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.

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.