when you die”), the bass line provides a constant in its dark atmospheric feel, driving the feeling of the song. David Bowie’s cover of this is also fantastic.

Where is my mind –

I’d struggle to write a piece on this album without including this classic song. It’s most certainly a lighter and more whimsical moment, but not without its fair share of creepiness in Kim Deal’s eerie background vocals (which were recorded in a bathroom). This song is a slice of calm in the chaos that runs through Surfer Rosa, it’s definitely a more tender moment. The lyrics are somewhat nonsensical, Black Francis himself has said he didn’t really know why he chose to write about his experience in the Caribbean being chased by small fish. That is a sentiment that is relevant to the title itself, the feeling of a lack of coherent direction, questioning where your mind actually is. The calmness of this track is a surprisingly bittersweet moment.

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Buzzcocks + Skids + Penetration and Guests

Royal Albert Hall, London

June 21st 2019

Phil Ross and Louder Than War photographer Svenja Block mull the Buzzcocks journey to the Royal Albert Hall that started over 40 years ago, kickstarted by the energy of a very special man, Pete Shelley.

Svenja and I take our seats on the top deck of the 52 bus for the short ride from Victoria Station to The Royal Albert Hall.

“I saw Sham at the Reading Festival in 1978…” booms a loud West Country voice. Four large, ruddy men in leather and combat jackets face inwardly occupying four double seats in front of us, relaxed like people on the final stretch of a long journey.

“…I was 13 years old, I knew all the words to all the songs…”

He has grabbed my attention and I tilt my head, my hearing ain’t what it used to be. This guy is the same age as me and I want to hear his story.

“…and Jimmy Pursey didn’t know the words to any of his own songs”.

Svenja is talking, the bus is noisy and I struggle to hear anything more interesting. Their conversation drifts onto other bands…and I hear “…Blah Blah Blah, Buzzcocks, Blah Blah, Pete Shelley, Blah Blah Blah, He Was Bent! Blah Blah…” I focus on the large necks and balding grey heads in front of me, faces red from the beer and sun. The word ‘Gammons!’ invades my mind, ticker-taping across the interior of my skull.

Tonight is a celebration of Pete Shelley’s life, the co-founder of Buzzcocks who sadly passed away in December and I’m a little saddened to hear this word “Bent!” I’m thinking of an entire generation of teenagers at the cutting edge of alternative culture, challenging conventional thinking and stereotypes, breaking down boundaries, standing together against the establishment, ‘a hundred good mates’ and all that. Is this what we’ve come to? Supping beer and…I stop myself.

The bus stops too, at the Royal Albert Hall and we begin walking round this huge oval edifice, searching for the correct door to collect our tickets.

The pavements are crowded and I’m trying hard to forget the necks on the bus, but I’m struggling to see anyone under 60 and I can’t help but eyeball all the old punks as I pass them, wondering on their politics, and I know I have to loosen up.

And then in affirmation that life is indeed good we see the familiar shape of Ray Gange, I instantly feel more comfortable, and the three of us chat warmly. I quiz him about the 2016 Clash movie, London Town with Jonathan Rhys Myers in which Ray reverts to type, playing a roadie.

I can’t help but notice Ray is eating chocolate éclairs and drinking coke.

I’m struggling with my diet and booze intake and can’t help think about my furred artery, envious, I decide to say nothing. The number of people wanting to chat to him and take selfies gradually increases and we say our farewells and head off, Svenja to the photo-pit and me to my seat.

The venue is most famous for an annual eight-week season of orchestral classical music culminating in a huge BBC orgy of jingoistic, imperial flag waving known as Last Night at The Proms, and I’m not completely comfortable.

In 1867, exactly 110 years before the release of Orgasm Addict, Queen Victoria laid its foundation stone in memorial to Prince Albert whose name is used most often in relation to male genital piercing, and fittingly tonight, Penetration open for Buzzcocks.

The two bands toured together in the early days and interestingly both recorded Nostalgia, the evening’s first song – Penetration for their debut LP Moving Targets and Buzzcocks for their Love Bites album, both released in the autumn of ’78. The Shelley-penned, Nostalgia is driving and melodic and shifts gear most beautifully.

This is a “…night dedicated to Pete…” announces Pauline Murray, and she takes a moment to reflects on their journey “…from The Roxy…”, the seminal but tiny London sweatbox where both bands played in 1977 “…to the Albert Hall…”, the pinnacle and temple of established British culture, and she wonders what Pete might be thinking from “…up there…”, “…quite a journey…” she sighs.

In a red frilled shirt and black brimmed hat, she shimmies across the stage flamenco style to Come Into The Open and Movement, her voice is strong and she has taken but the briefest moment to acclimatize to what must be a truly intimidating setting. 

She steps out to the edge of the stage in front of the monitors commanding the moment, a true contemporary of Siouxsie Sioux and Styrene more than equal in vocal range and quality, a fact underlined as she enters that magical zone, throws her head back and delivers Free Money majestically to the heavens like she’s singing out to Shelley himself.

The hall is filling and the iconic Don’t Dictate kick-starts tonight’s mosh action, continuing with Shout Above The Noise a second offering from the excellent Coming Up For Air LP. It’s fitting too that they end on the immensely catchy Beat Goes On from their recent Resolution album, which featured original Buzzcocks drummer John Maher.

Three men and a woman from seats near me stand to chat as the crew clear the stage and I sit, trying to get a measure of this beautiful and immense building.

Surveying the sea of white faces and balding heads, I spot one guy with hair, fashioned into a Mohican consisting of about six or seven bright red spikes, about a foot long. I strain to guess his age, my eye-sight ain’t what it used to be but I swear he’s in his thirties.

I’ve almost forgotten about the necks on the bus and I’m thinking the ‘white working class’ is pretty fucking cool and it’s here in the Albert Hall, it made that same journey that Pauline made with Pete.

“I’m not a gay-boy, I’ve been married three times”, I look back to the three guys and the woman standing near me, I haven’t been listening to them.

His mate replies “Pete was married in the end, he was gay”.

The third bloke chips in “He was everything!”

A series of images of Pete in a variety of garb scrolls through my head, S&M, cowboy, traffic cop, Indian chief.

“Yeah!” acknowledges the three-times married man.

The woman is silent, and after a pause, one of the men engages her in polite conversation. I’m not listening, but I wrote it down.

All of a sudden the unmistakable guitar and drums of Animation heralds Skids. Jobo boxes, dances to take centre stage Rocky-esque, animated, enigmatic, in charge “…come on…lift the roof…” he commands and a man at the barrier who seems to have got a hold of a Penetration set-list waves it in the air, pristine and white, gaffa attached. The red spikes of Mohican man bob furiously back and forth, bending like plastic, always returning perfectly to the vertical. The energy in the hall has gone up several notches on the dial.

What a “…privellage…” Jobo tells us, urging us to “…rip the shit…” out of this place as Bruce Watson stabs Of One Skin into the air, bass, drums coming in too, urging the crowd further…resplendent!

I’ve seen the Skids a few times and I wonder if Jobo will do the “…shit dancing…” joke. He doesn’t fail us, and goes on to elevate us further: “You’re only 16 once and tonight you are again!” Charades, exactly “…what the Skids are about!”

Richard Jobson is a splendid orator and frontman. His repertoire of self-deprecating anecdotes is matched only by his slightly menacing ones. I like the ‘skids audition’ story where he confesses to getting the frontman job because he threatened the other attendees with violence if they didn’t “Fuck off!”

Tonight he tells the one where he warns Leo Sayer that he should be scared because “…a big crazy Scottish guy and his fat friends…” are gonna get him. Personally I think this one is a bit shit, especially when he mock sings Sayer for just a little too long that it becomes cringey, and then a bit longer.

The crowd boo in the right places, and I wonder if some of them agree with me, but he’s obviously been doing a lot of gym work and imagining the power of the punches that he might rain down on me makes me think I should keep my mouth shut. But his kicks don’t quite get the height they used to when he does his famous Jobo Dance, and I reckon I could out-run him. I wonder if he should replace some upper body routine with lower mobility, yoga might work!

Kings of the New World Order from their latest Burning Cities album is a hard hitting, poignant song following the big guitar and grooving formula that make Skids perfect for the stadium circuit. But few songs can compete with The Saints Are Coming building and dropping in perfect arrangement.

Jobo knows this and his emotive script is crafted to help us reach this same conclusion about the song they wrote when “…we were kids…” He muses that many of us have “…never been here…” in this venue synonymous with “…Land of Hope and Glory…” and leads the crowd in a rousing chorus of “Boris Johnson is a wanker” who undoubtedly has been Working For The Yankee Dollar, again great showmanship and another great song that really works in a big venue. He reminds us that we are here to celebrate a “…Golden Era…” and pays tribute to Pete, before asking us to also remember Stuart Adamson another dearly departed member of the punk community and writer of the next song Scared to Dance.

“Sing with me” he urges and obligingly the crowd fill the air with Hurry On Boys and the haunting “Whoa Oh Oh Oh” of Lion In Winter. He has another anti-establishment pop, this time at the “…vile and disgusting scumbag men…” who permeated the music industry during that “…amazing and strange period…” when we were teenagers. People like Jimmy Saville and Dave Lee Travis who “…hated our music…” dedicating Circus Games to them.

As if it weren’t obvious Skids are absolutely nailing every minute, when he asks “Are you warmed up yet?” Crowd roars. “Thank you for not asking for the worst song that the Skids ever wrote”, he says. Plenty punks know the script and play their part perfectly, “Albert Tatlock” they shout, the whole hall joins in and the band oblige.

The roof does indeed lift especially when “Boris Johnson…what a wanker” is added to the list of Manchester’s favourite soap stars, the song medleys into Pretty Vacant which with five vocals on stage singing the chorus is pretty special, before Jobson shouts “God Bless Pete Shelley” and they switch seamlessly into What Do I Get. This writer has goose bumps and his eyes well up when the crowd matches the stage volume singing the “Oh Oh Oh” chorus.

Masquerade is magnificent and the band rumble Into The Valley. The distinctive and adrenalizing bass intro somehow missing and I think ‘Ouch’, how did that happen, but the big red Mohican is bobbing furiously and the mosh is jumping. ‘Ahoy Ahoy’ sing the crowd and Jobo, chest out, is in that magical gap beyond the monitors, “Sing It” he calls, and oh do they sing it!

Watson’s solo dials the energy up even more notches, (no I’m not gonna say ‘eleven’). Jobo is dancing again, ‘The’ famous Jobo Dance, and the kicks are indeed full height. The song crescendos and begins to climb down, “Sing with me” he calls as the band look to each other and the anthem is brought to a close with just high-hats, audience and Jobo. His voice softens “Thank you so much” he says and Skids leave the stage with waves and hugs to the warmest applause.

“Well that was quite something”, says a Northern lady in a vintage dress as the audience subsides.

Everything tonight has a thoughtful and reflective element, a screen above the stage projects images of Shelley and Buzzcocks of all ages, from the beautiful to the bloated, badges, gig tickets, records sleeves, posters, photomontages, many designs by Linder Sterling, but what could be more appropriate than Richard Boon addressing the audience.

Instrumental in their early development, Boon co-wrote songs, organized gigs and started the New Hormones label which released their Spiral Scratch EP, a move which made Buzzcocks not only one of the first punks released, but spearheaded the DIY ethos of the movement. 

Boon along with Shelley and Howard Devoto famously travelled to London to see the Pistols, inviting them to Free Trade Hall and kick-starting the Manchester scene in 1976, where Shelley would first meet Diggle.

We come “…not to mourn, but to celebrate…” he reminds us and graciously makes way for a short film from his old school-mate and co-founder of Buzzcocks Devoto, before Paul Morley who wrote for three Manchester area magazines takes over the proceedings as MC.

Buzzcocks are out of the traps with Fast Cars, first track on the first album “…he’s up there in heaven, he’s watching tonight…” and straight into the magnificent Promises.

We’re “…playing to Pete in Heaven…” he says as Why She’s A Girl From The Chainstore comes to an end, a track I always thought showed Diggle’s Mod influence. Looking the part in dessie boots, white strides and spotted shirt, I can’t help thinking “Good hair…” as I glance across the sea of sparsity “…Steve Diggle has very good hair!” I stop myself from saying “…for a man of his age!”

He’s “…watching…” as they move effortlessly into Autonomy he shouts, clearly both emotional and excited as he bounces to all parts of the stage, up to the edge drinking in the audience who lap up all that is to be offered, here is tonight’s star.

They’re here for him, to share his pain, his excitement, the celebration of his friend, their joint achievements, the reflections of all in attendance, and the support is warm and obvious.

Our MC introduces the guests but the bespectacled, red beret and pink fur clad Captain Sensible has his own etiquette and announces himself with a fine “Ooh isn’t it nice in here!”

He has a shopping bag, he takes, out a song sheet, “How can you expect me to remember lyrics at my age?” he cries before launching into a spitting, anarchic rendition of Boredom, relishing every nasty nuance.

Prowling, tongue out, he steps out onto the edge in front of the monitors, mic stand above his head, an old hand in complete control. I’m sure his eyes flashed behind the circular shades as he snarled “…I’m already a has-been…” and all too soon he’s going.

“Thank you Steve…thank you Pete Shelley…wherever you are…you’re drinking champagne” he cries. A mic gets dropped, a roadie is onstage, the Royal Albert Hall is now intimate, it’s a gig, and Pauline Murray returns to stage with John Maher and fellow original Steve Garvey on bass to perform Love You More. It’s a splendid vocally soaring version “…until the razor cuts…” and she too is off all too soon.

Pete Perret comes on to sing Why Can’t I Touch It?  in his fine voice, he seems a little frail for touring, and as the cacophonic guitar climax heralds the end of the song I wonder which replacement Shelley might recommend if he were indeed looking down. “…I’m sure Pete was really proud to have fans like you!” departs Perret to cheers and claps.

Bass drum and guitar introduce Fiction Romance, Maher and Garvey are still ‘guesting’, Diggle gobs. Richard Jobson joins the fray and performing finely, kicking, dancing again as the outro builds to those last three magnificent notes.

Next up is Vanian “Yeah!” he announces “Come On!” he calls out as the Garvey fires up the familiar hammering bass to Diggle’s guitar sweeps and the rolling drums of What Do I Get?

I grin widely as Dave strides purposefully across the stage dressed in black with sunglasses and leather gloves, our favourite vampire punk Roy Orbison goth, heralding the guitar solo with “Take it away boys!” and calling out a “Yeah!” perfectly placed after the first guitar refrain.

My grin widens further and I imagine a fantasy world where the soundtrack to Vanian and Sensible’s everyday existence is punctuated by “Yeah!”, where they exclaim “Ooh isn’t it nice in here!” when they enter a room and I expect to hear “Nibbled to death by Okapi” some time soon. Vanian is on cue for the last verse like the veteran frontman he is, and the song draws to a close.

The screen above shows the distinctive yellow and red Anti Nazi League badge of the late ‘70s.

Diggle guides his guests generously and hugs them all, Dave stays on for Something’s Gone Wrong Again which is perfect for him, his delivery and the relentless keyboard stabs remind me of MC5.

I spot a nervous frown, I see a lyric sheet, some ‘What’s happening?’ eye contact between Diggle and Maher who remains solid, expressionless, the song is held together by the veteran rhythm section who handle the hiccup like they ain’t had a break for 40 years.

Dave takes the sweet spot in front of the monitors and the crowd goes with him, veterans, all of them. I realize that there will have been minimal rehearsal time and credit is due to everyone both on and off stage tonight. The hug from Garvey is extra warm as if to say “Nice one mate” as Vanian takes his leave, “Seat of the pants there mate!” But they nailed it, it was special indeed.

Thurston Moore drowns Paul Morley with feedback as the latter attempts to introduce him, which can’t really be a surprise from the Sonic Youth co-founder and guitar master of noise and experiment.

There has been great anticipation of Thurston, but there’s a misfire as he counts in Times Up and Diggle takes control with a quick ‘Hold on!’ hand gesture and a “1-2-3-4”. The noise is indeed big, especially on Noise Annoys and the guitar chaos and feedback over the Shelley-penned melodic pop punk seems like an interesting idea and well received by the crowd.

Next guest is Tim Burgess, another interesting idea, one of the figure-heads of Manchester’s Baggy scene fronting one of the city’s seminal punk bands. My inner marketing man tells me this is a winner and vocally, Burgess nails the high pitched boyishness of Shelley.

There’s another misfire for the count-in, but vets M & G are back in control and Diggle relaxes, arm around Burgess as Sixteen Again rocks out.

Steve strums a chord for Burgess to find pitch who stoops as if to hide his exposure, as he sings You Say You Don’t  perfectly in tune, with the whole band joining on “…Love Me”.

He really does justice to the melody, and while he struggles with the high notes, demeanour, presence, and chemistry-wise, I think he’s tonight’s best voice for the job, if such a job were on offer.

The guests are finished and the band play out the last few numbers with Diggle on vocal, starting with his Top 40 composition Harmony In My Head loved for it’s distinctive gruff vocal. “I need your help” he shouts, and the crowd take the chorus perfectly for him.

The band delivers an extended breakdown version, “He’s in my fuckin’ soul”, Steve is emotional, jumping Townsend-like, “…never be forgotten…”, the mosh has fresh wind and Mohican man is bobbing away.

Orgasm Addict, he’s no longer the convivial host, he’s snarling, screaming, punk! I Don’t Mind the mosh is really mental.

As Steve sings the first verse of Ever Fallen In Love, Pauline Murray leads the guests back on, Burgess puts an arm around her, Sensible runs out to share the mic with Steve on the first chorus and soon the whole ensemble is dancing on stage to the finest pop song ever written by one man about another.

It’s almost over, the seated part of the crowd rises to it’s feet.

The final words are left for Pete’s wife Greta who thanks Raf Edmonds, the band’s long standing and hard working manager, and the fans, “Without the fans, there would be no band” she say and leaves the stage.

As the applause dies down and the hall empties I take a final look at the fine setting and the fans, the old punks who started this journey with Pete all those years ago.

They were all very young kids when homosexuality was de-criminialised in 1967 and of course the death penalty for homosexuality was last carried out during the reign of Queen Victoria the lady whose memorial holds this evening’s event, and who famously could not conceive that such a thing as sex between women could possibly exist.

Attitudes and mindsets take time to change, even when cultural sledge-hammers such as rock ‘n’ roll, hippy and punk smash down all sorts of doors, and Pete grew up in a society where being gay was dangerous.

He didn’t write or campaign with the demanding Glad To Be Gay ferocity of Tom Robinson, his songwriting was more subtle with the he/she/him/her pro-nouns strangely missing from his many love songs, until his 1981 solo single Homosapien was banned by the BBC for being explicitly gay.

But like Greta says, “…the fans…”, yes the fans loved him, his songs, his band, his spirit. Through those less tolerant days they grew with him, and these are those very fans here tonight…walking towards the exits. They can’t really be faulted for being less than comfortable saying “…he was into everything…” or “Gay- boy” when the correct word might be ‘Bisexual’. It’s a generation thing.

It’s also not quite right to define a person wholly by their sexuality, especially when Shelley’s energy and life force was so vital to the Manchester scene and tonight’s show has been held together largely by the skill of his songwriting. He was so much more.

I think about the Anti Nazi League image that was so prominent above the stage tonight, and I realize I was wrong to call the four necks on the bus ‘Gammons’, although I only thought it. I wish I had chatted and had a beer with them rather than making assumptions about people who have made such a fine journey.

Photo gallery:

Please note: Use of these images in any form without permission is illegal. If you wish to use/purchase or licence any images please contact Svenja Block at blocksvenja@yahoo.com.

Penetration   Official Website   Facebook   Twitter

Skids                Official Website   Facebook   Twitter

Buzzcocks      Official Website   Facebook   Twitter

All words by Phil Ross. This is Phil’s first contribution for Louder Than War.

All photographs on this page © Svenja Block. You can find more of Svenja’s work at her Pixieset, Facebook and at her Louder Than War author’s archive.

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Thom Yorke: ANIMA

XL Recordings

Thom Yorke follows up his soundtrack to Suspiria with his third official solo album. Produced by longtime collaborator Nigel Godrich, ANIMA is a trip into the deep recesses of sleep. Simon Tucker reviews.

Sleep is the ultimate moment of self trust. A pure state of vulnerability where you body is intending to recharge. For many though sleep is a hellish state. A place either unobtainable or once there riddled with the extremities. Sleep can be tranquil and it can be violent. Sleep can be sensual and hysterical. This is why the subject has long been poured over by academics and artists. What exactly happens when we sleep and why does it have the power to totally break us down or rebuild us? It is of no real surprise then that Thom Yorke has now fully honed in on the subject. He’s got previous with this sort of thing of course. Via his work with Radiohead we have had (Nice Dream), Go To Sleep (Little Man Being Erased), the ambient Treefingers and the last Radiohead album A Moon Shaped Pool which was drenched in the ambience of dream-states.

Sleep offers us many a duality and can often drag in various moments of the past and knot them together in your dreams. It is this last point that is vital to the understanding of ANIMA as it feels like Yorke (and his co-conspirator Nigel Godrich) have created a work that tugs on certain threads from all of his solo work, sewing them together to create what is his richest, most romantic and slightly disturbing album to date.

Much like A Moon Shaped Pool felt like a perfect summation of a certain period of Radiohead’s career so does ANIMA and what is truly exciting is that listening to it for a few times gives you the true sense that Yorke, at 50 years of age and well into his recording career, can now springboard into any direction he chooses. This is not only a underlining of a past but an arrow to the future.

For all the talk of “dystopia” and anxiety in the build up to the album’s release ANIMA’s strength lies not in the skittering beats and usual Yorke falsetto snaking through the melody lines but in the fullness of its sound. The scaffolding created by Tomorrow’s Modern Boxes is still in tact but now there is more meat on the bones making it a much more rewarding listen than its predecessor. There’s a deeper atmosphere surrounding the songs making it a quintessential headphone album.

From the very beginning ANIMA offers us a nod and a wink to a past life with Yorke caught on microphone saying a simple “yeah” which instantly sends the memory back to the beginning of Everything In Its Right Place on the live album I Might Be Wrong. Traffic is the adult Brain In A Bottle from Tomorrow’s Modern Boxes. Far more confident and striking up a dub strut rhythm, Traffic connects the head to the hips and as shards of instrumentation fill the gaps you feel the first taste of the anxiety mentioned earlier as Yorke signs “I can’t breathe / there’s no water” and talks of being “submerged”. As the track progresses you get a whisper of what sounds like two drumsticks clicking together echoing the main percussive element to The Eraser’s And It Rained All Night. The past creeping in to the present.

As we sink further into the album with Last I Heard (…He Was Circling The Drain) it feels like Yorke is still trying to cling on to any part of the past he can as the synth chords that strike up the intro are tonally similar to TMB’s Interference but whilst that song was happy to stay in the shadows and to only reveal some of itself via minimal instrumentation, Last I Heard (…He Was Circling The Drain) blossoms over its running time, full of dark energy and voodoo electro blues with Yorke painting the nightmarish images of “humans the size of rats”. This ain’t no party…this ain’t no disco.

One aspect of ANIMA which is a welcome surprise is Yorke’s vocals. There’s plenty of familiarity here with his often used falsetto floating through songs like Twist and Impossible Knots but it is when he drops his vocal register that we find the really heavy emotional connection. I Am A Very Rude Person hears Yorke return the vocal styles favoured on The Eraser and Not The News sees him sing fuller and more dynamic than on most of his other solo output yet there is one that trumps them all…

Dawn Chorus. It is finally here. A song bootlegged from live Radiohead gigs and the name of the company set up by the band to deal with A Moon Shaped Pool, Dawn Chorus has long built up a mythical status amongst fans. When the track list came out there was obvious excitement when this was on there and it really has been worth the wait.  You see, Thom Yorke has a habit of making one song a central focal point for an album. With The Eraser you had Harrowdown Hill and with Tomorrow’s Modern Boxes it was The Mother Lode. Dawn Chorus trumps the lot. It has the power to bring you to your knees with its emotional whack. What is particularly moving about the song is not the distant strings and ethereal fractured voices that swim around the main stuttering synth pattern it is Yorke’s lyrics. This is where Thom Yorke’s seemingly abstract lyrics meld into what feels like a conversation between two people. What two people? Well that is completely up to the listener and that is where the emotion gets wrung out of you. One minute Yorke sounds like he is singing to his children (“a little fairy dust” and “come on chop chop”) the next to a partner with one of his most romantic lyrics to date:

“the wind picked up / shook up the soot / from the chimney pots / into spiral patterns / of you my love”

And there it is. The word ‘love’. Dawn Chorus is a hymn to human connections with all their faults and their transcendence. With Yorke cutting up lines making sections feel like one person hasn’t finished what they were saying before the other interrupts “if you could do it all again / yeah without a second thought”. This is where we as listeners place our own relationships into the narrative. A dreamscape love song. Serene, majestic and highly emotive.

The placing of Dawn Chorus only four songs in to a nine song album is a risky move as what follows must sustain a sense of importance and whilst nothing else matches the emotional heft of it ANIMA still has plenty more to offer as I Am A Very Rude Person lounges in like a stray Atoms For Peace song crashing the party but ending up one of the better guests. Then we embark on another main highlight of the album with the tech-glitch Not The News getting us moving again on a bed of squelch and another strong vocal before The Axe announces its arrival and takes us through a myriad of sequences that feel like one of Yorke’s best mashing up of classic song patterns with the abstract electronica he is so found of. As he waves his fist at writers block blaming the machines he normally creates on Yorke declares that he thought they “had a deal” sounding like someone who is dismayed that the very things that helped him get out of one set of circumstances with Kid A are now not coming to his aide once more. Another peak behind the wizard’s curtain.

Dragging us back to the land of the living is Impossible Knots which once again feels like an updated and improved version of the songs on Atoms For Peace’s AMOK (and which features a certain Phillip Selway on drums) and closer Runwayaway which proves once again that Yorke has a real knack for closing albums on a high note. Runwayaway is a dark, pulsing trip that features Yorke intoning “that’s when you know who your real friends are”. Featuring piano, guitars and strings this is also the moment Yorke’s Suspiria soundtrack infects the album. Dance to the end for we are not certain of anything.

ANIMA is Thom Yorke’s best solo album and is an album that stands up against some of his work with Radiohead. It is an album that swirls and pulls. ANIMA is also where the partnership of Yorke and Nigel Godrich really find their feet as a duo. There is a confidence oozing through every second of its fourty-eight minute running time and whilst it is unsettling and definitely disturbing in places the main emotion you take away from it is hope. There is a positivity in there amongst the shadows. ANIMA is sexy and slinky and is an album that tells us that when it comes to Thom Yorke not only is he seemingly enjoying some happiness in his life he is also only now really getting started. Chapter One has come to its end so now we reread until Chapter Two makes its most welcome of entries.

~

ANIMA also comes with a Paul Thomas Anderson directed “one reeler” which is now streaming on Netflix

ANIMA official website

Thom tweets as @ThomYorke.

All words by Simon Tucker. You can read more from Simon by checking out his Louder Than War Author’s Archive. Simon’s also on Twitter as @simontucker1979.

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Album Review

Bad Breeding  – Exiled   (One Little Indian)

CD LP DL

Out now

Stevenage Anarcho-punk-youth with relentless third album. Joe Whyte reviews. 

I first became aware of Bad Breeding following their first release in 2016, the self-titled “S/T” (obviously!) and saw them play to about twenty hardy souls in a tiny basement venue in Glasgow that summer. Looking at them onstage that night, they were the antithesis of the rage pouring from the PA speakers in the venue. Vitriolic, seething hardcore-meets-math-rock via Mike Watt basslines played by fresh-faced guys who looked as if they’d be more at home serving lattes in a quiet bar than the sheer fury that emanated from the stage. That is, and was the beauty of Bad Breeding; they look like mild-mannered, thoughtful blokes (and I’m sure they are) but their music is as uncompromising and as savage as anything you’ve heard before.

I know there’s a whole “new punk” thing doing the rounds at the moment and more power to their collective elbows but Bad Breeding eschew the goofy bonhomie of a band like IDLES, the surrealist anger of Sleaford Mods  and the bloke-ish everyman lyrics of Slaves (whom I love, incidentally) in favour of a total manifesto-led, no-compromise attack on consumerism, suburban boredom, apathy and the shit-state that we currently find ourselves living in. The names of some of the more iconic names of the anarcho-collective world of the late seventies have been thrown around as comparisons and yes, there are hints of Crass and Conflict in not only the artwork of the album. Bad Breeding, not unlike the Dial House punk veterans, are entirely self-sufficient and will often, in a quite refreshing and not-at-all pretentious way, produce essays and manifestos rather than press releases. Bad Breeding genuinely don’t give a shit if you like them- that’s not what it’s about. What it is all about, however, is pointing out the injustices and madness in a world gone to hell in a hand-basket.

The lyrics speak for themselves; police brutality, politicians in glass houses, life in sterile small towns where after-pub violence is a weekend pursuit, poverty and discrimination and institutional racism. Bad Breeding aren’t offering solutions but they are reflecting their (and our) world through a prism of sheer, unadulterated fury.  Musically, on the face of things, there are elements of the D-Beat of Discharge, Black Flag’s onslaught, the odd time switches of Minutemen and the raging, martial rhythms of Crass. Beneath the surface, however, there are hints of Sonic Youth’s dissonant beauty and Fugazi’s contrasting rhythms with weird Wire-like shifts. “Tortured Reality” which closes proceedings is six and a bit minutes of discordant grace that meanders in and out of all-out feedback blitz to gentler, almost pastoral sections.

“Whose Cause” is possibly the most trad-punk sounding track and is splintered by blazing chorus sections that best recall some of the underground anarcho bands like Amebix. Again, the target is the media and false flag news reporting and is pretty unrelenting.

“Theatre Of Work” takes the fury down a notch or two and the bass and drums actually sound a little like a cranked-up Gang Of Four to these ears with swathes of treated guitar and the sax of Lewis Evans adding a different texture. “Breaking Wheel” has an almost drone rock, psychedelic feel to some of the layered guitars and the disenfranchised vocal delivery from Chris Dodd a lonely, tortured presence.

If you’re looking for a state of the nation address, look no further.

Buy from Bandcamp, One Little Indian Shop

BB Facebook

All words  Joe Whyte DTK

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Starcrawler | Plague Vendor
Academy 3, Manchester
June 27th 2019

Cazz Blase and Melanie Smith step into the dark and twisted punk world of Starcrawler.

A blisteringly hot day in Manchester feels like entirely the wrong kind of setting in which to be enjoying Starcrawler and Plague Vendor, two ferocious punk bands from L.A, fuelled variously by rage and unknown dark forces. Seemingly gig goers across the city agree with this sentiment as this is a surprisingly sparsely attended gig for the two bands. Those who do brave the heat are in for a treat though as it really is a case of two bands for the price of one.

Plague Vendor, who open tonight, are signed to Epitaph records and as a punk band they are energetic, tight and fierce. They have attracted a small crowd, admittedly enthusiastic, people who are watching them from various vantage points across the floor. While the band play furious hardcore their singer, Brandon Blaine, puts on the show of his life.

His close cropped hair gives him an air of the late Sid Vicious, but when he borrows a woman’s sunglasses and puts them on he looks more like Captain Sensible. Throughout the set he moves closer and closer to the edge of the stage and, eventually, temptation proves too much and he heads off the stage altogether. Soon he’s in the pit, then he’s over the barriers and into the crowd where he stalks the audience like a panther, prowling as he spits out lyrics, getting in peoples faces. Later Brandon grabs hold of the rail above the stage and swings from it, climbing and twisting on and from it like a gymnastic Ian Svenonius.

As the set reaches its concluding arc, Brandon uses all of his charisma as a performer to persuade the crowd to move closer to the stage, whereupon he moves amongst them, harrying and charming them like he was born to it. As the lights come up at the end of the set it’s clear that Plague Vendor have more than earned their support stripes tonight.

By the time Starcrawler come onto the stage more people have arrived, though it’s still not a huge crowd. As the lights go down the drummer, bassist and guitarist all come onto the stage and the drummer starts up a steady pounding backbeat. Then the guitars kick in, creating a series of long, drawn out wailing riffs.

In the dressing room, a creature stirs and a bedraggled waif with tangled hair hanging over her paint-smeared face, dressed in a tattered and bloodstained white dress stumbles out through the stage door. She half staggers, half walks onto the stage, looking slightly bewildered. Then, she grabs the microphone and begins to snarl, roar, arch her back and generally contort and writhe her way through a set of loud Stooges esque garage punk rock.

Not one word does Arrow de Wilde utter to the audience, she leaves all the talking to the guitarist Henri Cash, an energetic player with a certain New York Dolls flamboyance and Heartbreakers esque nihilism. At the end of each song the lights go down and Arrow drops to the floor in a protective crouch, her back to the audience. Sometimes she collapses, spreadeagled, onto the stage.

There’s shades of Katie Jane Garside in her Daisychainsaw period here, also Melora Creager of Rasputina, as the very chic neo goth girls in the audience would attest. But the performer Arrow de Wilde really embodies is Iggy Pop: She gurns, she writhes, she gyrates, she puts the microphone up against her crotch and the lead through her teeth. Another touchstone may well be Courtney Love, but Courtney Love having a really, really bad day.

At one point she hauls herself up from her prone state on the stage into a crab position, at another she spits on the stage before spraying the crowd with her water bottle. What becomes apparent as the set progresses is that, while Starcrawler play killer punk rock and while Arrow is an extremely charismatic frontwoman, what she’s bringing to the stage goes beyond a little girl lost performance: It’s something much, much darker than that, as the judicious use of fake blood towards the end, and her overall appearance, suggests. There are times when I feel deeply uncomfortable watching her and I suspect that I am not alone in this.

By contrast to my own occasional discomfort, the tiny woman next to me is gripped and doesn’t take her eyes off the stage throughout the whole performance. She is clearly having a great time. At the end of the set Arrow staggers off stage and crawls through the crowd like the predatory Eli in Let The Right One In. She collapses in a bloodied heap on the floor of the Academy 3, surrounded by audience members. She then returns, through the crowd, in a complex sequence of manoeuvres that culminate in her being hoiked over the barrier head first, legs in the air, before being escorted back to the dressing room. The tiny woman who was next to me, meanwhile, has somehow ended up on stage playing bass and looks ecstatic. It makes as much sense as anything else.

Please note: Use of these images in any form without permission is illegal. If you wish to contact the photographer please email: mel@mudkissphotography.co.uk

You can find out more about Starcrawler on their website, on Facebook, on Twitter and on Instagram.

You can find out more about Plague Vendor on their website, on Facebook, on Twitter and on Instagram.

All words by Cazz Blase a freelance writer from Stockport. You can find her on Twitter. More writing by Cazz on her Author profile.

Photos by Melanie Smith. More work by Mel on Louder Than War can be found at her author’s archive. You can find her on Facebook and Twitter. Photography portfolio can be found here

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Leg Puppy

Non-Disclosure Agreement

LP Records

DL/Stream

Released 21st June

Leg Puppy releases their second album on June 21st. Rhys Delany reviews the loud and angry chaos for Louder Than War.

‘The idiots are self-regarding consumer slaves. Oblivious to the paradox of their uniform individuality. They sculpt their hair to casual perfection. They wear their waistbands bellow their balls. They babble into their handheld Twit Machines, about that ‘cool’ email of the woman that got bummed by a wolf. Their cool friend made it; he’s an idiot too.

Welcome to the Age of Stupidity, pale the rise of the idiots.’

– Dan Ashcroft

Leg Puppy are the new-age electro Luddites, here to warn us all of the danger of social media, the speed of life, and the hypocrisy of it all. Taking influence from the Charlie Brooker, Chris Morris penned Nathan Barley, they are here to show the grim reality a 2005 sitcom had predicted.

With an album cover designed by Cristabel Christo, it is reminiscent of King Crimson’s Schizoid Man. Three tracks on the album feature London chanteuse, Voi Vang. These begin Tears, Nominate 10 and Twit Machine T2. Remixes of most of the album can be heard on the bands YouTube channel, which is also used as a 21st-century propaganda machine, with short clown-clad videos warning us of the Rise of The Idiots.

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Twit Machine follows in standard Leg Puppy anti-technological humour, much like 2018’s Selfie Stick Narcissistic Prick. Twit Machine takes aim at the faceless social media voices ‘living the dream’. The catchy ‘tap tap swipe, thumbs up like’ and repeated chant of ‘head in a screen’ capture the monotonous early morning overpriced and overcrowded public transport commute. Constantly suffocated in a vacuum of headphones, iMessage notifications and memes, Leg Puppy manages to capture the claustrophobic sense of modern living.

A standout track for me is the eerie text-to-speech spoken word, Speak Talk Speak. A Tannoy announcement capturing the nightmare of such Tweetable occurrences such as late trains, good coffee, bad experiences, chipped nails and lovely days. This song preaches an almost Orwellian version of Choose Life, one in which Big Brother is always monitoring our progress.

The album moves from Prodigy-esque dance-punk into slow, almost haunting melodies, such as those found on the penultimate, Corgi Stop. However, sometimes it feels like a hindrance to the coherence of the album, but when Leg Puppy wants to make a statement, they do. And they do it loud. The album closes on the 9-minute epic that is NDA. This track is the perfect closer. It captures the subtleties of the quieter moments of the album and ties them together with the harder dance-driven beats. It captures an anxiety, an anxiety that has been caused by the constant tuned-in culture of modern life.

Leg Puppy are out on their own, they operate on their own terms and utilise the very systems they criticise to their own artistic advantage. Follow them on social media (as they often live-stream new tracks). Watch their YouTube channel for clown-faced lunacy. But most importantly, listen to their music, whether streamed or purchased. Turn on, tune in, drop out.

Non Disclosure Agreement is released on June 21st and can be purchased or streamed here.

~

Leg Puppy can be found on Facebook, Twitter and YouTube.

All words by Rhys Delany. He can be found Twitter @Rhys_Del and more of his writing can be found on his author’s archive here.

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John’s Boys is a photographic document regarding mod chart toppers The Jam. Justin Thomas was there at significant moments in the timeline of the band which he has now documented in this photozine available through Hanging Around books. Matt Mead reviews for Louder Than War.

To give it it’s full title John’s Boys: The Jam 1979 – 1982, this visual feast captures some intimate and not so intimate moments in the life of Weller, Foxton and Buckler. Starting off with photos from the infamous 1979 secret gig held at The Marquee Club, London, we see the band in classic poses, skin tight shorts, Farah trousers, Carnaby Street shoes, pogoing in front of their amps.

The clarity of the photos throughout is of the highest order, sharp as a Bruce’s mullet, as crisp as a newly ironed Ben Sherman shirt, this photozine is the ideal companion for anyone looking for new material on this wonderful band. We also see some delicate moments in the life of Weller. The song writer behind hits such as Start!, Funeral Pyre and In The City, the master of the 3 minute pop classic.

Further photos reveal the band in the studio All Mod Cons period, Bruce wearing the famous Down In The Tube Station At Midnight t shirt. Weller in button down short sleeved shirt looking like he should be in The Beach Boys circa 1964. There’s also the well-known photo of The Jam sat behind a mixing desk, looking like they are up the mischief, a slight smirk abroad on their fresh faces, a picture of contentment.

The band in this photozine are as iconic as their many hits. Looking the part is as important as playing the part. Taking this into account some of the pictures are taken from the bands last ever gig, but there is no sadness here. Instead, happy memories of a band at the height of their powers, probably unaware 40 years later fans would be scrambling to lap up any new material on the band.

~

John’s Boys can be purchased from the Hanging Around Books website.

All words by Matt Mead. Further articles by Matt can be found via the Louder Than War author archive pages.

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Paul Weller
Sherwood Pines
Saturday June 29th 2019

When Robin Hood camped out in Sherwood Forest to rob the rich to feed the poor little did he know years later Paul Weller would go on to entertain with a band of merry men in his own backyard on a barmy hot night in 2019. Matt Mead reviews the nights proceedings for Louder Than War.

Paul has been on a profound golden streak of late. Album releases Other Aspects, True Meanings, A Kind Revolution and Saturns Pattern are comfortably part of Paul’s greatest pieces of work. In recent years his songwriting has become more experiential, ever evolving, forever changing, always looking for that perfect ingredient that will grant him his own Odyssey and Oracle. Additionally his live set is assured as ever, as recent accounts have attested.

Tonight kicks off with I’m Where I Should Be, Weller confidently moves about the stage, nodding approval to fans in the crowd. The Changingman is at one within his circle of admirers but with a significant sprinkling of magic dust in those white Levi jeans and monkey boots. The rest of the band play as tight as one of Maid Marian’s corsets, authentic and rigorous, capable of staying rigid for 2 or so hours on stage.

Long term accomplice Steve Cradock plays exquisite guitar solos that graciously intertwine throughout the set. The rest of the band include The Moons bassist/backing vocalist Andy Crofts and percussionist Ben Gordelier, former The Stands member Steve Pilgrim is on drums/guitar/backing vocals and finally former From The Jam sidekick Tom Van Heel twinkles all the ivories. Mix all these ingredients together and the concoction is a lethal dose of top draw melody medicine to cure any diseased music devotee.

A non-stop pace doesn’t wane on stage with songs from every era of the Woking wonders untouchable back catalogue highlighted throughout. Yes, we get the classics – You Do Something To Me, Start!, My Ever Changing Moods also late 90s upbeat singles Brushed and Mermaids get a rare run out in the line-up as does stellar album track (Can You Heal Us) Holy Man taken from early 90s standout long player Wild Wood. With music this good you don’t want the night to end.

The delicate appeal of Broken Stones makes an appearance in the encore plus a rare outing of The Jam’s funk, soul explosion Precious mixed with a cover of Curtis Mayfield’s Move On Up. The latter has featured in Paul’s sets throughout his exalted career, tonight’s version has a gentle rare groove vibe. In a similar vein, Precious is played at a slightly less frenetic march than the 80s version, nonetheless, some serious wah-wah guitar duelling between Weller and Cradock is complimented by a 3 piece horn section pinched directly from enthusiastic support band Stone Foundation.

There’s just enough time for everyone to get their breath back for the show-stopping finale of A Town Called Malice, a chance for the masses in the woods to join in song for one last time, the trees surrounding the stage have been firmly shaken to their roots. Paul delivers a set like no other artist around. No nonsense, no gimmicks, this is his territory and he will do as he pleases until the fat lady sings. An impressive night under the stars from one of the UK’s all-time great singer/songwriters.

Please note: Use of these images in any form is illegal (They are subject to a Forest Live contract). If you wish to contact the photographer please email: mel@mudkissphotography.co.uk

Forest Live concerts have been operating since 2001, they take place at seven different forest locations across the UK in the summer months. They are an annual British music festival featuring predominantly pop and rock bands and artist. The series of concerts are organised by the Forestry Commission, a British non-ministerial government department.It’s a bonus that artists are helping the forests as all profits go back into looking after the forest sites. Forest Live can be found here

Paul can be followed on his Facebook, Twitter, Spotify and YouTube channels.

All words by Matt Mead. Further articles by Matt can be found via the Louder Than War author archive pages.

Photos (from Delamere Forest) by Melanie Smith. More work by Mel on Louder Than War can be found at her author’s archive. You can find her on Facebook and Twitter. Photography portfolio can be found here

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MATT FRYERS: HEADS OR TAILS

DL  

Released 6 July 2019

It’s been a while – in fact 18 months or so – since we enthused over Matt Fryers’ Raw Live Sessions EP (reviewed here). His new release shifts the goalposts.

Having browsed that font of all knowledge, YouTube, for some clues and seeing the song being performed in the usual singer/songwriter/troubadour style, the ‘official’ version sees the song presented in an alternative Fryers style. For those of us used to his usual powerful acoustic format, the original version(s) with which you may be familiar, has undergone quite a metamorphosis.  A song that ‘s been “faffed with” is how it’s been described in quarters (very) close to Fryers HQ.

Bookended by some ambient atmospherics, electronic beats and handclaps, Matt walks out to the firing line both lyrically and in offering up such a curveball to those who’re used to his rootsy acoustic settings.  Bizarrely,  I’m even reminded by eighties King Crimson with some of the underlying guitar lines that appear fleetingly under the sparse vibe in the first moments. The thought also occurs that aptly, Heads And Tails might be something that the hoards of Glastonbury might get into the groove with as the guitar finally appears yet throwing in series of funky chops and the washes of vocal that swirl behind the chorus.

Yes indeed, very different and refreshing but why not? Familiar enough is the Fryers vocal howling over the frustration of “running around chasing my own tail”; the latter the hook that after a few plays, becomes the earworm and suddenly the style isn’t quite so incongruous any more. A brave move but you can’t accuse Matt Fryers of not having balls.

In other news, there’s the prospect of new music coming later in 2019 while Matt continues to gig relentlessly around Manchester as the launch date for Head And Tails of  6 July approaches, although the single is available to order from now.

Pre-order Heads And Tails on itunes, Google, Amazon

Watch a raw live version of the song  here:

 Matt Fryers  online:    Facebook,  Twitter, YouTube

~

All words by Mike Ainscoe. You can find more of Mike’s writing on Louder Than War at his author’s archive. He can be found on Facebook and is currently revamping his website…

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King Princess/Mallrat
O2 Forum Kentish Town
June 26th, 2019

There is no better time than now to be a pop fan. And with a loaded syringe clenched between her teeth, Mikaela Straus – more popularly known as King Princess – is another in a long line of promising young artists poised to give the scene a faith-affirming shot in the arm. Signed to Mark Ronson’s Zelig Records, her much-anticipated debut album is expected to hit stores later this year. Brett Dunford cruised by Kentish Town way to take a peek at this rising star, along with supporting act, Mallrat.

While my line of work is more rooted in 1970s British Punk, I’ve followed King Princess’ rise for the last year and think she’s miles above anything else in pop right now. In fact, she transcends it. There’s something utterly mystifying about this young lady that I can’t put my finger on, and the strange fascination I’ve fallen into is only bolstered further by her immense songwriting talent. The 2018 download-only EP, Make My Bed, is perfect from start to finish – those five songs are so beautifully delivered and sequenced that I’m frustrated at not being able to own them in physical format.

But weep not because there’s a full-length album ready to drop, and if lead single Cheap Queen is any indication then it’s going to rip the doors off their hinges. As I stood inside the Kentish Town Forum on a warm Wednesday night, I practically salivated into my scotch on the rocks at the prospect of getting a 60-minute live dose of pop’s latest mover and shaker.

At around 8pm, the lights went down and Mallrat took to the stage. The crowd seemed to know her, which is always a good indication. The Australian popster looked strikingly familiar and it really bugged me until my assigned photographer later remarked on her resemblance to Icelandic singer Björk. And come to think of it, she was bopping around in a dress not completely unlike the one in the video for It’s Oh So Quiet.

Opening with the melodic dance piano and handclaps of For Real, I found myself nicely distracted by her coy, soft-spoken swagger. Inside Voices followed suit and was the one that I gravitated to most. If I’m honest, everything she performed could quite easily get the clubs shaking on a Saturday night.

‘This song is about being abducted by aliens…’ introduced UFO, and the crowd indulged in a sway of appreciation. The more I watched Mallrat doing her thing, the more I enjoyed it. Not just that but she’s also quite sweet and likeable while chatting through the breaks in-between.

As the set closed with Groceries and Uninvited, everyone was happily grooving. I could’ve done a few songs pit-wise but had to conserve my energy for the main attraction. When I returned from the bar with another scotch, I noticed the place had suddenly packed to bursting point. It should be mentioned that this show was previously booked at Heaven and needed to be upgraded to the O2 Forum because it sold-out so quickly. And judging by the numbers I saw, those extra 700 tickets made available through switching venues had obviously sold-out, too!

Thirty-minutes later, King Princess and her band walked on. My word, the crowd roared like Elvis Presley himself had risen from the grave. I felt a dip in my stomach and knew that the next hour was going to be special – you can’t beat the excitement of seeing an up-and-coming artist that’s destined for the stratosphere.

The country tones of introductory hook Useless Phrases abruptly collapsed into Cheap Queen, with its gentle, pulsating stomp. KP (I’ll abbreviate her name from here onwards for convenience sake but she’s a lot more than a packet of peanuts, I assure you) then strapped on a Fender for Upper West Side. Wow, she’s actually a pretty good guitarist! Her band played in a competent, earthy style and it was nice to hear so many different nuances where the tracks were adapted from studio production to live performance.

Playing her guitar for a significant portion of the concert, KP shifted the gears down for two ballads, Tough on Myself and Maybe It Will Change. I follow her on Facebook and have seen many comparisons from fans over the last year, but tonight I’m going say that she’s the Gay White Nina Simone. Her voice is like velvet – it wraps around your ears and leads you by the hand down the dusty roads and empty dancefloors. Simply magical!

The rousing Pussy is God drew gasps of praise from her adoring legions, who sung it word-for-word. Now, let me emphasise that the gaff was chock full of girls engaging in public displays of affection, but I noticed it was a bit more widespread throughout that specific number. I got the impression the song has maybe become something of a national anthem for KP’s fans in the LGBTQ+ community. I found it quite heart-warming to observe two women mouthing the lyrics to each other while embracing inside a pride flag. I love rainbows at concerts – they always give this ‘straight’ 46-year-old a total sense of safety.

I couldn’t tell you what went on during 1950 because I was too busy singing it at the top of my lungs. Pardon my French, the moment was fucking special. Her voice sounded beautiful and it’s clear to see why she’s under such intense media scrutiny. But the biggest cheer of the evening, bar none, came when Talia closed the main set. And fearing an imminent conclusion, we lapped up every single heartbroken drop.

Naturally, the band returned a few minutes later for a breezy rendition of Mark Ronson’s latest single, Pieces of Us, before ending with a rocking Ohio. It was during the latter’s Moonage Daydream-esque riffing that I began to wonder if I was watching an embryonic Bowie at work. Perhaps that sentiment is too premature and flighty to express for the time being but, hey-ho, I just expressed it!

So many pop stars tend to bedazzle with their choreographed dance moves over a laptop-driven beat, and you get none of that with King Princess. I know that I say the ‘pop’ word a few times in this review because it’s where her music has been pigeonholed in the press, but she’s completely rock and roll in the live medium. No two ways about it. This gig should be considered a breakthrough performance on British soil and I shall definitely attend all the others that will undoubtedly follow.

And she got a pretty schweet hash pipe from a fan out of it.

Setlists:

Mallrat
For Real
Inside Voices
Tokyo Drift
UFO
Better
Nobody’s Home
Groceries
Uninvited

King Princess
Useless Phrases
Cheap Queen
Upper West Side
Prophet
Tough on Myself
Maybe It Will Change
Trust Nobody
Pussy is God
Forget About It
(Unknown Song)
1950
Talia
Pieces of Us
Ohio

~

You can keep up-to-date with King Princess at her official website, Instagram, Facebook and Twitter.

Find out more on Mallrat at her official Instagram, Facebook and Twitter.

Words by Brett Dunford. You can find more of Brett’s writing on his profile.

All photos © Paul Grace, for more of Paul’s writing and photos go to his archive. Paul is on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and his websites are www.paulgrace-eventphotos.co.uk & www.pgrace.co.uk

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PRINCE: ULTIMATE RAVE

(Legacy Recordings)

Out Now

CD+DVD / Coloured 2LP

3.5/5

His Purpleness’ legacy begins to grow.

When Prince sadly departed this world in what was seemingly the great cull of 2017, he left a vacuum that will never be filled. Taking his place with David Bowie, Leonard Cohen and Glenn Frey who also departed the third rock from the sun, Prince was unique…completely and utterly.

A multi-instrumentalist, vivacious and soulful vocalist, and master conductor; Prince sold over 100 million albums in his 57 years on Earth, releasing 39 studio albums and countless singles. Now that the infamous vault has been unlocked, there will undoubtedly be a stream of releases from the keepers of the keys to the vault. Amongst the never before heard material that has crept out, there has been a program of re-releases offered up.

Ultimate Rave brings together Prince’s late 90’s return to mainstream label releases with Rave Un2 The Joy Fantastic and Rave In2 The Joy Fantastic (a collection of remixes of the original album). Contained on the album are a glut of poppier cuts that showed how Prince liked to move with the times. He embraced pop, and hip hop without sacrificing his true funk outlook. The production is, as to be expected, sublime.

The opening trio of tracks take in soul, hip hop, rap and funk and features Public Enemy’s Chuck D on Undisputed. The Greatest Romance Ever Sold was one of the bigger ‘hits’ from the album.

Prince’s masterful cover of Sheryl Crow’s Everyday Is A Winding Road is a highlight of the whole album. The reworking is a joyful rendition that has P-Funk style basslines in its latter strains as well as gospel-style vocals; it is arguably one of the best songs on the album.

Man O War and The Sun, The Moon & The Stars are downtempo soul numbers that ooze with a smoothness that Prince brought to all his ballads. Baby Knows is a sassy number that could have hung on some of the Prince’s later 80’s albums. It’s short and sweet and has a real rock and roll feel to it with Prince picking up the guitar for a few licks which are few and far between on the album; perhaps this is a testament to the stylings of the time. It also features Sheryl Crow. Another guitar based number is So Far, So Pleased which features Gwen Stefani. There is quite an array of styles in the special guests on the album.

Prettyman closes out the album with the NPG getting their horns up in a style that was very unique to this group of musicians.

The remix CD of this release is largely forgettable, however, the whole package is great and it’s a product that has been lovingly put together. The DVD disc is truly sublime though. The setlist is absolute dynamite and contains plenty of collaborations with Maceo Parker, Rosie Gaines, The Time, Lenny Kravitz (who duets on a badass version of American Woman), George Clinton and Larry Graham. This is how Prince partied in 1999. Decked out in a shiny blue outfit, watching Prince orchestrate the band whilst throwing in all the passion one could give, is a delight to see and heightens the sadness within that this genial musician is no longer with us. All the hits are here. He plays on his back, he plays on his knees, he plays bass, he plays piano, he plays guitar and he sings. There are too many highlights to mention. It also features some music from Prince’s 1993 album, The Undertaker. The only downside of this aspect of the release is that there is no Blu-Ray variant.

In the pantheon of Prince’s output this album isn’t an essential addition but has some real high points and saw Prince getting himself back on people’s radars. Rainbow Children followed this album, and the excellent One Nite Alone live boxed set. These releases paved the way for the Grammy-winning Musicology, 3121 and free cover mount album, Planet Earth. These records culminated in Prince headlining the o2 in London for 21 nights straight. Over the course of these releases and shows, Prince was firmly back on the aforementioned radars of not just people, but the mainstream media. All of these albums contain some solid deep cuts that if people give the time to, will start staking claims for favourite Prince compositions (see Musicology, 3121, Get On The Boat, Guitar, Chelsea Rogers, Fury).

In the wake of Prince’s death, it is truly saddening that we won’t get any ‘new’ material from Prince, but the slew of reissues and no doubt lost recordings will hopefully serve as a fitting legacy providing they’re dealt with correctly and not thrown out for shameless cash in.

There is a website for Prince’s legacy is here. There are Facebook and Twitter pages too. All the Legacy Reissues can be found here.

~

Words by Dominic Walsh. You can read more from Dominic at his author’s archive here. Dominic tweets as @dtwalsh83, and blogs about living with mental health here.

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BELINDA O’HOOLEY: INVERSIONS

CD / DL

No Masters

Available now

An album that feels like a  rite of passage as Belinda O’Hooley goes solo (sort of).

One half of the O’Hooley & Tidow duo – you’ll have heard their Gentleman Jack song playing over the end credits (and some of the saucy scenes) of, erm, Gentleman Jack, the recent Suranne Jones/BBC drama hit – Belinda O’Hooley has travelled many roads that arguably all lead to this point.

After contributing her distinctive and sympathetic piano parts to the well-established  O’H&T duo since 2010’s Silent June and having taken time to head off at a tangent with two albums of songs about, in a nutshell,  drinking and winter, and then fighting the good fight for the feminist cause with Coven,  it’s time for another change. The ebullience and sense of fun take a backseat for a series of touching and heartfelt outpourings.

Circumstances – buy the album and read about the backstories – have led to a series of vignettes,  “nurtured, produced and recorded by Heidi” that realise a musical vein lying dormant, yet one that was so obviously there. Her skill as a pianist that’s been regularly hinted at finally gets a chance to really shine. Inversions is about as far as what The Independent call “defiant, robust, political folk music for the times we live in” as you can expect. Having said that, you can’t deny their “poetical” tag, as the fragile and perceptive side of Belinda O’Hooley that’s occasionally surfaced, is laid much more open on Inversions.

Solo piano compositions combine with a single ‘song’ and couple of spoken word pieces;  the “coax, kindle, breath promise into life”  line in  Inside A Soul gives the first indication of what Inversions is about as Belinda experiments and develops the music of her ancestors. The nurturing of childhood dreams as a metaphor for the way these pieces have been created.

In the same way that the Steinway piano at the Machynlleth Tabernacle Trust is becoming an old friend, so are to the mountains of Wales that provide the inspirations for three pieces. And then despite the fact that  I can’t hear the word Skibbereen without thinking of Alan Partridge’s long-suffering PA, Lynne (fans will know what I mean) Michael McGoldrick pops up, pulls his whistle from his back pocket and adds his usual sprinkling of breathy magic.

The centrepiece might well be the seven-minute My Father’s Reel that digs very deep as Belinda sets out on what’s almost a confessional backed by just her piano which at points you could possibly refer to as Wakemanesque. However, the simple yet uplifting “I am soaring” line accompanied by an uninhibited tumble of piano notes says more than you could imagine in its few moments. Revealing and yes, in a way, cathartic, Inversions captures Belinda O’Hooley at her most insightful, and that’s saying something.

Watch the short promo film about the album  here:

The O’Hooley & Tidow   website can be found  here

They are  also on Facebook  and tweet  as @OHooleyandTidow

~

All words by Mike Ainscoe. You can find more of Mike’s writing on Louder Than War at his author’s archive. He can be found on Facebook and is currently revamping his website…

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Various Artists: Derrick Morgan And His Friends

Doctor Bird

2CD/DL

Released 12 July 2019

Reissue of a much sought-after Island Records compilation LP from 1968 made up from Derrick Morgan productions of the time, featuring the man himself, the Viceroys and Black Brothers among others. 24 bonus tracks spread across the two discs round up everything else Morgan cut for his own Hop Records imprint……LTW’s Ian Canty hears the sure touch of a master at work…..

Derrick Morgan had been around many years by the time this album was released in 1968 – years pretty much flushed with success from the get-go. Coming from a musical background with his deacon father (which possibly explains the depth of feeling and gospel influence in Derrick’s music) and mother both keen vocalists, he was set on his way by winning the coveted Vere Johns Opportunity Hour competition. First recording as an R&B/Boogie singer in the late 50s under the tutelage of Duke Reid, he went onto successfully surf the trends and fads of the 60s Kingston music scene and at one stage held all seven of the top places on the Jamaican charts. The Fatman single was one early highpoint, coming as Morgan transitioned into Ska from Blues with ease.

A famous feud between Morgan and Prince Buster resulted in another of his classic tunes Blazing Fire and only pushed him onto further success, though the heated nature of the rivalry had to be calmed by a public clearing of the air in Jamaican newspaper The Gleaner. He scored hit after hit, including Tougher Than Tough and Conquering Ruler, which is included as a bonus track here. It’s probably the best-known track on offer and cut to a killer rhythm, coolly displaying Derrick’s aptitude for the new Rocksteady craze and its stately and reserved pace. Like many long-standing Reggae performers, he used what he picked up recording for the island’s studio names and used it to diversify into production himself. By 1967 he had his own imprint, Hop Records. Which brings us to this new reissue, the Derrick Morgan And His Friends LP, which was originally released in the UK on Island in 1968.

The original album itself not unreasonably gave one side over to Derrick’s own efforts, with the reverse having selections from Pauline Morgan (Derrick’s sister), the Consummates, the Black Brothers and the Inventors. This record was somewhat of an oddity, consisting of material that hadn’t seen an issue before at the time of its release. Back in 1968, the majority of Reggae LPs were mainly collections of previously released single sides, but the lack of familiarity here made no difference. As a whole, it presents a winning argument for Rocksteady, being addictive and both smooth and rough where necessary.

Derrick Morgan And His Friends music is perfectly realised for listening at home or cutting it up on the dance floor. Simply an excellent record. Derrick himself is on top form, whether riding the jerky, proto-Reggae rhythms on the comic Lagga Head or sweetly rendering Bad Luck On Me in a classic Gospel-tinged Rocksteady style. The old standard Tears On My Pillow is movingly versioned and he corrals fellow Hop recording artists the Viceroys to provide echo-heavy backing vocals on the very fine and catchy Stumbling Block.

On the other side of the original LP sister Pauline get a trio of tracks (backing provided from the Loveletts on I’ve Been Searching and Stop The Wedding and the Consummates on Give Me A Chance), with a steady beat and fussy cymbals giving the Soul/R&B of Stop The Wedding a real boost good and sounding like a prime Lover’s Rock effort ten years early. But all three are pleasing to my ear and got the toes truly tapping. The Black Brothers’ You’ve Been Saying things is another skilful and cool Soul-toned number and the Consummates strike out on their own in a classic JA vocal group style on the slow and appealing The More I Get.

Moving onto the tracks appearing as bonuses on this disc, we start out with the aforementioned and fab Conquering Ruler and the Groovers’ deep and emotion-filled You’ve Got To Cry. The Groovers seems to have been a pseudonym for George Dekker, backed by Bobby Aitken and the Carib Beats (George and Bobby were both brothers of supremely talent singers, Desmond and Laurel respectively). Alva Lewis will always be remembered as providing crucial guitar work for the Hippy Boys and the Upsetters, but here he ably takes the mic on I’m Indebted and Lyn Taitt And The Jets provide sympathetic backing to Neremiah (as it is spelt here, but Nehemiah is more regularly listed) Reid’s cool skank Family War. He only seems to have recorded a few songs (the bouncy bass of his Give Me That Love features on disc two), which is a shame as this is a top quality outing.

Disc two of this set proceeds to round up the rest of Hop Records’ Morgan-helmed output. There are a few gems from the man himself, the 1968 version of Gimmie Back is a cool ace, but mostly it is left to other artists. There are a few better-known names among them – Dawn Penn was still decades away from her international smash No, No, No when she cut the effortlessly sultry When Am I Gonna Be Free for Derrick, a wonderful recording which keenly demonstrates the potential she had.

The Viceroys carved out a long career of JA success right up to and through the Roots era, recording for many of the Island’s producers like Lee Perry, Winston Riley and Coxone Dodd after forming at the dawn of Rocksteady. Derrick caught them pretty well early on here, with Give It To Him and Let Him Go (which slightly reminiscent of the Pioneers to my ears) both allowing them to demonstrate their deep, spiritual vocal style to full effect. OK Fred hitmaker Errol Dunkley makes an early appearance under the name the King Twins with the guitar-led goodie Treat Me Right and Frank Brown only seems to have recorded the one track featured here Some Come, Some Go. However, it is a real treat with that lovely carefree feel only Reggae music can provide.

Red Rum Ball was an early and massive Jamaican hit for Hop Records, the pairing of Lloyd (Robinson) and Devon (Russell) working well on a classic Rocksteady piece. The addictive rhythm re-used by many artists over the years. Here we get a DJ toast take on (Red) Big Bumb Ball Chapter Two by Tony King and an organ instrumental version entitled More Balls(!) credited to Mark Anthony And The Jets, which is ripe for the Boss Reggae dance craze that was still to come at the time.

This is another nice set from Doctor Bird, but they are helped by Morgan’s working being pretty flawless at this point in time. He powered on through the Skinhead Reggae era as one of the most popular artists (the excellent Moon Hop album, reissued earlier this year and reviewed here, shows just how ahead of the game he was then) and though his recording schedule dropped off during the 70s due to illness and changing trends, his abilities and ear for a good sound should never be underestimated. Still performing today, there is a definite argument reasoning that Derrick Morgan is one of Reggae’s real unsung heroes and this compilation makes it all the more compelling.

Doctor Bird Records are on Facebook here

~

All words by Ian Canty – see his author profile here

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The Relations: Night’s Prelude

Spun Out Of Control

Cassette / DL

Available Now.

Neil Hale (Correlations) returns with a new project this time with the help of a group of like-minded individuals. Night’s Prelude is a new direction for Hale and one that is worthy of further exploration. Simon Tucker reviews.

The Relations is the name given to this, the new project by Neil Hale, thanks to him enlisting the minds and hearts of a varied group of collaborators (Stuart Cullen (aka Pilote), Tim Young of M3ON, Simon James of Black Channels, The Simonsound and Akiha Den Den; Pablo Clements of Toydrum and Psychonauts; vocalists Kate Kelly, Rebekah Lord and Penny Ashby; plus saxophonist Kenny E). Inspired by the Atomium building in Brussels and 1970’s crime thriller soundtracks,  Night’s Prelude is both the prequel and final installment in Neil’s Night Acquisitions series.

This collaborative spirit has infused Night’s Prelude with a myriad of sonic swerves and ticks and has helped take Hale’s already impressive sound in a new and intriguing direction. Driven by motorik grooves and the psych-pop stylings of Broadcast, Night’s Prelude is a noir trip that is full of light and shade. Pop music with an undercurrent of gothic beauty. Tracks like the finger snapping hip swinging Tripping With The Dancer and the off-kilter ambience  of While You Sleep invoke a feeling that we are in the world of cinema and soundtracks albeit one that has yet to be created. The film that never was..

The Relations influences are a broad church but one of the strongest is that of the aforementioned motorik and it is particularly pleasing to hear and see the influence of Beak> starting to emerge on artists like on opener She Only Wanted To Be With You and The Bloody Tower. What Hale and his compatriots do very well is take that influence and mold it into a new form that is their own. Driving and layered these songs are the pulsating heart of the album.

Scattered throughout Night’s Prelude are cosmic pop gems that tap into a mythical past. The beauty of songs like All Things Must Pass And It’s Alright, Tree of Joy and the wonderful and evocative closer Fading Into Darkness (Night Acquisitions) help give the album a romantic edge. It’s a romance that is real because it carries various strands of human emotion flipping between serenity and unease, heartbreak and longing. These songs sound like they have been recently unearthed by anthropologists searching for lost folk song traditions in the Celtic heartlands.

Night’s Prelude is a lovely listen. It is romantic and hypnotic. The Relations sound strikes a beautiful balance between the experimental and the mainstream. This is pop music that feels new yet familiar and even though Hale has stated that this is the end of his Night Acquisitions series it would be a shame if this was the last we hear of The Relations as what you hear here is the sound of a band creating a debut album that displays all of the various members’ artistry but leaves you intrigued with where this sound could develop in to and what a second and third album would sound like. Hopefully this is the first step in a long and interesting journey…

~

Neil Haye can be found via Bandcamp or Twitter where he tweets as @WorldOfEcho1

Spun Out Of Control can be found via Bandcamp  Instagram Soundcloud  and Twitter where they tweet as @SpunOutSounds

All words by Simon Tucker. More writing by Simon on Louder Than War can be found at his author’s archive. You can also find Simon on twitter as @simontucker1979

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Black To Comm: Before After

Thrill Jockey Records

LP / DL

12/07/2019

Marc Richter (Black To Comm) releases his second album of the year with Before After. Dissonant ambience by one of the masters. Simon Tucker reviews.

Following quick on the heels of the brilliant Seven Horses For Seven Kings, Before After is made up of pieces deemed either too or serene to make sense on its predecessor. It is also an experience that as a listener you had better prepare for as Before After is as intense and as absorbing as anything in the Marc Richter canon.

As the stomach churns and the chest compresses you realise that you have become utterly consumed in a world of another mans making. Emotions rise and tear at the surface and you wish you had prepared yourself better because listening to Before After gives rise to the same sensations that one has watching a well crafted horror film with the lights off or seeing some distressing news on the television. You feel compelled to stay where you are, glued to your seat yet are unsure you should be doing so. This is the sound of cinematic and cavernous ambient music created with razors and feathers. The real magic trick lies in Richter’s sleight of hand as he cleverly throws in shards of gorgeous melody that cut through the vast and oppressive overgrowth. If you are looking for a similarity that exists outside of the music world then you will find it in Luke Turner’s (The Quietus) recently published Out Of The Woods where the duality of beauty and fear is described in equally vivid and important fashion.

Peeling back the layers of Before After is a rewarding experience as underneath each track lies a hidden bonus like on Eden-Olympia when a bassline suddenly appears around the corner sending you into a trance-groove that is intoxicating and addictive. There are moments on here which feel like illicit thrills whether that be on the sudden jackhammer thud that appears in the robotic nightmare of They Said Sleep (good luck actually sleeping after hearing this dread filled stunner) or the field recording fuzz that swarms around Océans.

Everything about the Before After listening experience is designed to prick at your inner most thoughts and it succeeds in its aim as you need understand that this is an album that manages to make the listener, regardless of their age, feel like they are involving themselves in something that is secretive and hidden in shadow. There are moments of almost unbearable noise (The Seven Of Horses) rubbing shoulders with the cosmic ambience of Perfume Sample which is so well crafted it can help you feel like you have been lifted up and are no longer connected to whatever is you are resting on. A thrilling ride and a cathartic listening experience, Before After is more than a companion piece it is instead an album that stands up high and proud and rewards you with something different on each listen.

~

Black To Comm can be found via his website  Facebook   and Twitter where he tweets as @BTCTW

Thrill Jockey Records can be found via their website  Facebook  and Twitter where they tweet as @thrilljockey

All words by Simon Tucker. More writing by Simon on Louder Than War can be found at his author’s archive. You can also find Simon on twitter as @simontucker1979

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In an era where Morrissey’s controversial comments are skewering his lyrical sensitivities, who can we look to for foppish forays and witty sentiments? Why he was there all along, and his name is Neil Hannon (aka The Divine Comedy). Sam Lambeth writes a fresh appraisal of the Londonderry darling.

For music with a splash of comedy, there have always been places to go. During the nineties, Jarvis Cocker was able to offer the grubby but great gambits of the voyeur, whether it be through the eye of a randy teenager (Babies) or a middle-aged perv (Seductive Barry). Flashback to the eighties and you had the suburban sighs and working-class comments of Squeeze. Before that, even, you could throw a microscope under the searing self-loathing of the skinny-tied Elvis Costello. And, of course, a constant throughout almost all of those eras was Morrissey, a gladioli-throwing fop with a rich lexicon and devilish wit. All too rarely, though, has there been mass adulation of a certain Neil Hannon.

In a time where Morrissey and Cocker co-existed, Hannon’s arch delivery and trembling baritone muscled in between with differing results. But lately, lest we forget, Morrissey is becoming more and more known for his divisive diatribes than for his music – and, sadly, that hasn’t exactly been up to scratch lately (the terrific ode to torpidness, Spend the Day in Bed, aside). Thus, it is time every supporter of scintillating humour and literary flourishes to turn their heels in the direction of The Divine Comedy, Hannon’s vehicle for the past twenty years. Like supporters of a long-running regime, we can now accept that Morrissey’s Mancunian bile is no longer needed, and instead glide gratefully into the arms of The Divine Comedy’s eclectic wonderment.

Hannon, of course, is no bedroom slouch living on benefits. He’s enjoyed a hugely successful career, but there are times where his debonair penmanship has gone underappreciated. His most recent double album, Office Politics, shines a light on the stereotypes, stilted romances and screaming tensions of the clock-punching ilk. From the electro-tinged tale of devotion, Norman and Norma, to the thunderous delights of Queue jumper, Hannon is gifted at shaping white-collar characters that have lived full and frank lives.

It’s evident in the brass-bound beauty of National Express, a touching tribute to those about to spend eight hours in a cramped bus with screaming kids and curmudgeonly geriatrics. It’s there in the devilish bachelordom of Becoming More Like Alfie, the complex conundrum of high-water mark Gin Soaked Boy and the wide-eyed adolescence of At the Indie Disco. Even when Hannon attempted to play it straight, on the sombre Regeneration, there were still characters that intrigued and endured, not least on the repulsive Bad Ambassador.

Always a bumptious and alluring side-dish in the arms-aloft excess of Britpop, where once The Divine Comedy threatened to sink into obscurity as a raffish observation, in 2019 Hannon deserves a place among the rich pantheon of witty songwriters. Move over, Morrissey, there’s room for one more.

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The Divine Comedy is on Facebook and Twitter. Their latest album, Office Politics, is out now.

Sam Lambeth is a journalist, writer and musician, born in the West Midlands but currently living in London. He performs in his own band, Quinn. He is on Twitter, and more of his work can be found on his archive.

The post Why the time is right for a Divine Comedy re-appreciation appeared first on Louder Than War.

Horace Andy
Fiddlers, Bristol
28 June 2019

The best quavering voice in roots reggae entrances a hot Bristol crowd. Elfyn Griffith cools out to Horace Andy…

Part of the Bristol music fabric due to being an essential part of Massive Attack, reggae legend Horace Andy’s unique quaver has resonated afresh over the past few decades. The Studio One singer has appeared on all of Massive’s albums since their debut Blue Lines in 1991 and this purveyor of roots rock reggae, dancehall and lovers styles never fails to please.

Tonight, this most favourite of Bristol’s reggae imports has the solid backing of The Dub Asante Band to push his vibrato vocals over a packed crowd, thankfully air-conditioned to the hilt as the streets swelter outside.

They presciently warm up with a trombone-led theme to The Godfather as the build-up to this particular reggae godfather’s appearance. And on he bounds, resplendent in red, bouncing on the soles of his feet like a man half his age, dreads flailing.

As sprightly as anybody in the audience, Andy high steps and jogs to the more upbeat numbers, playing the old reggae game of rewinding after the start for a few numbers and starting the song again. This old skool ploy is part of his performance and hasn’t changed over the years, but then ultimately HA is an old school reggae man and consummate performer with a soulful golden voice which carries the rock-steady and ska-infused tunes perfectly.

As always, he goes through a set of favourites with the Massive number Spying Glass at the start and his own version of Hymn To The Big Wheel as part of the encore. The blistering trombone and belting rhythm section of Dub Asante propels the music along through gems from his extensive back catalogue: the lovely Man Next Door with it’s “In my neighbourhood…” chorus, Money Money Money, a storming Zion Gate and Cus Cus, and of course his most enduring hit, Skylarking.

Amidst the scattershots of dub and the roots pulse, a beautiful Ain’t No Sunshine also stands out, and he ends with the insistent lilt of Leave Rastaman Alone and an acapella Angel.

Out into the humid night air we drift, the Horace Andy quaver still ringing in our ears. His nickname might be ‘Sleepy’ but he’s woken us up for sure…

Horace Andy’s latest album Live It Up is on Pioneer International

You can keep up with news of Horace Andy on Facebook

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All words and photo by Elfyn Griffith

The post Horace Andy: Fiddlers, Bristol – live review appeared first on Louder Than War.