It’s the same band, the same post-punk, but there’s something profoundly different about Adore Life; the clue is in the title. Where Silence Yourself was dark, philosophical and militaristic in its aphorisms, Adore Life is an altogether warmer experience. Savages’ intensity is matched with a tenderness that creates a disarmingly vulnerable listening experience. The title track ‘Adore’ embodies this fusion as Beth’s simple refrain reverberates across silence, Morrissey-esque in its plaintive eagerness; ‘I adore life’. However, the album is not wholly introspective; ‘T.I.W.Y.G’ is ferocious in its energy, with each drumbeat as sharp as a gunshot. Paradoxically, ‘Sad Person’ is altogether funnier, managing to be both acerbically cutting and uplifting. Adore Life is an absorbing and engaging release.
So Alt J are back once more with this triumphant video release. The video itself is a gem to behold: the cinematography is superb, the acting subtle yet highly evocative, and the overall tone of defiance that Nabil creates matches perfectly with the single’s insistent urgency. The ideas of consumption, fire and self-immolation were also fascinatingly brought together and laced with a subtle sense of release that was impressively portrayed by the actor. Alt J are back! Also I would just like to take this time to mention that personally I’m damn impressed with the Miley sample, sounded so well integrated with the track and an interesting break from their usual style. More of the same please!
From the moment of their conception the Leeds four-piece, Eagulls, have been making waves both in and out of the music scene. From their almost arrest as a result of harbouring a rotting pig brain in their basement, to their seething open letter to the bands of Coachella who ‘dress like Disney characters’ with ‘disgusting afrobeat sounds’. Eagulls had certainly made their mark on the public as a venomous, perhaps juvenile band, who genuinely and refreshingly didn’t give a fuck about media response.
This carelessness juvenility, however, is curiously absent from the album, in that almost every song featured despite it’s obvious scuzzy post-punk influence, still remains well crafted and bracing. The albums itself is a whirlwind, charging headfirst through ten tracks in what seems like a second, displaying the band’s trademark energy. The influence behind the songs and the lyrics still remains as gritty and depressing as ever, with ‘Amber Hands’ being about heroin addicts pawning their worldly possessions, and ‘Tough Luck’ being inspired by birth defects caused as a result of early 60’s wonder drug thalidomide, which was supposed to aid morning sickness in pregnant women.
Despite this, Eagulls manage to take these loaded, hopeless subjects, inject it with an infectious bass hook, relentless crashing cymbals and a savage yelp, so that their tracks wouldn’t seem out of place being wailed in a park in the summer by a group of drunken youths, staggering and embracing. In contrast to their fantastically twitchy single, ‘Nerve Endings’ which was loaded with a malevolent nervous energy, the album is altogether more uplifting.
With the excellent ‘Possessed’ the band manage to perfectly balance a hint of summery shoegaze, with the urgency of their own brand of post-punk so that the song achieves a sonic breadth that is exhilarating, allowing it to soar above the other songs in the album. ‘Possessed’ is a song that still remains caustic despite continuous listens, as the pure energy and cohesiveness of the band means that you can almost hear the sweat and the grime radiating from the speakers. The song acts a moment of clarity, an almost triumphant yell from the band: ‘Yes we’re fucked up, we have shit jobs and life’s boring. But fuck you.’ ‘Soulless Youth’ is also another of the album’s gems, wavering curiously between the sinister and the summery, whilst simultaneously building unbearably delicious tension. Eagulls talent lies in providing an auditory indulgence of hedonism, filth, and the prosaic, in a way that will rattle through your skull for weeks to come.
Apart from their self-affirmation that they are a normcore duo from VIOV – CHINATOWN, not much is known about the enigmatic twosome that is #XI. #XI ( hashtag X I? Number 11?) have released their latest single Lovecraft, with collaboration from musician Sundays, a gem which has been floating across the wide expanse that is the internet.
To get straight to the point, this single is an ethereal, otherworldly pleasure which can be described as nothing other than resolutely chill. The atmosphere that #XI create with their almost down-tempo inspired electronic beats makes for a wistfulness that wouldn’t be out of place on a sunny sunday afternoon at the close of a busy week. For me, the feeling that #XI create with this single is highly intriguing. Initially the cooing wordless vocals of Sundays combined with the haunting beat reminded me of a fuller, more textured version of a chillout deep house track. As a result of this, I was then subsequently surprised at the almost old-school guitar solo towards the end of the song that acted as a wordless response to the vocalist, which seemed to marry the electronic side of the track to a more traditional idea of guitar based indie music. An interesting single from the mysterious #XI, with a promise of more to come.
As I stood in the dimly lit, foam ceilinged venue room of The Louisiana, what struck me the most was the audience, not just in terms of diversity (ages ranged from what looked like fourteen to late fifties) but also in terms of energy. Before any of the supports even began to thrash at their guitars, the buzzing atmosphere foreshadowed the intensity that was to be Eagulls’ set.
The night began with an energetic set from Milo’s Planes, opening with the racing drum fill of ‘Vultures’ which injected the room with a hefty dose of energetic punk, and resulted some rather over-enthusiastic head banging from several audience members. Despite technical issues, namely the front man tuning the wrong string three times and then proceeding to forlornly admit to his error, they left the stage on a high. Their blinding, reverb-heavy cover of The Velvet Underground’s ‘Sister Ray’ seemed to hang deliciously in the air – and my eardrums, long after the set was over. The second support,Autobahn, sounded like the moodier, existential older brother of Milo’s Planes, with singer Craig Johnson crashing through the set like a debauched madman, regularly snarling into the crowd.
By the time Eagulls were set to play, voices were raised, hair was being tied back, sleeves were being rolled up, and elbows were primed and ready for what was to be an exhilarating set. From the very first song, the raw energy of the band seemed to transform the room into a brutal yet overwhelmingly joyful miasma of limbs, fists and sweat. Eagulls’ unbridled ferocity made for what could only be described as a borderline religious experience. Frontman George Mitchell’s growling passionate vocals provoked a trance-like frenzy from the crowd, all of whom seemed to grasp this sinister energy and throw it back at the band in a primeval display of adoration.
photos (c) Louise Brady
The pure urgency of their songs shone throughout the set, particularly with crowd pleaser ‘Nerve Endings’ which prompted a barrage of feral moshers to launch themselves headfirst into the crowd. Despite it’s charged racing nature, what stuck with me with ‘Nerve Endings’ was its sense of honesty. In previous interviews Mitchell has described the song as an expression of his anxiety, and there was definitely a sense of cathartic release during the song, caught up in the infectious, relentless bass line and lashings of guitar feedback. The summery vibes of ‘Moulting’ also created a sense of camaraderie within the pit as several sweaty youths moshed in unison, with their arms laced around each other’s shoulders.
At the end of the set swarms of clammy teenagers and adults alike, who had previously never met, were slapping each other’s backs in fervent displays of solidarity. This overriding intensity of experience seems to be something that Eagulls thrive in and feed off, making them an electrifying, dizzying force to be reckoned with.
As soon as I stepped foot in the colossal foyer of Colston Hall I could almost taste the waves of excitement radiating across the venue. The atmosphere was packed with a heady rush of anticipation. The crowds of people congregating at the doors were tipsy and merry, engaging in fervent conversation with other drunken revelers, preparing for their fix of chill house beats. You may be asking yourself – who was this anticipation for? However, if you are a sentient human being then you are most probably aware of the massive hype that surrounded Bonobo’s highly anticipated, sold out show.
The set opened with support DJ Catching Flies animatedly flipping switches and pressing buttons to create a sultry smooth tone. His breezy song ‘Grey Skies’ created an overarching sensation of relaxation that made virtually everyone in the crowd nod their heads emphatically. Catching Flies’ timed his drops well, plunging the crowd into atmospheric moments of calm. His layered vocal samples, and brass interludes made for a vibe not far from the warm dusky nights of summer. His cheekily subtle steel drum sample was also effective and vaguely stylistically similar to Jamie xx’s ‘Far Nearer’.
By the time Catching Flies’ had finished his set, the crowd’s anticipation was almost palpable, so when the downtempo legend himself stepped onstage with a greeting of “Hey Bristol, It’s been a long time!” the crowds cheer for Bonobo became deafening. He then promptly opened the set with ‘Cirrus’, which made the venue erupt in flailing arms. The bass of the track combined with the bells made for a truly euphoric listening experience. This was heightened as the song became amplified a thousand-fold by the soaring acoustics of Colston Hall creating an all-encompassing embrace of sound. Bonobo’s use of material from Black Sands also made for an engaging set as the whirling, danceable beats of ‘We Could Forever’ seemed to rouse most of the sitting audiences to their feet to jam the night away.
photo from colstonhall.org
Bonobo’s live band was chosen perfectly as each band member worked in perfect unison to deliver a slick, tight set. The drummer in particular blew the crowd away showcasing his almost ridiculous levels of talent during a freestyle drum solo. The show’s visuals also matched the precision of the band, each light highlighting the mesmerising nature of the music so that it seemed almost as though we could catch a glimpse of another world behind the hypnotic lighting. This was seen in full force during ‘Transits’ as the lights dimmed to a soothing orange glow, as though the stage was bathed in candlelight, highlighting the intimacy of the song.
The experience of watching Bonobo is a difficult one to pin down, as each song seems like its own universe, provoking a kind of temptation to lose yourself in each of the discrete moments of his songs. Bonobo’s music is that of introspection, but the communal experience of it at Colston hall seemed to create a feeling that a momentous secret was shared with each of the audience members. This sense of awe was showcased perfectly by the impressed murmurs of a couple sitting next to me, who looked stunned before simply concluding with the following: “That was fucking brilliant.”
With their extensive back catalogue of studio albums, singles, and one-off releases, Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds tuck another live album under their belt with the recent release of ‘Live from KCRW’. For this album the distinctive deadpan and charged performance that characterises the band’s sound has been stripped down to its bare bones, with the intimacy of the live session for LA’s KCRW radio station translating beautifully across the entirety of the album. Through this unadorned performance, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds manage to deliver the complexity of the songs in the most simplistic and effective way possible.
The album eases you in with the broody guitar strums and crooning vocals of Nick Cave on ‘Higgs Boson Blues’. Despite the minimalism of the setting, Cave still retains aspects of performance throughout the album and manages to convey them subtly yet effectively in this song, with his cry of “Here comes Lucifer!” managing to strike the perfect balance between fear and resignation. Cave’s lyric about Miley Cyrus also begins to sound particularly topical in this rendition, and manages to crack a few laughs from the audience.
‘Higgs Boson Blues’ is then chased down with ‘Far From Me’, which ends with the audience enthusiastically attempting to guess the next song, and some brief but well delivered banter from Nick Cave himself. The piano is then introduced with ‘The Mercy Seat’ which seems to create a grandiose atmosphere, perfect for the numerous bible references, highlighting the authority with which Cave delivers the lyric “a eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth”. The piano is also offset by Warren Ellis’ beautifully melancholic violin interludes which deserve special mention. The hauntingly eerie ‘Push the Sky Away’ from the recently released eponymous album, is also another highlight. The layered singing, and sparse instrumental really stays with you for long after the album ends, with Cave’s hypnotic vocals being the highlight of the sparse track.
Despite these excellently executed tracks, songs such as ‘And No Longer Shall we Part’ fail to make an impression, with Cave’s usually lustrous vocals sounding strained, and the percussion almost sounding gimmicky and twee. The closing track ‘Jack the Ripper’ is well performed, but seems to jar completely with the atmosphere of the album as a whole, ending the album with a confused burst of energy.
Overall Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds have created a well-crafted album. When the songs succeed they soar into the bounds of brilliance, yet some off-key song choices prevent the album from reaching it’s full potential. The album ends with the enthusiastic sated clapping of the audience, yet on the contrary, it left me with the slight murmurings of disappointment.
Originally written for Bristol Live – See original article here.
Swirling, mesmerizing jams, psychedelic bluesy riffs, a bassist with fingers faster than a flash of lightning, who else could it be but White Denim? Fresh off the back of album release number six – the jazzy “Corsicana Lemonade” – I stood waiting in a sold out crowd at the Fleece to see this hypnotic band in action. Before the support act had even begun, a duo next to me began a heated discussion, both of them enthusiastically affirming that White Denim as a band have one of the tightest instrumentals they had ever experienced live. I privately raised an eyebrow and decided to judge their brash claims after I had seen the band play.
The support were a band called Syd Arthur playing a short, technically complex set, laced at intervals with an electric ukulele solo. Although obviously skilled musicians, there was something slightly too twee about the band, and so I was left (slightly impatiently) waiting for White Denim to make their appearance. And appear they did. White Denim opened their set with a swagger and a bang, starting off with the summery, upbeat rhythms of “Anvil Everything” a perfect choice, immediately putting a hazy smile on the faces of the majority of the crowd. This was immediately chased by the building, funky tempo of “I Start To Run”, which was then followed by the heavier riffs of “Corsicana.” White Denim’s set was characteristic of their musical style, with experimental jams in almost every song, which although made for a fantastic musical texture, was perhaps slightly too dense at some points, leading me to become slightly distracted. My attention was however, recaptured with the more brawny tracks such as “Shake shake shake” and crowd pleaser “Pretty Green”.
The skill with which they handled their impressive back catalogue of six albums, made for a confident set, and brought me back to the insistent conversation of the duo I mentioned earlier. The tightness of the band as a musical unit really was striking, with almost every single song being delivered with the precise blow of music exactness that left me stunned. As a live band, White Denim really do go for the jugular. It goes without saying that White Denim are skilled performers, but there was something that left me wanting more after the gig, almost as though the excessive jamming in the middle of each song alienated the audience and prevented any kind of musical closure. Regardless, White Denim’s technical brilliance means that despite these drawbacks they are forgiven. It truly was a gig as captivating as their music.
Broken drumsticks, snarling Glaswegian accents, and manic gestures all before the first chorus of the first song; ladies and gentlemen I would like to introduce you to The Amazing Snakeheads. Straight out of Glasgow and brazenly dominating the stage at the Old Blue Last without a support band, the overpowering stage presence of the front man, Dale Barclay, immediately sets the precedent for what proves to be an excellent set.
As someone who needs to be told to be at an event three hours earlier than it actually occurs to avoid being hideously late, the tables had turned this time, and my friend Joy and I had ended up at The Old Blue Last ridiculously early for The Amazing Snakeheads gig. For such a small venue, the room filled up surprisingly quickly, allowing the band to get stuck in as soon as “Hello, we’re The Amazing Snakeheads” was growled unceremoniously into the microphone.
After warming up the crowd with “Vampire”, they get stuck into “The Truth Serum”, which displays Jordon’s brilliantly acerbic drumming. This is then chased down by the sinisterly alluring “Where is my Knife?” and the loud, loud guitar screeches and unrelenting bass of William on “Losing My Mind”. The set list was perfectly done; placing their most well known song “Testifying Time” towards the end for maximum impact, and as expected it went down a messy, guttural treat. For me the thing that really stood out during their set was the quality of their lesser-known songs, as well as their singles, a sign of good things to come, I’m sure.
If I were to criticize anything about the gig, it would be the awful audience. Although the room was almost packed, and everyone was clearly enjoying themselves, there seemed to be a weird atmosphere of restraint throughout the room, so much so that one guy at the front found it necessary to shout “LIVEN UP YOU BORING FUCKERS!” and I found myself agreeing.
So if you haven’t checked out The Amazing Snakeheads, continue to ignore them at your own peril. This trio is destined for big things.Overall Rating – 8/10
Walking into a busy restaurant after a lecture always has its perks, a sandwich perhaps, or a riveting conversation with a friend… However, something I didn’t quite expect when I walked in to Friska on Victoria Street was a gig by the Mancunian four-piece that is PINS. PINS have been (somewhat unsurprisingly) compared to Siouxie Sioux, Savages, and Jesus and Mary Chain, and have influences that range from Crystal Stilts to Hole, so I was excited to hear them live (albeit in a decidedly unusual venue – someone opposite me was nodding along to the music at the same time as inhaling a burrito – I still can’t tell if I’m repulsed or impressed). PINS lineup consists of Faith Holgate on vocals and guitar, Lois McDonald on guitar, Anna Donigan on bass, and Lara Williams on drums.
PINS threw the audience into the deep end from the start, beginning with the deceptively catchy “Get With Me” whose chorus could easily be demanding control of your brain for the rest of the day. They also played “Say To Me” which had a satisfying guitar solo, and coupled along with Faith’s resolute vocals (which acted almost as a narrative for the set) elevated the song, so that it somehow managed to marry together different strands of garage, punk and post-punk, to create a skillful track. “Lost Lost Lost” was also another favourite of mine as Faith’s yelping broke the texture of the song nicely, creating a moment of vulnerability in what is an otherwise powerful song. The group harmonies were flawless throughout, and were an aspect of the gig that really struck me as impressive.
“I hope we haven’t ruined your lunch with live music!” The bassist, Anna Donigan smirks at the oblivious diners at the other end of the bistro. No PINS you most certainly didn’t.
BLOOMHOUSE MUSIC 