Quiet night in with the Beeb

I’m all at home in the country, nothing to do, since its too dark for croquet, and watching the Beeb’s coverage of Glasto.

Amy Winehouse is easily being upstaged by her fantastic backing singers. She’s sounds little better than the South American drag queen version of her.

The Racounters sounded weirdly subdued. Jack White still looks like Elvis from his cameo in Walk Hard.

James Blunt looks a lot like Conor.

Hot Chip don’t translate well to TV.

And although the Beeb do fantastic coverage of the main stage, they rarely touch upon the more obscure acts that make festivals magical.

Glasto didn’t sell out this year. Tickets were still available this morning. In the absence of a big name headliner, aside from Jay Z, there simply wasn’t the draw for tickets. Also the incredibly ill thought out ticketing systems and the wall of a few years ago also seem to have alienated fans. Mostly, however, there just seem to be much better options out there. Bestival on the Isle of Wight, The Secret Garden Party and the Womad Festivals all can lay claim to the original spirit of Glasto, and Leeds and Reading can often rival it for line up. And outside of the UK there’s Roskilde, our own Electric Picnic and the ones in Poland, Serbia and Spain… There’s only so many people that can go to festivals, and way too much choice. Whats the bets there’s a solid indie rock headliner next year, a big beast like Radiohead.

Underground @ Road Records and Filmbase

As part of the Darklight music festival ‘Underground’, an exhibition examining the changes in Irish and international independent music over the last fifteen years is launching tomorrow. Through documentary showings, live music (including a street party outside Road Records!) and an exhibition magazine, Underground aims to track “the relationship between the local and the global, society and technology” and to chart “the erasure of the boundary between the public and the private”. More info over at State.

Details:

LAUNCH STREET PARTY@ Road Records, Fri 27 June, 6.30pm
EXHIBITION @ Road Records, Fade St, Dublin 2
SCREENINGS @ Filmbase, Curved St, Temple Bar, Dublin 2

SCREENINGS:
Filmbase will screen a selection of music related films over the opening Darklight weekend:

Fri 27 June: 4pm: Double bill:
Irish premiere “Shellshock Rock” (1979)
Plus guest talk from director John T. Davis
“The Stars are Underground” (1996)

Sat 28 June: 8pm: “Last Night at the Funnel” directed by Stephen Rennicks (1999)

EXHIBITION:
Artists include: Garrett Phelan (IRL), Sarah Pierce (IRL), Adam Sutherland (UK), Francis McKee (Scotland), Robin Watkins (UK), Angela Detanico & Rafael Lain (Brazil), & Stephen Rennicks (Irl). Curated by Peter Maybury (IRL) & Dennis McNulty (IRL).
EXAMPLE OF EXHIBITION PIECE:
Artist: GARRETT PHELAN PRESENTS
Title: ‘Broadcaster - (DONAL DINEEN PORTRAIT NO.1)
Medium: an original 7″ Vinyl picture disc with sound

My Bloody Valentine live at the Roundhouse

On Friday, June 20th 2008 it lasts for 14 minutes. Significantly shorter than the reputed 40 minute epics that the band would subject their audiences to back in the early 90’s but even this truncated version elicits the most remarkable reactions from the crowd at Camden’s Roundhouse. Some simply can’t take it and within a couple of minutes bolt for the doors; others stare glassy eyed at the stage, utterly transfixed as the noise washes over them. Some, as I do, throw their arms into the air and fruitlessly scream with all the might in their lungs into the maelstrom though the only evidence of our efforts is strained faces, I can barely hear myself, forget about anyone else. Eventually it gets to be just too much to take and I cover my ears only to become aware of just how much the low end is battering my body and I figure that being aware of the ordeal that my ears are going though is preferable to feeling like I’m being beaten so I take my hands away from my head and I let it all back in again. It’s the most astonishing live music experience I’ve ever had. Then, after what is just under 15 minutes of jet engine shaming volume My Bloody Valentine kick back into the final section of “You Made Me Realise” before walking off the stage. They haven’t spoken a word to the crowd all night.

I’d read about My Bloody Valentine’s extended live noise section in the past but I’d never really understood it, it seemed like an utterly self indulgent idea. Much of what’s so special about their music, especially on the Loveless material is the barely tangible beauty that strains to be heard amidst the washed out noise and gently whispered vocals, the idea of continuously playing a single chord pitch shifted as low as it could go at terrifying volume (128.9 dB on the night at one point) seemed clumsy and blunt, like using a sledge hammer to finish off a sculpture but to be there for it; suddenly, like all the rest of the otherworldly noises that are bouncing round Kevin Shields’ brain, for some reason it makes sense.

But enough about the closing song, what about what came before it? “Better than I’d ever dared to hope they’d be,” was how I described it to a friend on the way out afterwards and that’s what I’m sticking with now. Some of what was on the recording of the first of a pair of “open rehearsals” the band played the previous week at the ICA in London that made it’s way online last week sounded wonderful, and to be frank some of it sounded dreadful. This tempered my expectations somewhat of what to expect from them but from the moment the near metronomic Colm O’Ciosoig counted in the intro to “Only Shallow” I couldn’t find fault with anything they did. Any and all kinks from the week before had been smoothed out.

At this point I realise that this thing is in danger of falling into the territory of the rantings of an over-enthusiastic and rambling fanboy. I’m on the verge of smashing a sheet of (imaginary) emergency glass behind which is the word transcendent so that I can get to it and use it to describe just how good the gig was so I’d better wrap things up; My Bloody Valentine were, are and, god-willing in the future will be, fucking amazing, the Electric Picnic can’t come soon enough.

Guest post by:

Ian, Thrill Pier

Ewan Pearson Giveaway

The good people at Shock have given us 2 tickets to give away for Ewan Pearson (Partial Arts/Berlin) this Friday in Kennedy’s. Support comes from Sol O’Carroll and Jon Averill. I can’t think of anything more imaginative right now, so the first 2 people to leave a comment below will win. (Please include an email address)

Doors are at 10.30pm, and if you’re not one of the lucky two, tickets are €15 + €1 booking fee from City Discs, Temple Bar.

In the meantime you can check out some of Ewan’s wonderful mixes here and here.

Melt Banana: Crawdaddy June 20th

“We are Melt Banana from Tokyo, Japan!” shouts Yasuko Onuki as the band begin to furiously blast out hardcore noise-rock to the largest and sweatiest crowd I’ve seen in Crawdaddy for a long time. The place is jam-packed with obvious devotees who recklessly mosh to one of the best live bands around. That is if you like ear-shattering volume, minute long songs and surgical masks.

Before the show I was just as sceptical as you probably are right now. Melt Banana’s albums are notorious for being pretty inaccessible without investing a serious amount of commitment and my brief flirtation with them left me feeling apprehensive about what was to come. So it was with a healthy degree of fear that I listened to Party Weirdo, the excellent support, and waited for what I expected to be an hour and half of aural assault.

And that’s exactly what I got. Loud, short bursts of crazily distorted and layered guitar from Agata (who in his trademark surgical mask cut a pretty vultureific figure). Half-rap shouty vocals and killer poses from lead lady Yasuko. All accompanied by rumbling bass and frantic drumming. It amounted to a terrifying noise and peaked at the point Yasuko announced they were going to play seven short songs, which they delivered in around roughly two and a half minutes.

It was all that I expected it to be. Yet I didn’t expect that I would enjoy it so much. In fact I was completely won over by the sheer force of the music. The thing is that at points they would hit upon riffs and grooves that any regular band would turn into fantastic songs. In Melt Banana’s hands they were swiftly and deliberately deconstructed. It was captivating knowing they could easily create great songs but refused to. Instead they pushed these musical nuggets to the extremities of speed and sound. They created a constantly changing tension that combined with Agata’s theatrics, Yasuko’s slight tongue in cheek humour and the pure energy of the bass and drums all amounted to a great gig.

It may not sound like everyone’s cup of tea, but if you’re ever sick to death of the same old, same old indie/electronic/folksy introspection that pervades alternative music Melt Banana provide a good antidote. A shot of highly distilled rock.

John Matthias: Stories from the Watercooler

John Matthias
Stories from the Watercooler

Matthias is not only a schoolmate of Thom Yorke: he also played strings on The Bends. Yet his preoccupations are more in keeping with Yorke’s solo project – ‘The Eraser’- than with that other band from Oxford. Disillusionment with modern life is coupled with banjo and harmonium accompaniment- an arrangement that Matthias’ modernist poet namesake would enjoy. Amid Cold Cut’s sparse production Matthias’ somber, gravelly voice tells tales of terrorism (‘One Sunny Morning in the No-Fly Zone), small town rivalry (King of a Small Town) and busking (‘Stocktaking’). Wry lyrics sometimes belittle content- not least when he describes bombs with Britney Spears’ face painted on them. Ultimately, however, the suite of ’12 short stories put to song’ overcomes such obstacles.

‘Stories from the Watercooler’ offers an experience akin to visiting a house where you once lived. Things that were once familiar have changed, and things that you were once assured of have become unstable. Lyrically alienating, but melodically embracing, it’s a record that is at odds with its surroundings.

Tindersticks: The Hungry Saw

Tindersticks
The Hungry Saw
Beggar’s Banquet Records

‘The Hungry Saw’, Tindersticks’ 7th album, was recorded in a home studio in France, where lead singer Stuart Staples now lives, because he felt ‘hemmed-in’ in London. It shows. The record aims for Scott Walker darkness and melancholia but instead, gets stuck in mid-life crisis territory. Where Stuart Staples’ baritone was once laconic and knowing, it now sounds like a morose bachelor uncle at a family Christmas party.

Melodically, and lyrically, ‘The Hungry Saw’ covers well-trodden ground. Ostensibly a song about the loss of innocence, and containing po-faced lyrics that speak of a ‘regression into the womb to find nothing at all’, ‘Boobar Come Back to Me’ is the height of self-indulgence. Meanwhile, ‘The Flicker of a Little Girl’ nods its head to the melody from Echo and the Bunnymen’s ‘Bring on the Dancing Horses’. End track ‘The Turns We Took’ briefly reverts to Tindersticks’ earlier, more experimental ‘My Sister’ years, but unfortunately veers back to the middle-aged plod of the rest of the album all too quickly.

The instrumentation saves the album however, thanks to strings arranger Lucy Wilkins. The pedal notes, creeping bass and tinkly upper-register pianos are reminiscent of Nick Cave’s soundtrack work- especially on the opening track ‘Introduction’ and ‘On the Other Side of the World’. The swooping violins on the final track and the Mc Garrigle Sisters-esque haunting backing vocals on ‘All the Love’ give the listener hope that Tindersticks haven’t lost their talent, they’ve just mislaid it.

Girl Talk’s New Album is out, and Free

Turntable Laptop legend and hero of the copyleft movement, Girl Talk’s new album ‘Feed the Animals‘ is available and, realistically, free. Pittsburgh native Gillis, has ‘done a Radiohead‘.

At first listen (literally), it seems similar enough to 2006’s Night Ripper, if a little less anarchic - complete with illegal samples and inventive rapid-fire juxtapositions - think Hot Chip over the Cardigans, expect samples of everything from Soldja Boy to Kelly Clarkson.

Girltalk says..

My fourth full-length album, Feed The Animals, is out today! You can download the digital version (320 Kpbs) for whatever price you want at: www.illegalart.net. If you are reading this prior to 7:00 AM eastern USA time, then the page may not be ready. We’re fine-tuning some last minute things. If you pay over $5, you get an added bonus of one big mp3 file with all of the tracks connected. If you pay over $10, then you are pre-ordering a physical copy of the CD, which will be out later. All of the tracks are streaming on my myspace, but the album is intended to be listened as one continuous track.
This can be easily accomplished by getting the mp3s from Illegal Art, thanks for your support!

Sincerely
Gregg

Pick it up, and if you can, pay the dear boy too.

Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy - Live at Vicar Street

Vicar Street’s full of wage slaves and moneyed ex-hips, most drunk and rowdy. A few in the industry are here too, including (according to Bren) Dan Deacon and Si Schroder. Following an amazing set by Baby Dee, Bonnie “Prince” Billy shambles onto stage with his band. They’re a ramshackle lot, the percussionist looks like a refugee from the Gypsy Kings, the double bassist looks plain bored, I’m sure the guitarist was in Mercury Rev and the violinist seems utterly out of place, given that she’s actually quite attractive. Bonnie “Prince” Billy (appearing as part of the Future Days Festival) himself is dressed all in grubby white, jeans and T, both much too small for him, neither attempting to disguise his paunch. His hair and beard are unkempt, giving the impression of feral 1890’s trailer trash. He’s on form, despite all this, lightening quick with the drunken audience:

Drunken ‘Office’ Drone - I’ve shaved my penis!
Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy - Did you shave it off?

Quick as a snap, an instinctive entertainer he apes and gesticulates wildly, screwing up his face and amazingly agile eyebrows throughout the set. The mic’s about six inches too low for him, so he has to stoop in each time to sing, leaning forward, contorted. He’s in fine voice too. It can often seem, especially on his recorded work, that Bonnie “Prince” Billy is hiding his voice in duets or with layers of backing singers. Whilst these are present tonight, his voice is strong and piercing, close to sharpness, which adds great vulnerability and humour to the performance. Instrumentally the band are tight, especially percussionist Michael Zerang whose instinctive and restrained playing keep the rest on a leash. Although they don’t stray far from the original material, the band’s playing carefully interweaves and counter points the vocal harmonies. Oldhams’ electric guitar is rarely used, and then only to punctuate and accentuate rather than dominate, and the acousticity lends a timelessness and sentimentality to the whole experience.

Emmett Kelly and Jennifer Hutt, playing guitars and violin respectively, sing beautifully. I did Kelly an injustice saying he was in Mercury Rev; he just looks it, but he has a real talent and I would like to see him tour here alone.

The jaunty bombasticism of R Kelly’s ‘The Worlds Greatest‘ takes on a precariousness and aspirational quality, making it a celebration not merely of one man but of all of us. It is in such moments of quiet, when Oldham voice is most clear, the backing music and singing seeming to push him on rather than join him, that the night is at its best. He is so at home on stage: bunny hopping and miming, and yet backs up this knowing irony with real substance, genuine emotion. His penultimate song is a spine tingling rendition of ‘I See A Darkness’. Its a brilliant song anyway, but there, in Vicar Street, wearing clothes too small for him, flip flops and facial hair stolen from a sergeant major in the Boer War, with drunken office workers and the tragic posers, I See A Darkness shines brilliant, turning what could have seemed glib, or fake, to something amazing.

Baby Dee - Live at Vicar St

Support for Will Oldham at Sundays gig was provided by the enigmatic and unexpectedly wonderful Baby Dee. Antony Hegarty with a sense of humour, Baby Dee begins with the delicately beautiful ‘Look at Me’, on piano with Cello accompaniment. As the set progresses, it opens into a rich and full bodied four-piece cabaret, as Dee flits from piano to harp.

As a transsexual Baby Dee is ludicrous; cracking with oafish masculinity, like John Lithgow in the World According to Garp. As an artist she excels, weaving burlesque fairy tales that leave Vicar Street breathless - literally the venue, exhibiting an appreciation of the show far greater than that of the goateed office milksop audience, who blithy gab throughout.

Bren compares Baby Dee’s arrangements to Tom Waits’ Rain Dog LP. Dee shares too with Waits a melodramatic inconstant vocal quality, a shifting, improvisational performing style that keeps her band visibly nervous. Dee’s voice fuses the melodic unpredictability and throat catching tenderness of Xiu Xiu’s Jamie Stewart with the tortured expressive sweetness of folk nymph Joanna Newsome. At the same time, her irreverent nuttiness belies a tight vaudevillian professionalism, reminiscent of oldball gypsy cabaret triumvirate ‘Tiger Lillies’.

Finishing off with the outrageous and captivating ‘Big Titty Bee Girl’, featuring the unforgettable line ‘You just can’t keep a good albino down’, Baby Dee delivers deliciously rakish musical theatricality, undercut with adorable self deprecation and gallant elegance.

Baby Dee’s fifth LP, the biographical ‘Safe Inside the Day‘ (produced incidentally by Will Oldham, and featuring a host of musoratti from Max Moston to Matt Sweeney), is out now on Drag City.

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