Garbled lyrics seem to be a bit “on-trend” these days. Wu-Lyf did it, and now Alt-J are doing it. Their sound is a bit less frenetic than the former.
I especially dig the tinny tune to Breezeblocks. I had every intention to see them at Great Escape the other weekend, but failed in my mission. The full album, An Awesome Wave, is finally available on Spotify. Listen to it here.
Who doesn’t love a bit of old-school, lo-fi garage rock? It seems that this sound is getting a bit of a revival these days. It reminds me of American high-school sitcoms I used to watch back in the day. You know, when you get the generic grunge band rocking out in their garage, clad in baggy sweatshirts and the like. Cloud Nothings, headed up by a dude from Cleveland.
The sound is a bit of a cacophony and to the untrained ear, it runs the risk of sounding like those guys thrashing around the basement or, er…garage. But beneath that emo surface lies music that’s actually quite intricately formed. Some may be surprised, but there is a method to the madness.
I saw them in Cargo, a couple of days before they played Great Escape in Brighton. They have quite a following: largely composed of (unsurprisingly) lots of boys, who keenly thrashed about in the tiny mosh pit in the front at appropriate times.
For me, the highlight was their instrumentation. Not quite, the slacker-like vocals that Steve Malkmus would’ve been proud of, but the whirling guitar chords that were very impressive. In Wasted Days, the band descended into a fascinating, psychadelic-like reverie. They certainly took artistic license, extending the jam for perhaps a bit longer than they should have as the attention of the audience waned (people began to chat, go to the bar etc). I guess, for me, the killer was that the lead singer played the entire instrumental section with his back to the audience, which left us feel a big neglected and unloved. Nonetheless, this interlude certainly showcased just how talented they were: the sounds from each band-member bouncing off each other to create a wonderfully jarring sound.
The extra-long instrumental may have seemed a tad self-indulgent, particularly when the electricity shut down at the venue. Kudos to the band for keeping calm and carrying on and all that. But there’s so much a rock band can do without sound: the screeching vocals don’t quite cut it without bass and guitars.
Nonetheless, Cloud Nothings did very well to keep up the tempo, but despite their best efforts (and sadly to no fault of their own), I left the gig feeling a bit unfulfilled. No dramatic crescendos and finale for us.
Most of my friends know how obsessed I am with Beach House. Victoria Legrand’s blazers and emo-stance over her keyboard had me enchanted back in 2011. Needless to say, Teen Dream is high on my most-played albums of all time.
So you can only imagine how happy I was to sample their new album, Bloom, which has just been released on Bella Union. And of course I was thrilled to hear that they will play the Roundhouse later this year. I first saw them play at the Roundhouse when they supported Grizzly Bear and practically stole the show. Dramatic mood-lighting, swirls of smoke, Beach House are as magical live as they are on record.
Myth, the first single to be released off Bloom, has the signature Beach House dreamy loops. It’s a quiet, unassuming record that fans out into a beautiful, characteristically sentimental song. The casio beats are a casual but consistent undertone to Legrand’s thoughtful lyrics: “What comes after this, the momentary bliss / The consequence of what you do to me.”
Where Teen Dream had an undercurrent of Casio beats, Bloom leans more lovingly onto the keyboard. It navigates the listener through the album, with Legrand’s ethereal vocals guiding you along her journey. I had to wonder carefully before committing to the statement that Lazuli was my favourite track. For me, it’s this album’s counterpart to Zebra. The sounds swirly slowly, building into a quiet and unassuming crescendo. For me, it’s the quiet magic of their music that draws me in, time and again.
I can’t argue with those that say they’ve stuck to the same formula. They have, but why shouldn’t they? The flickering guitar chords and swirling vocals form a typically slow-burning record, in true Beach House fashion.
Stream Bloom on Spotify here
Once upon a time, I was enthralled by the idea of pop-up gigs. I was hooked on beautifully shot shorts of La Blogotheque’s Take Away Shows, NPR’s Tiny Desk Concerts etc etc. I longed to, one day, be part of the lucky few who got to sit in on these intimate gigs. I can’t remember where I first heard of Sofar Sounds, but the little I read, raved about how great they were. These were a series of gigs, held in living rooms around the world. The “pop-up” movement is seemingly ubiquitious these days, with everyone from Lily Allen to Heineken, hopping on this bandwagon. Essentially, the definition is just something that appears for a short period of time and disappears soon after. But, Sofar Sounds purported to be much more. The beauty lies in that these intimate gatherings happen in someone’s house. Their success is dependant on people’s generosity and willingness to open up their houses for one evening. Sofar is now a global movement, spanning 20 cities to date.
I’ve been wanting to attend a Sofar gig for months; so when I finally made the cut, I was thrilled. I was instructed to appear at a house in East London on a Thursday evening, bring my own booze, stay for the entire session (2.5 hours to be exact) and told that my +1 had to be creative and friendly. Ofcourse I was curious to what I was in for. So, we turned up in Hackney, in front of a random door. No guest list, just a smiling guy at the door, welcoming us in. And we trundled into a beautiful townhouse, the door slamming behind a grey London sky.
I was expecting an evening of good music, but I certainly wasn’t expecting the warm, welcoming vibes. The London gig scene isn’t known for its’ inclusiveness. Chatting to people at gigs is generally rare. But here, it felt a lot more like a private party; people chatted to one another and made friends.
Rafe, the organiser of the event, set the tone: welcoming everyone by name. Sat in a tight circle around the first band, he introduced the session with a wide smile. Their manifesto was listening to music in a quiet, intimate setting. The order of the day was three 4-song sets with no interlude between. The rules of the game was that no one chatted during, everyone stayed for the entirety and we sang along and danced as we pleased. As a gig-enthusiast, I had not appreciated how much background noise can detract from the magic of a set.
There were four bands on offer for the evening.
First up was Graphite Set. Apparently, their sound is more punk but this time, they were playing stripped back with half of their band. The trumpet was an interesting ruse to lead singer’ Lili’s soaring vocals. The sound was delicately dramatic and somehow a bit Kate Bush-like.
Usually, there’s no break between bands, but the second band, Melodica, Melody & Me, had forgotten their melodica, which as you can imagine, was central to their set. Few minutes later, an out of breath and slightly sheepish band took centrestage. A collection of darlingly sweet and whimsical music strewn with calypso-like rhythm, they were so adorable, I wanted to carry them around in my pocket.
Spring Offensive was next up, playing with Stornoway bassist. They reminded me of Flight of the Concords; tongue in cheek lyrics played with an extraordinary fervour. Who knew songs about work colleagues could conjur up such angst? Either way, they had an interesting style of showmanship and I was felt thinking they’d do well to take a few leaves out of the final act, Jack Savoretti’s book. He was most certainly better versed at playing the intense, I’m-really-into-my-music face.
Jack Savoretti, was the final and perhaps “biggest” act of the evening. Although his blend of indie-folk that’s much loved by Radio 2, isn’t normally to my personal taste, I’ve got to admit, he had me mesmerised. And no, it wasn’t just because he was pretty dreamy, but because he’s a guy who’s mastered his own style and sound very well. A suitable end to a wonderful evening.
I wish I could say London needs more events like this but I won’t because I want Sofar to maintain it’s real underground vibes. It was magical and I can’t wait for the next one. Kudos goes to Rafe and the other founders for keeping it real. And to the host, Jo, for opening up his beautiful house to a bunch of randoms; allowing us to enjoy wonderful music in such an intimate setting. And finally, to the bands that played: bravo.
See here for more about Sofar, here for The Graphite Set (also pictured above), here for Melodica, Melody & Me and here for Jack Savoretti.
Not Dark Yet - Bob Dylan Cover from Amnesty International - Chimes of Freedom
With God On Our Side - Bob Dylan Cover from Amnesty International - Chimes of Freedom
