Monday 13 April 2009

Cardboard Soup For Tea.

It's not often I tend to blog (in general this working out to be something of a 'Quarterly'. And still less) about gigs I have attended. Maybe it's partly due to various of my own performances being given short shrift by the occasional wannabe music journo with a broadband connection. Partly, no doubt to Zappa's 'dancing about architecture' maxim. But anyhow, I have returned, this Easter night, from a gig of revelatory proportions. Support bands Resurrection Men (aptly named for such a gig) and Tenebrous Liar did an able job, the former's three guitar riffing being particularly pleasing at times. But it was the Carrot which stole the show with their... well, frankly indescribable mix of. Stuff which I shall now attempt vainly to describe.

Songs about all the fat skinny people and tall short people seem apt played by this group of Harborough lads. They are a loose tight hotchpotch of consistent contradictions. Stewart Brackley's inimitable yawling croaky vocal is so off kilter, one can forget he's also providing half of a thunderous rhythm section. His banter with Ollie Betts (sax, bass recorder, keys) is a stream of vaudevillian privates jokes into which a rapt audience is effortlessly inducted . This translates musically into some wonderfully supple call and response work between keys and vocals (most notable in the 'one about Thatcher': NOT ACTUAL TITLE.) Beneath, or maybe alongside, the prog outs and free noise lie songs strong enough to be taken apart, dusted off and rewelded with a jazz sensibility and ounces of rock balls. The result: a sound which is earnestly experimental but never inaccessible. With beats that stomp (even without percussion lothario Euan Rodger: swanning AWOL in Paree.) fuzzy guitar riffing and warbling warped woodwind. A band which gels so remarkably onstage that the comprehensive reinvention they appear to have have undergone in shy of a month since I last saw them seems just like a natural progression .

Perhaps the greatest contradiction being that despite all the madness it all seems to make perfect sense. Maybe it's the dream logic of the schizophrenic mind. Or the fact that an unpretentious band of variously bearded, decent, drinking chaps can get away with creating such lunacy. But I went away feeling that if, somehow, in an absurd comedy mixup, these guys could headline Wembley in lieu of, say, Coldplay, on, say, September 18th / 19th, an ailing music industry might be just be saved. Or at least entertainingly euthanised.

Wednesday 8 April 2009

Creating a Stench.

Last week I attended an event by the name of Stench, an evening of electronic music and visual art in Leicester's soon to be moved art house cinema: The Phoenix. I was performing with the below mentioned Quadelctronic folk, who took over the upstairs cafe for two half hour sets. this necessitated a slightly shorter playing time for the improvisations, which to my mind helped rather than hindered the enterprise.

A condensed video document of the night can be viewed here:



The whole thing went pretty well, and there was encouraging talk of a more regular incarnation (this was the third Stench in three years). I must confess I was equally amused and irked by what I thought was an audience member's phone ringing just as John Richards' laptop orchestra were finishing their set. It took a couple of minutes to realise that it was A-ha playing from the i-pod in my pocket. Now 'Take On Me' is a fine piece of pop in any context. But when blaring uninvited from miniscule (but surprisingly loud) headphones, somewhat rude. So, if I ruined anyone's listening experience I apologise. I shall attempt to cue up something less jarringly inappropriate for nest time...

Monday 6 April 2009

A quarter of a year later/

I write again. It's been a funny few weeks. Busy with music of various sorts. A gig in Leeds with aurelie, supporting one of the oddest groups I have ever come across. The frontman was a one armed Northern gentleman resplendent in tweeds, backed by a guitarist, tuba, violinist and pianist. A lady fried bacon into a microphone onstage. Then a frenetic section in which Barney (the sartorially elegant leader) operated an ancient manual typewriter accompanied by the young oriental woman on an equally archaic looking sewing machine. From here things only got weirder, with a group of audience members summoned onstage to read from randomly selected pages of various books, the most striking being a text on the derivation of the word Scatological. At one point Barney took a break from conducting the racket to relieve himself (thankfully in the correct area) and deelgated his role to another audience member whilst so doing. the set closed with a rousing number which involved the violinist sanding down a table as the resulting dust was hoovered up by an industrial strength vacuum cleaner. It made my own experiments feel extremely conservative. 

Undaunted, a few weeks previously I was offered an opportunity to perform alongside Japanese noise merchant Damo Suzuki (ex Can vocalist). I naturally obliged, despite feeling extremely under the weather with a chest infection. Dosed up, as I was, on antibiotics and altogether bleary the undeniable gravity of the situation only hit me later - perhaps a good thing. I played bass guitar while members of Black Carrot (including aurelie drummer Euan Rodger) and Mister Lee ably provided the rest of the instrumentation. The set lasted 50 minutes a portion of which C/can be seen here:



Continuing the reverse chronology, I have in recent months become something of a regular at monthly night of experimental improvised music: Quadelectronic. My weapon of choice is usually the 'cello run though various effects. The lion's share of attendees are performers, who are divided into randomly chosen ensembles (usually trios or quartets), and then perform, for a maximum of ten minutes. Participants come from a range of backgrounds. All out progressive noise makers play alongside more 'traditional' vocalists / instrumentalists often with startling results. I find myself somewhere inbetween: producing textures with radio or rudimentary sampling on dictaphone, as well as using 'cello to create drones or percussive elements. The night is extensively documented (thanks to the diligence of Quad regular Jim Tetlow) and performances can be viewed here:







the latter being a rare solo performance.

I had better sign off as this becomes characteristically lengthy.

Last, but by no means least, dear friends and musicians Ola and Sergei have been blessed with a baby girl Amelie. Who is lovely. To the parents many congrats. To the nipper: The World welcomes you...

Donout.