beatsketching gigs 2004, part 1

beatsketching gigs of 2004 (part 1)

Well, it’s that time of year again: the end of the year. It’s the season when a young man’s thoughts turn to lists. So here’s my highly subjective recap of roughly ten of the best gigs I happened to be at in 2004; or, an excuse to write about some things I didn’t get around to covering at the time. I didn't get to many of my favourites, like Pixies, Morrissey or even British Sea Power; but it was an odd year, and I did see some gerat stuff.

Bogdan Raczynski, Fonda 500, the $ellouts, Hamell on Trial, Electrelane.

Let the fun begin...

Hull Adelphi on the last day of June:
Sound Murderer and Bogdan Raczynski
So, I left uni this year and also left a place I could walk up the road and watch great touring bands at least once a week. What better way to mark three years of being unsure what I was doing but watching some music I’d find hard to describe? Bogdan Raczynski makes mad CDs for Rephlex Records, full of odd programmed rhythms, tasteless synths and random ansaphone messages, and sings in a strange high-pitched voice like a big fat baby about how "I just want to save the galaxy... with you." Sound Murderer does what he says on his label. In the flesh, they sit at the corner of the stage and together they splice up parts of all those famously obscure electronic dance acts: Aphex Twin, Squarepusher, Boards of Canada, all are noticed by our table with a trainspotterish smile (not that all of this ends at the Warp Records stable, but for a guitar luddite like me who just heard my housemates' records those are the best-known names). Of course, there's not much to look at, and so we drink and dance like fools. I woke up with a nosebleed and two hours to move my worldly possessions out of the old student house. Nice one!

At various venues on various dates:
Fonda 500 and the $ellouts
There are some bands I can watch again and again and never get bored with. Sometimes it’s because the band so enjoy playing, and clearly transmit this enthusiasm; sometimes it’s cos the band just likes to mess about, so they’ll never give you the same show twice. As a punter, of course, you’ll only have the opportunity to watch a band so much if
(1) they’re famous enough to be always on tour, or
(2) you live in that band’s town and they’re obscure enough to still often play there.
Fonda 500 fall in the middle, getting around to delirious effect and returning to the Hull Adelphi for special occasions. They’re a good-time party band with a lot of slower songs too, which they only seem to play when in front of a small home-venue crowd. As a part of that crowd I have of course written a lot about them (see list).

On a smaller scale we have the Sellouts, from Welwyn Garden City. Sadly they seem to be calling it a day, but they’ll be long remembered round here for their natural, passionate mix of punk/ska/folk, their infectious charm and support for their local scene. Helen takes care at the end of a song to play just one note on a toy xylophone; she and Emily look disgusted when the muso boys Joe and Lee discard song structure and break into Queen instead. Of course, that the singer holds a pint for this rhythm section to sup from is as important as any dry analysis of their own songs or music. Taking care to have fun, that’s the thing: so the dancing bass in ‘My Secret Place’ leads into the chorus of something like “we will go out and explore and excite and record… and then go home, and try not to fall over,” and if I have the words wrong it doesn’t matter, it’s a simple line full of wit which captures the desire for intelligence and chaos every band should have. And “if you want to be unique you can, just adhere to these simple instructions…”

(an old Sellouts demo is reviewed here)

London, Islington Academy on a Saturday in September:
the Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players
As reviewed elsewhere, a very refreshing gig. For one night only the venue was made non-smoking, by request from the Family’s ten-year old drummer daughter. Great!

London, the Borderline on a Tuesday in July:
Hamell on Trial
This basement venue stinks of wet dog, but I suppose that’s what one might call “ambience” and it suits the down-to-earth performers. After an entertaining spot by one acoustic guitarist / human beatbox, on comes Antifolk original Ed Hamell, straight outta Brooklyn as usual. I’ve seen him before and he does many of the same songs and even the same between-song stories and jokes but – hey! – nobody minds. It’s the way he tells ‘em.

Everything about the man is full-on: he plays with the lights on, has an intense stare which you can feel even when he shuts his eyes to sing, and barks out furious titles like ‘Don’t Kill’ and ‘Bill Hicks’. He dedicates a song to his brother-in-law’s girlfriend, who “looks like a dog’s ass;” he attacks his acoustic like he hates that too, but sings a loving number about this vintage guitar. He loves his music, his wife, his people, and transmits his love and his hate with equally extreme passion. “Fuck it, why go halfway?” The voice carries plenty experience: for hearing his stories, this angry genius comedian would be a good bloke to be stuck in a lift with – he is intense, yes, but with much heart. His is the type of cutting personality that can see, essentially, even ‘Crime and Punishment’ is a love story. And that’s the way it should be.

Sheffield Fez Club on a Saturday in May:
Electrelane, Oscar and Chora
Supports: one trio of local art students who use guitar, turntable, drums and chaos pads to create as much noise as possible, and all shout at random intervals as loudly as they can; the second, a bunch of terribly melodic small-town youngsters who come across like Travis flirting with Belle & Sebastian. I hope to hear more of Chora. Meanwhile, Oscar doubtless hope not to be re-booked between bands who go beyond the tried-and-tested, pleasant pop formula. Musically, Electrelane try anything.

Formerly instrumental, the quartet now showcase a voice that squeals and sulks (‘On Parade’, ‘Birds’) and yells and hollers (‘This Deed’) in several languages. The bass judders and the guitar cries; the drummer stands up. In its brutal post-punk sound, courtesy Steve Albini, and in its enticing tendency - to use the technical term – “to go off on one,” it does remind me of ‘Surfer Rosa’. Imagine the Pixies if they were all girls, with a piano and some poetry, and a thing for horses. It sounds rough and warm and quite fucking emotional. Then there’s another song on the album ‘The Power Out’ which sounds like prim electro-types Ladytron getting pissed in a rock club, all slurred and fuzzy, then someone lets loose on a saxophone and all start clapping along. Then there’s another excellent song with a full choir (‘The Valleys’), but the band didn’t play that one tonight (!). Charging through their wild songs, they played a blinder.

part 2 >

home / reviews index

beatsketching gigs of 2004 (part 1) Well, it’s that time of year again: the end of the year. It’s the season when a young man’s thoughts turn to lists. So here’s my highly subjective recap of roughly ten of the best gigs I happened to be at in 2004; or, an excuse to write about some things I didn’t get around to covering at the time. I didn't get to many of my favourites, like Pixies, Morrissey or even British Sea Power; but it was an odd year, and I did see some gerat stuff. Bogdan Raczynski, Fonda 500, the $ellouts, Hamell on Trial, Electrelane. Let the fun begin... Hull Adelphi on the last day of June: Sound Murderer and Bogdan Raczynski So, I left uni this year and also left a place I could walk up the road and watch great touring bands at least once a week. What better way to mark three years of being unsure what I was doing but watching some music I’d find hard to describe? Bogdan Raczynski makes mad CDs for Rephlex Records, full of odd programmed rhythms, tasteless synths and random ansaphone messages, and sings in a strange high-pitched voice like a big fat baby about how "I just want to save the galaxy... with you." Sound Murderer does what he says on his label. In the flesh, they sit at the corner of the stage and together they splice up parts of all those famously obscure electronic dance acts: Aphex Twin, Squarepusher, Boards of Canada, all are noticed by our table with a trainspotterish smile (not that all of this ends at the Warp Records stable, but for a guitar luddite like me who just heard my housemates' records those are the best-known names). Of course, there's not much to look at, and so we drink and dance like fools. I woke up with a nosebleed and two hours to move my worldly possessions out of the old student house. Nice one! At various venues on various dates: Fonda 500 and the $ellouts There are some bands I can watch again and again and never get bored with. Sometimes it’s because the band so enjoy playing, and clearly transmit this enthusiasm; sometimes it’s cos the band just likes to mess about, so they’ll never give you the same show twice. As a punter, of course, you’ll only have the opportunity to watch a band so much if (1) they’re famous enough to be always on tour, or (2) you live in that band’s town and they’re obscure enough to still often play there. Fonda 500 fall in the middle, getting around to delirious effect and returning to the Hull Adelphi for special occasions. They’re a good-time party band with a lot of slower songs too, which they only seem to play when in front of a small home-venue crowd. As a part of that crowd I have of course written a lot about them (see list). On a smaller scale we have the Sellouts, from Welwyn Garden City. Sadly they seem to be calling it a day, but they’ll be long remembered round here for their natural, passionate mix of punk/ska/folk, their infectious charm and support for their local scene. Helen takes care at the end of a song to play just one note on a toy xylophone; she and Emily look disgusted when the muso boys Joe and Lee discard song structure and break into Queen instead. Of course, that the singer holds a pint for this rhythm section to sup from is as important as any dry analysis of their own songs or music. Taking care to have fun, that’s the thing: so the dancing bass in ‘My Secret Place’ leads into the chorus of something like “we will go out and explore and excite and record… and then go home, and try not to fall over,” and if I have the words wrong it doesn’t matter, it’s a simple line full of wit which captures the desire for intelligence and chaos every band should have. And “if you want to be unique you can, just adhere to these simple instructions…” (an old Sellouts demo is reviewed here) London, Islington Academy on a Saturday in September: the Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players As reviewed elsewhere, a very refreshing gig. For one night only the venue was made non-smoking, by request from the Family’s ten-year old drummer daughter. Great! London, the Borderline on a Tuesday in July: Hamell on Trial This basement venue stinks of wet dog, but I suppose that’s what one might call “ambience” and it suits the down-to-earth performers. After an entertaining spot by one acoustic guitarist / human beatbox, on comes Antifolk original Ed Hamell, straight outta Brooklyn as usual. I’ve seen him before and he does many of the same songs and even the same between-song stories and jokes but – hey! – nobody minds. It’s the way he tells ‘em. Everything about the man is full-on: he plays with the lights on, has an intense stare which you can feel even when he shuts his eyes to sing, and barks out furious titles like ‘Don’t Kill’ and ‘Bill Hicks’. He dedicates a song to his brother-in-law’s girlfriend, who “looks like a dog’s ass;” he attacks his acoustic like he hates that too, but sings a loving number about this vintage guitar. He loves his music, his wife, his people, and transmits his love and his hate with equally extreme passion. “Fuck it, why go halfway?” The voice carries plenty experience: for hearing his stories, this angry genius comedian would be a good bloke to be stuck in a lift with – he is intense, yes, but with much heart. His is the type of cutting personality that can see, essentially, even ‘Crime and Punishment’ is a love story. And that’s the way it should be. Sheffield Fez Club on a Saturday in May: Electrelane, Oscar and Chora Supports: one trio of local art students who use guitar, turntable, drums and chaos pads to create as much noise as possible, and all shout at random intervals as loudly as they can; the second, a bunch of terribly melodic small-town youngsters who come across like Travis flirting with Belle & Sebastian. I hope to hear more of Chora. Meanwhile, Oscar doubtless hope not to be re-booked between bands who go beyond the tried-and-tested, pleasant pop formula. Musically, Electrelane try anything. Formerly instrumental, the quartet now showcase a voice that squeals and sulks (‘On Parade’, ‘Birds’) and yells and hollers (‘This Deed’) in several languages. The bass judders and the guitar cries; the drummer stands up. In its brutal post-punk sound, courtesy Steve Albini, and in its enticing tendency - to use the technical term – “to go off on one,” it does remind me of ‘Surfer Rosa’. Imagine the Pixies if they were all girls, with a piano and some poetry, and a thing for horses. It sounds rough and warm and quite fucking emotional. Then there’s another song on the album ‘The Power Out’ which sounds like prim electro-types Ladytron getting pissed in a rock club, all slurred and fuzzy, then someone lets loose on a saxophone and all start clapping along. Then there’s another excellent song with a full choir (‘The Valleys’), but the band didn’t play that one tonight (!). Charging through their wild songs, they played a blinder. part 2 > home / reviews index