Oh Hai Humble Pie, Yeahs, I’ll Eat You Lolz

Here at Analogue, we’re not afraid to change our minds. Nor are we afraid to say that we, perhaps, might have been wrong. Case in point: Brightly lauded newcomer Florence and the Machine.

When I heard her debut single for the first time last summer, I began to Hulk out. Everything was wrong with it, from the constant constant constant radio airplay, to the psuedo-quirky video, to the furore over whether or not it was about domestic violence or not.

Florence and the Machine - Kiss With a Fist

My mind began to change a little - only a little-mind you, when I saw her and her band play live in London last October. They were, I muttered quietly to myself, not as annoying as I’d previously thought. This track in particular, was actually quite good.

Florence and the Machine - Dog Days

With the explosion of ‘Best New Band/Group/Cat’s Name of 2008′ Lists, Flo and the Machines’ name was bandied about even more, resulting in me re-treading my hasty decision’s tracks. I’m glad I did though, kid’s got talent. Live, she’s more basic than one’d imagine - no four tracks and looping pedals, a CD’s how she rolls:

Florence and the Machine - Lungs

It’s a typical case of F.S.S - First Single Syndrome: When one can’t stand a band’s first release, but consequently likes most other things that they put out. Off the top of my head (and I wish I could think of a cooler band/song, but it’s early in the morning)- Alien Ant Farm are commonly cited as an example of this. I’m sure there are many better examples though, which is where you lovely readers enter. Ideas in the comments section please.

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