The Crookes, Brighton's The Latest MusicBar, 30th November 2009
Anyone that knows me well, will know why I jumped up and down with excitement when I decided to see my pals Stick in a Pot play at The Latest MusicBar. It's all in the name, and that name is music press magic in 2010. It's The Crookes and if you haven't read about them yet, you will.
Unfortunately, due to the promoters getting in a muddle with the timing, I only got to see the two Stick in a Pot tracks. Oliver Barron's 'Alice in Wonderland Grin' made me wonder what I'd missed. It sounded acoustically wonderful and I was a touch gutted to not see the rest.
With the Sticks by my side, I stood mouth agog for second support act The Last Carnival. Russell Williams has swagger, rock moves and a drooling adolescent following. In my imagination, I could see lighters held aloft and the closing scene of a nineteen eighties American teen-flick. After the set, I listened as two girls excitedly discussed how to accost a Williams. Their time came and he was both charming and courteous. Damp knickers and star struck smiles melted in his wake.
Oh what a genre jumping journey this night would be. The corners of my mouth turned upwards and thank Apollo, the God of Music and Poetry, for entering the ears of fresh-faced Sheffield boys. The Crookes indeed.
Superior memories of the 1980s music scene flashed before my eyes. The Housemartins risen again, in new skin, new turn-ups and with a touch of skiffle up their sleeves. The jangly guitars of this new band took me, held me and gently battered me with love. With absolutely no idea of what to expect from The Crookes, I was as chuffed as a chaffinch on heat.
The near extinct BBC6 Music love 'em, The NME has started to court them and independent music stations across Europe and the USA are giving them air-time. They've yet to release an album and Steve Lamacq can barely contain himself.
The music halts, George Waite steps forward. As he claps and he sings, it becomes apparent that his voice alone could stop traffic.
The Crookes will steal your heart. It's 1986 all over again and Johnny Marr plays guitar.
Son of Robot were in support. Son of Robot are a Brighton band that seriously like to party. Swinging from the lighting rig and leaping about like apes, they don’t believe in playing second fiddle. They combine The Macc Lads humour with high energy rock. Songs about accidently falling for drag queens and chants of ‘Get Your Nipples Out’ attract a large local following. Son of Robot left and the room rapidly emptied. One hundred sex starved groupies were probably backstage with their baps out.
A timid Bang! Bang! Eche! took their place. Now, don’t get me wrong, I know that Bang Bang Eche! are known for their spiky live shows back in New Zealand. A long way from home and playing to a mostly empty room is a tough card to draw. Holy fuck eyes and youthful faces belied their skanky lyrics and electro-punk riffs.
James Sullivan was not to be beat. He led from behind, hitting the shit out of his drum kit and sending out a fierce rhythmic lesson to the non-believers in the room. The band followed suit, and self-belief slowly took control. By the end we were all dancing, all fifteen of us. They were the superior act, and those of us left behind basked in our secret knowledge.
They are young and they have promise. Time will tell how much. With Bang! Bang! Eche! it could go either way. They’re not there yet, but they should keep trying.
Fabpants Recommends: I’m not going to recommend Bang! Bang! Eche!’s Fist full of Dollars. There are far better tunes. I watched A Fistful of Dynamite (Duck You Sucker) again on Friday. Now, this is music.
Dan Michaelson and The Coastguards, Brighton Albert, 20th October 2010
Unfortunately, I found this whole evening a little bit middle aged and middle of the road. The Absentee EP Donkey Stock, first alerted me to Dan Michaelson, and because I love it so, it has coloured my view of everything that he does. Dan Michaelson and The Coastguards released an album called Saltwater in March 2009. It didn't blow me away, but is lovely in its own right. Well, in the end the highlight of my night out at The Albert was the cover of The Velvet Underground's Pale Blue Eyes. It shouldn't be that way. Dan Michaelson and The Coastguards can do better.
A colleague declared that Wavves make a horrible noise. She might be right. Their latest album is blindingly bad, but their debut had an edge to admire. Was it worth £8 to find out? Yes, it was.
I would have happily skipped support Teen Sheikhs. Horrible noise = tick.
Wavves Brighton Audio set was fantastic. It was also awful. It was fantastically awful. Totalling twenty-five minutes, including much onstage banter about which songs they could actually play, the set was eight times as long as the time we waited for it, and a delight.
I stood before them, with an inner smile, throughout. For two out of the three band members it was their second Wavves show, after one practice ever. Drummer, Zach Hill, had broken his arm, and Jay Reatards former band mates stepped up. Fair play. I admire their balls.
Wavves may have been ramshackle, but they were much better than one might imagine. The drummer, Billy Hayes, was damn tight, maintained a fast pace and used his bash cans well. The bass guitarist took his lead, and well, Nathan Williams was so open and honest about the general disarray, it was charming. He rocked out in the way that makes him unique and special. So what if the music lacked cohesion. Unity came in the form of three lads giving it their best under adverse circumstances. They made a ramshackle row, but it sparkled.
The show must go on and, in a rough and ready way, it did. Requests were taken and played, perhaps not perfectly, but...
... Wavves did their best. Some bands don’t even try.
On my way out, a disgruntled punter was begging for a refund, ‘But, I came to see Zach Hill’. Why didn’t he ask for a refund twenty-five minutes before? He watched the band throughout, because on a night of no rules, you never can tell.
It’s April 2010. This year I have slept in a real bed for nineteen nights; in total. Those were the last nineteen, and – boy – does it make a difference? Does it ever!
At the start of March, I enjoyed a magical and perfect week in Munich, and the local surrounds. A crisp white sheet covered the land and made my eyes simply ping with delight. Walking through the Englischer Garten, Munich’s beautiful and quirky playground, lost in my own world, I involuntary kissed the air. Life at its most simple can create an unexpected moment of awe.
In Munich, existence was perfect. In the care of fine friends, I enjoyed a tasty snow-b-q, embraced snowboarding for simpletons and a spent a leisurely day bobbing about in warm water and rushing down slippery slides.
Shortly after returning to Blighty, my family was hit by great tragedy. My rush to tell you all about the joys of being back in a real bed and of idyllic snow-capped holidays was halted. But here I am. I’ve brushed myself down. I’m back on the saddle and as in love with life as ever.
The jumble of emotions that I feel, interlaced and concurrent, is touchingly wonderful. Sometimes I’m like an outsider looking in at myself, whilst simultaneously being. The gnawing loss, that bubbles up and down, makes every moment that has been, and will be, more precious. My cousin is gone, but so many reasons for awe and wonder are not. Warts an’ all life is spectacularly blinding. It’s blinding, my cousin would fervently say, in a glorious allusion to the fucking fantastic.
One day soon, I plan to tell you all about the many, many gigs that I’ve failed to share - but not now.
Instead, with just over 2 weeks left to see the show, I want to recommend ‘The Real Van Gogh: The Artist and His Letters’, at the Royal Academy in London. Back in February, I saw the show with a friend that I had not seen for many years, and, combined, the venture proved a real treat.
Usually, as I stumble through an art exhibition, my feet and mind tire, and I lose all focus. The first efforts get my full attention and the last a dismal attempt not to yawn. Not so with ‘The Real Van Gogh’.
As soon as I read the first of Van Gogh’s letters, I was hooked, as if reading a life affirming book. Quite inspiringly, Van Gogh only started his vocation as an artist aged 27. From there on it he made it his mission to master the tools and techniques of the trade. Like me, he came from flatlands and countryside, and at times his early attempts made me joyously homesick. It wasn’t the final, bold, art on canvas that struck home for me, but the delicate sketches wrapped in the love and exultation of merely trying, wrapped in the words that he would craft and send to his dear brother Theo. Van Gogh shot himself dead, aged 37.
This is a neglected blog. I’m protesting against blogger because the search function is fucked and has been for a year.
Okay, that’s not entirely true. The search function is fucked, but I’ve been BUSY....!
I haven’t slept in a bedroom or in a real bed since 2009. A severe dry rot episode, and its removal, is a fascinating force to reckon with. I could never have imagined it, even if I squeezed my brain with a giant tweezer and injected it with meow meow. It’s also rather revolting and undisputedly difficult to live alongside.
I have a collection of tasty photographs to shock and appal little old ladies with. “Did you know that under your floorboards a giant mushroom is preparing to smother you?! As you snore and slowly leak urine into the mattress, it grows. And one day you just won’t wake. They will find you encased, suffocated in your sleep, and quite dead’. My landlords are complete and utter arseholes.
I’ve still been going to a gig or two a week and all sorts of amazing things. My recent life is turning into an undocumented blur. Random notes sit on my phone and on my PC. I haven’t formed any of them into the sentences that I imagined. Words clamber for attention as I find myself joyously entranced by life’s offerings. Their destiny is to rattle around my head until they amount to little more than a mere distant echo.
I could write about so much and get immense pleasure from it, but it’s time to turn the sofa into a bed and from there on in it all goes to pot. Although I should sleep, I’ve developed a tendency to wrap myself in my lovely duvet, stroke the cat and watch the US version of The Office. The gentle read in bed has been exchanged for late nights of TV bliss. It makes up for making pleasantries with workmen before I’m ready for the world. Sleep deprivation makes everything so wonderfully ethereal. The misty film of soft reality has an alluring quality. If I reach out to touch, will it disappear?
Extreme living, eh? I'm surprisingly chipper! I feel happy and it's brilliant. l love it. Under the circumstances I'm aware that's odd. Well done brain for being so defiantly joyful in hard times. I wear a grin rather well. Yes, I do say so myself.
Fabpants Recommends: Being lazy when required. I could recommend many amazing tunes, but there’s millions on the internet and you can find them elsewhere. Fetch boy, fetch.
Camera Obscura, Brighton Komedia, 23rd October 2009
'Have I made a mistake', I thought, as I cycled passed The Brighton Centre. TOM JONES!!! I was off to Komedia while Tom Jones was singing classics by the sea. Watching an old Welsh man getting a face full of knickers must be fun. You know, it's not unusual to be loved by anyone. Even elderly ladies. Way back in 1964, the BBC declared that Tom Jones was 'too hot to handle'. They ban him from the airwaves. TOM JONES!!!
From the grins on the faces around me, I bet a few folk, of both genders, were tempted to throw their knickers at the lead singer of Camera Obscura, Tracyanne Campbell. Meanwhile, she was half wishing she was home with a cuppa and a movie. Announcing to the full to capacity venue that she hadn't wanted to come may not have been wise, despite the "I've changed my mind now" angle.
Camera Obscura's latest album's title 'My Maudlin Career' sums up their latest Komedia offering. It doesn't make it bad, but it made it far from exceptional. Apart from the percussionist, and, at times, the drummer, the band came across as gloomy, and rather unhappy with their jobs. The last time Camera Obscura came to Komedia it was a little more smiley.
They do have some rather brilliants tunes though.
The set list, that I stole, says this: 1. My Maudlin Career 2. Swans 3. Tears for Affairs 4. Teenager 5. Honey in the Sun 6. Forests and Sands 7. The Sweetest Thing 8. French Navy 9. 80's Fan 10. Let's Get Out of This Country 11. Country Mile 12. Lloyd I'm Ready to Be... 13. If Looks Could Kill
Fabpants Recommends: Here’s a couple of tracks played at the gig:
January is a confusing time. The aftermath of Christmas is upon us, it’s bloody cold, the nights are short and there’s more expectation than a winter mole can take. Hot tips for 2010 swarm like flies. The obvious choice is to sit back and accept such holy predictions, or to fry the mind making sense of it all. I decided on a third approach, to ignore and avoid the hype. That was until yesterday.
Yesterday, Grumpy Missives listened to every track on the NME Official Radar 2010 Mixtape, gave each track a mark out of five, and a short review. He challenged me to do the same. Without looking at his verdicts, I did. Yes, the aim was to compare and contrast. Would I fall in love with a single that he wiped from his hard drive for fear of contamination, or would the Radar offerings unite us in musical agreement.
The reviews are based purely on the tracks as they come on the mixtape.
EF: Having been fully onboard with the hype and a fan of EP 'Summertime!' (it was on my Christmas list), I have to say I'm surprised by this song. It's pretty pants. The words 'family' and 'heart' are elongated so much I felt like stabbing my ears with a skewer. Not for Me Thanks (2/5)
GM: Indie pop by numbers. Repetitive and dull. (2/5)
EF: This song is as original as supermarket own brand Baked Beans. It's not offensive, it's not special. It just is. It sounds like a late 70s band pretending they live in the 50s. Not for Me Thanks (2/5)
GM: Nice modern take on early punky rock & roll. Definitely want to hear the album. (4/5)
EF:Sometimes a simple line can carry a song. 'I'm Falling and I Can't Turn Back' almost makes it. I listened contently to this mellow spaced out tune and its little digressions, but it adds little. There are far better tracks of this ilk. Late 80s ambient house has left its mark. It's an early morning, tired legs can't stop dancing, don’t really care, just need a beat, little number. It’s not offensive. Thumbs Up (3/5)
GM: Reminded me somehow of Amongst the Pigeons but without any imagination or bravery. (2/5)
EF: This Replacements cover is rather tasty. The lyrics are brilliant, which Kindness can take no credit for, but there is directness and a sadness to the delivery that makes it quite entrancing and oddly uplifting. "Bring your own lampshade, somewhere there’s a party, Here it’s never endin’, can’t remember when it started ...If bein’ afraid is a crime, we hang side by side" Fucking Awesome (5/5)
GM: Relaxed disco. Not really my cup-o-tea but not bad. (3/5)
EF: This little hip-hop number is laidback in style, but talks hard. The many expressive sounds that interlace it make it a bit special. This track covers the lot, clothing, drugs, pimps, weapons and murder. It could do without the 'portion of chips' lyric. Ear Candy (4/5)
GM: Really not my thing. Is this grime? Seems a very boring style of rapping. (2/5)
EF: Hurts sound like they are trying to convince themselves it's a wonderful life, rather than believing in it. It just doesn't sound sincere. I had to stop this track early, it so annoyed me. Hideously Awful (1/5)
GM: Is this the new x-factor single? No not good enough for that. (1/5)
EF: I think a lot of people will love this track, and I can hear its merits. It has that female warble thing going on, not a lot, but it meets and greets. I love the pace and spike. I may be able to forgive the warble. Ear Candy (4/5)
GM: I think too many others do this better. Nice when the beat kicks in though. (3/5)
EF: At nearly seven minutes, this track takes you on an epic journey. Unfortunately, as the glorious melodic disco drama unfolds - I see windswept hair - the vocals strain with 'hear me, I am so fucking earnest' power pop. Drop the vocals and I might like it. It seems that this is an improvement on the original, embrace the 80s number, where the vocals are continuous. Not for Me Thanks (2/5)
GM: I can't believe it’s not...Daft Punk. Nice enough but nothing special (might be a dodgy remix). (3/5)
EF: It's all about the atmosphere, creating a feeling, closing your eyes and drifting with the music. The song nearly achieves what it aims for, but could learn something from Giggs and Joy Orbison about digression and a dash of colour. It's a wee bit bland. Not for Me Thanks (2/5)
GM: It’s not bad music just not for me. Lose the drum machine and get some Grandaddy guitars. (2/5)
EF: Flirting with 'It's the Final Countdown', 'Afropop' and a wall of fuzz, this track scares me. The Afropop interlude is rather nice, but completely out of place in an example of masturbatory rock. Not for Me Thanks (2/5)
GM: Europe? Bon Jovi? I'm sure that this will fill a gap in many teenage boys’ lives. They get 2 points for the Babyshambles riff in the middle. (2/5)
EF: I love the giggling count down, 1,2, snigger, 4. This track is a little bit skiffle, a little bit 50s Rock n Roll, but not as good as I imagine this combination could be. It's a little contrived and lacking in sparkle. Not for Me Thanks (2/5)
GM: I'm a sucker for lo-fi and they have potential, but not with this track. (3/5)
MP3: Magnetic Man - The Cyberman (This version is not available to stream. Download the NME Mixtape before it expires.)
EF: This track could have been made at any time in the last 20 years, and adds nothing. Doing robotic movements to it and pretending to be a Cyberman made it quite entertaining. I'm not sure how many people will think to do that. That might just be me. Thumbs Up (3/5)
GM: Sounds nice at first but gets boring very quickly. (2/5)
MP3:Sharks - Brassneck (This version is not available to stream. Download the NME Mixtape before it expires.)
EF: I have already started writing a blog which refers to The Wedding Present, and this is a The Wedding Present cover. Brassneck is not a bad tune, but it marks the period when David Gedge's song writing became more populist and less to my taste. He'd pull it back many years later with Cinerama. 10/10 for covering The Wedding Present, but, well, it's just a cover, delivered with less gravitas that the original. Not for Me Thanks (2/5)
GM: It's nice to see the Wedding Present still making music. I like it. (4/5) (EF: GM did well to recognise The Wedding Present jangle and to reference them as a joke. I think he had no idea it was a cover.)
EF: It's a bit pop, it's a bit soul and it's a bit r&b. Unfortunately, this is an almost certain combination for instant disqualification. It's just not my taste. Not for Me Thanks (2/5)
GM: I'm really surprised that I like this. I certainly has something though. (4/5)
MP3:Chapel Club - All the Eastern Girls (This version is not available to stream. Download the NME Mixtape before it expires.)
EF: Late 80s indie by numbers. Why don't the jangle guitars build into something far better? This is a track that falls into one of my favoured genres, but that doesn't mean it's good. Wipe the tape and start over. Not for Me Thanks (2/5)
GM: I like his voice. Would like to hear some more to decide. (3/5)
EF: There are better Delphic tunes on their MySpace and I will have a butchers at the album. I have a ticket to see Delphic on 19th January, which I’m sure will be lively, if nothing else. This track and others leave me with reservations, but I do have a ticket. What can I say? This track is bouncing, but it lacks that certain bite. It has enough intensity to make me fling my arms about (it don’t take much), so get down to Audio to see me in action. Thumbs Up (3/5) (late edition: I have listened to the album three times and I would give my ticket away in an instance)
GM: Inoffensive electro-pop sounds a bit bland to me. (3/5)
Fabpants Recommends:
Investigating any of the bands that gained 4/5 or 5/5 and - of course - the rest. You can’t judge a band by one track alone, and you can’t trust anyone but yourself to decide on what music is right for you. Don’t believe the hype.
I've seen hundreds of bands in tiny venues. Some go on to headline festivals. A greater number never find their way out of the fleapits. Many are bloody brilliant. I love going to gigs. When I get it together, I sometimes rave about good gigs here.
This is the stuff and nonsense of my life. You are welcome to visit as little or often as you like. I have no RSS or site feed, so read my words here or read another's elsewhere. Live a good life. This is just a blog.
On emilyfabpants.blogspot.com you will find links that lead to MP3 audio files. These files are stored somewhere else on the Internet and are not part of this website. Emily Fabpants does not carry any responsibility for them. Emily Fabpants does not store or make available for download any audio and/or video files herself. Please buy the music if you like it or pay to see the artist at a live show. Most of all, enjoy.
