Wooden Shjips - Vol. 2

Heaviosity is coming back. Every few years, there’s a revival of blissed-out drone and heavy psyche (think The Warlocks et al. a few years back), although it never really goes away, more just comes in and out of, if not fashion – it’s never really particularly fashionable or unfashionable per se – then prevalence. It’s almost certainly a side-affect of the current shoegaze revivalism, as well as the recent renewed interest in/awareness of Krautrock, and even the ever-increasing popularity of the likes of Fuck Buttons – layers of trippy noise are clearly where it’s at.

Wooden Shjips are one of the acts at the forefront of this renewed space rock scene, and they’re pretty damn good at it. Vol. 2 is a collection of singles, but it hangs together remarkably well, cohesive in terms of over-all feel, as well as sonic characteristics. And feel is quite important to this kind of music. It’s the kind of music that’s summed up by Spacemen 3’s well-worn album-title and thus life-catchphrase, Taking Drugs To Make Music To Take Drugs To. Having said that, while it’s infused with lysergic overtones, you most certainly don’t have to be on drugs to enjoy it.

Opener ‘Loose Lips’ brings to mind The Doors, probably because of the prominent use of organ, the vocal style, and the fact it sounds like we all think the Sixties did (although it’s more likely that for the most part it probably sounded like Engelbert Humperdinck and Tom Jones). The album features two covers Neil Young’s ‘Vampire Blues’ and Serge Gainsbourg’s ‘Contact’. Unsurprisingly (but in the best possible way), neither particularly resemble the originals, the former bringing to mind Suicide and the latter being too much of an extended psyche wig-out to be especially close to Gainsbourg’s Gallic sophistication, although there a certain icy coolness about Wooden Shjips’ version, as well as a very definite hint of NEU!.

If the likes of The Black Angels, White Hills, LOOP, 13th Floor Elevators or any of the other aforementioned acts turn you on, then Vol. 2 definitely will too. All that’s left to do after you’ve let that happen is to tune in and drop out… Drift.. off… into… the… ether…

Chemikal Underground

If you’re looking to name a contemporary independent Scottish label, there’s a chance Chemikal Underground will be the first. Originally set up by The Delgados to release their debut single, they quickly established themselves as the most important label in Scotland since Postcard releasing records by the likes of Arab Strap, Mogwai, Aereogramme, Bis, Mother & The Addicts and even Interpol (albeit only one record by them). Tonight’s gig, as part of Glasgow’s annual Celtic Connections festival is a celebration of Chemikal’s fifteenth birthday, with a selection of the labels current offerings on stage to help, and Vic Galloway hosting in between.

Travelling from ‘the other place’ to Glasgow, this writer only gets the middle of the evening’s entertainment, four bands who certainly maintain the label’s image of having an eclectic but cohesive roster. Zoey van Goey, are an indiepop five piece whose overall ‘sound’ is difficult to pin down, but they’re entertaining if nothing else. There’s something of a less-twee Belle & Sebastian about them, but perhaps if B&S had been weaned on post-rock, as well as Felt.

Next is the debut performance from The Unwinding Hours, formed from the ashes of Aereogramme (disbanded in 2007). They instantly create an atmosphere, beginning with sparse guitars before getting louder and more epic, slightly reminiscent of The Twilight Sad, if a little less dour. The highlight of their set has to be during their last song, ‘The Final Hour’, when the it changes from sparse instrumentation to an ear-splitting, trouser-flapping din, forcing numerous members of the audience out of their skin. Unfortunately some of the material verges a little bit on the MOR side of things, but with moments like that up their sleeve, it’s certainly worth giving them a chance.

Lord Cut-Glass are label founder and former Delgado Alun Woodward’s new project, making literate pop music, which certainly has echoes of his former band, if augmented with Scottish and gypsy folk influences, and even ska rhythms at one point.

Aidan Moffat & Bill Wells are an interesting prospect for the long time Strap/Moffat fan, especially if one’s never heard them together before. Moffat sits behind the drums, Wells a the piano, and they are accompanied by (member of Moffats’ sometime backing-band The Best-Ofs) Stevie Jones on double bass. At first it comes across as not incredibly interesting lounge jazz, and that doesn’t even change terribly much when Moffat’s gruff Scots tones are introduced. Things improve dramatically when Moffat plays a low, ominous drone on a Shruti box, matched by Jones’ bass, while the vocalist relates a dark if humorous tale of a schoolchild breaking into his old house. From there (a hitherto undetectable influence on Moffat’s music) Tom Waits is very much audible, and it’s a satisfying progression, whetting the appetite for their forthcoming album.

Then it’s back to Auld Reekie, with (perhaps the most well-known ex-Delgado) Emma Pollock and The Phantom Band still to come. More’s the pity as both are fine acts and would doubtlessly serve to underline the overall feeling one gets from the evening: that Chemikal’s role in (not just Scottish) contemporary music is as vital as it has ever been, and should continue to be so, as long as they continue as they have and keep releasing records by bands they like. Here’s to the next fifteen years.

Influential Australian guitarist and songwriter Rowland S. Howard has lost his battle with liver cancer, dying at the age of 50 in the Austin Hospital, Melbourne.

Perhaps most famous as a member of The Birthday Party, Howard was involved in numerous musical projects, from his tenure with The Boys Next Door through to a latent solo career. His guitar playing was often at the forefront and an inspiration to many.

As a sixteen year old he penned ‘Shivers’, a song that would later become a hit for The Boys Next Door, the band that became The Birthday Party. Following their dissolution he would be a key player in the early work of Crime & The City Solution (with whom he appeared in Wim Wenders’ cinematic masterpiece Wings Of Desire), lead singer of These Immortal Souls, and a significant collaborator of both Nikki Sudden and Lydia Lunch, among others.

His most recent works were the solo albums, 2000′s Teenage Snuff Film and 2009′s Pop Crimes. Although the latter has been a critical hit in his homeland, it is yet to see a proper worldwide release.

It was probably something of a surprise to many that he made it to this century, let alone the end of this decade, having endured periods of drug abuse and hard living in the past. Howard had however reputedly been encouraged by a renewed creativity and his return to the limelight this year. He was due to play his final gig of the year with the Yeah Yeah Yeahs in Melbourne at their request, on what was to be the night before he died, unfortunately having to cancel for now obvious reasons.

Lifelong friend and frequent collaborator Mick Harvey remarked to Australia’s The Age on hearing of his passing, “Sometimes people are ready to go because they have been sick for a long time, but Rowland really wanted to live. Things were going well for him outside of his health and he wanted to take advantage of that, and he was very disappointed that he wasn’t well enough to do so.”

On a personal note, his passing is terribly sad, not only as a music fan, but as one of the many musicians to have been heavily influenced by him. As a guitarist, he was among the best of his generation, and will continue to shift the perception of those who listen to his records as to what that can mean. It would seem likely that a long-overdue assessment of his not insignificant back-catalogue will come, but it’s a shame (as is so often the case with artists) that he has had to pass away for it to happen. To hear that a talent such as his has gone forever is certainly tragic, especially when he had plenty left to give, and the desire to do so.

Rowland Stuart Howard, influential guitarist and songwriter, born October 24, 1979, died December 30, 2009.

Deerhoof

December 8th 2009

Two confessions have to be made at the outset of this review. Firstly, previous to this gig, this writer was more or less completely unfamiliar with the work of the San Franciscan quartet Deerhoof. Secondly, having only just completed an article for this very website stating that “Anyone who misses the opportunity to see DIVORCE [tonight's support band] is, frankly, a fucking idiot”, he manages to do precisely that, arriving with the dying notes of this tremendous band’s, no doubt brutal and thrilling, set. How embarrassing. Fucking idiot.

Anyway, Deerhoof are swift to take to the stage, and what an odd bunch they look, awkward, gangly drummer Greg Saunier an interesting contrast to diminutive singer and bassist Satomi Matsuzaki, cute as a button as she is. It doesn’t take long for them to establish an agenda for the night’s proceedings, starting with the eccentric noise-twee of ‘Panda Panda Panda’.

The first few songs are mostly instrumental, and verge dangerously to that most lamented of genres, Jazz Rock. Now, it’s true that this is normally a hideous prospect (with a few notable exceptions), but the ‘hoof actually pull it off, with just the right amount of fun and melody to balance out the abstract rhythmic and tonal excursions. They synchronise movements, they gurn, Matsuzaki enacts the lyrics with child-like enthusiasm. It’s both genuinely interesting in terms of the music and the show provided. It’s hard to pigeonhole too. There are bits of Sonic Youth, Hendrix, Zappa, but even then, it’s a stretch to pin down the influences, and it doesn’t matter, because it makes for an exciting concoction.

The only real drawback is, at times, it almost seems like too much. Having said that, they seem aware of the potential for boredom with too much eclectic avant-garde play and know just when to pare things back. Deerhoof achieve a combination that would appear nigh on impossible on the page – noisy, melodic, experimental, charming, fun, interesting music and this is reflected in the performance. If at least a couple of those qualities don’t tick boxes for you dear reader, then there’s probably a chance that you don’t like music.

La Roux

November 16th 2009

You don’t need an introduction to La Roux (although, if you think that’s the name of the singer, I’m afraid you’re mistaken). You know all about the hits, and Elly Jackson’s quiff. If you don’t, well, just what rock have you been living under? What you might not realise is just how incendiary she can be live. This writer knew he liked Jackson and, mysterious producer, Ben Langmaid’s particular brand of poptastic angst before the gig, but not to the extent he left with.

The lights drop and the sound that engulfs the venue is deafening – not from the stage, but from the suddenly possessed (mainly female) youths that make up the majority of the crowd. The band (sans Jackson, and for that matter, the rarely seen Langmaid) takes to the stage before Jackson propels herself into the fray, to further rapturous shrieks and screams.

Tune after tune unfolds; ‘I’m Not Your Toy’, ‘Quicksand’, ‘In For The Kill’, delivered in a manner that belies the dual natures of Jackson’s persona – confident pop goddess and emotionally bruised chanteuse. What occurs during this intense and entrancing performance, is that she is in many ways a combination of two seemingly very different Eighties idols (of course imbued with a very distinct sense of individuality, to say otherwise would be something of a disservice) – Annie Lennox and Morrissey. She combines androgyny with a distinct type of femininity, a wholly magnetic and somewhat melodramatic stage presence. The fact she is in a duo and has red hair, a quiff, underlines the comparison (again, that is not to say she is not an individual icon in the making – she is anything but).

The light show might be dazzling, the presentation slick, but the wholly unchoreographed and, technically speaking, not entirely flawless performance of Jackson exemplifies her and Langmaid’s group as an honest and unmanufactured enterprise, which in turn makes La Roux all the more special. The encore is, somewhat predictably (it’s the only song they have left to play), ‘Bulletproof’, but it’s a perfect slice of pop to end a wholly rounded pop concert experience, hysterical shrieks and all.

Tord Gustavsen

October 16th 2009

Tord Gustavsen is a young (well, young in Jazz terms) Norwegian composer and pianist who signed to the brilliant ECM Records in 2003. Over four decades ECM has released nearly two thousand albums of contemporary jazz and classical music, including records by respective giants of their fields, Keith Jarrett, Jan Garbarek, Steve Reich and Arvo Pärt. To be counted among their number is a considerable honour, and one that Gustavsen will prove himself worthy of during tonight’s performance.

The key term applicable to much of ECM’s back catalogue is ‘minimalist’, and Gustavsen’s music is no exception. Having said that, for this tour and his most recent record Restored, Returned the Tord Gustavsen Trio has expanded to Ensemble now featuring saxophonist Tore Brunborg and (absent for this tour) vocalist Kristin Asbjørnsen, alongside regular double bassist Mats Eilertsen and drummer Jarle Vesperstad.

From the off, the set is one beheld with hushed reverence and contemplation. The music is gentle and understated, marked by brittle folk-tinged piano lines, muted saxophone and a sparse rhythm section.

‘The Child Within’ begins with suitably playful interweaving melodies between piano and sax. However, it develops into an altogether stormier affair, to disquieting effect, a suitable reminder of the power these combined instruments can have played louder too. The next piece, new and as yet untitled, is among the highlights of the evening. A surprisingly long and complex composition, it is a promising and tantalising sign of things to come from this new ensemble.

Much of what follows is a combination of deep, contemplative melancholy, contrasted with louder, more forceful full band passages. It’s worth bearing in mind that this is the debut live performance of these four musicians together, and all the more impressive when considering this.

After extended rapturous applause at the end of the set, Gustavsen, in his hushed, Americanised Scandinavian tones introduces a piece called ‘The Spiral’, an aptly named swirling, brooding piece that creeps into an entrancing maelstrom.

The second encore is a beautiful ‘Lullaby’, performed solo by Gustavsen and only two or three minutes long. Its delicate and brittle yet warm melody lingers long after the last note has rung out, fading and haunting the consciousness like a dream upon waking.

BEAK>

You’ve probably already heard of BEAK>, but just in case you haven’t, they’re the new band of Geoff Barrow, one third of Portishead, Fuzz Against Funk’s Billy Fuller, and Matt Williams of Team Brick. All the material on the album, and it’s accompanying material on the deluxe edition, was recorded in one twelve day session, with no overdubs; only the studio has been used to create arrangements, through the process of editing the session.

This is an album that wears its influences on its sleeve from the off, but it matters not a jot as it combines them in such a creative an compelling manner that one is sucked in from the first note. Opening track ‘Backwell’ is so Krautrock it hurts, beginning with a propulsive, steady bass-line with an underlying organ part. When the NEU!-style drums kick in, it’s hard not to grin, and realise a treat is in store.

The following track Pill has much the same Kraut feel to it, but has inflections that are almost certainly Barrow’s, resembling Portishead’s contemporary classic Third in sonic texture. The influences that were well documented on that album come to the fore on ‘Ham Green’, as following some Damo Suzuki-era Can-like atmospherics things get heavy, an obliterative Sunn O)))-esque guitar part comes in, trouser-flappingly deep in a way that only the best drone doom can do.

Much of the rest of the album riffs on the same influences (although delay-laden post-rock and dub sounds also works their way in), all sounding so beautifully put together, that in some ways it’s difficult to comprehend that these were not written songs prior to recording. At the same time, it maintains a loose feel in some of the playing that confirms the improvised nature of the music, and can only make it a more exciting listening experience.

Overall, this is an incredibly enjoyable listening experience, especially for those of Kraut-inclined listening habits. Anyone who enjoyed the sound of Third should find something appealing here, although it is by no means as harrowing or dark as that record. Essentially, it’s Third’s cheerier, proggier, German cousin. While everyone concerns themselves with a fourth Portishead effort (and this writer is as excited by that prospect as anyone), some of us will be eagerly awaiting for a second BEAK> album to appear, whenever that might be.

The Big Pink

October 14th 2009

The Big Pink are a band to be approached with caution. They tick a lot of the right boxes – cool influences, cool record label, a well thought-out image (their artwork prominently featuring the beautiful photography of Marc Atkins, handily consisting primarily of female nudes). They’ve had their fair amount of hype this year, as well as releasing that song.

Judging from tonight’s crowd it it would seem there has already been a fairly significant crossover, there being a few among the crowd who look/act like they heard them on T4/Hollyoaks/wherever it is these people find out about music these days. Not to be too judgemental of course, but it’s pretty clear they’re only hear for one thing, one moment, one song.

Bearing this in mind, it’s somewhat unsurprising local support Findo Gask receive a relatively lukewarm reception. They’re an odd proposition in some ways, their songs are full of melody, bobbing bass, squelching synths. Nothing so odd there, you might think. And there isn’t, but what is slightly disquieting is that they actually come off like an electro-pop, house-infused version of The Smiths (or perhaps, more accurately, Gene). It’s both catchy and quirky, features that should appeal across this fairly broad audience, but it falls pretty flat. Maybe they don’t exude enough machismo. To be fair, it is all slightly on the camp side, but since when has that been an obstacle to either indie or pop crowds?

The Big Pink appear, goth-ed up to the nines. They start how they will go on, sweaty, loud, personality-less. Straight off something feels wrong, correction, sounds wrong. The Big Pink are the heirs to the Jesus & Mary Chain and The Cocteau Twins (both local-ish heroes of course) right? They do a funny impression of it if they are. The sound is processed, slick to the point of blandness. That’s the problem with this show; any atmosphere they’ve evoked on record is sorrily absent in this live rendering. The static charge, the energy, the noise a new band like this usually need to carry them forward is sorely lacking. Even ‘Velvet’, lauded by many as a song of the year, is deadened by its smoothness and the context within which it is delivered. In fact, it’s downright dull.

Before the big moment, the one for the hairdressers and still mourning Oasis fans, this writer strides into the black, cool autumn air of Glasgow toun. He puts the Cocteau Twins in his ears, and smiles a little rueful smile, disappointed, if unsurprised.