The Broken Family Band say Adieu @ The Portland Arms - 31/10/09

The Broken Family Band have been a staple diet for my gig calender since I first saw them at the Cambridge Arts Picture House in October 2003 alongside Ruby Nichols, who we now all know and love as Captain.

Since then, TBFB have gone from tongue-in-cheek alt-country with the likes of Jesus Songs, The King Will Build A Disco and Cold Water Songs to harder, romantic renaissance post-rock in .



These changes were warmly embraced by fans and (most) critics alike, and Glastonbury, Koko and International tours began to replace their previous tendency to play more intimate pub venues as their fanbase grew. Their stint on Skins with It's All Over and offers to play on Later With Jools Holland looked set to propel them into the bigtime, but they always lurked tantalisingly beneath the surface, never quite 'making it'.



Their last album, Please and Thank You seemed to baffle a lot of the committed BFB-ers. While the music and lyric-writing was still solid, the album seemed to lack the personality so integral to the Broken Family way. Perhaps whatever musical horse they were flogging had begun to die a little. Other sources suggest conflicting interests between the boys. Whatever the reason, it was announced in September that The Broken Family Band would be playing their last ever gig on Hallowe'en at their Cambridge pub of choice, The Portland Arms.

I expected the atmosphere to be somewhat demure or reflective, but with most of the gig-goers dressed up trick-or-treat style, it was quite a hard attitude to maintain. There was an air of excitement - more of a wake than a funeral.



The band came on without a support at around 9pm. I wondered if there would be costumes or adornments but no, they were simply focussed on the task at hand - and boy what a task. They ploughed into a stonking 2 and a half hour set with a repertoire covering all artistic corners. As well as beautiful renditions of At the Back of the Chapel and Dancing on the 4th Floor they surprised us all by cracking out beauties from their ancient archives. (I Don't Have The Time To) Mess Around was hilarious, with Steve's grostesque embellishments about granny spunk in the intro reminding us just exactly what made this band special.



The Cambridge crowd did themselves proud - they sang, they laughed hell - they even danced! About an hour in you could see the sweat dripping off the walls and back onto the faces of the people it came from.



And so it came to the end with John Belushi. The four boys stuck their absolute heart and soul in as if they were pushing in all the work of the last 8 years. Jay cradled his guitar like a baby, Steve looked intensely into the middle distance, Mick leant back mouth open and Gav stood up. The song ended, the people clapped and there were post-coital manhugs all-round. I'm gonna miss these boys dearly, but it was one hell of a ride that saw me through my teen years. As Steve mentioned one fan reckoning, they're probably the sort of band that will reform every 10 years. Not quite a compliment, but here's to hoping! There does seems to be promise of new musical escapades from the boys on the horizon at least - the legacy lives on!

Mr Scruff @ Koko - 24/10/09

I've seen Mr. Scruff various times around the country (from Manchester to Wales, Wiltshire to Cambridge) and his gigs have varied considerably (from awesome to average). His selection of music from the world of funk, hip hop, latin, ska, electro and beyond is always spot on, with the soundsystem and venue (*ahem* The Junction) being the only real reason for an auditory let-down.



This was fortunately not to be at Koko. Reknowned venue it is, the bass came thick and heavy into the ears and got even those up on highest balconies getting their boogie on.
He does great build ups to heavy basslines and knows exactly how to make his audience move, even if what he's doing technically is pretty simple. Sometimes simplicity is exactly what you need for a knees up. He avoided the temptation to play 'the hits' - Get A Move On and Fish spring to mind. Instead he played a lot of new and exciting stuff off Ninja Tuna and Bonus Bait. This barely mattered at all as Scruff's selection will make you dance whether you know the tune or not

I've sometimes found Andy's animations to be irritating and twee, especially in its efforts to be 'oh so random' with pictures of pies and fish. This seemed to have been toned down in comparison to the other gigs and the animations updated a little to incorporate some pretty amusing saxophone-wielding characters, funky spinning records and other music-related visual delights.



Scruff has worked hard to merchandise himself - his tea stand is now something of a legend - but the need to sell felt a lot more toned down than on previous occassions. I was happy to see that they were giving away free online mp3s of the night (you simply have to input a code onto his website) and were selling a lot more actual music (as opposed to badges/bags/tshirts) that I remember.

As far as the crowd itself went, the place was packed. It was great to see such a varied age range dancing together - scruff certainly had a broad appeal. The number of people completely off their heads was pretty impressive, but everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves an awful lot. His bass and brass-heavy beats kept the place shaking on down so much so that we had to leave the dancefloor for a breather. Andy Scruff truly minced it.

The Fiery Furnaces + Pete Um @ Cargo - 08/10/09

The Fiery Furnaces played their first London gig for two years this evening at Cargo - Shoreditch's prime music hangout.
At 8pm, Cambridge-based electro-poet and all-round decent guy, Pete Um, took to the stage as support.

Having seen the chap perform various times, I expected this tame-looking London crowd to be weirded out by his eccentric and passion-stuffed performance, but they took to him very well! Fortunately this was a crowd that was prepared to listen (and even laugh!) at what Pete had to say, with appreciative head nods during ‘Evil', an old classic, and ‘Understand', one of Pete's new tunes.



The pre-gig nerves wore off quickly and Pete pulled off a great set - a change to previous ‘disaster’ gigs he claimed to have performed at Cargo previously.

The Fiery Furnaces have been kicking around since 2000 and it was quite plain to see that through the battered and crusty-looking male audience they attracted. There certainly were enough of them to completely pack out Cargo, though.



The frontlady, bedecked in double denim and shrouded by a shaggy fringe cut, was quite captivating, with vocals ranging from slow, drawn out phrases to Joni Mitchell-esque speed-speaking. The bass guest-played by Jason Lowenstein (of Sebadoh fame) was growling, slick and eminent of The Stranglers, which was accompanied nicely by the rim-click savvy rhythmic musings of the drummer.

The songs were a far cry from the standard verse-verse-chorus formula we've come to expect, with break-downs, jams, tempo-changes and time-signature explorations commonplace around every corner. Only ocassionally did it seem self-indulgent, as some of their ‘hit’ songs were played with so much that the audience could not follow them.

The sound was intriguing. Their post-punk funky vibe hailed influence from The Banshees, Au Pairs, Joni, Skunk Anansie and The Slits amongst others. However, as they seamlessly rolled their songs into each other I began to find that their music was quite unchanging. Much of their new material sounded very similar, with only ‘Drive to Dallas’ really grabbing my attention.



The band were tight, dynamic and original-sounding, but after about 5 songs I realised their sound proceeded no further. I watched them soldier through 1.5 hours of the same noise, with my nitial excitement at their fresh sound petering steadily into apathy.

Massive Attack - Brixton 02 Academy - 19/09/09

It's been 18 years since the release of Massive Attack's debut LP Blue Lines, and nearly 3 since '100th Window' hit our ears. Now, minus the presence of Andrew 'Mushroom' Vowles, but armed with the promise of a brand new album for 2010, The Wild Bunch performed for the third and final consecutive night at Brixton's 02 Academy.

What struck me first about the venue was how civilised the whole place was. There were a few small and orderly queues for toilets and merchandise, but otherwise the place was uncrowded and completely relaxed. The arena itself offered a unique blend of space and intimacy. The sloped floor leading to Brixton's huge stage meant that a good view could be had from almost any spot in the room, reducing the need for elbow-bargy bitchiness at the barrier (although admittedly that kind of behaviour does have its place in certain gig circles!).

After a few drinks the support act came on. Martina Topley Bird, complete with perm and sparkly outfit, failed to impress me. The songs of this soul-less Goldfrapp, middle-aged La Roux or self-conscious OMD started and stopped without a discernable beginning or end, and no one tune was particuarly distinguishable from the others. The sound engineering for the first couple of songs was pretty awful too, but once this was sorted the band seemed mundane at best. They warm up a little towards the end of the set, with their last two songs taking a rockier, drum-centric edge, but by then they had already lost the interest of the audience. We were simply too eager to see the band we'd paid £30 for.



After a refreshingly short break, Massive Attack finally graced the Academy's titanic stage. There was no repeat of the previous act's sound issues. With two drummers, DJ, synth, bass and cacophony of vocalists amongst the line-up, the band were on top form. Massive Attack got the balance between fresh new sounds and crowd-pleasing classics just right. It was great to see Daddy G back in on the action and engaging in some quality audience interaction - 'This is dedicated to all the starving models in the world' - as well as performing alongside some rather funky guest singers. Disappointingly, Damon Albarn did not make a repeat appearance (he turned up on friday) but the roots-reggae greatness of Horace Andy more than made up for this. I was sceptical of Martina's vocal presence in some of the songs (including the seminal 'Teardrop') but aside from her attention-seeking tottering about the stage she did a pretty good job.



To my delight, the guys played 'Future Proof'. As a 14-year old I used to light incense and meditate to 100th window, and hearing this played granted me a nostalgic epiphany that took me right back to 2004. The absolute climax, however, came during 'Angel', the first track from the phenomenal 'Mezzanine' where I lost myself completely in the shuddering bass and beams of light. MA are undoubtedly still on form, but I doubt if they will ever reach the dizzying musical heights they reached on that album again.

The accompanying lightshow that night was beautiful. Old school stereo-style 'strip' lighting was used on the backdrop, with displays ranging from red and white sparkles to videos of anti-war marches and even live 'trash' news feeds. This was paired with some rather impressive 'beam'-style lighting reminiscent of a sea anemone a la Blue Planet, which granted the songs a visual as well as an aural climax.



The gig was absolutely fantastic, with the boys fiercely defending any suggestion that they're too old for this business. Their new music was exciting and their old classics still held strong. Like 100th Window, new songs from the '5th LP' seem a lot more centred around smooth synth sounds and vocals rather than their previous tendency towards a heavier, more rhythmic approach.

It was a totally inspiring evening. I really wanted to ignore the fact that playing at the 02 Academy was totally hypocritical when set against all the jibing anti-capitalist messages that they spread across their backdrop and more subtly in their tunes. This occurred to me during 'Unfinished Sympathy' and as a result I don't think it will ever have quite the same resonance.

Notting Hill Carnival - 30/08/09

Since moving to Cambridge, I managed to miss the to the whistle-blowing, sweet corn-charring, booty-shaking bass-trembling extravaganza that is Notting Hill Carnival for the last few years. Boarding the 436X bus, whose sole purpose was to transport the South Londoners to the carnival that day, I found myself aboard a single-decker bubbling with excitement. Sunday being family day, the carnival kids were already blowing their whistles in anticipation. Meanwhile, I found myself sandwiched between a group of plum-mouthed sloanes who were unafraid to loudly describe their experience ‘on weed’ and express their awe at ‘how very ethnic’ the bus was. I’m pretty sure I saw those same girls huddled nervously by the piles of polystyrene goat curry leftovers and coconuts later that day.



After the long and uncomfortably warm bus journey, we finally arrived at a place those Chelsea girls termed ‘high street ken’ and the crowds began. A brief walk past the police stop-and-search, whistle touts and hideously expensive houses Hugh Grant would be proud of and I was plunged into the smoke of barbecued jerk chicken and the metallic ting of repetitive soca rhythms. The festival was already in full swing. The first sound system I came across played a variety of black music anthems, ranging from modern R’n’B to Garage, Dancehall to Break beat, with a homage to Michael Jackson thrown in for luck. The crowd was pretty mixed and also a pretty friendly bunch. I inevitably ended up spending a good portion of my dancing dimes there.

The dancehall sound system a bit further down was playing some pretty fresh sounds, but the proportion of attitude-donning rude-boys made it a little less comfortable to dance to. I found a really great sound system playing some drum n bass and funky house, but there were strangely few folk dancing - possibly because the MC had a habit of jumping on and forcibly dancing with anyone who dared nod a head in appreciation. I danced from a distance before moving to a system where I could get closer the bass bins without fear of attack.



By far the most popular system was being run by 1xtra’s ‘Rampage’, who was spinning out all the latest RnB ‘hits’ with a few summer classics thrown in. This crowd in particular made me feel pretty old, and for once I was proud to be, as these lot still seemed too immature to let themselves go and get into the . Attempting to nip down Portabello road, I forgot just how massive the festival was. A tip to check out KCC on Wornington Road was sadly dismissed as moving anywhere with any kind of speed was pretty out the question. It had a top afternoon and emerged completely exhausted and sticky with sugar cane. In hindsight I wish I’d made a note of the Djs spinning the sound systems, but I was too busy dancing!

Labrynth Reunion - Hidden - 08/08/09

Old Skool, Drum n Bass and Jungle have been a staple of my musical upbringing. I remember dancing to the stuff in between playing power rangers and eating carrot sticks and hummous at pre and post-rave parties throughout my childhood as well as listening to North London pirate radio stations and, later on, nicking my parents' mixtapes for my Sony walkman. Labrynth was a household name along with the likes of Raindance, Sunrise and Tribal Gathering since the early 90s, so it felt a little weird to me that, 15 years since the last one, this was my first time.

After some house party madness and a hefty tube ride to kick up the pre-rave excitement, we reached Hidden, situated under Vauxhall's magic arches. The area has a buzzin' nightlife I'd never really known about , although admittedly most seemed the up-market, overpriced cocktail-sipping type that I don't normally go for. After some hassle where the club took a stupid amount of time to acknowledge the guestlist queue, we wangled our way in. The place had only been open for an hour but it was already packed out with the music thumping in every corner. A quick scout round established 3 rooms - jungle/heavy DnB ('Originals') for the hard core, house for the softer core nostalgia ('Loyalists') and old skool classics/hardcore for those somewhere in between ('Legends').


Then: Ravers at 12 Dalston Lane, '93

The rooms were dark, the place was buzzin' and I had to dance to the sickeningly great choons - who cares if we've heard this one already? Our group naturally split as we found our sound of preference, but it didn't really seem to matter. You only had to glance around to find a friendly face. DJs, MCs, Promoters and other big names on the Rave scene were naturally mingled with regular punters - some of whom tried their own hand on the mic or dancing behind (or indeed on top of) the decks. I even had a little banter with Adrian Age and Chalky White myself. The old skool room was especially inclusive, with the DJ booth placed between sets of stairs leading up to the balcony for a real connection between music makers and appreciators. There was no sign of any 'VIP' elitism or cliques and friends were made very easily. By the end of the night I felt I knew everyone - not at all like the usual, slightly hostile or predatory vibe you get at regular, drink-orientated nightclubs: this is even considering that the vast majority of Labrynth attendees were blokes!


Now: Ravers at Hidden, 2009

I can't believe I've gotten this far and not yet properly mentioned the music! My group were pretty split on what room they preferred, but I spent most of my time in the Old Skool room. The House room (in the middle and by the entrance) was a little too crowded and bright for my liking and although I loved the heavy beats in the jungle room, the energy generated in there made it way too hot to stay in for long. All the soundsytems were massive, and the bass was heavy enough to make my hair stand on end. DJ Ellis Dee , Slip Matt and Billy Bunter did it for me especially, as they pumped out classic after classic that got everyone's horns and hands up in appreciation. The trademark deep synth sounds of old skool sent shivers from my ears to my spine and time just flew by. Pretty soon they were playing 4 o'clock (in the Morning). I used the loo, grabbed some water, talked crap to people who were happy to reiprocate whilst cooling down outside and had a little rave. All of sudden Billy Bunter was shouting "One More?!" and it was 7am. One More fortunately became Four More, with legendary Valley of the Shadows and Incredible being among their number.

I left the club at around half seven and stepping into the bright sunlight with basslines and piano licks still ringing in my eardrums was a very surreal experiences. I had sweated, smiled, blew my whistle and danced myself silly and bloody loved it! I didn't yet ache (that was to come later) and spent the rest of the day talking rubbish and reliving the night. Rumour has it there's to be a Christmas 09 special - watch this space!

WOMAD 2009 - 23/07 - 26/07

As is always the way, no sooner had we seemed to tumble stiffly out of the car surrounded by roll mats and crates of beer than I was hazily making my way back with noticeably depleted alcohol reserves. WOMAD has had pride of place on my calendar for over 10 years now, and with the line-up for 2009 as it was, it looked like yet another promising showcase of the world's musical talent.

Having settled nicely and with no sign of the predicted rainfall we made our way on site. Seeing the trademark colourful flags and silly hats and hearing the unmistakeable rhythms of the drum circle once again sent a shiver of excitement down my spine and I was hit with the festival vibe.


Astonishingly, the Thursday 'treat' performances were none other than The Penguin Café Orchestra and The Skatalites. The Café were a great start to the weekend, with their folky instrumental musings easing us in gently. Even without Simon Jeffes they maintained their kooky musical mastery (to be fair, they have had twelve years without him to sort it out!) and Arthur Jeffes (Simon's son) donned a particularly fabulous hat throughout. They played classics like Telephone and Rubber Band and Giles Farnaby's Dream as well as some new bits and bobs as reassurance of their musical progression. Unfortuantely, I think I must have missed Music For a Found Harmonium. I loved how the audience sang along despite the songs being lyricless - a sign of a truly engaged audience.

And if the Penguin Cafe were there to chill us out, The Skatalites were there to wake us up again. Out on the open air stage, they had the whole crowd in skanking unity. Guns of Navarone, Ska Ska Ska and You're Wondering Now had me muddying my vocal chords as well as my Doctor Marten boots. The threat of rain loomed over us but our good spirit seemed to push it into nothing more than half-arsed drizzle as nightfall crept over us.



Friday aka DUB DAY had the lineup that most excited me that weekend. The Little Red tent clearly seemed the place to be, with the music being kick-started by the Creole Choir of Cuba (try saying that after a couple of pints of Perry!). Punctuating traditional Cuban rhythms with catchy harmonies and colourful costumes, they set the bar high. The audience were not quite ready to dance wildly at this stage, but the next act on followed where The Skatalites left off with Dub Colossus producing some great bass-heavy beats to skank to. They are a relatively little-known but held the crowd easily as they locked into the off-beat and teasing vocal hooks. The WOMAD programme suggested an Ethiopian twist on dub though they seem to hail from London Town - I'm looking forward to seeing them again on the gig circuit if that's the case!

The second Dub meal of the day followed at 7pm. The great legend that is Mad Professor sat at the decks with the crown as king of dub still planted firmly on his head. His version of I Chase the Devil had all the Prodigy-diggin' yout dem skanking and shouting proud. I came out of that gig sweating and positively in awe of the body-shaking bass tremors I had just been blessed with.



The next act, Bristol-based RSD looked promising (and quite reminiscent of Bristol-based TC, who played last year. However, the soundsystem just couldn't seem to handle the bass that was being pumped out of it, resulting in distortion and a general lack of volume. Disheartened, I went and joined Zambezi Express and led the drum circle for a little while (fun!). When I returned, the soundsystem seemed to have sorted itself out and RSD was on a blinder. The whole tent was bouncing as he churned out some Drum and Bass dub-inspired choons. MC Joe Peng spat some great lyrics into the microphone. I don't know if it's the change in music variety at WOMAD or just a natural demographic shift, but WOMAD seemed a lot younger this year. There were certainly a lot of teenage yout going loopy in the red tent that night.



I must admit that Saturday was mainly spent in San Fran's Disco, supplier of 7.5% local brewed perry and exceptionally funky DJs. I did manage to catch the Chicago-based Hypnotic Brass Ensemble with their tasty blend of brass jam band and American hip-hop. They reminded me of The Youngblood Brass Band only with a more gutsy, less beourgeoisie edge to them. Radiokijada, brainchild of Rodolfo Munoz and Christoph Mueller of Gotan Project fame, put on a stunning set. Being french, I expected them to have a bit more funky and contemporary take on things, but I ended up being perfectly happy with their more traditional peruvian-latin vibes. It's only partially to do with the fact that they use the lower jawbone of a donkey as one of their core percussive instruments that I enjoyed it so much.



The rest of Saturday was spent avoiding Peter Gabriel on the open air stage (harder than it sounds!). Don't get me wrong, he's done a great thing in founding WOMAD and he's a talented musician, but I still find it a bit odd that he's billed himself as headliner of his own festival. I mean, you wouldn't catch Michael Eavis doing that at Glastonbury, would you? I'll give dear old Peter the benefit of the doubt, however, as I vaguely remember something about Boy George being billed earlier on in the year, so it could be possible that he was merely filling in.

Afro-Cuban Funk DJ Snowboy looked like a fantastic end to the evening, but it seemed that the earlier issues with RSD the previous night had returned to haunt the Big Red Tent. The soundsystem sounded half cut and made it too uncomfortable for us to listen to; it was borderline sacreligious to hear such great music in this castrated form. We left and instead spent the night talking rubbish and chilling out with fellow festival weirdos in the Chai tent.



Sunday aka FUNK day started lazily. We ambled in at 2pm to catch Styl'o'styl. They were perhaps the strangest act I saw at WOMAD this year (apart from the musical milkfloat that made melodies with partial empty milk jugs as does a merry-go-round). Live Miles Davis-style experimental funk was combined with three men performing breakin' and contemporary dance movements. It was very very French and ever so slightly twee in its execution. I think it might have been the dancer's frantic movements to the more freeform sections that did it. Nonetheless, it was a great way to ease our addled brains into a new day.

WOMAD then gave us two fabulous funk extravaganza with the all-powerful Sweet Vandals followed by my favourite funk discovery of the last few years, The Apples. Hailing from Madrid, The Sweet Vandals were electric. The frontwoman was a powerhouse of sound - think Beth Ditto of the funk world - and had an equally energetic group of musicians backing her. The bassist and hammond organist in particular were exceptional (the latter only had one hand, which tripped some of the more spangled festival-goers out quite a bit). The Apples produced an absolute sweat-fest with the entire crowd jumping to their brassy funk rhythms and frantic drum breaks. Their last song was an amazing cover of Rage Against the Machine - Killing In the Name that had all the audience under 30 belting their lungs out.



To my distress, I had to miss Youssou N'dour to see The Apples, who I'm told gave a sterling performance. There were so many acts on that I just couldn't manage to see, with worthy mentions including Caravan Palace, Roy Ayers and also Nneka, who apparently gave my brother an intense moment of musical enlightenment - gutted to have missed them!

WOMAD was a fantastic experience this year. As well as the music being divine at points, the people, the food and the weather were all I could hope for. It's not often that you're among so many people who are there simply to have a good time. Next year? Definitely. I'd really like to see Gilles Peterson, Panjabi MC, ESG or even Rob da Bank take the stage, but we knows what surprises Mr. Gabriel has in store!

THE 12TH BIG NIGHT @ CARGO - 16/07/09 - United Vibrations + Nathan 'Flutebox' Lee + Kalakuta + MCs/DJs

The Big Issue , following recent trends set by OXJAM and Bollocks to Poverty, are now in the habit of fundraising in the form of running gigs across the country . With previous lineups in London brimming with impressive household names - The Levellers, The Noisettes, Adrian Sherwood and *shudder* The Alabama 3 being among them - it is a wonder as to why these monthly events aren't more popular.

When this month's event was brought to my attention I was very excited. I'd seen Nathan 'Flutebox' Lee before at WOMAD last year and he blew my mind with his beatastic musical multi-tasking. Adding to the tantalisation, TBI's Facebook page boasted "Afro Beats, Hip-Hop, Inspiring Spoken Word and rib shaking live dance rhythms." so I was all ready to grab my pint and shake my booty...and all in the name of a good cause!

United Vibrations, part of lefty musical collective 12tonewere first to take the stage. As the supposed headliners, this confused me somewhat. I was informed that Cargo-ers tended to go to bed early on weekdays, so it gets busiest at around 9pm. Fortunately I had already been nicely warmed up by the funky hip-hop beats of DJ Snuff (not to mention a rather potent bottle of cider. I was ready to enjoy myself, but nothing was to prepare me for what I heard next.



Operating as Vocals, Drums, Bass, Sax and Trombone, this very attractive band produced an equally amazing sound. The beautiful harmonic bassline worked so well that I only twigged two songs into their set that they had no guitarist. In addition, the drummer was awe-inspiring, bashing out fast-paced funk rhythms with flawless movement between afro-cuban rhythms, varying tempos and even time signature. Saxophonist Wayne talked about his disregard of the need to conform to musical genre restrictions and indeed, it felt like I was listening to Miles Davis, Gil Scott Heron, Jimi Hendrix and Ray Baretto all at the same time. Catchy shouted hooklines like 'I know who I am/Do you know who you are?' gave this tight group of musicians a delicious political edge.


After an unfairly short set (simply because of the massive lineup!) came Nathan 'Flutebox' Lee. Just as I remembered, he put on a great show. The audience loved him and I couldn't move for the number of cameraphones being waved at him. Joined by Skrein to provide some of the bassier, darker tones he got the whole crowd crotch-grabbing and arm waving as best they could. Their version of Knightrider (click link for video) was definitely my favourite of the night!



What followed proved to be a little disappointing. I'm sure Riz MC, shortMAN and Mic Righteous had very profound and creative things to say - Riz has even performed with the likes if Nitin Sawnhey and Plan B! - but with the room slowly emptying it was very difficult to get into it, especially after being so furiously warmed up by the previous two acts. MCs are not neccessarily something you can dance to and the waning crowd just weren't in the mood to listen.

Cargo is a lovely place, but I felt it was a bit mismatched to the music vibe The Big Issue crew were trying to project. Holding an anti-capitalist, revolutionary and politically charged energy was difficult in a venue normally reserved for the Shoreditch prat. It didn't help that the room was also half-empty for the majority of the night. I felt so sorry for the poor MCs performing in front of us and about 10 other people and couldn't help thinking that their message would be more appreciated were they back at previous haunt at Proud.

The Big Issue are making these gigs a monthly venture. They have great acts and a great venue - all they really seem to need are great numbers of people. Get your welly down there next month - it'll be fun and it's for a very worthy cause!

Placebo + General Fiasco @ iTunes music festival, Roundhouse, Camden.

So iTunes have jumped on the music festival bandwagon in their pursuit of world domination with iTunes Live. The concept of free tickets at first seems amazing, but, ever the sceptic, it did leave me wondering what iTunes hoped to get from it.

After pretending to be some bloke called Jasper, who I bought the ticket off for a tenner, I entered the Roundhouse slightly drunk and just in time to position myself nicely for General Fiasco. I was immediately struck by how very corporate everything felt. I guess I should have been unsurprised, it being an iTunes wankfest and all, but the place seemed completely souless and had a very different vibe to the last gig (The Manic Street Preachers) I saw there a few weeks previous. There were professional cameras filming the whole thing, which was being projected on Glastonbury-style screens all around the venue. We were also excitedly reminded over the speakers at least twice that 'OMG UR GONNA BE ON TV GUYS!'.

I quickly realised the first flaw in the iTunes festival idea. With the ticket allocation supposedly random, it meant the audience were much less 'fans' and much more 'I'm only going because it's free'. Clearly this is a clever idea concocted by iTunes to get more people 'into' music and attending gigs, thus lubricating the company machine with a bit more lovejuice. Whilst the gig was free, I'm guessing iTunes hoped it would encourage the everyday person to become regular gig-goers in future. Whilst good for the music industry, it did mean that the audience were much less excitable. I expected to be squished silly from the get-go as people struggled to get close to Molko & co., but found myself positively roomy.

General Fiasco, whose name I'd vaguely heard before and, Placebo being the great crowd pleasers they are, assumed they would be at least somewhat interesting. However, they turned out to be a complete disappointment. They churned out monotonous indie that seems to have no discernable change after stopping one 'song' and apparently starting another. I thought it might just be my age, but none of the neon-and-sunglasses-toting 15-year olds I was surrounded by seemed to be into it either, with even a few heckles and sighs in the quieter bits. I was beginning to worry whether my teen idols were going to live up to my expectations I'd so nostalgically preserved.



Young crowd

After a refreshingly quick changeover between bands, Brian, Stefan and Steve took to the stage looking as attractive as ever. Unlike certain rock band old-timers *cough* Blur *cough* they had matured well, with a smarter vintage look making them more Thin White Duke than Ziggy Stardust. The dark bassy tones of Kitty Litter made the previously numb audience erupt into life.



From that moment on I was sucked in. Placebo played lots of music from new album Battle For The Sun, which I was quite grateful for. Any more hits and I might have squashed the poor 15-year old girls in front of me into disrepair. To my absolute delight they played Special K and Taste in Men, which persuaded me to go in search of the tickets in the first place. I think I showed my age at that point, as I was clearly more familiar with Black Market Music than the younger ones around me. I liked the fact that we were so packed into each other that I had to decide whether I wanted my arms up or down for the duration of the next song as the finished the last one, though some of the more crushable ones seemed less keen!

The show they put on was truly great, maintaining a massive energy through the set. They were musically very tight and clearly had a soundman who knew his stuff. When I wasn't gaping at Brian's awesome stagemanship, Steve's animalistic shakes of bleach blonde hair, Stefan's beautiful arms and the stunning stage visuals (including old footage of a Bollywood star and war scenes) were more than enough to keep me entertained.

The gig ended with everyone wanting more. Placebo gig virgin, I naturally assumed that Nancy Boy would see us on our way, but no. In fact, they didn't play anything from that first album. Given that they've been bashing it out for over 13 years now, I really don't really blame them! If only other bands *cough* Blur *cough* would learn to do the same.

I left the gig sweaty, exhausted and thankful for fresh air. An amazing piece of nostalgia maturely developed into a band that are still producing interesting music.

Glastonbury - review from my bedroom

Unlike last year, I did not spend 5 days scrubbing vegan risotto from industrial-sized pans in exchqange for the privilege of attending Glastonbury festival. Since acquiring my flashy new Camberwell mid-terrace, I discovered that bills and rent and a whole host of other boring yet neccessary demands on my finances required me to stay put and sell bicycles.

I'm sure the purists among us will shout that not 'being there' will affect my musical judgements of the bands (i.e. Not being completely off my nut when Lady Gaga sang Love Game might explain why I didn't enjoy it quite as much as some of the audience). As a result, I'll keep my critique brief.

Dizzee Rascal
Mind-blowing, as I expected. The grimey basslines coming from my subwoofer were phenomenal, and his sampling of Dirty Cash (Money Talks by The Adventures of Stevie V was inspiration itself. He really knows how to pull out a break. Having the rest of his crew visible and not banished to side-stage darkness was also really nice to see - which brings me nicely onto...



Lady Gaga

Terrible. Silly dancers, poor vocal performance and general musicianship (was she actually *playing* that ridiculously ornate keyboard?). I can only really give her credit for her effort with the costumes.

Franz Ferdinand
Having seen these guys live before shortly after the release of You Could Have It So Much Better, I was looking forward to seeing how they'd moved on. The band performed with a massive energy throughout the 2-hour set, whipping the audience into a frenzy even with their newer and less familiar songs. Their musical tightness was also blindingly impressive. They took some time out of their hit-busting for some wickedly slow build-up jams. My favourite was definitely the collective drumkit battering by the four - the energy between them all was simply intense. 3 albums in, these guys are still original, still interesting, and, most importantly, Kopranos is still hot.



By contrast, I've just finished watching...

Blur
By about 16 I had migrated from being a solid Oasis girl to a Blur bitch - they certainly have the musical edge over their Mancunian rivals if they fail at the attitude. I was sceptical about their reformation, hence dismissing the opportunity to pay £25 for the privilege of seeing them at my student union. Judging from what I've seen tonight, it seems that this scepticism is not wholly unfounded. Whilst they bashed out the crowd-pleasers well enough, there seemed to be a distinct lacking of energy. Where Franz Ferdinand felt electric, Blur simply felt regurgitated and about as inspiring as a bunch of middle-aged men dressed as Shoreditch trendies sounds.

The current trend for reforming has left one member of the Jackson 5 dead, a previously iconic indie band broken into cringey pieces of their former self and a bunch of Essex ravers postively on fire.

Strawberry Fair 2009

Strawberry Fair, or, as I have now re-christened it, Skankberry Fair, is not without reputation. For one day a year, in an otherwise quaint and tourist-infested university town, the best nutters the South have to offer congregate, get inebriated with their substance of choice and have a hell of a good time. The following 364.25 days are spent persuading The Friends of the Common and various tight-lipped town authorities to do it again. Last year, heavy police presence and formidable sunshine resulted in an accumulation of hot and bothered drunks, and with the absence of the reggae tent in an attempt to cut down on illegal drug use, there was nowhere for them to let off steam. Although I’ve been to plenty of great Strawberry Fairs in the past, I was not without my reservations for what this year might hold.

On Friday night I started off the weekend with the Strawberry Fair pre-party – Vibronics @ Funky Fun House . Now, I’ve been to some venues in my time, but this one was quite something. The place is normally one of those indoor adventure centres where children go for their birthdays to run around madly for 2 hours whilst tanked on sugar. However, removal of most of the nets and platforms left us with a primary coloured skank den furnished with crash mats. The sound system was loud and bassy and had the punters truly skanking out in this wickedly dark venue. To my discomfort, the DJs did have an annoying habit of cutting the track just as everyone was really getting their back into it. MC-ing has its place and can really make a tune feel personal, but it’s advisable to keep the music going if you want to keep the dancers going! This technique seemed to drive people off a little, and by about 2am we were ready to retreat back home to our own record collection with our ears ringing.

I rolled into to Strawberry Fair at around 2pm the next day. I was first struck by how relatively un-hectic it was. Maybe it’s simply my new London attitude to things, but I was quite aware that I wasn’t struggling through crowds of silly hat-wearing, dreamcatcher wielding festival goers to quite the same extent. The shops too, I noticed, seemed far fewer and also far less likely to sell undeniably useless ‘festival tat’ or salmonella-nurturing kebabs than I remember. We settled down first at the South Stage where we caught 10 Ton tongue and Beverly Kills – two young and talented rock groups, the former having a more folky edge whilst the later was much more in the Riot Grrl scene. I’ve only just realised that I no longer identify myself as a fellow pier of the ‘young and talented’. Aged 19, I seemed to have moved from the realms adolescent fandom to that of a more mature appreciation. Regardless, both bands were tight and full of energy and, most importantly, just the right kind of hard-but-happy (not happy hardcore, crucially) vibe needed for the festival. Woggle the mash-up DJ was also pretty impressive. In particular, I remember a great mix of Gossip’s ‘Standing in the Way of Control’ with Baby D’s ‘Let me be your fantasy’ well as dropping some War of the Worlds samples across some hip-hop tracks in a way that reminded me of Def Cut and Life on Other Planets?.

We were then informed on good authority that the dub tent was where it was truly at, which was confirmed on our arrival. I regrettably missed Thudbox who apparently are one of the best samba bands my dad has ever seen, which is saying a lot. Through a haze of smoke came some deep mambo and salsa tunes, followed by reggae and hard bassy dub. The Uprizing Crew , who I had hoped to see at the after-party that evening has it not been shut down, pulled off a really good set and the tent was packed out with various shades of dancing. The good vibes from the band and crowd were enough to diffuse any potentially hairy situations and my feet did not stop moving until the sun set.



Boomslang that night was my ‘plan B’ after being denied a second night at Funky Fun House for the afterparty. If I thought I had tinnitus before going to The Junction, I definitely have it now. Boomslang was LOUD. We arrived to some funky house music in the main room, went upstairs to discover a relatively empty room of slightly-less funky house music, whereupon we made a hasty return. Headlining was Annie Mac, of Radio 1 fame, and boy did she drop some great records! The Strawberry Fair crowd were still lively, and that rare thing happened where people will happily dance with you without a) giving you odd looks b) trying to molest you. Moving from House to Dubstep to Salsa and back again, I was absorbed. Unlike the previous night, the songs followed each other flawlessly. Annie is a great DJ to watch, which can’t be said for a lot of those destined behind the microphone (mentioning no names... Chris Moyles). Zinc followed Annie and gave a good, although not quite as exciting, set that I was reluctant to have to depart from as early as I did. After this year’s Strawberry experience, I wasn’t quite ready to have to wait a whole year to repeat it.

STILL - THE LEXINGTON - 02/06/2009

After a sweltering day selling bikes and successfully trying to purchase goldfish in Camden town, I was all but ready to embrace the cool musical offerings the Lexington had to offer as part of its new music night – STILL.

Despite being billed as headliners, Spindle & Wit - up-and-coming London post-folk outfit – were unaccountably on first. They were fresh and vibrant with their tightness only occasionally compromised by some slightly dodgy vocal harmonies, thought that was probably more the fault of the soundman than anything else. With a banjo and violin making up 2 of the instruments in this rather young and attractive 5-piece, the band gave an original and passionate performance. Their sound is very much part of the current London music scene – some say the credit crunch, global warming or even the Irish are to blame for resurgence of folk music amongst the middle class yoof of Britain.Jeremy Warmsley,Kill It Kid and the more mainstream likes of Arcade Fire or even Nick Cave are all solid examples of this return to the grassroots approach, complete with rolled-up shirt sleeves and tight –belted trousers. It was early, but the little red room in Angel’s trendiest whiskey bar was busy and not without its fair share of leg wobbles and head nods. Spindle and Wit’s set was teasingly short but left everyone in anticipation of what the rest of the night might bring.

The next act on, however, were so mellow that it undid all the excitement whipped up so well by the previous act.Snowbird, a young American vocalist and her slightly older and balder pianist/drum machine operator were no doubt talented (he performed the entire set with eyes closed and expressions of ecstasy flashing across his face – now that’s multi-tasking!), but seemed much more suited as an opening act rather than sitting awkwardly in the middle of the bill. Stephanie’s voice was hypnotic with resonances of Joni Mitchell and Tori Amos nestled within her sweet warbling sound. Simon (of former Cocteau twins fame) and his entrancing keyboard melodies complimented her sound nicely. She was so good that I was willing to overlook the often nauseating lyrics, but dear god THAT DRUM MACHINE. Viewing the drum machine as one of my natural enemies as I do anyway, the soul-less hissing ringing from Simon’s Macbook sat smugly atop his Yamaha was enough to send the most sympathetic muso loopy (excuse the pun). Fortunately the duo performed half the set unaccompanied, and was all the better for it.

Last to grace the stage were Danny and the Champions of the World. I had assumed that the name was some sort of ironic illusion to the Roald Dahl classic, but as the performance wore on, it seemed to reflect their attitude quite accurately. Lashings of Lute and Flute combined with a charismatic Johnny Cash-type as front-man made the band interesting - and MY LORD could the drummer thwack out a tasty beat. For the first song or two this seemed to work for them quite well. However, the mass amalgamation of egos resulted in all of Danny’s songs finishing in a drawn out, overplayed, sped up then slowed down orgy of sound. The group often made a circle as they furiously tried to outplay each other - in much the same way a public school boy takes part in the ‘soggy biscuit game’ and just as unpleasant to watch. The band played faster and more frantically as the room grew frostier. The air conditioning in there seemed to be working rather too well, it seemed, and unfortunately turned what started off as a really exciting night into something that left me fairly cold.