ROSALIE CUNNINGHAM: s/t

Cherry Red Records/Esoteric Recordings

CD / DL  / vinyl

Released 27 July 2019

Anyone seduced by the psychedelic guitar rock charge of Purson yet disappointed by their “gone as far as it could” split  – not least us here at LTW (you can re-read Nigel Carr’s interview/gig review on the site) – will be enticed by Rosalie Cunningham’s debut release.

It’s not too surprising that the Purson vein of  ‘vaudeville carny psych’ that won them so many admirers, not least of which PROG magazine whose Vanguard acclaim proved a major profile boost, runs through the eight-song opus.  Packaged in bold washes of saturated and bold colour, they provide another burst of gothic drama in a lurid noir-ish direction from the Cunningham magic theatre. Should you need the comfort blanket of a reference point from the Purson catalogue,   Dead Dodos Down might be one recognisable tune that would fit comfortably within the current framework.

Theatrical, rootsy and organic, eschewing the high-end digital recording options for more down to earth/back to basics recording techniques and experimentation, the analogue all the way philosophy has ensured that comfortable feeling that things are being done the right way.  Despite the deep fuzz tone of the opening guitar riff and its accompanying launch pad swirl, Ride On My Bike evokes the melodramatic gipsy folk of Holy Moly & The Crackers. A guitar solo straight from the Brian May book of quirky solos that you’d find lazing on some of Queen’s more eccentric songs and mild freak out section and you feel you’re in familiar territory.

House Of The Glass Red and Dethroning Of The Party Queen revolve and rotate in a kaleidoscopic carnival soundtrack, the vocal quivering and occasionally compressed, the pounding piano coated in a flamboyance that no doubt involves impossibly wide flares,  stars and symbols and crushed velvet together with a suitably aromatic incense. The hostess with the mostess might croon that “to be the life and soul will be the death of me” but you get the impression that the party queen is going to go out with a bang and regretting rien.  Nobody Hears and Butterflies both offer a simpler arrangement; piano and acoustic guitars develop into sweeping strings while the latter, as the title hints,  is a dreamy pastoral piece that bewitches and hypnotises.

Building up from the marching intro – one that evokes (for some of us) the striding march of the robomen from Daleks’ Invasion Earth 2150AD  –  A Yarn From The Wheel heads out in fourteen minutes of exploration, passing through several sections that switch from an easy paced dance with the devil (with the warning that “nothing’s free) to  snatches of folky acoustic/flamenco and medieval  waltz and naturally, a blast of fuzzed out space rock.  It feels like all that’s come before are all appetisers and A Yarn From The Wheel is now the main course whose recipe utilises the parts to form a remarkable sum.  Good to know that the thrill hasn’t gone. Come and join the danse macabre.

Watch the official lyric video for Dethroning Of The Party Queen here:

Rosalie Cunningham online:   website, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, YouTube, Bandcamp, Soundcloud

~

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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Pi$$er – Wretched Life (Kibou, TNX, Sick World Records)

7″

Pre-orders up, released 12 July

Whether this is a one off or the first instalment of many, it doesn’t matter – Pi$$er brings together luminaries from across the punk scene to offer up 4 raging d-beat inspired tracks on this EP with a sprinkling of hardcore and the addition of saxophone to make them stand out in a crowded field.

Pi$$er have combined one half of the Domestics (James, vocalist, and Rhodes, bass player) with the engine of Anti-Cimex and Wolfhour, Charlie Claesson, on drums then topped it off with guitarists Bri from Doom and Matt Woods from Revenge of the Psychotronic Man. As if that weren’t enough, Eddie from the Filaments and Shitty Limits has brought along his saxophone. The term “super group” sounds too lame, prog rock and 70s so let’s call this a project instead, shall we?  James and Charlie have form for this sort of project – Bring The Drones saw the pair team up with a host of others to release an album in 2017.

Whilst drawing on each of the members’ past and current endeavours which you wouldn’t necessarily choose to bring into one band, Pi$$er have their own sound.  James’ vocals sound more guttural than his usual shoutiness as befits the music (with the occasional bit of reverb to make him sound like he’s stuck down a well) and the bass is more heavily distorted than the Domestics. With Bri on guitar and in the control room at Studio 1 in 12 there was always going to be a heavy dose of Doom, and Charlie’s drumming blends perfectly with that but this is not yet another D-beat band struggling to be noticed in a sea of black clad competitors. One guitar laying down the full gain sustain downstrokes while the other chopping back and forth gives this a bit of a refreshing hardcore feel. But most importantly they’ve got that sax appeal!

Before talking saxophone, lets put to one side ska-punk – too many sins to forgive.  While there has been sax in punk since the days of X-ray Spex and many since made it a key part of their sound – Berurier Noir and Stage Bottles springing to mind immediately – I love the ingenuity of mashing a saxamophone into a noisy D-beat band.  It’s something new. At times the way it pokes through the wall of guitar conjures up a mental image of a goose being chased by a swarm of bees, but it comes into its own on the 2 B-side songs where it strikes me as akin to some of Nik Turner’s work with the punkadelic Inner City Unit.  This is what makes Pi$$er stand out.

Listen to Pi$$er on the Kibou bandcamp page.

You can pick up the EP – if there are any left – from Kibou and TNS in the UK and Sick World in New Zealand.

~

Words by Nathan Brown. Check out his Louder Than War Author Archive.

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Mueran Humanos

Hospital Lullabies

Cinema Paradiso Recordings

DL/CD/LP

Released July 5th

Mueran Humanos are the Argentinian, Berlin-based synth-goth duo releasing their third LP on the 5th of July. Rhys Delany reviews for Louder Than War.

Mueran Humanos are made up of Carmen Burguess (vocals, drum machine, Moog synth, samplers) and Tomas Nochteff (vocals, bass, MPC, tapes). Together they create vast post-industrial soundscapes possessed by the darkest form of magick.

Hospital Lullabies is the third album by the group and their first in four years. I would’ve assumed some change in style or quality since 2015’s incomparable Mistress, but alas the group sound as though they never stopped. All three Mueran Humanos albums flow seamlessly into one another, with the final track of Mistress, Epilog, acting as the intro of Vestido. Hospital Lullabies sees the group expanding into a multimedia project, with a film of the same name being released in tandem.

The film is an experimental DIY art-piece created entirely by Burguess. The film utilises her ‘synchronicity haunting’ technique to compile and edit archival footage along with newly shot sequences, which works alongside the music of Mueran Humanos.

The band has been entrenched in an art-meets-music style, ever since their inception. Influenced by COUM-Transmissions and working closely with members of and in the studio of Einstürzende Neubauten, you can get a sense of the attitude of the group.

In the build-up to Hospital Lullabies, the band has released two singles. La Gente Gris and Vestido with accompanying music videos directed by Burguess. The first single is translated as The Grey People, with Burguess longing for those that pass us by and blur into obscurity, like the passing on a photo of an old train or the fish that float dead down the river. Vestido often brings an optimistic Terry Riley-esque minimalism twinned with the motorik electronics of Kraftwerk. As the song builds with progressive intensity, the quickly becomes a standout track on an outstanding album.

It’s difficult to pick out individual tracks as being better than one another as the album is at its best when played from start to finish. Mueran Humanos know when to drop an electro-dance anthem such as Detrás de une Flor with a bassline that echoes Peter Hook circa-1981, but also when to slow things down to the softly poetic Cuando una Persona Común, which sounds as though it was lifted from the Black Mass of Alistair Crowley.

Their self-titled debut felt brooding and gothic. Their second album was filled with danceable intensity. Their third album breathes optimism and positive energies. Mueran Humanos wear their influences on their sleeve but are not defined by them, instead, choosing to operate within an ethereal soundscape of their own creation. In a decade Mueran Humanos have remained consistent and cohesive whilst moving forward into brighter territory.

Hospital Lullabies can be purchased here on July 5th.

~

Mueran Humanos can be found on Facebook and Bandcamp

All photographs courtesy of Pilar Gost.

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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The B-52s
The Sage, Gateshead
29 June 2019

The self-proclaimed “tacky little dance band from Athens, Georgia” brought their pioneering outsider-pop to the heart of North-East England. Cue frenzied dancing and unadulterated joy in a packed Sage concert hall.

Have we forgotten about The B-52s? The massive success of the group’s 1989 single Love Shack and its irrepressible parent album, Cosmic Thing, launched the group into the global pop stratosphere 11 years after their debut single Rock Lobster established them as New Wave cult heroes. Thirty years on from their peak commercial success, The B-52s are acknowledged and respected as LGBTQ pioneers, but have the group’s musical innovations and influence perhaps been overlooked? Anyone who attended this barnstorming concert would have been left in no doubt about the cult group’s significance and, more importantly, their sheer, infectious joi de vivre.

Of the original five founding members, only the three lead singers – Cindy Wilson, Kate Pierson and Fred Schneider – remain, guitarist/original drummer Keith Strickland having retired from the road in 2012 and original guitarist Ricky Wilson having died from AIDS-related causes in 1985.  Fortunately, the three singers were backed by their crack touring band, Tracy Wormworth (bass), Sterling Campbell (drums), Greg Suran (lead guitar) and Ken Maiuri (keys and rhythm guitar), who faithfully captured all eras of the band’s career.

Tonight’s set contained no fewer than six songs from the group’s celebrated 1979 debut album, and three songs from its 1980 successor Wild Planet, throwing the focus of this high-energy performance on the group’s art-garage early years.

Opening song Private Idaho got everyone up on their feet almost instantaneously, Cindy Wilson cutting an affectionately imperious figure with her towering blonde beehive wig and sensational, sci-fi movie outfit. The band’s talismanic fire spirit Kate Pierson was a ball of energy from the start, dancing almost non-stop throughout the show, while her singing remained pitch-perfect and as powerful and inventive as ever.

Mesopotamia followed, with Kate and Fred essaying their own surrealist take on the Nile Dance, and Tracy Wormworth supplying a deep funk undertow on bass.  “If you’re a fan of historical inaccuracies”, quipped Schneider, “well, that song is full of ’em”. The frontman was in mischievous form throughout the concert, performing each song as if it were brand new and peppering the set with his trademark witticisms.

To the audience’s delight, Cindy was next n the spotlight for one of her key solo turns,  Give Me Back My Man, a prime cut from the Wild Planet album. By this point, the party was in full swing and the high energy vibe continued through the churning garage-rocker Lava, the trippy pop of Channel Z and the bracing title track from 2008’s excellent Funplex album.

Fred left the stage for three songs sung by Kate and Cindy – Legal Tender, 52 Girls and a rapturously-received Roam – before returning to crash the party, complete with a pineapple in hand, for an exuberant Party Out of Bounds.  There was not an ounce of fat in the cannily-programmed set-list, the momentum continuing through the closing three songs of the main set, Cosmic Thing, a wild take on Dance This Mess Around and the closing Love Shack, which incorporated a few bars of the classic Low Rider by War.

Perhaps this was a subtle tip-of-the-hat to the North-East audience, since local hero Eric Burdon of  The Animals was one of the original members of the Californian funk group. Kate Pierson hadn’t forgotten her own connection to the North-East, as she told the story of the time she worked behind the bar in The Anson pub in Wallsend, near Newcastle, much to the delight of the Geordie audience.

Returning to the stage for a well-earned encore, the group launched into a feral Planet Claire, Greg Suran excelling with his  guitar-playing, invoking the spirit of Ricky Wilson’s propulsive style. Without missing a beat, Kate then announced “Here’s a punk song!” as the band crashed straight into another ferocious garage rocker from The B-52s’ deathless debut album, 6060-842, teeing up the inevitable closer Rock Lobster – delivered with bristling energy – to cap a tremendous set that demonstrated exactly why this group of lovable oddballs is so revered.

Was this really The B-52s’ farewell European jaunt, as the pre-publicity suggested? Let’s hope not, as goodness knows we need their life-affirming, freak flag-waving joyfulness now, more than ever.

Live image and You Tube video by Connor Clements, used with kind permission. More work by Connor can be found on his Instagram page.

Connect with The B-52s on the web, Facebook and Twitter.

All words by Gus Ironside, 2019.

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Book Review

Factories Run By Robots: Poetry & Prose compiled by Mike Dines  (Itchy Monkey Press)

Paperback book (132 pages inc 24 colour art photographs by Sarah Dryden & Sam Dines)

Thirteen poets – all from the punk community – showcased in an anthology put together by independent publisher that specialises in punk rock, ‘radical thinking and the anarcho-scene’. 

If this was one of those tacky Seventies adverts for compilation albums, it would go something like this:

Featuring such timeless classics as … Get Up Go To Work Come Home Go To Bed, The Tao of Punk, Nihilism,  I Don’t Believe…   Who can forget, the evocative... Have You Ever Shat Yourself? …

There is a long tradition of poetry in punk.

From Patti Smith to John Cooper Clarke. Atilla The Stockbroker to Henry Rollins to Billy Childish.  Then there were the Oi! Poets, one now a Louder Than War writer, and several anarcho-punk poets like Andy T. and Nick Toczek  and the Ranting Poets, Joolz, Seeting Wells and co.  Words of wisdom & anger and self expression were an important part of punks philosophy of ‘any one can do it’/ do it yourself /…something to say…  It didn’t necessarily stick to the ‘rules’ of poetry of course – and every poet was different, some comic, others political, sometimes both.

Then Ben Elton and Rik Mayall came along and pissed on it all with their comic creation (P)Rik – the Peoples Poet … which we laughed at … not realising that rather than an affectionate caricature it became the stereotype in the public perception of the Punk Poet.

Only Cooper Clarke and (honorary punk & dub-poet) Vegan Anarchist Benjamin Zephaniah ended up on the National Curriculum and became cult National Treasures.

So, it’s nice, and gratifying to see that there is still some new ‘punk poetry’ around.  Only four of the thirteen featured seem to be actual ‘live’ performance poets though.  Some are in bands, others are writers,  there are novices and old-hands but all are united by the life-changing influence of punk reflecting the way they view the world.

The book started as a showcase for Portsmouth punk Trev Paviour but soon expanded to include 12 others.  Crasstafarians.  Street punks. progressive/protest punks, feminist grrrls and Class of 76 originals (Steve Mick of Sniffin’ Glue ‘fame’). It is a varied and impressive collection with poets from all over England, Scotland and the odd American.

The accompanying art/photos by Sam Dines and Sarah Dryden -are shots of vacant dilapidated buildings in the Hebrides and USA and it is difficult to see an immediate and obvious connection with the poetry, but I’m sure there is one: Believe In The Ruins?

I STOPPED

I, stopped
Believing,
When
Finally,
The Penny
Dropped.
And I
Realised
That God
Was,
Simply,
Santa Claus,
For Grown Ups.

(by Frank Rafferty (c))

Every reader will have their ‘favourite’ contributing poet no doubt.  Stephen Spencer-Fleet is probably mine. He’s beautifully concise and tough like hardcore.  Chris Dibnah uses brutal humour and repetition to make his point and his work cries out for live performance.  Del Blyben has the most poems at fifteen and its deep, dark stuff; anti-religion, anti-establishment and balances self-belief and despair.  Trevor Paviours work is unrestrained, personal and intense – he has his own book, Gagging Order, out now as well which I will review separately once the second pressing is available.

Steve Micalef (Steve Mick of Sniffin’ Glue infamy) is an interesting inclusion – his poems seem to date from or be about 1977/78 and come from his own book The Punk Kings of Dyslexia.

It’s not just a ‘boys-club’. there are three female poets (as well as the two photographers)- Laura Taylor contributes a great series of haiku’s mocking Trump.  Ashleigh Stewarts sole contribution, the short ‘A Barren Legacy’ is perhaps the most chilling – an epitaph to the planet.  Laura Ways contributions are the most youthfully positive with immense naive charm.

It’s a real mixture of gallows humour. lamentations on the state of the world and the role of the State.  Personal, political, purposeful, proselytising punk rock poetry.  Some of it is pretty stark and very dark but it’s full of negative-drive and anger-as-an-energy.

(Extract from Hell Right Here by Stephen Spencer-Fleet)

You’re dead
A long time
Then some more
Heaven’s up there
Hell right here

It’s a narrow market and I’ve not discovered a similar collection in many a year so have nothing to compare it to … so it is probably the best collection of ‘punk-inspired’ poetry you’ll read!   And you should read it. (I’ll be honest. I was really surprised how much I enjoyed it. It’s like a really well put-together compilation album – or mixtape… and it’s great to dip in and out of…)

In an age where everything is available online for free; music, magazines, blogs… It’s nice to have something physical, with value, created and put together by people who think the spirit of punk rock is not just about music or image, protest or attitude but actually about thought and expression.  Word-punk.

To obtain a coy of the book  contact Mike Dines on Facebook  or via Itchy Monkey Press (£7.50 inc P&P -UK)

All words by Ged Babey

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One Eyed Wayne: Waste Of A Day

Optic Nerve Recordings

DL/CD

Released 12 July 2019

New download single by One Eyed Wayne from the Saucy Postcards Super Creeps LP, with a CD limited edition of 200 copies that are free with any purchase from OEW’s store (see Optic Nerve link above)…LTW’s Ian Canty listen and comments….

That One Eyed Wayne is on a bit of a roll at the moment is more or less plainly evident, their sharp and knowing snapshots of ordinary modern life ringing very true indeed. The Saucy Postcards Super Creeps album was a convincing follow up to their debut Attack Of The Luxury Flats and now they’re back with a single release for perhaps the best pure Pop song on the LP, Waste Of A Day. The sleeve graphic manages to sum up 2019 Britain in one hit – the park runners in the background obviously think they’re doing something more purposeful, but at the end of the day the clock will still have ticked round in the same inconclusive way as for the idler in the middle of the road. Elsewhere the world goes crazy.

Onto the music. The ‘radio’ intro gives way to a sweeping, ringing hook line that quickly buried itself into my mind at least. This tune, out of all of One Eyed Wayne’s oeuvre, recalls the best of Blur and includes some delightful guitar interplay among its busy rush, the steady purpose of the music being a neat juxtaposition of the vocal’s hoarse and tired feel and the ‘ode to despair’ lyric’s subject matter. It is the kind of classic single that in times gone by would have you flipping the stylus back to the beginning as soon the last golden chords faded away. Television, the June Brides, Buzzcocks all combine in those chiming guitars, but with their own twist and viewpoint, it’s the perfect entry point if OEW is new to you

One Eyed Wayne is on Facebook here

~

All words by Ian Canty – see his author profile here

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The Who
Wembley Stadium, London
6 July 2019

Rock legends The Who took to the Wembley Stadium stage last Saturday for the first time since Live Aid in 1985, holding the crowd in thrall for the best part of 2.5 hours.

The not inconsiderable task of warming up the crowd for The Who is taken on by highly-rated Connor Selby Band, the extremely talented Imelda May (what a voice), the effusive and energetic Kaiser Chiefs and the very cool Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam. (Unfortunately London traffic stymied all attempts to see the 20 year old Connor Selby take on Wembley Stadium, a great shame – we will try to catch him elsewhere, have heard good things). A keenly-awaited opportunity to see Imelda May is rewarded by a seriously great performance with a short but powerful set including firm favourites The Longing, Game Changer and a cover of The Undertones’ Teenage Kicks in a nod to her Irish roots. Things are taken up a notch as Kaiser Chiefs blast through some of their best loved songs, including Every Day I Love You Less And Less and, predictably, I Predict A Riot. Eddie Vedder’s acoustic set is surprisingly low key, folky and slow-paced, not quite a lull (because, let’s face it, it’s Eddie Vedder) but not far off. Finally, some five hours after the Stadium’s doors opened, The Who hit the stage.

Exactly 40 years ago, as a (I hasten to add, very) small child, I sat through many rehearsals of the West End production of Tommy, flicking aniseed balls at my sister whilst our mother, the Acid Queen, got ready to show London (and, dare I say, Tina Turner) exactly how thigh high boots should be worn. Completely oblivious to the dodgier themes of the musical, although always conscious it was a bit weird, I knew the entire score backwards and joined in with the dancers on stage too. I vividly remember the Who badge she got brought home from their Wembley show on 18 August 1979. Fast forward 40 years and Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend bound onto the stage like a couple of teenagers, kicking off their Moving On! show with a spine-tingling overture which includes those all-familiar Tommy songs, backed by a full orchestra. It’s simply stunning. And personally, very moving. They look righteously proud.

No strangers to tragedy and drama, with the heavy losses of Keith Moon and John Entwhistle, the band is suffering again tonight with the loss of Townshend’s guitar tech of 44 years, Alan Rogan, just two days ago. Nevertheless, they manage to inject vast amounts of energy into what proves to be an epic tribute show, peppered with songs from Tommy, Quadrophenia and featuring brand new tracks (due to feature on a new studio album planned for later this year). With the added talents of Zak Starkey (son of Ringo Starr who was given a drum kit as a child by Keith Moon) who couldn’t really be more perfect for the band, with his mod haircut and his Who-infused pedigree, and Simon Townshend, Pete’s younger brother (who appeared as a 10 year old in the Tommy film), with a superb backing band and orchestra, it’s hard not to agree when Pete says “Our glamour is gone, our youth is gone, but the music still sounds f*cking brilliant.”

Photo gallery:

Follow:

The Who: Website | Twitter | Facebook
Eddie Vedder: Website | Twitter | Facebook
Kaiser Chiefs: Website | Twitter | Facebook
Imelda May: Website | Twitter | Facebook
Connor Selby Band: Website | Twitter | Facebook

~

All words and photos © Naomi Dryden-Smith other than of that of Anna Nicholas (1947-2014) from the Tommy brochure. Naomi’s stuff is here: Louder Than War | Website | Instagram | Facebook | Twitter

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 Naomi Dryden-Smith at naomidrydensmith@gmail.com

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Scuttlers

The Deaf Institute, Manchester

5 July 2019

Middleton’s Scuttlers played a career highlight at The Deaf Institute Manchester on Friday. Brilliant Louder Than War photographer Trust A Fox was in attendance and we highlight his photos with a few words from Nigel.

We covered Scuttlers in some depth back in June when we visited their studio to listen to the new material. You can read that here. Friday night saw them playing one of Manchester’s most iconic venues with support from Document and Ryan Jarvis.

The gig saw them joined on stage by legendary Manc troubadour Danny McMahon, play a crowd busting cover of Lipps Inc’s Funky Town and close on a high with recent single Lies In The Sky.

This was a major step up for the band, selling out the larger Deaf Institute for the first time.

~

Scuttlers are on Facebook: ScuttlersUK & Twitter as @ScuttlersINC

Words by Nigel Carr. More writing by Nigel on Louder Than War can be found in his Author’s archive. You can find Nigel on Twitter and Facebook and his own Website.

Top Photo by Trust A Fox©  – Please note: Use of these images in any form without permission is illegal. If you wish to use or license any images please contact Trust A Fox

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Billy Liar

Some Legacy

Album Review & Interview

I don’t know about you, but I always give track 7 a listen first when trying to work out whether an album deserves my full attention. A quick spin of Change from Billy Liar’s new release Some Legacy drew me in straight away. A depth charge of a track with an explosive opening, a recognisable folk/shanty vibe running through the core and a familiar Celtic swagger. It reminds me of the epic Archipelago by Smokey Bastard, so of course I had to listen to the rest of the album!

Billy has been releasing tracks and EPs since 2006 but this is the first time he has completed an album with a full band, he explained: “I have done a European tour and a short run in the states with a full band and I definitely plan to do a lot more touring from now on, because the album is so, so loud!”.

The opening track The View From Here hits you like a brick with its battery drum beat – it’s like it’s is in full swing from the first note, breathless, visceral and supercharged and at just under two minutes it’s the perfect track to get you in the mood.

Through The Righteous and The Rats, I still Struggle and the epic Pills it’s most definitely punk running through this man’s veins!: “I got into punk quite early on and my dad had a lot of punk records, I used to dig through his collection, bands like the Jam, the Clash, The Undertones and The Exploited. They were a revelation. My dad had a copy of Army Life and I looked on the back and realised it was recorded in Edinburgh and there’s a picture of them taking a piss against a wall, I  thought it sounded like the cheapest thing I’d ever heard, loud and fast”

Billy has often been described as a troubadour suggesting an acoustic upbringing. The following track Independent People is very much in that vein, strummed protest song: ““I grew up playing the viola when I was younger as well, and when I play the guitar, I play a lot of folk pubs, especially in Edinburgh there are some really good ones and you have to play really fast and really loud! To be heard!

“Originally I played in a band and but I played acoustic because that was just what I had and it seemed to make sense, then I stopped playing with them after about a year of just playing gigs around Scotland and it’s kind of been that way ever since. I get called a poet/troubadour a lot, I like reading and do think the lyrics are important. I don’t really write poetry separate to the music that I write”.

A number of the tracks on Some Legacy have a US punk feel especially Neither Are You and Cold Turkey: “I kinda grew up with the bigger American punk bands from the 90s Fat Wreck compilations, Epitaph, No FX and Offspring. Cold Turkey sounds a little more US for me that was my attempt to write a Buzzcocks type song but I also see how there are other influences coming in. I like the way Buzzcocks wrote these kind of weird kinda minor melodic punk songs holding their hearts in their sleeves.

The album closes with the ballad Less Vegas, a fitting end to a storming debut. Billy never hides his roots which is refreshing and while Some Legacy has a strong Celtic feel it’s tempered by a real punk ethic. Multi-faceted to the final note. Less Vegas features beautiful backing vocals from Stina Sweeddale from Honeyblood.: “She’s a fantastic songwriter and we have known each other a long time”.

Billy explains the reasoning behind his iconic moniker: “It was one of my favourite books I guess when I was growing up – actually my dad gave me the books Billy Liar and Saturday Night Sunday Morning – When I first met Jimmy Pursey he said to me, Billy Liar and I said Yeh, Saturday Night Sunday Morning? And I said Yeh, and he put me in a headlock, sat down on a sofa with me and we just started talking, and he was just testing me to see if I’d read the book.

Finally some stuff about Billy’s favourite artists?: “Joe McMahon, the produces the record as well as being in the band Smoke Or Fire, we have spent the last few years touring together. We were playing Dublin and he was getting the tracks back for his solo record and he let me hear a bit of it to just to say what I thought about a particular drum sound or something, and when I heard it I was like that’s unbelievable!”

“TV Smith is a major influence. The first time I heard Crossing The Red Sea by The Adverts, that changed my life. I’ve been friends with him for a long time now, we are playing in Edinburgh, Glashow and Dundee together, and my friend Joe McMahon is playing as well, at the end of the gig me and TV Smith will play some song together, play One Chord Wonders together, it’s really fun!

“Also Tim Loud, who is a brilliant dark country, blues, punk and rock n roll musician, who is based in Manchester quite a lot of the time, RAMONA, who are also a new signing to Red Scare Industries and are a brilliant band from Philadelphia and  FREDDY FUDD PUCKER, from New Zealand but based in Berlin. He’s a one-person-band with some of the best lyrics you’ll ever hear, and a unique live show”

Future Plans? “I’ve got a full band launch happening on July 12^th and Joe, who lived in Germany is going to fly over and open that show. Then he’s going to play in the band (along with) my friend Robin Guy who plays in Sham 69.

‘Some Legacy’ was recorded at Big Dog Recordings near Antwerp, Belgium. It was produced by Joe McMahon of the Fat Wreck punk band Smoke Or Fire, and co-produced by Tim Van Doorn, who also played bass. Robin Guy played drums. It was mastered by Bram Dewachter.

SPOTIFY – Some Legacy

“Ask your local record shop to order it in if they don’t already have it. Buy online directly here: BIGCARTEL Or if you’re in the U.S., from Red Scare HERE

~

Billy Liar plays at The New Cross Inn – SE London on July 12^th – see poster below for details.

Ticket link here, if that’s helpful: https://www.wegottickets.com/event/474854

Billy is on Facebook and Twitter

Words (those which are not Billy’s!) by Nigel Carr. More writing by Nigel on Louder Than War can be found in his Author’s archive. You can find Nigel on Twitter and Facebook and his own Website. Images: middle: Marco Jankowski, bottom: Charles Engelken

The post Billy Liar – Some Legacy – Album Review & Interview appeared first on Louder Than War.

The 99 Degree

Love (Like I Need You)/ Bed Of Bones

Double A- side single

Sour Grapes Records

Out Now

Manchester purveyors of dirty surf The 99 Degree bring out their new double A-side single Love (Like I Need You)/ Bed Of Bones.

Echoing guitars and vocals characterise the rough and ready sound The 99 Degree have gone for with their new single. The double A-side features more amazing guitars and deliberately ragged vocals.

Love (Like I Need You) is faintly dischordant and the band have resisted any urge they may have had to sanitise their sound during the recording process. Although there are some excellent guitars on the track, it is fairly pared-down. There is a down-at-heel air to the song, which is a little dirge-like occassionally. The sentiment of being too tired and cold to love anyone is fairly in keeping with the dark presentation. The whole thing feels excellently bleak.

Bed of Bones begins with gorgeous Spaghetti Western-style riffs before the vocals kick in. More up-beat than Love ( Like I Need You) and a much more lavish affair, this is really one of the band’s strongest tracks live. The recording has really done the material justice. Although still suitably rough around the edges, Bed Of Bones is catchy AF and an all-round winner of a song, with superb guitars and vocals.

Currently described as ‘Black Surf’ The 99 Degree have carved out their own niche. With influences such as Surf, Rockabilly, Punk and 60’s Garage Rock, they have a sound all their own. Stalwarts of the Manchester DIY scene, The 99 Degree have confirmed a slot at Kendal Calling and are planning an EP and Tour later this year. Following on from 2017’s excellent Boot Hill Social Club EP, Love (Like I Need It)/ Bed Of Bones is another intriguing and enjoyable release from this unique band.

~

More information about The 99 Degree: Facebook, Twitter and Bandcamp .

All words by Roxy Gillespie. More writing on Louder Than War can be found at her author’s archive.

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Gojira
O2 Academy, Brixton
3oth June 2019

French metalheads Gojira kick open the gates to hell and seriously impress with an explosive performance in Brixton. Paul Grace risks life and limb and gets his camera scorched for Louder Than War.

I first heard of French metal band Gojira when I saw a video clip of them playing at Pol’and’Rock Festival in Poland. Under the setting sun, their performance looked more like a war scene from Lord of the Rings than a band playing a festival. The heavy sounds of impending doom accompanied by a state of the art production whipped the crowd into a frenzy the likes of which I’d never seen before. See the performance here. I was therefore stoked to see they were playing Brixton as part of a mini UK jaunt over the summer.

I arrive at the Brixton academy just as support act Rolo Tomassi launch their crazed metal blast onto the receptive crowd. Theirs is quite a unique sound featuring both metalcore screams as well as softer vocals, with suitably heavy post-hardcore soundtrack, while singer Eva Spence throws some interesting shapes on stage.

The repetitive chants of “Gojira! Gojira!” reach deafening levels until suddenly, at 9.15pm, the house lights dip and a roar welcomes the French quartet to the stage.

I’m unfortunately tucked behind a wall for the first song so am unaware of what happens on stage due to photographers not being allowed in the photo pit for health and safety reasons. The track they open with though, Oroborurs, certainly sounds like a textbook start with swirling metal guitars, thunderous percussion and a satanic vocal chant. And it’s pretty much from that moment the band have the Academy in the palms of their hand.

Us photographers are then allowed into the pit for tracks two, three and four. Before we enter however we’re warned not to get too close to the stage due to there being pyro canons which will be going off. I chuckle/mutter (muckle?) to myself, “I think you’ll find it will be CO2 canons at most –  as if they’ll let us in if there’s fire…”.

Within 10 seconds of arriving in the pit however, the front of the stage is engulfed in flames and my camera is nearly barbecued. Oof! It’s fire alright, and spectacular to boot.

The riffs of Backbone pierce the smoke and singer Joe Duplantier screams its vocal. Pyro is, of course, plentiful, and once the track finishes Duplantier jokingly enquires, “Was that enough fire for you!?!?”.

Up next, from 2016’s Magma, Stranded, is anthemic and the crowd sing along to the chorus while the band punch the air in unison.

From 2005, Flying Whales, gets the crowd surfing which gives security a right headache as scores of crazed fans pile over the barriers.

Musically tonight Gojira are extremely tight and simply explode with energy as they bounce around the stage. Their sound is a frenzied mix of classic metal, swirling progressive riffs and metalcore screams/chants, while the production throughout is stellar with endless pyro, CO2 canons, mind-mangling lights, and massive video screens displaying bizarre images. Although Duplantier is a man of very few words, Gojira still fill the Academy with a massive presence. So colossal is the vibe in fact that, at times, it feels like they’ve kicked open the gates to hell and we’re partying in Satan’s flames. And that’s a very good thing.

Towards the end of the set Duplantier apologises and explains the lights would have been better had someone not spilt their beer over the lighting controller. No one would have noticed though – the lighting was impressive and seemed flawless.

Following a three-track encore, Gojira bow out but not before sharing with us how much tonight has means to them. They seem genuinely touched at the reaction they receive and joke that next time they hit the capital they’ll be playing Wembley Arena. The joke may well be on them though, as judging by tonight’s spectacle and reaction, I genuinely believe they will easily fill Wembley the next time they hit the UK.

~

Follow Gojira: 

Website

Facebook

Twitter

 Instagram

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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Alternative TV / The Good Missionaries – Scars On Sunday

Winter Hill Recordings

CD

Released 19th July 2019

Reissue of the 1979 live album, originally released only on cassette by the Fuck Off label, with new sleevenotes by Mark Perry. Jointly credited to Alternative TV and the Good Missionaries, the name of the band changing after an incendiary performance at the Greenwich Theatre which forms the first part of this collection……LTW’s Ian Canty gets down to the Deptford Fun City sound of 1979…….

In “England’s Dreaming” Jon Savage describes Alternative TV as “straddling both axes (i.e. the social realism and art branches of Punk) but going weird fast”. The process was complete by the time of the tape release of Scars On Sunday, the title being a riff on ITV’s answer to Songs Of Praise. Mark Perry was of course one of ’77 Punk’s main faces, launched to the New Wave frontline by his pioneering fanzine Sniffin’ Glue.

His band ATV (after at first toying with the name the New Beatles) might have originally started with a relatively standard Punk sound seasoned with a little Reggae, as evidenced by the singles Life/Love Lies Limp, How Much Longer, Life After Life and Action Time Vision, but soon moved towards something far stranger. The negative aspects of the Punk scene had well and truly kicked in by the end of the Summer Of Hate and Mark P’s changing cast of cohorts wanted no part of turning out 1,2,3,4 identikit New Wave for the masses. A 1978 tour with Hippy heroes Here And Now was an early sign that they weren’t going to play the game, even by the new rules.

If first album The Image Has Cracked stretched the parameters, it had nothing on the follow up. Down to a core duo of Mark and his oppo Dennis Burns (with assistance from guitarist Mick Linehan and Genesis P-Orridge, who was supportive of ATV right from their early days), Vibing Up The Senile Man was the record that made PIL look like MOR Rockers. Remarkably creative and visionary, or unlistenable and confusing, depending on your viewpoint. I tend toward the former, for me they were logically carrying on the message of Punk i.e. anyone can do it, it didn’t have to be Rock ‘N’ Roll and you ought to push forward into the future, not stay forever in a spit ‘n’ spikes ramalama time warp.

This approach and their new material put them in somewhat tricky position in concert, one that is neatly summed up by the sleeve cartoon of Scars On Sunday – depicting someone tied to the spot with projectiles coming from all directions. Fans that had paid to see a set full of “Punk classics” in the Action Time Vision mode were instead being presented with challenging pieces that at times had only a slight connection to music at all. They were now far more concerned with pushing at musical boundaries and zeroing in on the sensitive parts of the human psyche that Rock & Roll wouldn’t and couldn’t. Something was bound to break….

By the time of the Greenwich Theatre show Dave George had joined on drums, despite his insistence that he couldn’t play them, with Anno from Here And Now also helping out on vocals. Scars On Sunday is, at least to begin with, not quite the Avant Punk Metallic K.O. you might suspect. In fact ATV seem to be getting a fairly decent reception from the assembled crowd, with any detractors not being captured on the recording at this stage. Set opener Nasty Little Lonely now sported an atonal sax line, but was still full of low-key menace and is greeted with some appreciation from the crowd at its conclusion (However the limitations of George’s drumming are immediately apparent – they can’t say he didn’t warn them).

There is an audible sense of unease that gathers pace as things go on though, both from the band and audience. It starts as shouts and screams as people realised they wouldn’t be hearing the Punk Pop “hits”. Also apparently support band Fashion had overrun on their set by some distance and this left ATV up against it time-wise (Perry claiming that The Force Is Blind will go on “for a couple of weeks”, when asked about the song’s duration after the lengthy The Radio Story/Lost In Room/Fellow Sufferer segue that preceded it). The tension is ratcheted up a notch further by this state of affairs, as the lack of time resulted in the gig’s organisers threatening to pull the plugs on the band. More than a threat as it actually happens on last track The Good Missionary, which leads to be band trashing their instruments and the palpable off-stage aggro. It is still shocking when that final chaotic moment kicks in, even a mite chilling 40 years on as ATV’s brave experiment to keep alive the true Punk spirit turned up its toes and died.

As it had become more than apparent that the Alternative TV name was causing them more problems than it was worthwhile dealing with, they took on the Good Missionaries moniker just a week after the Greenwich Theatre gig’s messy endgame. The Lyceum was the venue for the GMs’ debut, by this time Dave George had shifted to guitar alongside Sam Dodson, with Steve Jameson (who had contributed “3rd voice” to Smile In the Day on the Vibing LP) filing in on bass. Their one track here is Bottom Of The World, coming from a concert entitled “Gig Of The Century” (but this offering might lead you to ask “Which one?”). A long piece that touches more on Rock/Blues that what has gone before and audience chatter is captured here almost as well as the music. The jabs of guitar and bass surges provide the form, Mark singing a line that sounds a lot like “pretty little bingo” again and again.

Come the final two tracks on Scars On Sunday, recorded in May 1979 on the Animal Instincts tour with the Pop Group, The Good Missionaries had another reshuffle with only Dave and Mark retaining their spots. Dennis Burns was back on bass, ex-Chelsea/Damned member Henry Badowski filled the vacant drumming position (he also played some sax) and Gill Hanna completed the line up on vocals. This version of the band also recorded the Fire From Heaven album for Deptford Fun City on the same tour. There’s unsurprisingly a little more structure and purpose to these tracks, with final number The Morning They Took Me Away being a sharp re-imagining of ATV b-side Another Coke. I have to say though The Good Missionary Goes For A Walk is probably the best track musically on the album, a mesmerising atmosphere is evoked by the band that kept me rapt throughout the 15 minutes plus of the song. They sound a bit more more confident this effort, whilst not sacrificing the playfulness that was always inherent with the Good Missionaries/ATV.

After this the Good Missionaries continued on for a couple more years, eventually being taken over by Dave George when Perry dropped out. George based his new line up in East Sussex (Deranged In Hastings was the title of one record). Mark would record the solo Snappy Turns album and return to ATV with original guitarist Alex Fergusson in 1981, recording the most extreme follow up he could after Vibing – a great Pop Music LP in the severely undervalued Strange Kicks.

Scars On Sunday is faithfully reproduced by Winter Hill Recordings here and is a classic of the early UK tape scene, which shot up as an outlet for the outré through the Weird Noise/Fuck Off label amongst many others. This is most definitely lo-fi and not easy listening – a positive boon for ATV heads like myself and anyone deep into DIY/Independent/Tape Scene stuff, but those unfamiliar with the band would do well to start with the early singles and work their way forward from there. It may prove rewarding enough over time, but those fully conversant with ATV’s oeuvre will find Scars as vital as any, a true artistic statement from the heart of the struggle.

This is certainly not for people who want straightforward Punk Rock & Roll. Scars On Sunday is bitty, rough and even amateurish in places, but that was part of the point, to reach beyond your own capabilities for the stars and blast off into the space. By moving bravely into areas that Pop/Rock simply wasn’t allowed to probe it is very refreshing, as you can hear barriers being broken, the difference between performer and fan cut down to a mere whisker. I’m not going to insult your intelligence by suggesting this is a great album full of catchy songs you will instantly love – that was never the aim, but by always reaching for something new and different, Mark Perry and ATV/The Good Missionaries’ very ambition made it compulsive listening for me at least.

Alternative TV are on Facebook here

Fourth Dimension Records website is here – lots of fascinating stuff there

All words by Ian Canty – see his author profile here

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John Power

Solo 2003 – 2008

Demon Music Group

White Vinyl Box Set

Released 5/7/19

John Power’s three solo album have been given a well-deserved dusting down with a lavishly presented white vinyl box set released via Demon Records. Matt Mead surveys the release for Louder Than War.

The distinctive scouse vocal tones of John have been a recognizable trait since he first burst into light as the young bouncy blond haired bass player with Liverpool’s famed pop guitar perfectionists The La’s. With a seemingly never-ending supply of pop hits of his own making John then branched out with his own four piece Cast, with monumental success in and around the Britpop scene of the mid-90s.

After Cast split in 2001 Polydor offered John the chance to record as a solo artist but at the time he’d had enough of the whole business so after a break it wasn’t until 2003 that debut Happening For Love saw the light of day. Producer for the album was John Leckie, whose body of work includes working with Magazine, The Fall and The Stone Roses as well as Cast.

Comprising the last remnants of the upbeat Cast sound with a smattering of 60s Beatles and Kinks acoustic based pop, the sort of thing we became accustomed to on Revolver and The Village Green Society. Similar work has received more notable praise by the likes of Paul Weller and Noel Gallagher, the peak tracks here include tracks Small Farm, Mariner and the title track.

Stripped back Willow She Weeps released in October 2006 is a completely different experience compared to Happening For Love. Peaceful country-blues, catchy acoustic pop with a touch of Americana successfully mixed across the set. Early period of Bob Dylan and Donovan are evoked in and around this collection, John sings with an almost broken, lamenting voice, hearts will become torn with another listen to this lost beauty.

Lastly 2008 release Stormbreaker is different in concept to the previous releases. A full John Power Band play deep down and dirty Delta blues, in a similar vein to Edgar Jones’s The Stairs concocted with Captain Beefheart’s Safe As Milk period. Harmonising with a grittier voice than on the sunshine pop of the Britpop material, the likes of John Lee Hooker would nod their approval behind darkened shades at this effort.

A re-evaluation of these vital Northern sounds welcomes back into the spotlight long players that might not be on everyone’s immediate radar but can now be easily accessed. Taking a leaf out of the same book as read by John Mayall and Paul Butterfield, John Powers solo work is championed prosperously with this freshly revised collection.

The box set can be purchased from the Demon Music Group 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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AN EVENING WITH NANCY KERR & JAMES FAGAN

CD / DL

Little Dish Records

Available now

Multi-award-winning duo return after a nine-year absence with their first live album.

There’s something quite satisfying about the double hyphenated phrase ‘multi-award-winning’. Nancy Kerr and James Fagan both have plenty of irons in the fire although arguably, it’s on the rare occasions they play and perform as a duo, that they bring out the best in each other. Nancy’s flowing fiddle style and classic folk vocal getting pushed, coaxed and generally egged on by the ringing strings of the Fagan bouzouki and guitar.

The Evening with… collection gives them a chance to show the full extent of an impressive repertoire that stands currently at five albums as a duo, on which of late, they seem to have had neither the time or opportunity to build. The live set is the perfect opportunity for them to revisit the full range of their full catalogue that includes Nancy’s stint with the Elizabethan Sessions as well as something brand new in Lovers Of Us All, whilst also referencing James’ Australian upbringing.

They hit the ground running by ripping (or at least as ripping as folk musicians get) into a sprightly Broadside followed immediately I Am The Fox that heads unexpectedly into an Eastern flavoured,  prog rocking in 7/8 time, Kitchen Dance tune set. It’s an expertly planned sequence that shows the nouse of striking hard and early.

In a world where live albums and access to live recordings come thick and fast so as not to have that special quality or appeal any more or get a generally bad press, here’s one that’s totally relevant and rousing in the way live albums should be. And for anyone who’s ever read Slash’s autobiography, take a tip from him and always listen to the live album first. It might not rank up there with the Live And Dangerous or Made In Japan sets that rule the live album roost – maybe Live And Approachable or Made In Sheffield /Kimpton are more apt – but it does the job in showing where Nancy Kerr and James Fagan, in their words,  “find themselves musically after more than twenty years as a duo.”

Watch Nancy & James play The Outside Track live here:

Kerr & Fagan online: Website, Facebook,

Nancy Kerr  online: Website, Facebook, Twitter

~

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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Violent Femmes

Hotel Last Resort ([PIAS]) CD/LP/DL

Released: 26 July, 2019

If The Violent Femmes’ tenth release is a last resort, it’s a damn fine one.

Back in 1983 the Violent Femmes produced one of the era defining albums with their eponymously titled debut album that was a slow burner as it picked up airplay on the influential college radio. It was American Underground music played with acoustics and brass and fronted by a nerdier version of Lou Reed, with soon to be classics such as Gone Daddy Gone and Blister In The Sun. Fast forward 36 years and the Femmes are all set to release their tenth studio album, Hotel Last Resort. Victor DeLorenzo the stand-up drummer and founding member may have departed in 2013, but Gordon Gano remains as literate and quirky as ever and Brian Ritchie still has his classic bass sound, that’s like metal producing a raw beauty that twangs and grinds as though every note is wrought with heart and power (he’s one of the greatest bass players ever in my book). And here they are joined by percussionist John Sparrow and multi-instrumentalist Blaise Garza (whose massive contrabass saxophone adds deep gravitas to the songs it’s used on), and guest spots from Tom Verlaine and pro-skateboarder Stefan Janoski.

What the Femmes have produced here is probably their finest work since 1984’s Hallowed Ground. It has the tropes of a classic Femmes’ albums; the Americana of post punk, folk, blues, jazz, spiritual, gospel, classic rock ‘n’ roll with left field lyrics and avant-garde structures that never detract from a bloody good tune. These are deceptively straightforward, to the point songs, that give up more of themselves on repeated playing.

The album opens with Another Chorus, a dark humoured number that pleads with bands not to repeat chorus after chorus. It’s an opening song that is simple and funny and draws us in to some darker material that will come later. I Get What I Want has a golden era rock ‘n’ roll sound to it, but with a more evil voodoo edge to it as the singer reveals himself as a serial bully and victimiser. The song I’m Nothing was originally released on 1994’s New Times and is now re-recorded with big Femmes fan pro-skater Stefan Janoski. It’s a heavier, bigger version this time round, wilst the lyrics, about not wanting to be straitjacketed by left wing or right wing bullshit, are even more relevant.

Everlasting You is a simple, beautiful love song, whilst I’m Not Gonna Cry is a wonderful, melancholy cover of the Greek rock superstars Pyx Lax song. This Free Ride is a folk song with Gano’s word play slotting together beautifully like falling Tetris blocks.

On the ballad like Paris To Sleep we get a clever twist on the reasons why people go to the city of lights, which turns into a bit of a scat with gospel thrown in at the end. It’s the sort of song that the Femmes seem to throw off effortlessly but which will have the listener recalling, and wanting to listen to again, for weeks afterwards. The album closer is the Femmes’ take on Irving Berlin’s God Bless America. Whilst it remains true to the original’s American spirit it adds a poignancy of tribal drums and folk music that conjures up a Native American landscape, the prairies, open spaces and freedom, before it was exploited (or developed, depending upon your politics) by the white man.

The centrepiece of the album is the title track, Hotel Last Resort, which has a guest spot from Tom Verlaine. It’s a deeply cool rock beat, imbued with too many late-night drinks. It’s a hotel of chancers and dancers, dashed hopes and slivers of dreams that are pushed under doors like notes from similarly lost neighbours and over it all Verlaine’s distinctive and plaintive guitar playing haunts the song like  a murdered bell boy wandering the corridors searching for tips from guests who have long given up hope. As Gano sings: I don’t change the chords anymore, the chords change by themselves.

Welcome to songs from the Hotel Last Resort. Enjoy your stay.

http://smarturl.it/hotellastresortvideo

~

You can find Violent Femmes on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.

All words by Mark Ray. More writing by Mark Ray can be found at his author archive. And he can be found on Twitter.

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Album Review

Four Candles: Nettle Rash  (German Shepherd)

CD / DL 

Grotesque Grudgeful Art-Rock band from Salford who ‘Spit on the BBC’… third album of beauty and anger. For Fans Of… Public Image, The Fall, The Pop Group, the Cravats, Poison Girls, difficult music, but with a heart.

(I do hate putting ‘For Fans Of…’ as a consumer guide – but I’ll do it this time as the band rarely gig outside of Manchester and have a zero budget for advertising their existence to the wider audience they deserve.)

This is a very difficult album.  The bands most overtly political – reacting to the times -and their most accomplished – but their most uncompromising… ‘Too Brutal for The BBC!’

It has moments where it is absolutely beautiful: studiously intense yet transcendental… but others when it is full of lyrical bile and musical ugliness.

It is an impressive work of idiosyncratic, purposeful art-rock – but personally, I find it hard to listen to beginning -to-end, as a full length album.

(I try to be objective, review each album as a stand-alone piece, but recent releases, Blue Orchids. Band Of Holy Joy, Am I Dead Yet? have all been such perfect complete works from start-to-finish … this has clouded my judgement or sharpened it maybe.  Great Albums should be consistent listens throughout…Shouldn’t they?)

The first four songs are cracking: Experimental yet tuneful – a slippery groove and astounding guitar-work.   Then there are three mid-album which are churning, squirming, hectoring grunge which I have to skip to get to the brilliant, emotional final song.

There are a wealth of influences – which occasionally, mischievously make themselves known:  The Light Pours Out Of Me   drum & bass pattern on Badgers and the Bela Lugosi’s Dead steal on the intro to Angels Not Angels.  Fly In My Soup – something of a sideways nod to Wire perhaps but with guitar which could well be Punishment of Luxury or the Cravats (but probably coincidentally as guitarist Mark Taylor is  not as old as the others and more a Metallica man I’m told.)

Animals Attack is the same kind of sinister waltz that Poison Girls would play whilst Volcano Burning Blue is like the burbling prog funk of Bowies Lodger.

Vikings – sounds like No Wave meets Stranglers  -a gargled howl of a vocal and some squalling guitar.

Swingers  – is a nice’n’sleazy celebration-turned-condemnation of consensual kinkiness.  Four Candles front-man and lyricist Ian Moss’ life-story is something of an open book (his biography The Man Who Killed The Hamsters is still available) so I had to pry a little…

Swingers is semi autobiographical in that I grew to understand very quickly that sex for sex sake doesn’t fill any emotional needs and gets boring and mechanical.

And then there is a song called BBC…  I spit on the BBC!

Ian has an old mate at the BBC (his first band the Hamsters only release way back was on the Cog Sinister label so you can guess who it is…) – so despite the corporation always being accused of being an Old Boy Network full of nepotism – the opposite seems to apply.  Four Candles get no airplay for being ‘too uncompromising’ it seems.  Musically FC are up there with all of the other Class of 79 veterans so it seems ludicrous to me – a relatively impartial observer- that they don’t get airplay on 6-Music.

Moss told me that he knows that [the band as well as} the album “Is a bit schizophrenic and occasionally brutal” . He tries to convince me he takes a perverse pride in the fact that they are ” Too Brutal For The BBC” but is annoyed that as well as Four Candles, bands like Flies On You and Interrobang! are ignored by the BBC, paying lip-service to new music  and ignoring bands who don’t have youth and a PR man on their side.  I tell him I agree and could name a dozen bands from Bristol, the South, all over who deserve 6-Music coverage but don’t have the ‘right profile’…

(Back to Nettle Rash!)

Whilst it is Four Candles most accomplished work to date I wish they had decided against the ‘album format’ and done a bit of judicious editing, dropping a couple songs and releasing two EP’s perhaps.

On the positive side, guest vocalists Anne and Julia from the band Matthew Hopkins and keyboards from engineer D’ing Archer have ‘expanded the aural palette’ of Four Candles.

Lyrically, all kinds of issues are covered “Ten thousand Badgers to be culled…” to ” Sex-toy with a pulse” to the suicide of Benefits claimants who’s claims have been rejected.  It’s powerful and sometimes disturbing stuff.

Sex Toy is uneasy listening. I asked Ian about the lyrics: about rent boys or coerced victims of grooming:

Yes , I’ve met young lads who’s experiences I’ve used for  the lyrics of Sex Toy.  It’s fucking horrible that world for its abuses.

They Don’t Care the masterpiece of compassionate, heart-breaking political commentary closes the album and is the most gentle musically and emotionally affecting.

Four Candles seem to thrive as ‘outsider artists’ but the bulk of this album is far too good to be side-lined and ignored by the BBC who still – despite the internet – are the purveyors of taste and arbiters of cool to a regrettably greater extent rather than a lesser.

The truth is only known by guttersnipes apparently – and by Louder Than War of course.  Nettle Rash is a prickly listen – flawed but still magnificent and head and shoulders above most of what you will hear ‘on the radio’.  Give it a listen… but have some dock leaves handy!

Buy Nettle Rash from HERE
Great Interview with Ian Moss about the Four Candles album – plus loads of other great music here- Bob Osbornes Aural Delights show. ( Shared with his permission)

All words by Ged Babey

Album cover art is Cora and Clarice by Mike Kerins

Previous LTW coverage of Four Candles 

Spiritual Rapture

Killing The Image

The post Four Candles: Nettle Rash – Album Review. ‘Too Brutal for The BBC’ appeared first on Louder Than War.

Who likes big festivals these days?
Well, me. I could be converted.
I’ll say it now, why not. Roskilde is a super festival with many good causes and proper, grassroots social activism underpinning it. Doing good things to do good things is goal number one here. We hear uplifting talks and note down helpful, real-life tips on feminist and trans activism and fighting artistic censorship, and learn that our tents are given to refugee charities. There’s a lot of intriguing audio-visual and sculptural art scattered about the site, including a set of tents where Beautiful Danish Youths put headphones on you, so you can drink in wild and giving drones. There are clothing stores dedicated to flogging you threads of the most sustainable material and cut. And if you go for a wander you find a place called Flokkr; a community centre where all sorts of inspiring stuff happens. The whole experience is a weird, reusable, socially conscious take on the never- ending C21st luxury train many in the West don’t want to admit they’re participating in. Recycled luxury. Nothing actively goes to waste. For example the leftover food from the multiple food halls gets prepped in order to be served to locals in need. If you think I’m reading from Thomas Moore, you’re mistaken; it’s no pipe dream. It’s just a shame it has to be on a music festival…

We’re here for the music, of course. The festival’s been around long enough to have developed its identity separate from the whims of the festival booking circuit. No bare-chest beating about the line up that you find at other “tasteful” festivals (I’m looking at similar in the Benelux and Germany here), rather, everything seems to fall into place, with room (literally) for everyone to soak up their sonic thing. Louder than War’s thing is an old cowshed (or variant on a Nissen hut) called Gloria, where the weirder noises are made.

These Scandics are curious folk; nearly every show is packed in Gloria, even for the more esoteric stuff, like Astrid Sonne. And with reason, as there were some killer gigs here. Yves Tumor played a blistering set that took a full quiver of Black Country Rock barbs into Detroit, to melt them slowly over a roaring performative fire. The drummer was on the one and not coming off it, thank you very much, whilst the bassist somehow dropped anchor just north of the earth’s core, massaging deeply buried, molten grooves into the sound. The rhythm section provided a platform for some Clockwork Orangery courtesy of the singer and guitarist, who really should just get a room. They make superb, burning rock music. By total contrast, Tirzah ran through a fabulously dry, laconic performance, the distances created by the delivery of her sensual lyrics and the clever itchy urban pop music (that was like a frisky dog, always on the cusp of slipping the lead to sniff the lamp post) the key.

We’ve mentioned Astrid Sonne, and should give her her due here. What an intriguing set! By turns academic rave, violin standoff and deconstructed bedroom soul (courtesy of some nobs, wires and cables), it’s impossible to pin down why this music she makes is so moreish. Sonne’s sound reminded me a lot of what the Monika label have been doing for years; it’s fresh and confident femme chamber pop, with a dark twist. And, after about 20 minutes, I wasn’t sure whether Sonne was real or some beautiful and talented robot, programmed to fuck with our senses. Check her out. In total contrast Rival Consoles gave a full-on human set; empathetic, warm and healing techno that was never predictable or dumb. I’ve often thought how boring it must be playing this kind of music live. Standing there, quietly checking your inbox whilst everyone is content to surf the same beat for a good 20 minutes. Like schlepping up multiple servings of baked beans on toast. But Ryan West seemed determined to find a way into his music, to show us its human qualities whilst it was being played. And whilst watching West, it was endearing to watch the crowd (a number of whom may have just wanted to bop, not chinstroke) who ultimately responded by gyrating and gurning along as best they could.

Pick of the bunch had to be Crack Cloud on the Thursday night, who ran through a blistering set, full of intent and power. On this evidence they are a strong, focussed act, with tricks and licks that belie a very canny pop sensibility. An old crock like me could see their music as an aural take on the Josef K title, ‘Radio Drill Time’: future-industry music, the body disciplined into a producer. Showtime comrades, it seems. The drummer led the charge on the night, the obvious heart of the band. The other six “contented themselves” with being superbly drilled musicians, able to pack in multiple instrument swaps along the way. They were an intriguing watch, never mind listen (it was my first time seeing them live). But, despite Crack Cloud being very much of the now, and the members giving the feeling of having something fresh and interesting to say, I was spending far too much time swimming about trying to place their music. I couldn’t fall for the “return of weird guitar bands” meat-and-two veg PR gruel, no thank you. Then it hit me. Taking the fabulous, booming funk of the rhythm section, the chopped meat of the guitar lines, the sax rasps and clever, slightly abstract synth runs, they had somehow channelled the “totaal” post-punk of Nasmak. Especially Nasmak tracks like ‘Bo Dance’ and the seminal lost LP, 4our Clicks. Furthering the Dutch analogy Crack Cloud’s music is like Cruyff’s 60s-70s Ajax team; each player able to play out of position to open up new possibilities and change a simple proposition into something poetic. It was an amazing show and the Nordic horde bayed its appreciation.

Other fab action happened in the Pavilion tent. Special mention should go to Guadalajara’s Descartes A Kant. Looking like they’d stepped out of a Neue Sachlichkeit painting, the three front women harangued and howled and Cramped up the volume, regularly releasing ferociously hot and toxic blasts of guitar and samples. This was a brilliant display of rock cabaret, with Goth-rock, grebo, psychobilly and metal all thrown into the stew. A bit like a fully amped up Bongwater from back in the day. (There was plenty of Ann Magnuson’s showgirl patter on display too, though that thought bubble is mine, not the band’s.) No matter, the ladies preened and shrieked and flashed their knickers – sometimes dipping into the audience to pluck up their prey – whilst the lads stuck to the back of the stage and wore gimp and surgical masks, as required. Despite the brio of this punk cabaret – and, I suppose in true Mexican tradition – the grisly and morbid subject matter inspired by their native land was never far away; with songs about shootings, Catholic guilt and forensic investigations to the fore. It worked wonders on a midday crowd, who were transformed from pleasantly uncomfortable to fully converted by the end of the set. More stellar noise was provided by Black Midi, who played their part as rock’s tricksters to perfection. They can play like few bands, and are experts at summoning up spirits when needed. They have something of the theatre about them, too; pacing the stage as if giving soliloquies in a sixth form production of Shakespeare. It’s funny, though I could see how it could irritate and confuse. But when the loud bits came, all hell was unleashed and the crowd, sticking around like noise junkies for the next fix, responded with utter abandon. After a while it struck me that a Black Midi gig is as close as you’ll get to a late sixties festival experience (albeit better amplified). Long long stilted passages which sound like the quiet bits in ‘Interstellar Overdrive’ or ‘Aumgn’. We just needed a random bongo player. But you really couldn’t take your eyes off it. I’m still intrigued.

We did get outta Gloria and Pavilion, I promise. We briefly indulged in the fabulously performative electro pop of Lydmor and swooned to a superb set by Spiritualised (who – given the righteous racket they made – had evidently found a new electric mainline to tap into). We were sandblasted and lifted up by the rock hombres of Philip H Anselmo and The Illegals. We got woozed out to a great Aldous Harding show and tarried awhile in Julia Holter’s faerie grove. We shuffled along in a sub-rave stylee, with what felt like the entire festival crowd, to a fabulously glitzy Underworld set. We were mesmerised by the Sun-Tropicalia deconstructions in Jorge Ben Jor’s afternoon set on the Thursday and were sandblasted by raw teen emotion during Robyn the night after. We grooved and gave forth supplication to Bombino. We ate a lot of pork sandwich with red cabbage. Read that how you will. We lived, and loved. But most of all, whilst ineptly pacing round the saintly helpers who deconstructed the tents on the last morning, we pondered about the ongoing brilliance of The Cure.

To say The Cure were epic at Roskilde would do them a disservice. Nearly thirty songs, most of them hits or loved album tracks, says one thing. And of course, watching them run through such a set, you realise Smith’s songwriting is anthemic; ‘In Between Days’ and ‘Just Like Heaven’ acting as a straight left and right for the 40 something romantics in the crowd. But it wasn’t just that, or the clever way tracks were twinned or tripled to deliver the right moment (‘A Forest’ and ‘Primary’), nor the playing, which felt effortless.

It was the realisation that maybe their time is now, not 30 years ago. Robert Smith is the king of setting private emotions feelings on a grand stage. An open secret played in private places, the band have been posting their private feelings and emotions for all to decipher this last 40 years. Connected by its relentless investigations of the psyche, what struck me was the egoless nature of their catalogue. And something in this public-private self-effacement has now made their music egoless and weightless, it’s slipped the moorings of earlier ages. No summoning up tired old tropes of past scenes for this lot, rather the affirmation that The Cure have new meaning in our inside-out age.

Okay I will let you into a secret. I’ve never been a massive fan, rather a very respectful bystander, who’d allow himself to have his arm twisted by his morose, patchouli-stained Goth mates to go and watch them back in the day. It’s only after this gig, watching Roskilde being cooked up and served to itself by a masterful band, watching the most ridiculously giving encore in history (including ‘Friday I’m In Love’, ‘Lullaby’, ‘Why Can’t I Be You’ and ‘Boys Don’t Cry’), maybe, yes, their time is actually now.

I could get into this big festival thing. It can’t always be this good, can it?

(Photos courtesy of Kim Matthai Leland.)

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Félicia Atkinson: The Flower And The Vessel

Shelter Press

LP/CD/DL

Out Now.

Ambient and poetry legend Félicia Atkinson returns with a new album out now via Shelter Press. Simon Tucker reviews.

Ambient music. The soundtrack to dinner parties. Cocktail music for cocks. Background and throwaway. Easy to create. All this nonsense are comments I have been on the receiving end of when discussing the genre. People who believe the world of ambient is summed up by paid-for Spotify playlists and Misery of Sound compilations. There are also musicians out there who believe they can create an “ambient” track with some quiet tones and weeping synths. Every one of those who believe these things obviously never fully explored the genre. Play these people Coil’s Time Machines and they will run screaming from its dense drone majesty. Play them The Flower And The Vessel and they will confuse themselves trying to work out where this music fits with their ill informed preconceived ideas for this is an album that slashes at the genre, pouring intelligence and atmospherics into an eleven track work that is unsettling as it is beautiful.

Félicia Atkinson is a master of this style of artistic expression as anyone who has listened to her work before will attest but with The Flower And The Vessel she not only surpasses her previous works but has created one of the most defining albums of the genre. This is a narrative driven piece that is conceptual in design pulling together the power of silence with the stark head spin of spoken word poetry best defined by the albums most unsettling moment You Have To Have Eyes.

Even when a piece is wordless like on the gorgeous Moderato Cantabile, Atkinson is telling a vivid story. The track travels through various movements slowly building into a climax that sounds like it features the sound of bleating animals. It is at this moment where your mind draws a connection between what we are hearing now and the work of Swans which is not something you would expect from an album sod as ambient.

Surrealistic poetry is cut through The Flower And The Vessel with tracks like Shirley to Shirley (all AI inflected tones) and Joan all adding to the cut-up feel of the album. Inspired by  “women who wonder, dream, and create vacant spaces in their art,” Atkinson shows us the power in femininity and of allowing space within composition.

Closing the album we have the behemoth Des Pierres which is an 18+ minutes long masterful display in how to take a listener from point A to point B with subtlety, exquisite use of spacial dynamics and of the utilisation of tones created by a variety of instruments including the human voice. Des Pierres is a collaboration between Atkinson and Sunn O))) Stephen O’Malley and it plays like a celebration of the art of collaboration with the piece feeling like the ultimate blend of two artists vision working as one unifying force.

The Flower And The Vessel is an album that requires your commitment and for you to create the correct atmosphere to fully understand its beauty. It travels well on headphones but when you take the time to allow yourself the space and stillness to listen to it you will be rewarded even more handsomely.The ultimate dreamscape collage, The Flower and The Vessel is the sound of an artist telling the most beguiling of stories which when listened to leaves you in a better place than when you started.

~

Félicia Atkinson can be found via Facebook  Instagram  and Twitter where she tweets as @atkinsonfelicia

Shelter Press can be found via Facebook  Instagram  and Twitter where they tweet as @shelter_press

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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Rammstein
Milton Keynes Stadium
July 6th 2019

Rammstein didn’t perform a gig. They created an experience. And each offering from their 21-song set featured the type of pyrotechnics and fanfare that other stadium entities reserve for a special grand finale. Louder Than War’s Andy Duke and Louder Than War photographer Svenja Block made a pilgrimage to Milton Keynes to take in the noise. And the flames.

I will start at the end. An audience the size of Rutland’s population makes their way out of the venue. With their ears ringing and eyes recovering from the sudden and regular bursts of light and fire, most are nervously contemplating last train times from Milton Keynes. In tandem with the exodus, credits from the performance scroll across the large screen above the stage. Yes, credits. Non-standard but entirely fitting for a performance of this magnitude. After all, this gig ranks as one of the most memorable live spectacles I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing. And a lot of talented people helped to realise Rammstein’s vision.

The painstaking attention to detail employed by the band and their crew achieves the impossible – an immersive live experience at a stadium. While it’s commonplace to have two separate PA rigs to cover both the front and back of the venue, Rammstein go a step further and use the rear of house rig as separate platforms to duplicate and enhance their onstage pyrotechnics. This enables folk at the very back of Milton Keynes Stadium to feel the heat from the flames as intensely as the crowd by the front of the stage do. My use of the word ‘feel’ should not be taken lightly. When flame blasts are incorporated to punctuate the arrangements onstage, I’m reminded of the sensation of opening an oven door mid-roast. It is that hot. In addition to this, I have never experienced such a dynamic and full sound at an outdoor venue. It’s one thing to hear a band perform, it’s another to feel it and be able to detect the subtleties of snare hits and the many effects employed by the two guitarists. Lastly, there’s the stage itself. Rather than being a foundation on which to perform, the entire installation is a crucial part of the festivities. From resembling a bunker under siege, with plumes of smoke seeping from every surface, or creating mood shifts with ever-changing lighting themes – Rammstein provides a feast for the eyes and ears for the duration.

“I can’t speak German but I love singing along”, shouts a fan to her mate behind me just after the band dazzles the capacity audience with their epic opener Was Ich Liebe. This overheard comment reveals a very unique element in Rammstein’s appeal. As we Brits are notoriously resistant to venture away from our mother tongue in our musical tastes, non-English tracks tend to be one-off novelties in the lighter end of the genre spectrum. J’Taime or Joe Le Taxi are merely two examples and share a Franco allure that doesn’t exist in Rammstein’s canon. And, let’s face it, Heirate Mich isn’t going to win over the masses in the way La Bamba has in the English-speaking world. That said, it speaks volumes that Rammstein’s sole UK date this year sold out as speedily as it did. Moreover, it’s a tribute to a German band who have succeeded in winning over fans on their own terms. Ultimately, the band’s music is bigger than the language they use and the success of this evening is living proof.

In Till Lindemann, the sextet possess a uniquely charismatic frontman who captivates via refreshingly larger-than-life drama. In this capacity, he shares more with the world of opera than a stadium contemporary in the rock arena like Bono Vox or Mick Jagger. This sensibility and aesthetic had a knock-on effect within the staging of the band’s performance. Pathos and darkness are revealed in many different guises. From a pram the size of a van being set alight during Puppe (resulting in a rain of ash being catapulted from different parts of the venue) to satirising and putting Teutonic nationalism beneath the microscope on Deutschland – the imagery is as dramatic as it is effective. In the case of the latter song, the setting of the venue and the size of the crowd provides a powerful conduit in referencing the rallies of a very different Germany from yesteryear. A counterbalance to the intensity is the thread of humour and lightness. Keyboardist Christian “Flake” Lorenz, for instance, spends most of the gig on a treadmill with directions and speeds altering at great intervals. He also takes a very physical comedic turn as a potential victim of the band’s figurehead during Mein Teil. During this ditty, the band’s figurehead dons a large chef’s hat after forcing Lorenz into an enormous cauldron. With a flame thrower at the ready, Lindemann blasts dark amber flares at the keyboardist who only narrowly saves himself from turning to dinner via well-timed ducking. This provides a unique slapstick element to the proceedings that’s extremely endearing. And it makes one all too easily forget the amount of planning and rehearsal that must have gone into getting the timing right for such an impressive spectacle.

With such a big sound to recreate live, the quality and tightness of the band deserves an honourable mention. The dual guitars of Kruspe and Landers run the gamut from fast and heavily saturated to ethereal and clean with effortless precision. In perfect sync, the rhythm section of Schneider and Riedel powerfully co-pilots a foundation that straddles industrial, metal and dance elements with the former’s drums never letting up. Riedel, who never ceases to play for the good of the song, also reveals tasteful chops during the bass arpeggio intro of the aforementioned Heirate Mich.

Towards the end of the set, the band position themselves at Stage B. Located at the far end of the venue, Rammstein manages to quite literally take their show to every corner of the stadium. After performing the sublime Engel with special guest Duo Jatekok, the group make their way to the main stage in a very unique manner. Three rubber boats take Captain Lindemann and his crew back ‘home’ via the surprisingly un-treacherous sea of fans. There’s so much that could go wrong with such an arrangement. And, needless to say, the insurance ramifications must be immense for this part of the show. But the exercise goes more smoothly than any Dover to Calais ferry journey this reviewer has been on. Regardless of the risks, once they’re safely back on ‘dry land’, the band commemorate their arrival with an emotive version of Ausländer.

As the band wind up the final song of their encore, Ich Will, Lindemann addresses the audience for the first time directly. “You’re an absolutely amazing, fantastic audience. Thanks so much”. While I applaud his politeness, thanks are not needed. The audience was indeed fantastic and that’s because they were mirroring the magic displayed onstage.

“I need to get to Milton Keynes in a hurry” isn’t something I thought I would ever say. Let alone think. But when you add Rammstein into the equation, one’s hardwired beliefs get skewed all too easily. The same can be said of my aversion to stadium gigs. I’ve been to many of them. But, invariably, I leave these mass gatherings with a mantra of ‘never again’ echoing in my thoughts. There are so many inherent compromises to shows of this stature that the pros tend to outweigh the cons by a huge margin. Unless Rammstein are involved that is.

Watch Rammstein’s epic video for Deutschland:

Immerse yourself in all things Rammstein via the band’s official website

Photo gallery:

Please note: All Rammstein photographs are subject to a photo release form. Use of these images in any form is illegal. For more info please contact Svenja Block at blocksvenja@yahoo.com.

All words by Andy Duke. Andy Duke is a London based raconteur, musician, writer, collector of soda syphons and the man behind ‘The Dukey Radio Show’ podcast. 

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

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Elbow

Manchester, Castlefield Bowl

9 July 2019

“Good evening, you beautiful city!”. The words ring around Castlefield Bowl as Elbow take the stage! Nigel Carr gets warm and fuzzy with the nicest man in rock, thrilling the crowds with a battery of his band’s best on a rain-soaked Manchester evening! Photos by Mike Ainscoe.

After a rapturous reception the band launches straight into Fly Boy Blue/Lunette, the crowd is already onside. It doesn’t take much, does it? We, the beautiful people consist of possibly the oldest demographic I’ve been part of this year, but don’t let that put you off what is most certainly one of the best gigs, with the best sound I’ve seen this summer! One thing you have to hand to Guy Garvey is the quality of the lyrics! He’s a proper wordsmith. His ability to immerse you in his lyricism is almost suffocating.

The words twist and writhe evoking long forgotten memories, and the crowd knows every single one, no matter how convoluted and complicated! “This is a song about all the big stuff, you know? The Arndale” says Garvey before gently shuffling into Magnificent (She Says) and I’m touchingly transported back to the past, the lyrics, “To light your mother’s cigarette, and to go to touch her hand…”, so touching, so beautiful.

I saw Elbow a few years ago at the Arena and there was a sense of detachment, the hall, too large, the stage, too far away despite the “vanity thrust” as Garvey christened it, which allowed him to venture far from the stage into the audience. Tonight it’s a much cosier affair with the big man just a few yards in front of us. They launch into Mirror Ball and he gets everyone to wave their arms about in unison; they don’t need much encouragement!

The band has announced an ‘experimental’ new album to be released in October this year and some obtuse posters dotted around the city seem to confirm this. Garvey: ‘We finished an album today – Craig Potter (Keyboards/vocals) produced it!”. It’s a beautiful track, uplifting and evocative with the lyric: “baby empires crumble all the time …” followed by the more familiar Kindling (Fickle Flame) from the Little Fictions album, with a call and response from Garvey who insists on shouting ‘beautiful’ all the way through, clearly enjoying the gig!

The next track opens like Children of the Revolution – The Birds, from Build a Rocket boy, before falling back into the familiar lulling theme of that album. Low-fi, but the crowd is transfixed as the big man sings to each and every one of them.

There is a touching tribute to two of Manchester’s greats who passed away during the past year. Jan Oldenburg who ran Night & Day and Scott Alexander from Big Hands and The Temple Bar. Garvey was a regular at all these venues which watched him grow from an unknown to one of the most familiar faces in Manchester.

Castlefield Bowl is situated in one of the oldest parts of Manchester just west of the Roman fort of Mamucium which Garvey tells us is named after the phrase “Breast Shaped Hill”, (a fact that is also relayed in the play New Dawn Fades, A Play About Joy Division and Manchester – today’s useful fact! – go and see it!). Numerous trains and trams slow down as they approach the venue on the overhead viaduct and the frontman waves at them, their little treat as the rain lifts and darkness shrouds the venue; the light show looking brighter and more magical as a result, spotlights picking faces out in the crowd. it’s a proper sing along as we roll into Sad Captains with its emotive lyric,  ‘and if it’s all we only pass this way but once, what a perfect waste of time…’

Garvey pauses to regale us with stories of getting pissed in some of Manchester’s most famous watering holes. “At Big Hands at 4 am, everyone was clapping behind the bar, I dived under the shutters and a taxi stopped inches from my face and I jumped in – that’s why the people were clapping – I have no recollection of it!” – tales of mad times in Manchester!

It’s nearing the end of the show but there are just a few more songs left to tug at the heartstrings. Lippy Kids, Garvey explains:  “the stage we all go through, for me it was on the corner of Chatsworth Close where we used to smoke!”. With its remarkable lyrics of fagging it on corners & grabbing “hungry kisses”  – words, I hadn’t appreciated before, just thinking ‘oh that’s one of their slow ones! ‘ and “I never perfected that simian stroll” as the picture of Ian Brown springs into my head! Everyone’s favourite Manc anthem, One Day Like This this brings the whole audience back to life in an instant and Garvey barely needs to sing a word.

For the finale he splits the audience into three sections, each one humming a different note, like some mad re-enactment of the ‘Close Encounters’ final scenes. All is made clear as the band dives into Ground For Divorce and nothing ever sounded this good standing in the centre of Manchester with a sea of faces peeking out of the darkness, illuminated by the stage. No song highlights Garvey’s remarkable lyrical ability than this one- ‘kiss me when my lips are thin’.

The band closes with Grounds for Divorce after the frontman leads a singalong to a passing train, windows open, the passengers waving and pointing their phone at the stage! In which other city can you board a train and be serenaded by Elbow!?

“Good night everyone, look after each other”

~

Incoming:

25 July 2019 – Sunday 28 July –  Not Festival, Aston Hill Farm, Matlock

1 August 2019 – Saturday 3 August – Tartan Heart Festival,  Belladrum Estate, Inverness

23-25 August 2019 – The Big Feastival,  Alex James’ Farm, Kingham

The Elbow website  and they are  also on Facebook  and tweet  as @elbow

You can find some videos on YouTube here

Words by Nigel Carr. More writing by Nigel on Louder Than War can be found in his Author’s archive. You can find Nigel on Twitter and Facebook and his own Website. Photographs by Mike Ainscoe, you can find Mike’s writing on Louder Than War at his author’s archive. He can be found on Facebook and his website is www.michaelainscoephotography.co.uk

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