Herman Dune +
Kimya Dawson + Cracktown @ Hull New Adelphi Club, 18th Jan 2004
The "anything goes, and every other expectation out the window" spirit of the Antifolk scene returns to Hull and this time there's an apt spirit to greet it, one as hairily revolutionary as that of the loose troupe walking their songs through New York, home of Dufus, Jeff Lewis, and Kimya's own Moldy Peaches . Playing support to touring acts rather than the usual open mic three men and a baby set-up allows Cracktown for once to give way to quality acts after their self-professed set as "the best acoustic duo in Hull... we were the second best until we beat the other one to death and drowned them in a bathtub." They've got quality cynicism in spades, songs of a 1984-type mindset spat with vigour, a snarl and a smile. Hull's dark answer to Half Man Half Biscuit?
Explaining "Antifolk" is hard when so much of it actually is folk in nature: it's emotional, it's down to earth, it just doesn't follow the traditions that've cropped up (crapped up) in the club scene. It's like the term post-rock being used to describe music which does rock, but in a non-traditional sense; music which doesn't have to be played boastingly. Kimya Dawson says she only knows five chords, but that she puts them in different orders or plays them faster to make them sound different. She's got a real nice picky style of playing, though.
The songs from the lady
in the holey hat are very stream of consciousness, right-thinking, wrong-speaking.
Imagine 'Subterranean Homesick Blues' if Bob Dylan didn't interrupt
his rapid wordflow with harmonica; too fast to take in but it doesn't
always matter, you'll notice a joke and get it later. In her friendly
way she sings 'Heartbreak Hotel' acapella to request, bigs up the Adelphi
toilets (fairies and unicorns? You don't get those in the Gents), and
in her songs are lots of puns and homespun philosophy. She's half sagely
grandma and half smutty teen. "romance is romantic if you've
got the answers". She's been through a lot but still enjoys
doodling cocks.
Swedish/French/American-flavoured two-guitar trio Herman Dune played this time last year, and already they've got an entirely different set. They seem constantly to be touring and writing songs, inspired by their own experience of, well, touring and writing songs. They'd sing a song about a girl they love and make her a compilation tape, and sing a song about the compilation tape too (Lots of songs about everyday constants. They play Neil Young too, and a song about ferries - being too tall to fit in the bed). So it's easy to mention some influences: Calvin Johnson, the Velvet Underground, Rolling Stones all deserve a mention, and especially loud tonight are some great awkward Sonic Youth-isms from one brother while the drummer thumps away. On the other hand they can silence a room by being quiet, as where the other brother takes his stand into the crowd and sings for them there, backed up only by a toy guitar.
It's how I imagine an Antifolk night in New York to be.
Antifolk: where a doodle makes an album cover, and a lyric that's gasped while the singer runs out of breath is as ripe for release as one enunciated perfectly… not to be authentic like a woolly blanket, but cos it's all that's needed…
