Darren Hayman and Jack Hayter play Hefner songs @ The 100 Club, London

Darren Hayman/Jack Hayter @ 100 Club, London, June 14th

Darren Hayman playing a set comprised entirely of Hefner songs is a big deal, not just to myself, but to the few hundred others who descend upon a bustling 100 Club tonight. It presents a decidedly rare opportunity to see Hayman doing what he does best, the songs of Hefner; the self depreciating songs about masturbation, failed propositions to blind girls, and various ‘hymns’ dedicated to alcohol, and coffee, amongst other things. Okay, so there’s been various solo releases and other projects since Hefner’s de-facto split, such as the The French, and most recently the bluegrass quartet, Hayman, Watkins, Trout & Lee; but, Hefner are, well, Hefner… and to most fans, Hayman simply is Hefner; the heartbroken voice and lyrical lynchpin behind ‘Britain’s Largest Small Band 1996-2002’. Chuck in Jack Hayter for good measure and you’re halfway to the real thing.

The expectation and eagerness has been mounting to a level that is almost as unhealthy as some of Hayman’s lyrical content, so much so that even the mere sight of this indie geek god in relatively close proximity to the stage creates a pronounced rise in the gleeful anticipation. Unfortunately for those, like myself, who view Hayman as eternally bespectacled, the temperature inside means that this is a strictly ‘glasses off’ show. Illusions: not quite shattered.

Things open with a trio of Hefner’s more subdued tracks comprising just Hayman on guitar and vocals, with Hayter working the lap steel guitar; a combination which pulls upon many nostalgic heartstrings present tonight, as if Hayman’s voice on its own wasn’t enough. As soon as Hayman utters the lamentful opening lines “Don’t start me on the rum…” from ‘The Hymn For The Alcohol’, almost nobody -certainly nobody who actually knows the lyrics - can resist, at the very least understatedly, singing along. The on-stage banter is predictably jovial with Hayman and Hayter, who “love Hefner, love playing Hefner songs together, but are not Hefner”, understandably happy to be playing their most well-known material to such a favourable crowd.

The two former Hefner men are soon joined by two-thirds of The Wave Pictures, Franic and Jonny, who take up residence on the rhythm section as the tone turns buoyant. Hayman, as ever, awkwardly wields his guitar to the bouncy, bass-driven ‘The Hymn For The Cigarettes’ and the disgustingly frank ‘Hello Kitten’; seeing, and hearing, hordes of people, male and female, sing along to “I’m gonna make myself go blind tonight” is a surreal, but at all times delightful, experience. With The Fidelity Wars’ recent extended and expanded re-release, it is no surprise to hear so much of it on show, as over half of it is tonight.

To list many more highlights in any kind of detail would border on excess, as nearly every song is a gem, but ‘The Sad Witch’ sees Hayman’s voice pushed to its limit, and things are finally, after a slew of sing-alongs, rounded off with ‘A Hymn For The Postal Service’, where Hayman’s remorseful and painfully fragile voice carries as much weight as it ever has. The only negative of the whole performance: Hayman sporting a The French t-shirt. Bad form indeed, but it’s a minor offence which I’m sure most will overlook tonight.

9/10

[Taken from Drowned in Sound]

The Fly Tour @ Bedford Esquires

Tubelord, Ox.Eagle.Lion.Man, Johnny Foreigner @ Bedford Esquires, June 7th

And so, the ten weary and worn souls that make up Kingston’s Tubelord, black-clad doom merchants Ox.Eagle.Lion.Man, and the seemingly perpetually on-the-road Johnny Foreigner move onto the final date of the 2008 Fly tour after presenting their musical wares in Edinburgh, Leicester, Royal Tunbridge Wells and now a ‘not-as-busy-as-one-might-hope’ Bedford.

Tubelord, long haired and fronted by a pipe-thin bespectacled bottle-blonde boy, offer up feverish, jagged and choppy guitar riffs that aren’t far from Biffy Clyro. By all accounts, the heavy-soft-heavy / fast-slow-fast shtick is done well; not so well to warrant a full-on sing-along (though the few who know the words do) but enough to whet the appetite and tempt those toes into a tap or two. It’d be a bit of a push to label them in the ‘emo’ category as there is more to them musically than just the wailing atlanticised pronunciations. The best is saved ‘til last with‘Feed Me A Box Of Words’ being the highlight, incorporating some group chanting, more of those heavy-soft-heavy dynamics, layered melodies as well as a particularly remorseful melodica solo along the way. As is uttered on ‘Half Man Half Amazing’, “everything’s alright”.

Ox. Eagle.Lion.Man are an entirely different proposition to the other acts on the bill, and play music that is barely suited to this balmy evening and more suited to the depressing depths of some decaying hovel. Though Esquires might not be decaying, this dingy, dark, converted 19th Century chapel supplies an apt backdrop for the melodramatic proclamations of lead man Fred MacPherson, supported by legs as slender as the mic-stands with which he plies his trade. Suitably suited, all in black, OELM make music for manic-depressives and during the theatrical‘Fatherhood’ MacPherson writhes to the beat of his own drums earnestly with slight hints of The Birthday Party in his accompaniment. ‘The Drowned And The Saved’ ranges from the funereal to the frantic, with as much of a guitar solo as there will be tonight, descends, laced with overdrive and reverb into the darkness. Some witty fellow insists on heckling with “Are you Morrissey!?”in between tracks, but no, not even close.

Seeing Johnny Foreigner (who, one way or another, have managed to find time to record their debut album) in the flesh is always an assault on the auditory canals, and each time, they become more chaotic, though perhaps it’s just a little too chaotic tonight. Certainly, no favours are done by the PA, which, at this ear-splitting volume, leaves Alexei’s trademark Tourette’s style delivery of unintelligible words a little lost in the mire. ‘The End And Everything After’ is very much each musical component fighting for the same sound waves, but the melodic American drawl-inflected ‘Eyes Wide Terrified’ proves Johnny Foreigner are no one-trick-ponies. The banter is humorous, though such a year Johnny Foreigner have had it’s not surprising they’re a little bewildered with Alexei stating “This is a new song…actually, it’s not new anymore…er…this is a song”. ‘Suicide Pact, Yeah?’ is a barrage of brutality with Kelly’s piercing shrieks; but it’s a beautiful brutality.

It finishes in a surreal manner with Alexei, Kelly and Junior being joined by members of Tubelord, morphing into a six-piece; suddenly the number of sticksmen doubles, and a triumvirate of guitars emerges whilst Junior ups-sticks to take up backing vocals, culminating in a sound that is potent; like a freight train de-railing through your ears, ending with just enough time for Alexei to catch his breath, and the crowd theirs.

Tubelord 6/10

Ox.Eagle.Lion.Man 8/10

Johnny Foreigner 7/10

[Taken from Drowned In Sound]

Metronomy @ Bedford Esquires

Metronomy @ Bedford Esquires, Thu. 5th June
Recreating the sound of electronica live can go two ways: it can either be enhanced to the point of euphoria, where the audience, performers and venue become one in beautiful musical bliss, or the intricacies and nuances which are so pronounced on record can never be recalled live, leaving a very hollow feeling.

There is, as per usual, absolutely nothing doing with the support acts, who range from mildly mediocre to decidedly desperate. It would, however, be a massive crime not to include a few words on the two-piece electro-emo outfit Dream Sequence, who are, quite easily, the worst thing to permeate my eardrums since some Frenchman stitched a cat to his shoulder last year and became an entry for Eurovision. They sort of sound like Linkin Park vs Jay Z on Collision Course, but infinitely worse, indescribably so. Included tonight: an epically emo-tinged cover of Spandau Ballet’s ‘Gold’, several amusingly unfortunate crashes of the laptop (take note: when this happens 20 seconds in, it’s probably a sign), an Ibiza emo-dance ‘anthem’ and the peculiar sight of the lead singer seemingly trying to lose his sight by staring into the stage lights pre-performance. Absolutely bizarre…

Metronomy live are a different proposition to Metronomy on record. Utilising a more conventional set-up than might be imagined - guitar, bass, saxophone and melodica, as well as the more expected plethora of FX, drum machines and, naturally, a laptop. Poorly choreographed hand salutes and what could be very loosely termed as dance moves make an appearance; they aren’t entirely necessary, much like the push lights which hang from their necks over black t-shirts, but somehow, it works.

Showcasing as much material from 2006’s Pip Paine (Pay The £5000 You Owe) as from their soon-to-be-released full length Nights Out, Metronomy can sometimes sound like a hotchpotch of unusual effects and beats thrown together arbitrarily, slightly reminiscent instrumentally of Devo; but when it all fits together, which is by no means all the time, it just sounds right. This much is blindingly obvious from the off when ‘My Heart Rate Rapid’ opens, metronomically enough, at 130bpm or so with a brilliantly casual bassline pitched against ear-piercingly sharp synthesised wails. On ‘Radio Ladio’ Joseph Mount’s vocals are the epitome of laidback cool, and it’s safe to say there can’t be much which sounds so cheap and yet so great, before things take a turn into Nintendo-nightmare land with ‘Let’s Have A Party’; cue much rigid, robotic move-busting from Metronomy’s mainman, Mr Mount.

The barrage of effects, processed vocals and countless other phasers and sequencers (which often sounds like several ‘80s sci-fi soundtracks all playing in unison) can be a tad overwhelming and faintly repetitive at times, leading to a sense of sonic confusion, but a welcome change of tone and pace is offered by the melodica-led ‘Black Eye/Burnt Thumb’ and the Kraftwerk-like ‘Back On The Motorway’. Those present are teased into near electro orgasm by a thumping and vigorous rendition of the punky, power-chord driven ‘Roobard and Custard’ theme tune-esque ‘You Could Easily Have Me’. Cue even more robotic dancing, this time from the adoring revellers.

Sure enough, Pip Paine… might have been inconsistently good, with not enough emphasis on the melodic, but in the flesh Metronomy provide a soundtrack which overwhelms, and places you within the music, actually feeling it rather than simply hearing it.

8/10

[Taken from Drowned In Sound]

Wild Beasts @ Bedford Esquires [17.4.2008]

Wild Beasts @ Bedford Esquires, April 17th

Mint cake and, erm, three quarters of British Sea Power are probably the two most noteworthy exports of Kendal, but Wild Beasts could soon be added to that very short list. Playing to what could only be described, euphemistically, as a “select audience” (Esquires must’ve been busier than this when Los Campesinos! did their soundcheck…), Wild Beasts certainly aren’t the epitome of ‘indie cool’. Virtuoso vocalist Hayden Thorpe plays his guitar at a near neck-strangling height and sports trousers jacked up with braces to ankle level whilst wearing a pencil thin, barely visible moustache above his top lip. Wiry guitarist Benny has a perfectly sculpted angular quiff and the now seldom seen turtle neck. When you sound like Wild Beasts do, such sartorial matters are utterly insignificant.

After the obligatory local support bands, playing almost entirely to their friends, the time for Wild Beasts to do their thing cannot come soon enough. As set-opener ‘Vigil’ kicks in via a slinky bassline, Thorpe stands pigeon-toed and switches so effortlessly between a gravelly growl and unfaltering falsetto.

Rather unfortunately for all involved, the crowd of twenty something twenty-somethings disperses to the edges, which leaves the performance feeling less like a gig and more like an open band practice. Not ones to be fazed, they rip through the spree of amusing lyrical wordplay that is ‘Assembly’. Thorpe wails operatically, “My top’s off, I’m a goose pimpled god / I’ll quiver the jellies of every heavy and every bully that I might cross” to a faint tinkling of the ivories, whilst bassist Tom’s tenor tones prove the perfect partner for Thorpe’s falsetto.

‘Brave Bulging Buoyant Clairvoyants’ is without a doubt the highlight, in which Thorpe changes hastily between absolute orgasmic vocal ecstasy and brief infantile bawls while rhythm guitarist Benny pecks his neck like a chicken in time with an incessantly struck woodblock. The few scattered souls present are as appreciative as the band is apologetically thankful between tracks. The ethereal ‘Please Sir’, ‘Woebegone Wanderers’ and the surreal duet between Thorpe and Fleming that is ‘The Old Dog’ are all of a less chaotic disposition and they certainly wouldn’t sound out of place in the West End. Not that out of place, anyway. Similar could be said for the set finale, the more minimalist ‘Cheerio’, no more so than during the chanted chorus of “Cheerio chaps, cheerio” which is strangely reminiscent of Vera Lynn’s ‘We’ll Meet Again’.

There certainly can’t be many bands quite like Wild Beasts, with such peculiar lyrical content that isn’t a million miles from Morrissey, and it is nigh on impossible to place them into any sort of identifiable genre. It’s understandable why Wild Beasts aren’t everyone’s brew of choice, and Thorpe’s voice may be as grating to some as astounding to others, but, despite the Beasts’ best efforts, the lack of turnout leaves this a much more tame affair than it otherwise may have been.

7/10

[Review taken from Drowned In Sound]

April Reviews...an absolute shedload.

Angus and Julia Stone: A Book Like This (31.3.2008 on Flock)

The spectre of middle of the road blandness is one which sadly looms over much of today’s music, especially in the genre of folk. Now, artists like Newsom, who exude originality and innovation from every avenue, aren’t too common. It’s precisely because they are so outlandish yet still brilliant that they are held in such high regard. There are some artists who push the benchmark to extremes, and those who are happy to lie safely within the boundaries. Sadly, Antipodean brother and sister duo Angus & Julia Stone fit into the latter category.

It’s not that 'A Book Like This' is a bad album, in fact it’s quite nice. But nice isn’t necessarily a good thing, in this case it’s a euphemism for uninspiring. Aptly enough, part of this album was recorded in the living room of a front man from a band who were very nice indeed; Travis. The remainder was recorded in the basement of the home of their mother, whose niceness is yet unknown.

Throughout 'A Book Like This', the better moments come from the throat of Julia, whose childlike voice is somewhat reminiscent of early Joanna Newsom and that other sibling-folk duo, CocoRosie. Angus’ voice just doesn’t carry enough clout. As the album opener 'The Beast' bounces along, it’s just begging for a more distinctive voice, something a little less neutral, not necessarily a Condon, but something infinitely more raw and rasping than Angus can provide.

The production, partly done by Fran Healy, is unerringly first-rate throughout, with some pleasantly twee glockenspiels appearing on 'Hollywood', where Julia offers an endearing vocal performance, despite some slightly cliché lyrical content. A harmonica solo is thrown in on Angus led 'Just A Boy', which is one of those old fashioned tales of love. The poignant 'Silver Coin' has a steam engine like drumbeat which keeps the track chugging along at a steady pace, but by the time the carefree 'Stranger' appears, you feel this album has only just left the station.

There are tracks on here which are much darker in mood, reminiscent in so many ways of Damien Rice’s 'O', none more so than the title track, where some dramatic acoustic work is backed by a prominently sombre string section. Penultimate track 'Another Day' has more than a hint of Beirut; from the waltzing piano to the slow, slurring brass, something which adds a much needed extra dimension to 'A Book Like This'.

'Horse and Cart', the album finale, is a four-and-a-half minute swagger towards the finish line, which sees an all too brief clarinet solo, as well as some bright and breezy group whistling and hand clapping on display. On the whole, 'A Book Like This' is not a bad effort from Angus & Julia Stone, but it takes far too long to get into gear. The opening four or five tracks are just too nondescript and innocuous to provoke much of a reaction. Thankfully, the album improves remarkably as it progresses, particularly when the mood changes for more melancholic. There’s enough promise in 'A Book Like This' for us to hope that Angus & Julia can fulfil their potential, and not be consigned to the endless scrap heap of folk-rock dullards.

6/10

[Review taken from Gigwise]

iLiKETRAiNS: We Go Hunting (21.4.08 on Beggars Banquet)

Annoyingly titled post-rockers from Leeds in song about historical event shocker. Or not. iLiKETRAiNS’ music thankfully does not suffer despite their oddly styled name (just which part do you emphasise?!) or unusual lyrical subject matter. With vocals that are so broadly and profoundly delivered, songs about anything other than The Great Fire of London and the assassination of Spencer Perceval would seem, well, a little bit insincere.

'We Go Hunting' may only be 3:25 long, but it needs to be longer. Full of the characteristic cathedral like ambience which so marks iLiKETRAiNS sound, this track moves from a sorrowful opening to a harrowing chorus and is laced with talk of demons; which is unsurprising for a track about the Salem Witch Trials.

Guy Bannister’s vocal style does verge on the outrageous at times, but his dark tones are perfect for iLiKETRAiNS’ sinister and gloomy choruses.

The chorus itself falls into a black-hole of misery, where the lyrics “If the demons divide, the demons will conquer/if you give them an inch, they’ll take a mile” are sung so mournfully it’s scary.

'We Go Hunting' is simply begging to be extended with an extra verse or two, another interlude, an interminably long outro perhaps, but sadly none of these happen and it fades out at 3:25, much to my disappointment. That said, if you buy only one Salem Witch Trial themed single this year, this should be it.

7/10

[Review taken from Audioscribbler]

Essie Jain: We Made This Ourselves (31.3.2008 on Ba Da Bing)

Listening to New York based English songstress Essie Jain’s debut album, 'We Made This Ourselves', you are unlikely to be blown away by a powerful and coruscating virtuoso vocal performance, simply because there isn’t one here. Nor are you likely to be hit by grand orchestration, because you’ll only find chamber-folk minimalist styling. The beauty of 'We Made This Ourselves' is in the simplicity of the arrangements; it uses only the number of instruments it needs to use, no more, no less.

Opening track 'Glory' gives a real taste of what this album is about. With not much more present than Jain’s soft, soothing vocals and a sparsely strummed acoustic guitar for accompaniment, this track is beautifully bare. From the moment the opening lines of “How I will rise up from the waters where I’ve drowned” emerge, 'Glory' floats for four minutes like a feather on the stillest of country streams. Haze sees Jain’s evocative vocals multi-tracked hauntingly, culminating in the brass-backed crescendo of a chorus where Jain proclaims “I am right behind you” over and over, almost forcefully, until it rather unexpectedly ends.

Jain’s vocals are certainly distinctive, almost operatic in some places, and smoke-thin in texture. Every lyric is sung sincerely and unhurriedly, no more evident in 'Sailor', where the lament laden backing is provided by a solemnly played string section, which proves the perfect partner for Jain’s melancholic lyrical matter throughout much of the album.

'Disgrace' offers a welcome change of disposition from Jain, being somewhat more upbeat musically, with some neat percussion provided by the prolific former Dirty Three drummer, Jim White. Despite the change for a more musically jovial tone, Jain helplessly proclaims that she “can’t help but think it’s all our fault, can’t help but wait for the lightning bolt”.

Perhaps the standout track on the album, 'Loaded', Jain offers yet more delicately delivered words, on a track which ends on a powerful emotional note with the promises “I will drag you, I will hold you, I will pull you, I will slide you, I will leave you on the stair”.

'We Made This Ourselves' is a record which fits together superbly, up until the detuned finale of 'No Mistake', in which a slide guitar creeps in so quietly it is almost unnoticed. It is a debut which should quietly announce Essie Jain to the world, with an album which is as beautifully simple as it is simply beautiful.

8/10

[Review taken from Audioscribbler]