November 2006
Luke Haines, 3rd Nov
It's very lazy of me to make everyone get a taxi - amidst much complaining - to the Louisiana, but it is Friday and I'm not exactly full of energy after such a boring week at work...
Lisa Lindley Jones is playing when we arrive, a slip of a girl 1 in slightly witchy clothing and a Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction hairdo. She has a lovely singing voice, occasionally haunting and very emotional. The band play mainly acoustic sounds sans drums, with electric piano and the occasional bit of electric guitar. The music is close harmony scottish ballads with a hint of country melancholy and occasional haunting saw action. We also get to sit down, which is nice.
No introductions are needed 2 for Angel Tech, who seem to really enjoy themselves tonight, the sound is fantastic and there is a real air of excitement about the place. They invite an avid gig-goer called Big Jeff to stand Christlike on the stage at a crucial moment and he does so to great effect, although the 'Big' isn't just a name and he has trouble standing with the low ceiling. With bonus drumming extravagance proceed to play one of the best sets I've seen in recent times.
I don't really know very much about Luke Haines, was never into the Auteurs and am really only here because my housemate wanted to go. I'm slightly surprised to see it's just one man and his guitar, singing funny stories a la thousands of years of troubadour tradition. He is joined on occasion by a man who plays the saw (what is it about saws tonight?) extremely well. None of the actual music is particularly striking, but the wit and delivery of lyrics is more than enough to make it a very entertaining gig.
Acid Mothers Temple, 7th Nov
Apparently Moody Tumblers' 'drone cello' is great. I arrive to late to hear for myself but I'm sure there will be ample opportunity to see them again soon.
I haven't been in the Cooler since it was so named, not since the days of Wedgies. I was bullied into going there for my birthday in first year at university and had to endure lots of drunk people telling me that dancey pop music isn't that bad, see? Now it is a small-ish empty room with a mezzanine bar.
Fuzz Against Junk are setting up. Tonight they are a three-piece with six members. The bonus members include an ineffectual extra percussionist and a girl who sits on the floor failing to keep time with maraccas on her knees.
She stands up to sing - horrors - the microphone doesn't work! Rather than donate his own, the frontman saxophone player makes a big show of trying to fix it and then they resort to glaring at the soundman, presumably in case he's turned her down on purpose.
A bit of gaffer tape later the mic works but it's nearly the end of the song - or do we have another noise-jazz freakout to look forward to? A couple of the songs have some good grooves - but these are all too often overtaken by the aforementioned 'free noise jazz' which rather tends towards 'fsck it, just play lots of random stuff'. This is a band that needs to put the drummer at the front as he obviously leads the tunes and everyone else should sit at the back and follow.
Acid Mothers Temple are a bit choatic to begin with, a medley of song endings and crazy noise, with eventually settles down into some great psyche rock. There is some very impressive and atmospheric throat-singing, a bit of synthy eiryness, but it is mostly driving rock and psychedelic wig-outs. The highlight of the gig is the closing song, a 40 minute rendition of Pink Lady Lemonade - a musical work based on a simple two-chord melody.
As we are hypnotized by the repetition, the music swells and the guitarist launches into the maddest, most welcome guitar solo known to rock, complete with macho posing and tongue-strumming.
For twenty five minutes.
It is great.
Dogs Chase Rabbits, 23rd Nov
It has been a long day. Our little students all graduated today, which I'm sure is lots of fun for them. Proud parents and digital cameras abound and I get to stand outside in the rain / not rain, observing the rainbows and accumulating frustration all day. In November.
Some things go terrible wrong, but all is recovered and we send them out into the world of Trying To Get A Job Now You're Not A Student Any More.
It's alright though, because I get to go out in the evening and as it's Joe Public's again I don't have to pay. The security guard wants to search through the bag, just in case you've got any drinks in there mate - nothing to do with terrorism at all. After we let him have a good nosey we make our way to the largely empty bizarre air-crash-cum-nightspot.
The flyer tell us that Half Rabbits "bridge the gap between dark, intense pop (Joy Division, Smashing Pumpkins, Pixies) and intelligent art-rock (Muse, At The Drive-In, Shellac)". I don't know what Shellac sound like, but the rest of it is pretty accurate except for one thing. The singer is in the wrong band. Or at least this is a new breed of folk being born right here.
I mean, the music is shambolic rock that comes together at crucial ecstatic moments and it takes a few songs to settle down. All the while there is this nasal folky voice over the top. It's a bit weird, but with a bit of harmonising the music sells itself and sucks me in.
Tonight Santa Dog are much, much better than I remember, attacking their songs with lots of energy and a bit of shrieking. I swear she looked at me. I guess this isn't surprising given that I'm standing right in front of her, but off we go again with more guitarry songs and I'm reminded that I've been standing up all day in the cold.
Not that the music's cold - no it's fun, bouncy passionate. I just have to rest now.
Rose Kemp, 28th Nov
When The Master Chaynjis start in the back room of the Croft, I am too glued to my seat to move. In the side room at the front of the pub an entertainment phenomenon is at work.
Dr Joel is singing a song about how he hates his boss and his job, but is really very happy thank you very much. He plays a Yamaha keyboard with an electric piano sound, has bells on his ankles and is excellent at the South Indian art of vocal percussion, or Konnakol - where drum rhythms are vocalized at lightning speed. It is bizarre indian/country club cabaret, certainly original and before long everyone is clapping along and practising the vocalizations for themselves.
Dr Joel plays two short sets, sandwiching Mor Karbasi who has a lovely voice and sings traditional sounding spanish folk tunes. We catch her briefly after S.J. Esau has blown our ears off with an inspiring set of wrongtronic loopings and lighthearted chaos. We all sing Happy Birthday to him and make him blush.
You & The Atom Bomb are one of the recent crop of guitar bands that have a dance-music influenced sound - the housey drums, a bit of synth and twangy sometimes rock guitars in straightforward indie pop songs. The second track has a good almost African style guitar part to it, but this lot are too similar to everything else of this ilk to get me that excited.
Of course, this does mean that they have a very bright future ahead of them. Not because some anonymous internet review-whore doesn't like them, but because they do fulfill all the criteria for all that is cool for the current NME generation.
I survive two songs before having to run away and enjoy Dr Joel's second set of the evening instead.
The main attraction for the evening is no stranger to Skip The Budgie and Rose Kemp once again blows the doors off everything else for a short time. Her band sounds fantastic, they are very tight and that voice is still amazing and beautiful. The stand out tracks of the evening are 'The Unholy' - a heavy guitar epic and 'Flawless' which just makes me want to cry.
I buy the Rose Kemp single because it's pink - I'll probably never really play it but talent like this needs supporting.