HTRK
The Garage, London
October 24, 2011

HTRK have always been a difficult band to love. Once you got used to their narco-minimalism and faceless anonymity that pervaded their artwork, you realised they weren’t a band seeking attention, merely like-minded souls to tumble down their rabbit hole. They weren’t looking for you, you were looking for them. They ply romance as being one of their tenets, but their music is neither romantic nor seductive. More confessions of bitterness and jealousy from a self-loathing voyeur unable to look away from what attracts them, or the last words of a dying emotion. This was no affectation, no conscious design to portray themselves as intense individuals creating challenging music, but more an attempt to give voice to their own inner demons, their own fears and weaknesses.

It’s hard to be objective about a band when your introduction was through the same member who decided to take own his life in March of 2010.  Sean Stewart was the beautiful heart of HTRK, his bass-playing a formidable and driving presence in their sound, both live and on record. Listening to the band perform without him for the first time, having missed their ICA return late last year, is a moment filled with sadness while being conscious that something is missing, something important, the sense of nostalgia that pervaded HTRK’s songs now made visible. Unspeaking throughout the show, both vocalist Jonnine Standish and guitarist Nigel Yang have the hardest of tasks ahead of them. The detached stare of Standish, gazing out beyond the assembled, is impenetrable as ever and so little appears to have changed, yet so much has.

Work (Work, Work) is a valiant attempt to salvage the last moments of HTRK in its original incarnation, but it falls short in delivering the same haunting allure that was found on their debut LP. Where HTRK were once a hypnotic, transfixing experience, the effect now is disjointed and disorienting, a stuttering collage of fragmented beats and shards of guitar with Standish a ghostly emotionless presence. Again, so little appears to have changed, yet so much has. The absence of that bass groan, the absence of Sean, has shifted an unconscionable weight between Standish and Yang that neither seem able to carry. It’s unfair to expect the transition to be a smooth one, and perhaps it’s an adjustment that both audience and artist need time to get used to.

Lydia Loveless
Rumba Cafe, Columbus, OH
September 30, 2011

A couple of songs into Lydia Loveless’s album launch and it’s difficult to tell where Lydia the singer ends and Lydia the person begins. It’s simply hard to imagine a woman like this, barely in her twenties, and standing a little over five foot tall in her boots, could be so worldly and explosive. And yet, there she is, muttering a string of f-bombs during a song break because she can’t get her guitar tuned quite right. The attitude, the weathered, sarcastic smile. The edge. That’s pretty damn tough to fake.

Even tougher to fake is the music. Call shenanigans all you want on the girl’s rough-and-tumble subject matter, her music is pure throughout. Loveless’s voice glistens like Loretta Lynn, and powers forward like Neko Case. Her chord structures throughout the songs are simple and repetitious, but built underneath some expressive guitar and stand-up bass lines. A blend of genuine country music and power pop has surely been attempted in the past, but never over punk chords and lyrics about psycho ex-boyfriends and guzzling gasoline.

At the end of the evening, it’s hard to imagine Loveless being anyone but herself. Her silly banter with the band and the crowd in between songs keeps everything at familial levels despite venue shortcomings. The emotive looks of frustration and eventual satisfaction as she sings through deeply personal material. She even admits with timidity to being nervous thinking no one would show up, to a roar of applause from the audience. It’s this combination of personality and talent that makes Lydia so fascinating, and the transparent reality of it all drives it all home. The music world had better get ready for a little Columbus edge. Lydia Loveless is most certainly on her way.

They Might Be Giants + Jonathan Coulton
Beachland Ballroom
Cleveland, OH
September 16, 2011

On the surface, it’s a normal, sold-out show on a Friday night just north of downtown Cleveland. The fans stretch around the corner from the front door; ticket holders excited for the concert they’re about to see, and those without tickets hoping to catch a break when they get to the box office. But this is not a normal show, and this is not a normal audience. These are the geeks. The nerds. Die hard rock fans of a different shade of crazy, waiting for their musical heroes to serenade them with catchy pop songs tinged with dark humor and insightful counter-culture references.

Jonathan Coulton, playing with a tightly-knit three piece band, opened with a couple fan favorites. Show openers are so often simply speed bumps to the main attraction, but not in this case. Coulton rocked with precision and efficiency on old classics like “Still Alive” and new cuts like “Sticking It To Myself”. His songs were treated to a little faster tempo and stripped down from any musical excesses like the prevalent keyboards from his new album Artificial Heart. The same quirk and pop sensibility of Coulton’s songwriting were certainly on display in his live performance.

They Might Be Giants wasted no time getting goofy, as Flansburgh took the mic with sinister charm and welcomed everyone in a silly voice before opening with the infamous “Birdhouse In Your Soul”. Many of TMBG’s usual show staples made appearances, such as Flansburgh’s absurdist narrations, Linnell picking up his accordion and saxophone, impressive solos from other members of the band like the crowd-lauded acoustic guitar opener by Dan Miller on “Istanbul”, and even a brief puppet show from the Avatars to sing both corresponding parts of “Spoiler Alert”.

After spliting the room up into people and apes, the band played a brief improvisational instrumental built around the crowd’s rhythmic chanting, and following an audience-led double-speed version of “The Famous Polka” came Linnell’s timid admission that their other shows hadn’t gone so smoothly. His confession was met by laughter, as if no one in the crowd would have believed it. This was clearly a band, even twenty-five years since their first proper LP release, still at the top of their game.

Despite their sometimes-dark lyrics and melancholy overtones, They Might Be Giants shows are a colossal amount of fun. The same way they balance genuinely artistic songwriting with catchy pop tunes, they manage to juxtapose outstanding musicianship and presentation with a lot of humor and entertainment. Music with any hint of novelty doesn’t usually get the respect it deserves amongst critics, but between Jonathan Coulton and They Might Be Giants, it has some mighty fine representatives.

Austra
The Scala, London
September 6, 2011

Having changed careers mid-stream from a piano-based singer-songwriter with a touch of the Regina Spectors to a Nico-esque bleach-blonde gothic siren, in Austra Katie Stelmanis has found the form to match the function. With a handful of impressive singles released either side of their Kate Bush meets Nine Inch Nails debut album Feel It Break, Stelmanis may have found her creative niche but she still has much to prove. On record, Austra cloak themselves in a throbbing monochrome blanket, but on stage their live show is more telling, more vibrant and commanding, as Stelmanis, flanked by a pair of interpretive dancers/backing vocalists, add any absent colour.

The night was memorable, not only for PJ Harvey chalking up her second Mercury Music prize (as enquired upon and applauded by Stelmanis mid-set), but also for keyboardist/saxophonist Ryan Wonsiak choosing to attire himself solely in black denim cut-off shorts to the unimpressed murmurs of a handful of straight men in the audience. Not to be outmatched, Stelmanis took to the stage looking like a dead ringer for Lady Gaga in her ‘Poker Face’ phase albeit crossed with a sad-eyed marionette doll. Strange band. Showing her classically-trained prowess on the piano, the band fell in behind Stelmanis as she curiously began the set with the tortured mood killing album closer “The Beast”. Best to get that one out of the way early, perhaps…

Both the owl-hooting synth-pop gem “Lose It”, and the Depeche Mode sparkle and operatic swell of “Darken Her Horse” give presence to Stelmanis’ imposing voice and the full measure of the band. The glowsticks arrived as the crowd loosened up for debut single “Beat And The Pulse”, while an encore of Joni Mitchell’s folk anthem “Woodstock” sounded expectedly as far removed from the original as possible. As much as Feel It Break captures the mood of Austra, given the right venue and right crowd, Austra’s darkly woven spells take on the desired hypnotic effect. The album has shown itself to be a grower, and Stelmanis herself to be something of a chameleon. One gets the feeling that in time Austra will evolve in the same dramatic fashion.

Truck Festival
Steventon, Oxfordshire
July 22-24, 2011

Friday 22nd July

Quietly, unassumingly, Truck Festival has become an annual celebration of all that is so very right about music. When the Bennett brothers witnessed the exploitative attitude of industrial sized events they didn’t just get mad they got even. Truck Festival was their baby and now in its fourteenth year it has blossomed into a rather lovely adolescent. The rotary club banana smoothie stall was in full flow by the time Mechanical Bride played the Transgressive Records curated Clash stage early on Friday evening. Fresh from her serene album launch in a central London church Lauren Doss now embraced the Truck religion of niceness and projected her angelic purity – pitched somewhere between Bat For Lashes and Feist – at the early arrivals. Wandering between the stages is a pleasure rather than the usual obstacle course of inebriates, broken flags and noodle strewn mud which it often becomes at other festivals. Courteous crowds and smiling faces is the norm.

Transgressive choices Peggy Sue wore their hearts on their sleeves with their battered and bruised raw pop tales and Johnny Flynn provided pretty boy folk but the Friday fling was over on the main stage. Bellowhead lit the folk fusion fuse and the phoney war was over. Truck exploded to the charisma of Jon Boden and his rather large band of merrymakers. Folk songs and shanties from Norfolk and Hampshire really do rock. Who knew?! Graham Coxon over on the other stage was more of a slow burner. He seemed to be just going through the motions and keeping his guitar techie busy. Then he lost his jacket and took off his specs and started to really enjoy himself. His version of “That’s When I Reach For My Revolver” was happily reminiscent of The Jam and “Freakin’ Out” was his tent-shifting finale.

Saturday 23rd July

As befitting of such a polite festival the torrential rain kindly fell overnight and didn’t spoil the fun. So come Saturday, the Truck fairies (aka village volunteers) had cleared away the debris of the first night and Hill Farm was ready for more organic ale, bacon rolls and the sweet indie pop of Alphabet Backwards. Their boy-girl vocal exchanges provided the perfect start to a sunny day. Then Bleeding Heart Narrative offered something a little more intense in the vein of Arcade Fire. ‘Kooky’ doesn’t begin to describe Sea of Bees Julie Baenziger adequately enough. Collaborations with the whole band like “Gnomes” gave off a brilliant alt-rock vibe with more than a nod to Belly. Yet on her own Baenziger had hints of Joanna Newsom but with bags more confidence. So much that she cheekily played an encore!

As news broke of the final demise of a former Brit School pupil a true survivor was gracing Truck – Edwyn Collins. This remarkable man chose life. Considering his back catalogue with Orange Juice and his string of solo albums he could easily be forgiven if he just basked in past glories and continued his recuperation but Edwyn is a fighter. He hobbled on to the Clash stage with the aid of a stick and sat before the mic. A hushed reverence enveloped the arena which was only broken by regular outbreaks of rapturous applause as he sang songs from his Losing Sleep album. He threw in a few Orange Juice tracks – “What Presence”, “Falling And Laughing” and “Rip It Up” – to keep the forty-somethings happy. The final standing ovation was overwhelming both for the audience and Edwyn himself.

A different kind of icon followed. Sarah Cracknell glammed up the chilly night with the sublime dance pop vibe of Saint Etienne and more than a little of her Mum-dancing. Armed with a David Cassidy annual she headed straight into her spoken word delivery on “Girl VII” and then added in some new songs, before a grand, glittering finale of “Only Love Can Break Your Heart” and “Nothing Can Stop Us” inspired some air-punching euphoria.

Sunday 24th July

In spite of all the organic ale and curry being consumed, by Sunday lunchtime the toilets remained relatively reek-free. No-one had romped in the mud for a clichéd tabloid snap. The festival remained flag free and the red kites soaring over the thermals up above the Oxfordshire countryside provided the natural high. Niceness reigned once again. An egg and bacon butty and a dose of Cashier No 9 (pictured) seemed a good, calm way to start the day. Having paid only passing attention to their debut album the hypnotic, jangly, psychedelia came as a pleasant and mesmerising surprise. Then Geordie six piece Lanterns On The Lake conjured up the archetypal Bella Union sound – ethereal, sonic soundscapes all tied together by Hazel Wilde’s soothing vocal.

It was odd that at such a cosy shindig most acts had offered little interaction with the festival folk. Caitlin Rose wanted to change that. The sassy country rocker tried her best with the post-prandial posse lounging before her. “I’m not trying to be smart but all my songs are about nature…” she drawled…”last one was about clouds. This one is about rabbits. Saw one today. Winked at me…” No reaction! Clearly beaten she said “Okay to suit the mood we’re going to play something a little slower. And sad”. Festival founders Joe and Robin Bennett saved the final slot on the main stage for themselves. Who could blame them? In their latest incarnation as The Dreaming Spires they beamed their way through their set of alt-country rock dropping hints of what was still to come at the Clash stage later. Their enthusiasm and charm is infectious and has made Truck such a special event over the years.

The grand finale was really the worst kept secret of the festival. The news of the Truck All-Stars playing the Fleetwood Mac album Rumours in its entirety had been leaked prior to the festival opening. So when The Magic Numbers, Sarah Cracknell, Trevor Moss and Hannah-Lou and others joined the Bennetts on stage few were surprised. Yet nobody could have predicted such an electrifying performance. Song after song was executed with surprising precision in spite of, or maybe because of the whisky-bribes of Joe Bennett on keyboards! Sarah Cracknell made a brave attempt at Songbird but it was Michele Stodart and Angela Gannon who stole the show with a ballsy delivery of the Christine McVie and Stevie Nicks tracks. It only remained for the cross-dressing barman and festival mascot the Truck monster to join the All-Stars and the evening and Truck Festival 2011 was complete.

Photos: Sally Saveall/Don Blandford

Hop Farm Festival
Hop Farm, Kent
July 1 – July 3, 2011

In the history of modern music festivals, few line-ups could compare with the distinctly 70′s flavoured action offered at the Hop Farm Festival last weekend. While The Eagles were wheeled out of retirement as headliners on the first night, the purportedly Morrissey-curated second day included such rock pantheon artists as Lou Reed, Iggy Pop, and Patti Smith. All in all, it’s a jaw-dropping stroke of genius, with Morrissey having the hardest of acts to follow the swathe that these three so cleanly cut through the Kent countryside. Oh, and did we forget to mention Prince was there too?

What was a first class trouble-free festival it was, where the sun shined and the simple train ride from London to Kent and back again was painless and preferable (campers we are not). With a line-up leaning toward some of the most iconic groups and artists of the 70/80’s, the audience was considerably on the mature side, as witnessed by the amount of folding chairs that arced their way around the main stage, watching Australian pub rock legend Jimmy Barnes shake a little life into the midday crowd with “No Second Prize” and “Good Times” to the satisfaction of flag-waving expatriates, god love’m. If anything displayed the sheer uniqueness of Hop, Barnesy was simply a warm-up.

Destiny’s Child and cricket lovers worldwide know how great 10cc are, and as such was the anticipation as they worked their up to the joyfully absurd “Dreadlock Holiday” and the ultimate cheesy kiss-off love song “I’m Not In Love”. Even though the sound system was not on their side (they blew the power twice with their sheer awesomeness), how could anyone go through their life without saying they saw 10cc? Honestly. Much like Bryan Ferry, fresh from singing at Kate Moss’s wedding, who’s “Let’s Stick Together” seemed all the more apropos on the day. Having never seen eye to eye with 70′s soft-rock desperados The Eagles, Glenn Frey and Co. did the mildly curious a solid by playing “Hotel California” first, thus allowing us to wander over to watch Sheffield synth-pop royalty, The Human League, who with a healthy airing of Dare and an audience sing-along to “Don’t You Want Me” and “Together In Electric Dreams” finale failed to put a foot wrong.

After decades of hearing band after band cover Velvet Underground songs, it was a delight to watch Lou Reed remind everybody that it all started with him and such unforgettable songs like “Sunday Morning” and “Femme Fatale” (What no “Walk On The Wild Side”?). Earlier in the day, Patti Smith with Lenny Kaye and Patrick Wolf on violin and harp played a short acoustic set that was no less rock n’ roll than when she is electric, certainly if their finale of “Gloria” was anything to go by. The Stooges once again showed themselves as being the originators of primal rock n’ roll, slamming through “Search And Destroy” and “I Wanna Be Your Dog” while Iggy Pop played the inveterate troublemaker, inviting the crowd to climb over the barriers to join him on stage to the utter horror of the festival security.

Headliner Morrissey had his work cut out but rose to the occasion, throwing out a nod to Lou Reed with his cover of “Satellite Of Love” and balancing the set with past solo glories (“Every Day Is Like Sunday” and “Irish Blood, English Heart”) and The Smiths dalliances (“This Charming Man” and “Panic”). While he may have managed to outshine his idols via the support of his travelling fanbase, it was the artist currently known as Prince who claimed victory at Hop Farm. Despite coming on stage 45 minutes late in what was to be a mammoth 2 hour plus show, the all-in-white purple one worked the crowd through medleys of past hits (“Let’s Go Crazy”, “Little Red Corvette and “1999″), a cover of a “song by Sinead O’Connor”, before turning Hop Farm into a one long funkadelic dance party via re-workings of Sly & The Family Stone’s “Everyday People” and “I Want To Take You Higher”. Prince, you made it look so easier. Hop Farm, let’s do this again soon.

Prince – Main Stage – July 3, 2011

Hop Farm Festival 2011 — We came, we saw, we took a shitload of pictures. Too many pictures… So instead of cluttering up our coverage with photo overload, we’ve decided to collect the cream of the crop and put together a nice selection from the entire festival, or as much as one man and his camera can manage… If you haven’t already read our review, you can find it right here.

Susan Sulley // The Human League – Big Tent – July 1, 2011

Phil Oakey & Joanne Catherall – The Human League – Big Tent, July 1, 2011

Elizabeth Sankey // Summer Camp – Bread & Roses Stage – July 1, 2011

Bryan Ferry – Main Stage – July 1, 2011

Hamilton Leithauser // The Walkmen – Big Tent – July 1, 2011

Jon King // Gang Of Four – Big Tent – July 2, 2011

Patti Smith – Main Stage – July 2, 2011

Lenny Kaye & Patrick Wolf // Patti Smith Band – Main Stage – July 2, 2011

Lou Reed – Main Stage – July 2, 2011

Iggy Pop // The Stooges – Main Stage – July 2, 2011

Morrissey – Main Stage – July 2, 2011

Prince – Main Stage – July 3, 2011

All photos © Craig Smith. Thanks to Vince Power/Hop Farm and Mission PR.

Noah And The Whale
Roundhouse, London
May 16, 2011

It’s a little known piece of Webcuts folklore that Noah And The Whale once played in my living room. Gladly, it was before my time, otherwise a compulsion to head downstairs and have words would‘ve been hard to resist. A sell-out show at the Camden Roundhouse is not to be sneered at, but if commercial success or the ability to fill a room is the barometer in which all great music is measured, we’re on (and have been for decades) very shaky ground, and when superlative-inducing American folk-rock act Okkervil River are playing across town, clearly in the wrong place.

Noah And The Whale do two things well. Firstly, a good impression of persuading an audience that their songs are lasting and memorable, and secondly, the performance of these songs reveal a band knowingly adept in their art. Their hokey, folky, earnest hoedowns reek of studied Americana (Waits, Springsteen, etc.), and unlike Okkervil River, tread a mediocre path of cookie-cutter masses-serving folk-pop, with many of their songs set adrift in such unimaginatively titled vessels like Last Night On Earth‘s “Life Is Life“ and “L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N“. Could it be the inspirational well has run dry following the heartbreak-fuelled The First Days Of Spring?.

“This is the romantic part of the set. Anything can happen”, offers Noah And The Whale’s birthday boy Charlie Fink, during “The Line” but nothing does happen. The roof doesn’t fall in, speakers fail to explode and no spontaneous Camden-ite copulation either to liven up proceedings, despite the cat-calling of their enraptured female fans. If a begrudging comment was to be levered in their direction, Noah And The Whale dressed nice and played their instruments well. People cheered. People danced. Their mothers would be proud. But for one reason or another, it left me unmoved.

Stage warming rising stars Exlovers were the edgy entrée of the evening. Their half hour set was enough to get the blood pumping before the arrival of Noah And The Whales doled out cardiac arrests. Here was a young band who sound like a young band should, aggressive and arresting with bursts of melody and searing guitars, and boy/girl harmonies that didn’t pin their hopes on the big chorus sweepstakes. Recent single “Blowing Kisses” still remains one of the best singles of 2011 and the potential therein lies for their to-be-released debut album to follow through. As for Noah And The Whale, well, l.i.f.e.g.o.e.s.o.n.

Setlist: Give Me A Little Love/Just Me Before We Met/Blue Skies/Give It All Back/Love Of An Orchestra/Life Is Life/Jocasta/The Line/My Door Is Always Open/Wild Thing/Rocks And Daggers/Five Years Time/Shape Of My Heart/Tonight’s The Kind Of Night/Waiting For My Chance To Come/The First Days Of Spring//Old Joy/L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N.

Wendy James
Rough Trade Records, London
June 9, 2011

Why hello, Wendy James. It’s been a while. Almost 20 years since I saw Transvision Vamp play at the Hordern Pavilion in Sydney. A mostly unremarkable show except for the amount of intimidating drunks in attendance and the fact they played their current ‘hit‘ twice. Australia loved Transvision Vamp, almost in the same way it loved Blondie, decades before. Stick a blonde wig on a mop, put it in front of a bunch of guys in leather jackets and you’re set. Transvision Vamp at that time were in their career descent with Little Magnets Versus The Bubble of Babble (my head still shudders at the idiocy of this title) and this was their last roll of the dice.

Independent Sydney act, The Cruel Sea, had the unfortunate task as support and as they went about their business, the crowd moronically chanted ‘Wendy, Wendy, Wendy’ which only fired up their vocalist Tex Perkins, taunting the liquored up horde with “This next song is called… Wendy”. It would be the last time James would hear the roar of the crowd calling her name, as the band would break up a few months after. A solo album written by Elvis Costello, Now Ain’t The Time For Your Tears did little to boost her talent and releasing two albums as Racine a decade later  appearing as little more than an attempt of James to revive her career with a revolving cast of hired young guns, pimping a lo-fi garage sound.

James’s instore at Rough Trade Records in London, her first live outing in several years to promote the last year’s I Came Here To Blow Minds album seemed made up entirely of 80′s nostalgia buffs, with James nervously fronting a poached high school band, the quartet looking decidedly un-rock and roll to James’s leather jacket and smeared eye-liner. The songs skipped by falling short of a tune or indeed a memorable chorus, something that the backing of a decent legacy would enable listeners to overlook. All of which is a shame, because you hate to see your teenage interests a shadow of their former glory.

It wouldn’t be a stretch to expect the 45-year old James to try and posit herself as a faded Marianne Faithful type, reflecting on her past with some grace and dignity and perhaps a little reinvention, but with a band made up of fresh-faced boys barely old enough to remember Transvision Vamp and touting a rambling rock n’ roll skit with a chorus that goes “You’re a Fucking Mess, But You Sure Is Pretty”, you can’t help but feel sorry for her.

Twin Shadow
Scala, London
May 11, 2011

Having to write a live review on the fly, almost two weeks after it happened, from notes hastily scribbled, while packing to go to a festival will show us this is not the way to do things. There’s no time to go into detail, to labour the point, to draw comparisons between George Lewis Jr’s physical appearance (a little bit Prince, a little bit Morrissey), or the sound (a little bit Prince, a little bit Morrissey, albeit on a synth-sprung landscape). Twin Shadow, at least from this writer’s perspective, has adequately filled the gap that LCD Soundsystem left by their absence, in making music that moves and is moving, that is confident without being arrogant, and is just too perfect for words.

An album that appeared to fly under the radar of most music fans last year was Forget, Twin Shadow’s debut.  A well-rounded excursion into 80′s urban synth-pop that was bleakly personal and intriguing in its presentation. It was also swiftly ignored by all at Webcuts, for no reason other than ‘we didn’t think much of “Castles In The Snow”. And it’s true. We watched the clip for the single, obliquely wondering what was it all about, and treated it like a girlfriend who bought home a dress that she adored but you couldn’t see what the fuss was about. Which had you looked a little closer, all would’ve been made clear.

A packed Scala in London can see what the fuss is about. It took a while, but Webcuts can see what the fuss is about too. Forget was given a near thorough airing, the songs sounding ponderous and delicate (in particular “Tyrant Destroyed” and the title track), fleshed out by the four-piece band. New material was given an airing, a track called “Circus Is Gone?”, share a similar melody from Pulp’s “Razzamatazz”, which as influences go, seemed more intentional than accidental and would appear totally within Twin Shadow’s remit. Apt that this would be one of the most enjoyable shows of 2011, much like Forget unexpectedly being one of the most enjoyable albums of 2010.

Setlist: Shooting Holes/Tyrant Destroyed/When We’re Dancing/I Can’t Wait/Circus Is Gone?/Yellow Balloon/Slow/Tether Beat/Castles In The Snow/Forget//Focus/At My Heels