The Black Keys by Julia Stryj

By Julia Stryj

February 4, 2012

Last Saturday I woke up with a huge smile on my face in anticipation of what should be a fantastic gig by The Black Keys and Band Of Skulls in the evening. When it started snowing just before lunch time I was getting worried I might not make it up to Edinburgh for the evening, but gladly the snow stopped and I set off early to get there in time for doors opening.

The Corn Exchange isn’t the greatest of venues. It feels and sounds like a huge factory hall, but I and the rest of the audience were still hoping for a fantastic evening. Armed with a drink to calm my nerves I waited for Band Of Skulls to come on stage so I could get to the photo pit for the first three songs. I had only recently come across the band through (believe it or not) Radio 1 and I was looking forward to seeing them live after having enjoyed listening to their first album for the past few weeks. The English three piece was a more than suitable support for Ohio’s The Black Keys. They started with ‘Sweet Sour’ – the title track of their upcoming new album and continued to play lively rock songs in a contrasting outwardly calm way (apart from the drummer, Matt). It almost seemed as if they needed all their inner calm to perform their flawless alternative rock set, finishing with ‘Death By Diamonds And Pearls’. Both vocals, Emma’s and Russell’s, worked well together and on their own: Go and check them out if you get a chance!

When The Black Keys came on stage the two other photographers and I were allowed into the photo pitch but were told to stay to the side of the stage for the first song. Even with my earplugs in the bass sounded worryingly harsh and almost burst our heads. Gladly the sound got better throughout ‘Howlin’ For You’, one of my and, judging by the atmosphere, the audience’s favourite songs. Dan Auerbach (vocals and guitar) and Patrick Carney (drums) managed to keep us on the high throughout the 90 minutes set especially when the two additions to their “live band” (Gus and John on keyboard and bass) left the stage for a few songs in the middle of the set. It looked and sounded as if there was even more energy going on when it was just Dan and Patrick on stage. At times, Dan seemed to almost improvise and the two of them managed to create a more intense, raw blues rock sound. Still, there was not one song that didn’t get a strong reaction throughout the whole evening – some, like the current single ‘Lonely Boy’, stood out if only for the great reaction of the normally quite reserved Edinburgh audience.

Talking about the audience: One thing I noticed was the lack of camera (phones) being held up throughout the entire gig. Of course there were some now and again but far less than we have now become used to in most gigs. For me that was a sign of the audience’s appreciation of the music and stage performance. They were there to experience great rock’n'roll music without any distractions. Getting a free Band of Skulls promo CD (Electric Blues EP) when I left the venue was the perfect end to one of the best gigs I have been to.

All photos by Julia Stryj

D'Angelo

By Joel Stagg

February 3, 2012

Back last autumn when I purchased tickets to see D’Angelo at the slightly generous price of £40 a pop, the normal feelings of excitement and anticipation rubbed shoulders with some less usual ones. D’Angelo’s so-called sabbatical since the year 2000 when he dropped Voodoo, inhabited by well-publicised dalliances with drugs, alcohol abuse, rehabilitation in Antigua and dalliances on the wrong side of the law, led to a certain morbid curiosity and also a sense of trepidation. It seemed I wasn’t alone when the comedian Kojo, who hosted the evening, asked of the audience – “How many of you came just to see if he still looks the same?”

There were a few bad omens. The tour had been somewhat opportunistically labelled the ‘Occupy Music’ tour, the announcement of the gigs around the same time as the Occupy movement’s peak media coverage obviously setting off a few lightbulbs in the D’Angelo camp. Secondly, the tickets came emblazoned with ‘D’Angelo for One Night Only’ across them, surely designed to lure in as many fans as possible, but somewhat optimistic and contradictory considering the ‘3rd & 4th Feb’ sign on the front of the Brixton Academy. And at the gig itself, the crowd grew restless after two warm-up segments from Kojo, a spritely three-song opening slot from Bluey Robinson, and a public service announcement calling for more black bone marrow donors, all seemingly leading into an imminent D’Angelo appearance which eventually took over an hour more to happen.

But needless to say, within seconds of gracing the stage, all doubts, morbid curiosities and restlessness were obliterated. In what remains in my mind one of the most intense and exciting opening sections to a gig I’ve ever witnessed, he and his band tore through a Voodoo heavy-set featuring the likes of ‘Playa Playa’, ‘Devil’s Pie’, ‘Feel Like Makin’ Love’, ‘The Root’ and a particularly high-powered ‘Chicken Grease’. D’Angelo struck an enigmatic and energetic figure, yelping and wailing and getting the crowd in hysterics, one removed item of clothing at a time, whilst still managing to sound like one of the most powerful and competent soul singers of our time. It’s for good reason that he can disappear for so many years and come back like this. The band was tight as they come, the man himself was electrifying, and the crowd were in raptures.

Momentum like that would always be hard to maintain for an entire show, so around the point in the gig where it dawned on those in attendance that the 20-minute breakdown flitting between drum solos, space organ funk-outs and bass jamming was actually still part of ‘Shit, Damn, Motherfucker’, it seemed we had descended into the perhaps-expected overindulgent side of things. Or, as my accompanying friend pointed out, it was also plausible that D’Angelo had just wandered off for a bit, as he was noticeable by his absence for a short while. Similarly indulgent moments of D’Angelo attempting some solo blues guitar jams upon his return also detracted from the initial, blistering energy.

But the closing section of the show, with D’Angelo sat alone at a keyboard perched on a raised platform, restored the equilibrium. He played one continuous piece, easing effortlessly in and out of numerous hits like ‘Me And Those Dreamin Eyes of Mine’, ‘Brown Sugar’, ‘Africa’, ‘One Mo’ Gin’ and ‘Jonz in My Bonz’. With the crowd firmly in the palm of his hand, he theatrically hit the opening chords of ‘Untitled (How Does it Feel?)’, but just before he opened his mouth to sing, stood up and away from the keyboard, gazing out into the crowd and looking playfully nonchalant. He sat down moments later and picked straight back up where he left off, and needless to say, the crowd sing-a-long that ensued was deafening.

Twin Atlantic, By Julia Stryj

By Julia Stryj

December 9, 2011

Last week, Twin Atlantic took to the stage at Edinburgh’s Picturehouse for a gig, supported by Dinosaur Pile-Up – our photographer, Julia Stryj, was there to bring us these stunning pictures.

Zola Jesus

By Robert Freeman

November 23, 2011

She may look like a little Legolas borrower, but when Nika Danilova sings it’s like watching a hurricane. On new album Conatus, her operatic vocal stylings act as a focal point for the listener, even if at times one could be forgiven for wishing that the style didn’t obscure the content quite so much. As she belts out her vocals they come from the very back of her throat, and at times it’s a wee bit tricky to actually hear what she’s singing.

However in a live context, Danilova’s vocals slot into place a lot more cleanly than on record. Rather than existing within the eye of the storm, her voice is more of a counterpart to the other aspects of the music. The echo and reverb are still present, but rather than overshadowing the other parts, the effect is complementary. Synths rush about and the drum machines click like teeth, and each layer of the music has a real personality on the stage. And this personality mitigates what at times on record can feel like coldness (borne predominantly from her Xtina vocal tics). The warmth in the music is more prevalent, and offers a viewer more of a connection to the songs one feels is missing when listening to the record.

Dramatic electronic pop music is not everyone’s cup of tea though (one suspects that the phrases ‘goth’ and ‘industrial’ are fairly large turn-offs for your average Florence + The Machine fan [you bloody are, you liar]). It’s hard to pin down an artist that writes songs that could soundtrack Blade Runner, and as is always the case with any female artist, drawing upon the slightly small pot can lead to lazy comparisons. Nika Danilova has a bit of a Kate Bush fascination with the dramatic, and watching her on stage one assumes also shares her interests in RUNNING AROUND WITH NO SHOES ON. But she is also small like Anna Calvi, and has a uterus – like PJ Harvey. What Zola Jesus are mainly concerned with though, is making a drama out of a song – making melodies operatic, big. The aesthetic is as important as the content of the song, and watching them onstage is a performance worth forking out for.

James Blake

By Russell Warfield

November 29, 2011

This is the second time I’ve seen James Blake live this year. The first time was very early this year in Leeds, when the vocal-based debut album material hadn’t quite nestled in with me yet. That show was a conversion of the highest order – an absolutely engrossing hour of sound, dispelling any shadowy doubts I might have had about the merits of his slightly more restrained full length. Tonight was equally as excellent, and with half a year’s worth of absorption of his incredible album under my belt, my ability to appreciate his craft was also healthier than last time.

Things didn’t start off entirely promisingly, however. Opening with album opener ‘Unluck’, it briefly felt as if Blake was over-thinking his live arrangements, bending his rhythms into self indulgent experimentation, making the music less penetrable and involving as a live experience. Whether this was wilful or whether the mixing was slightly off in the early stages was difficult to tell, but it did briefly feel as if Blake’s vocal was meekly battling upstream against needlessly stuttering counter-rhythms. Following that, we were treated to a couple of meandering instrumentals (which might’ve been off one of his newer EPs, which I’ve yet to hear, forgive me) which also sounded a little hollow (faintly, dare I say, Nokia-esque).

Very quickly, though, Blake soared out of his tiny rut, beginning with an absolutely staggering rendition of ‘I Never Learned To Share’. On record, I’ve always considered it to be something of an overly repetitive low point. Tonight, it comes to life in roaring force. Beginning as a showcase of Blake’s ear for soft vocal harmony, the thing builds into an overwhelmingly colossal climax of rib shaking bass. As a sonic experience, it’s truly impressive – a complete hijacking of your entire person; a transcendental moment which Blake manages to replicate by degrees over the rest of the set.

Whether it’s the brilliant re-working of ‘Limit To Your Love’, or the rightly lauded ‘Wilhelm Scream’, Blake manages to combine heart-stopping low end with intricate guitar patterns and – most impressively of all, considering the should-be density of the mix – soulful vocals which always hold their head above water. One of the most encouraging things to me, though, was the sublime reworking of ‘CMYK’ which, fuck me, he’s worked out how to bring to life live. Creating a meld of tight rhythm, zippy samples, and live instrumentation with pitch perfect build and release, it effortlessly melds the two halves of Blake’s duplicitous recorded output, and it really feels like everything he tries his hand at turns to gold at this point. As jaw dropping as Blake’s set was earlier this year, tonight’s set might even have surpassed his own bench mark. Put simply, James Blake has provided me with my top two live music experiences (and they are experiences) of the year. I can give little more praise than that.

Anyone Can Play Guitar

By Kenny McMurtrie

November 29, 2011

When was the last time Mark Gardener was asked to turn it down by an annoyed old biddy? Probably not for many a year yet that’s what happened here tonight. Mid-way through his short semi-acoustic set a sinister silver-haired figure was seen to scurry in through the street door of the bar and engage the bar staff in animated conversation and two songs later it was all over. Fair enough – Midnight wasn’t far off and he’d only one more number up his sleeve but still, doesn’t a nice bloke occupying his place in the rock pantheon deserve some more respect? Clearly not from Supergran.

Before the curtailing of his engaging performance Mark managed to perform stirring versions of the Ride classics ‘From Time To Time’, ‘Chrome Waves’, ‘Twisterella’ (also apparently currently getting live outings with Death Cab For Cutie) and ‘In A Different Place’ along with a couple of newer tunes including ‘Love Like Ghosts’. Whilst his strongest material is maybe all behind him it still sounds fresh and knocks a lot of current stuff into touch with little effort, therefore this short but sweet performance was a particular joy.

Gardener’s efforts tonight followed the screening of the excellent documentary Anyone Can Play Guitar (think Dig! for the Oxford scene) by Jon Spira. A labour of love made over a number of years on an initial budget of zero money, this deserves to be seen by anyone and everyone who thinks of themselves as an Indie fan. Faithfully recording the highs and lows of the numerous bands who found their feet in The Jericho, The Co-op Hall and The Zodiac, this is packed full of unseen footage and new interviews with the likes of Dustball, Beaker, The Candyskins (whose bad luck needs to be seen to be believed), Radiohead, Supergrass, The Unbelievable Truth, Talulah Gosh, Ride, Foals, Swervedriver and stacks of others as well as the dedicated promoters of the scene and those prepared to take chances on young bands needing a help up, as well as highlighting the venality of publishers and major labels that still no doubt exists in the music industry today.

The current cinema run for the film has only one more date (December 1^st, Prince Charles Cinema, London) but the DVD can be obtained from www.acpgthemovie.com so head over to the site and give your nostalgia a run for its money. Someone enterprising should also release an OST if they can manage to wade through the potential copyright issues.

Oneohtrix Point Never

By Greg Salter

November 24, 2011

A church seems like an appropriate venue to hear Daniel Lopatin present the music he’s been making as Oneohtrix Point Never over the last few years. His albums, particularly the sci-fi ambience of 2010’s Returnal and the more fractured, abject tracks on this year’s Replica, are meditative, insular, cerebral things, best heard all the way through, on your own. What’s more, it seems kind of fitting that an artist who has just created an album out of samples from television adverts from the late ‘80s and ‘90s (long forgotten, useless artefacts) should be performing in a relic of a building – though St Giles is still very much an active church, you sense that Lopatin might have enjoyed performing in a space never intended for his strange, haunting experiments.

Before Lopatin’s set, however, came Helm – the solo project of Bird Of Delay member Luke Younger. Walking in on the start of Helm’s set was disconcerting – you could hear what sounded like someone relentlessly pummelling a piece of metal echoing through the church, but were greeted only by the sight of Younger, head down, over his equipment. His set tended towards the abrasive – what sounded like samples of thick metal bars rolling and scraping, heavy machinery on the brink of collapsing, and human voices distorted horribly. Over time, however (and I don’t know whether this is the intention), you found yourself adjusting to the droning, shuddering elements and they became ambient – a booming, all-encompassing ambience admittedly, but still ambient. There were even some more delicate, shimmering moments buried in the mix there, I’m sure.

Lopatin’s set took a less abrasive path than Helm and a less immediately energetic turn than, according to other live reviews I’ve read, he’s taken in more traditional venues on occasion. The setting, with rows of us seated respectfully in uncomfortable pews, suited this, however. His set was cut roughly into two halves, beginning with the more ambient pieces from Replica and Returnal. Accompanied by a typically OPN-style series of projections that looked like they were built out of retro-futuristic adverts and vintage video games, you could just sit back and allow the layers of synths and samples to wash over you.

The second half of his set saw Oneohtrix Point Never turn to the more out-there material on Replica, disrupting the ambience with the warped video game violence of ‘Child Soldier’ or the chopped-and-looped-into-submission samples on ‘Sleep Dealer’ (watching, from the back of the church, a couple of people trying to bob along to these strange beats was pretty weird). Even the gorgeous piano chords of Replica’s title track were continually interrupted and cut up by noisy bursts of sound. For all the talk of Replica being concerned with memory and re-imagining lost sounds, this is music that sounds completely new and surprising – it transports you but also unsettles you with its strange turns and contrasts of sounds, while still having this mournful, emotional core. As Lopatin unassumingly shuffled off the altar when his music stopped, it felt like coming to, back to where you’d started.

Azari & III

By Stef Siepel

November 20, 2011

The woodwork squeaks and out come the freaks. With freaks, naturally being used as a term of endearment in this case. Wearing a t-shirt might just mean you are terribly underdressed when Azari & III come to town. Boys on heels, girls with half-shaven heads, and suddenly a small group in new wave black hits the scene. When the boys come on and hit the crowd with ‘Manic’, ‘Reckless With Your Love’, or some of the other album hits people are using the sparse room they have in the sold-out Amsterdam venue Trouw to strut their stuff. So plenty of people working it, and the two singers of Azari & III lead by example.

Azari & III are making waves this year. Leading up to their monumental 2011 they had already released some singles, some work, but they have been on the offensive for the last twelve months. They haven’t been shy with touring, including gigs at the biggest Dutch festival Lowlands and with Hercules and Love Affair. This in support of their debut album which came out earlier this year. On the back of that they returned to The Netherlands to play for a packed house, and certainly no punches were pulled for this one.

Before Azari & III take the stage the band When Saints Go Machine get a chance to cash in on their critically acclaimed album Konkylie. The singer starts out high, but when he goes low he shows some similarities to Antony Hegarty. This doesn’t save the first half of the show from being rather terrible. They start with their more experimental and dubby stuff, but if you’re upfront (like I am) then probably you are experiencing physical agony. The sheer volume is enough to make people rush to their earplugs in no time, not to mention that first my legs are shaking, then my upper body is getting the jitters too, and at one point my Adam’s Apple seemingly is on high adventure to pop out. Rarely have I experienced such an utter, involuntary shakedown. The second half sees the band in more catchy, dancey waters, which is better if only because the trembling ceases.

None of that with Azari & III. First the two guys creating the sound take their place behind their kits, and after a song sans vocalists the two singers come up and start working it. Like their following they are extravagantly dressed (or undressed), and throughout the gig they not only sing, but they dance, flirt, pose, and make it all so very very sexy. If Hercules and Love Affair, in their performance, is a bit of fun, a bit sweeter, the Azari & III show is more physical, more about getting down and dirty. In the mean time the crowd is jacking it up so hard that the room is getting hotter by the minute and sweaty bodies are all around.

Luckily, the music is their to match the intensity. The band has some deeper cuts (which, I might say, work better in a live setting than they do on album), but the crowd really gets it going when the singles come, the songs where the vocals are more upfront. Songs like ‘Reckless with Your Love’, ‘Manic’, and ‘Hungry for the Power’ get the whole crowd dancing, while in the encore the sultry ‘Into the Night’ makes for some sweet loving. The band also dusts off Adonis’s house classic ‘No Way Back’ to give some hard evidence of where their roots lie.

Paying homage in house music is very tempting for it has such a rich history. House music has always been connoted to the Gay Rights movement and African-American culture, and the signifiers that link the music to these two things apparently transcend quite well thirty years on, going by both the band and the crowd. The gig is, in good tradition, a celebration of freedom and sexuality. A specific part of it also the freedom of sexuality, to express it, to show it, and the tension that is released by the beats and the physicality of it. Putting aside DJs and club nights for a second, as bands go, Azari & III are one of the best in creating a contemporary version of that house vibe during their gigs. Going by the extravagant crowd, there are definitely enough people who are feeling that.

Zappa Plays Zappa, by Julia Stryj

By Julia Stryj

November 19, 2011

Zappa Plays Zappa took to the stage at the HMV Picture House in Edinburgh last weekend – Kenny McMurtrie was there to review for us, and Julia Stryj took these fantastic images – take a look below.

Zappa Plays Zappa, by Kenny McMurtrie

By Kenny McMurtrie

November 19, 2011

Finally. A gig worthy of the term ‘muso’, to the extent that you could have paid a three figure sum to get in early and witness the soundcheck (and probably have a bit of banter with Dweezil and the band). The maintenance of an ongoing musical legacy probably generates profits greater than that of some small nations, and t-shirts at £20 and proper shirts for £55 go a long way to keeping the family business in the black.

Musically though there’s no room for cynicism tonight as the players are all on excellent form, superbly executing both their collective and solo parts (stand outs being the drum, bass and melodica solos) as they showcase the entire 1974 Apostrophe(‘) album. Zappa senior makes a few appearances through the night too as this is a multi-media event incorporating expertly edited live footage from the Seventies; occurrences that are greeted by the sell-out crowd with the delight of worshippers witnessing the revealing of a saint (much like that seen when Eric Idle turns up on-screen as God in Spamalot). Then again if it’s good enough for Elvis…

Following the album material’s end, the set goes on to contain such great works as ‘What’s The Ugliest Part Of Your Body?’, ‘I’m The Slime’, ‘Don’t You Ever Wash That Thing?’ and closes out with a much demanded encore that includes ‘Dancing Fool’ and ‘Muffin Man’. With such a large body of work to choose from there is no way to please everyone (save for playing for 24 hours straight maybe) and the more populist nature of the bulk of the set is very much a reflection of that, but you’d hardly say that anyone looked disappointed by night’s end, least of all the band.

Clearly as cover bands go this is a rather unusual one. Its not like The Australian Pink Floyd rely on an ex-pat junior Gilmour or Waters for their authenticity of sound and popularity, but then for that matter if a Lennon offspring started touring Plastic Ono Band would the same crowds flock to see the shows? Highly unlikely. What was produced tonight then is more organic. Musicians at least as good as those involved in the original recordings and with the full cooperation of the great man’s estate, not just slavishly reproducing the works but imbuing them with new life as would have been the case if Frank himself was still treading the boards and pushing the envelope.

For Julia Stryj’s photos from the night, go here.