Review

TEXAS, USA – SXSW 2023 live review: POOLSIDE REFLECTIONS Daily blog

| Just The Type
Just The Type blog from SXSW Austin Texas 2023

Written on the fly, over 1 hour on each morning of the festival, here’s my own SXSW 2023 stream of consciousness, reflecting on the day and night before; a not quite blow-by-blow account of some of the unfolding music events throughout the week featuring things I’ve noticed, things I’ve learned, and the artists I can’t wait to tell everyone about…

DAY 5: FRIDAY 17 MARCH 2023 (written 18.03.23)

Austin might be almost 5000 miles from Ireland but this St Patrick’s Day, whilst there may not be a green Guinness in sight, you’re never far from an Irish flag bunting flapping around in the breeze, the occasional passing shamrock hat, or in the case of one particularly dapper hotel doorman, a bright emerald shamrock suit.

“You look like a white person celebrating St Patrick’s Day,” smiled Canadian Drag Race winner Priyanka, picking out one of the drunken crowd members at the Dr.Marten’s stage at Clive Bar on Rainey. Fusing the Texas brief with her own inimitable style, she dressed for the occasion; a cow print unitard with fringing and Stetson… dazzling of course, with extra cut out sections, diamantes, and whip. Alongside sibling dancers wearing plain black outfits (although fully customised with co-ordinated diamante embellishment) the trio’s synchronised dance routines offered a punch to her big pop numbers which included familiar samples including Donna Summer and Destiny’s Child among others. “We’re all queens,” she fittingly introduced of song Country Queen and with Gaga swagger, seemingly launched into riding an invisible bucking bronco. But the audience didn’t applaud; they screamed. Their shrieks and whoops challenged the eardrums and in particular, one super fan at the front was giving the dancers on stage a run for their money.

If Priyanka represents a modern interpretation of Texas, Melbourne artist Woodes – wearing full length mustard prairie dress and braids – offers a more traditional take. Further down the road, after a cancelled show due to the previous night’s electrical storm, her rearranged set in the front yard of the wooden panelled Australia House attracted passers-by, stopping them in the street. With two front rows to entertain, she turned back and forth singing through a set of mellow electronic-tinged pop reminiscent of Ellie Goulding, inspired she said, by the hikes she’s taken where her dad works as a national park ranger.

Vocal soundchecks have been interesting to watch this week; there’s often been the industry standard ‘1-2-check-1-2’ but among those, there’s the occasional more interesting ones like ‘beer-beer-beer’ (can’t recall who that one was) and improvised rhymes (Joe Casey, Protomartyr). For Berlin duo Jealous it’s a little more informational. “It’s like were a shoegaze band, but not a shoegaze band, but not, not a shoegaze band,” guitarist Paz, intoned down the mic ahead of their Deadstrange showcase set at The 13th Floor, between winks at the audience with the sass of The Cramps’ Poison Ivy (the colour red returns with post box PVC, suspenders and scallop tit tape). Bassist Dane takes on lead vocals and struts about in contrasting blue and altogether it’s like a sleazier Wolf Alice with heavy 70s rock crunch to rapturous applause. “Don’t clap… where are our drinks?” Paz asks, after previously indicating their appreciation for vodka. Softening, she bids farewell to the audience; “Thank you for your encouragement… in this world of confusion,” through a knowing Jagger lip curl before the pair take it in turns to wander into the crowd and hit the floor, bringing the set to a squealing halt. 

The vibe was different at Mohawk; an uplifting and moving celebration of the life of Dorian Kweller, son of long-time local musician Ben Kweller, who was tragically killed only very recently, in a fatal car accident. Opening its doors to all, the feeling was hugely personal and felt like a privilege to stand alongside friends and family honouring the promising young musician and skateboarder. Making music under his middle name Zev*, he was considering music college and had been booked to play at this venue the same night. “We deliberated this but will continue to walk through the fire for Dorian,” Ben told those who had gathered, to introduce a beautiful tribute film compiled from footage by those who knew him and which was projected on to the venue wall to a soundtrack of about 5 Zev songs. Whilst not in body but certainly in spirit, his presence was felt throughout to those who know him and those who don’t.

Following Zev, the audience enjoyed The Beatlesy and Death Cab stylings of Connor McLaren (“not of the car”) and Modern Love Child who performed a song written with Dorian featuring a guest singer. Of course later, Ben Kweller himself powers through a set of greatest hits that still sound incredibly musically relevant today, dedicating Make It Up, one of his son’s favourites, for its ‘sick modulation.’ To read more about this event there’s a great write up by the Austin Chronicle here.

*Dorian’s parents have set up this crowdfunder in his honour, to support young musicians and skateboarders >> https://www.gofundme.com/f/Doriankweller

Elsewhere Ron Gallo and his 3-piece band opened a generation-transcending set at Cheer Up Charlies, with the O Sees meets Mac Demarco vibes of Entitled Man “for the women of the world” and You Go Valley Marshalls about the clothes store, telling us his name was actually the same as his dad’s and then his dad’s too. At Mexican bar Las Perlas, Australians Salarymen bounce through ‘60s tinged twee pop that falls somewhere between The Like and Zooey Deschanel with a cover of Dolly Parton’s 9-5 thrown in for good measure.

Then at 1am it’s a double header; under the cascading lights of the Swan Dive Patio, the stage fencing is taking a serious battering thanks to a wild Been Stellar whose singer Sam is like Liam Gallagher wearing an adidas tracksuit top and with arm hooked through his tambourine as he leads the aural assault of Strokes-like spiralling guitars. Whilst inside, the throbbing swells of pounding drums and electronica of Manchester, UK’s Mandy, Indiana are causing the last ones standing to dance around. The audience’s knees begin bending back and forth and before long, heads are bobbing along to the huge throbbing sound that fills the room. A gap in the crowd opens just large enough for singer Valentine to take her spot and writhe on the floor, as her bandmates relentlessly continue to channel the rhythms to impressed mutters around the room for a fabulous Friday finale.

DAY 4: THURSDAY 16 MARCH 2023 (written 17.03.23)

That was close. When Dream Wife’s Rakel said things were heating up she wasn’t wrong. Over on the East side, around 9pm inside The Low Down Lounge, chaos ensued. Ordinarily, New Jersey’s Shred Flintstone would be no stranger to such, but it turns out that a mere 2 songs into their set, their own sonic hurricane has pushed the day’s 30-degree heat into a very real electrical storm of biblical proportions. Sound techs scramble to gather as much plastic as they can lay their hands on and wrap the equipment to shield it from the elements, chatter from the packed-out crowd heightens and as lightning flashes strobe around the open venue – which disturbingly, whilst everyone is told to ‘take shelter,’ happens to be a tin covered patio on the side of the inside bar – the plug is pulled and stage is plunged into darkness.

Frontman Dan seemed pissed. Two minutes earlier, his hype up for the set involved prowling the concrete floor and doing push ups as well as few leg stretches (whilst lying on what had been dry ground), shaking the front row’s hands and pulling them towards the front of the stage. “Fucking get to the front” he yelped as band launched into an onslaught of energetic and brilliant lo-fi grunge-rock. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Perhaps the bandage on the bassist’s hand was a sign of things to come. But that was it. Rain began leaking through the roof and showing his frustration, Dan kisses and humps the overhead speaker before miming a roaring, slow motion guitar smash; clearly making the most of every minute they had left on stage. Fortunately the intermission is brief and within the hour the band return to stage and finish what they started.

It means Brooklyn’s SAFER only had time to play 3 songs (at SXSW each set is just 30 minutes). “Ok guys we’re gonna play quick,” singer Mattie told the audience with urgency. Channelling the rhythmic pulse of his other musical outfits The Rapture and Poolside, the 5-piece are super tight with the funk indie pop jaunt as though Paul Simon or Vampire Weekend were having a party with Tom Tom Club… enhanced by the actual Toms on stage. Whilst mother nature was not on their side, the gods were, and as the band are granted an extra 10 minutes, they turn inwards to face each other, and adapt their set on the spot whilst giving some considered discussion about what to play to give the patient crowd, now standing in pools of water, the set they deserve.

If the storm hadn’t destroyed the venue, Austin’s own Die Spitz seized the opportunity for themselves. Inciting a riot of crowd surfing, everyone surged forwards on top of each other sending the two speakers standing precariously on tall tripods into a wobble like one of those air dancer guys you’d find at a petrol (gas) station. Next to the stage, two girls cower behind the curtain of the instant photobooth. They’re still not safe. Guitarist Ellie clambered up the side, crawling and writhing on its roof whilst on stage, the rest of the band pummel through each track which has more than a hint of Nirvana and Hole about them, complete with guitarist and vocalist Ava’s rasp of The Distillers’ Brody Dalle. In fact they remind me of first seeing Amyl & The Sniffers at SXSW 2019 and look what happened to them. Meanwhile bassist Kate, with eyes wide and fixed grin, glares like a possessed Cheshire Cat whilst using every inch of the stage – high and low. “You guys know O SEEs?” Ava asked, before telling a story about how they ‘stole’ her guitar and messed it up after mistaking it for their own. “But this guitar was played by O SEEs now, so..” she shrugs. Ones to watch.

Earlier in the day, during the calm before the actual storm at the Brooklyn Vegan day party in the Empire Control Room, Chicago’s Ric Wilson also demonstrated the importance of strong stage banter and that it should never be underestimated. Proof that you can take the man out of the Windy City but not the wind out of the man, he reveals he wore his turtleneck in anticipation of forecasted rain and asked about the best foods to eat. The chat is due to another day bringing another technical hiccup (which I have noticed the Austin sound techs seem to handle swiftly without stress) and when everything finally gets going, Ric’s jazz-flecked rhymes (the vibe at one time reminds me of Estelle’s American Boy) move with old school flow; bolstered by his band featuring trumpet and decks. “Go Sam, go Sam,” he rallies of the audience to sing along in homage to his horn player. The audience raise their arms and sway back and forth; like Ric’s ringleader of his own rodeo by chorographing his own mass line-dance routine. “Are u all feeling me, say alright, alright, alright” (yeah, I’d be amiss not to squeeze in a Matthew McConaughey reference here) and in spite of it’s warm feel-good vibes, there are hidden depths with his on-point poetry too.

Another highlight included the controversially named Militarie Gun over at the Stereogum day party at Cheer Up Charlie’s (who just a short while later would be performing on the Third Man Records showcase at The 13th Floor). Baring a close sonic resemblance to Bristol, UK’s Saloon Dion (who are also here), you’d be forgiven for thinking of them to be a product of the current British post-punk scene as they adopt a keep calm and carry on approach to technical difficulties (“I have no fucking idea,” mouths one of the stage crew to the sound desk at the back of the crowd) and mostly, punch, high-jump and shout their way through a hefty set. Almost at combustion point as they bring their own Californian heat to Austin’s rising temperatures, the Los Angeles 5-piece’s faces redden and hair sticks to their sweaty foreheads, almost foreshadowing the evening’s events by whipping up their own kind of metaphorical hardcore thunderstorm.

DAY 3: WEDNESDAY 15 MARCH 2023 (written 16.03.23)

Is it too early to have found my favourite band of the festival? It’s a little romantic to think that you will just be walking past a venue and hear a sound which grabs you instantly, forcing you to backtrack and wander inside to check it out. But that’s exactly what happened when Toronto 4-piece Gloin brought their high-octane post-punk to the Chess Club bar. I wasn’t the only one; after catching their set, another gig-goer tells me they too did the same thing. And the rewards were plenty.

Sharing vocal duties between songs are guitarist John and bassist Vic; both bringing their own wrath to each message. John possesses the doom-laden vocal tone of Crows’ James Cox and taught guitar swings are fraught with tension. Vic has an equally scathing rasp as she hangs her head over her bass and rocks with force to occasionally lose her balance. In fact, swinging her bass so much she ends the set by raising an apologetic hand to the overhead speaker as the angular set finale sees its neck send it swinging.

There’s chanting in unison; ‘Rush’ and ‘Work Patrol’ stand out, and as the band literally stomp about the stage, mini dust clouds burst up from the carpet beneath their feet.

But it’s not all hellbent. There’s a considered, brooding menace at times as well, offering balance to just unleashing a hurricane of noise. In their more atmospheric moments and brief pauses, Vic turns back to the audience and steps on the brick holding the drums in place. “I pretty much know all of you in here,” she says after coming up from underneath her hair. True, there are about only 10 people in the room witnessing this, but the band play with the same ferocity as if there were 10,000. Everyone else’s loss is our gain. “This is a standing ovation” points out one audience member between the ripple of claps among the already stood up gathering.

If Gloin are giving a lesson that at SX the best things are unplanned (always keep your eyes and ears open), Dream Wife are giving us a weather report; “It’s gonna get warmer”, Rakel tells before unleashing her natural charisma at the Music for Listeners’ day party in the Lazarus Brewery. It would normally be a weird gig – despite their huge rock sound, everyone is seated, relaxed and enjoying their beers to the music. Even the pups, of which there are plenty, seem to be enjoying it. It only takes a few songs and one enthusiastic (or perhaps inebriated!) reveller is already at his feet, standing in front of the stage clapping along. We also learn about Julie – a pillar of the homelessness volunteer community in Austin with who the band are staying. And there are heart hand signals from both sides. “I just wanted to tell everyone that… Julie, this song… it’s not about you. This song is called ‘Leach.’” Laughter resounds.

The famous Austin motto is ‘Keep Austin Weird’ and if one band should win SXSW’s oddest  moment award it would be local 4-piece Heavy Meddo. Least of all because the guitarist is using a tickertape music box and untidy violin bow on his fret board. Delivering their own esoteric take on mellow kraut-tinged psych rock inside Hotel Vegas where projections dance across their faces, members take it in turns to lie in the middle of the audience on the floor. It’s also possible the singer and guitarist (who wanders around the stage in what appears to be the contents of a dressing up box, occasionally using his head to smash the drum kit’s cymbals) missed their breakfast tacos because they move between being snuggled up to the lead guitaristandchewing the button on his shirt or apparently gnawing at the strings on fellow bandmember’s bass. In fact oral fixation seems to be the theme of the day, when earlier on the outdoor patio, O SEES’ John Dwyer, between a giant pickle mascot stage diving and surfing around the Hotel Vegas patio stage, pops his own microphone into his mouth whilst churning through a typical 100mph dual-drum kit set.

In fact, now inside Hotel Vegas  John is bantering with the bassist of California’s GracieHorse. “Turn up the vocals” he yells in support of his fellow line-up buds. “Turn up my uncle?” the bassist replies with a grin. It’s a moment of light comic relief in what is a very brief and sombre set (perhaps due to some technical issues and equally preferring the strength of the music to do the talking), but it’s a stunningly understated set which meanders between alt-country and americana. A beautiful couple in the audience slow dance in a truly romantic way and fans of Courtney Marie Andrews will find much to love in its warm lap steel sound.

That’s it. Hour is up. I had wanted to let you know that, talking of lap steel, Protomartyr also have added a lap steel player to their line-up, which sounded great at their midnight set at Lucille’s on Rainey Street. Whilst singer Joe was happy about the addition (“He makes our songs sound better”) he wasn’t best pleased about the strobe lights. And yet, between squints and observations about the high-rise building lights opposite, the new songs including latest single ‘Make Way’, as well as the ‘shitty old songs’ all sounded great

DAY 2: TUESDAY 14 MARCH 2023 (written 15.03.23)

They say every cloud has a silver lining, which is good because not only has the weather started to turn with the clouds rolling in, a late finish the night before meant slightly messing up timings in the morning and being faced with the odd but beautifully serendipitous situation of the first band of the day being the last one of the previous night. Even in daylight The Black Angels are as suited to the packed-out Mohawk where Marshall is throwing its day party. All business as usual – and without the Empire Garage show’s interruption of a strange momentary stage invasion from a crazed fan – which I forgot to mention previously.

“I mean I was taken!”

“Yes, take me… it was so good” agrees one audience member’s friend at the Women That Rock day party at Cheer Up Charlies next door. Jaguar Jonze is in town having travelled all the way from Australia with band in tow, and whilst this might be the first show they have played in Austin, let alone SXSW, from the sheer number of phones being held up you can tell the crowd were on board.

Whilst together, the 4-piece looked more ‘pop’ wearing rainbow make-up and co-ordinated yellow and black outfits under the huge disco ball and neon backdrop of the Cheer Up Charlies stage, their hefty, menacing guitars and punchy choruses, tied with singer Deena’s captivating stage presence offer a far more exciting pop-rock prospect – bringing to mind the colourful idiosyncratic Return to Saturn era of No Doubt. A cover of Nirvana’s Heart-shaped Box sharpens their edge, as does set highlight ‘Cut’ which gets arms waving with an audience singalong. “I knew we’d make you music industry people dance” shegrins. Which is better banter than the line about eating BBQ, which the audience have probably already at least 10 times already that day.

Much later in the evening, on a chilly patio at The Drafting Room in Austin’s ‘historic’ Rainey Street (how much history remains is questionable having undergone huge gentrification in recent years)  there’s also more than a hint of Gwen Stefani in the vocal delivery of Child Seat singer Madeleine. Fully acclimatised to Austin’s changing weather, the Californians’ set is a warm trip through 80s-tinged indie-rock, bolstered by a 4-piece line up and fun cover of Tears for Fears’ Shout which showcases the power of Madeline’s voice. Arms wave from the inside bar – but not because it’s a set that demands crowd participation, but rather, because the floor level stage has plunged into darkness and as the band continue to play, the stage crew swiftly check cables and turn spotlights just in time for closing track ‘Burning.’

A surprising stand-out from the day was sisterly Brooklyn duo Overcoats. Performing at Cheer Up Charlies with a drummer and backing track, their vocal-led americana pop falls somewhere between First Aid Kit, Wet Leg, Hinds, and The Big Moon. Showing their bond through strong stage interaction they hug and facing each other as well as the audience, and calmly gesture with occasional synchronised choreography (which, they proudly declare, was made up just beforehand in the hotel lobby). Each song felt big, particularly Fire & Fury which Hana picks up a guitar for, to give an anthemic finale to a set that bodes well for their forthcoming new album.

Tuesday was also the day for a British Invasion and by the bustling crowd gathering inside Seven Grand for Leeds, UK’s Dance to the Radio label showcase, there was a lot of interest in what was on offer. Opening the party were Yorkshire’s Avalanche Party – who have become local favourites since playing SXSW 2019 and always seem to go down well with the US crowds, enamoured by their lively performances. Whilst down the road at Sellers Underground, London’s Speedy Wunderground label put their first stamp on Austin with a showcase featuring, among other UK acts, a restless and energetic set from New York’s Been Stellar whilst Manchester bands The Goa Express and The Golden Dregs play a packed out British Music Embassy showcase at Cedar Street Courtyard.

Back on Rainey, The Vices are clearly doing everything right. Under the marquee in the yard of Half Step, the Netherlands 4-piece storm through a brisk indie guitar pop set and share an occasional anecdote (like how they were picked for Manchester’s Beyond The Music SX showcase event after unwittingly handing a pair of branded socks from their merchandise stand to someone at Brighton’s Great Escape festival, who in turn would later book them for this event). From the smiles on everyone’s faces – audience and band – everyone is having a great time and as the crowd step closer to the front for The Coral-esque jaunt of The Neighbour, a late-night party unfolds.

DAY 1: MONDAY 13 MARCH 2023 (written 14.03.23)

Whether you’re catching waves of sound on the wind as you watch a band from a field or find yourself navigating the darkness of an underground venue, the first day of every festival is unofficially known as ‘orientation day’. Usually this means finding venues, and essentially, calculating the distance between each one to make sure you make it to the live sets you want to watch. And regardless of whether you’ve attended this festival before, SXSW is no exception.

And that’s even before you figure out what the weather is going to do and what to wear. One band who clearly don’t have to worry about that is Brooklyn’s Razor Braids. Taking to the Hotel Vegas stage, ablaze in scarlet from head-to-toe as part of the venue’s opening Spring Break Boogie showcase, between a cover of Weezer’s Buddy Holly (“we definitely did write this one”, grins vocalist Hollye) and some bang-on indie-rock harmonies somewhat lighter than the serrated edge their name and inspiration would suggest (“this is about some shitty guy from Nashville”) their on-stage presence (featuring serious back bends from guitarist Janie) is proof there’s far more to this 4-piece than meets the eye; a band seeing red, not just wearing it.

And they’re not the only ones teaching us that Red is the new Black. Red appears to be the colour of choice throughout the day; on the Volstead stage, duo Jane Leo’s lycra leggings are teamed with leopard print leotard and LCD Soundsystem punch whilst atmospheric 5-piece Loveme’s singer leads the band’s alluring Twin Peaks roadhouse vibes. Much later, in the early hours, even Christian Bland of The Black Angels’ crimson bomber jacket stands out all the way to the back of the Empire Garage as the band return to perform to a home crowd fresh off the back of their UK/European tour and brings the day to a hypnotic close.

The sun may be shining but on Hotel Vegas’ Patio Stage, a storm is being whipped up by not one, but two Austin residents called Billy. As sandy clouds swirl up from the most pits before them both, Billy Glitter are purveyors of blistering beret-topped garage-rock which occasionally comes up for air as it meanders between styles within the genre, whilst the only pause from metal rock trio Rickshaw Billies Burger Patrol is when they hurtle though a song so hard the sound system can’t cope. “I know it’s no good, but you didn’t need to cut the power,” jokes guitarist Sean. Everything soon starts up again and the moral of the story? If you lose your phone in the mosh pit, some kind soul will pop it on the front of the stage, covered in dust, for after-antics collection.

It must suck to be in a band when your own stage time clashes with that of an influence in another venue across town. It’s perhaps a very real situation for synth trio Cloudland Canyon whose instrumental New Order sounding soundscapes open Forcefield’s official SXSW showcase. Instead of being at The Moody Theatre where their Manchester counterparts will perform later this evening as part of launch for Beyond The Music with Loose Articles and The Orielles, they are warming things up nicely at The 13th Floor; formerly known as Beerland, the venue appears to have had a much-improved transformation with beautiful ceiling tiles and psychedelic 60s posters in frames on freshly-painted exposed brick walls. And it is swiftly destroyed by one punter who suddenly drops his pint on the floor in all the excitement. He offers to clean it up, but the bartender is cool with it, more concerned about replenishing the contents of his glass.

Earlier in the day I’m tipped by an Austin resident to check out the local line-up before The Black Angels’ set in the Empire Garage; I miss Pearl Z but manage to find a spot between the should-to-shoulder crowd and underneath swirls of heavy cigarette/vape/weed smoke to witness local favourites Sir Woman whose rousing vocals well surpass any of those I’ve heard all day. I wonder if, were it not for the neo soul, nu jazz genre, this would be way bigger internationally than it is. Vocalist Kelsey is next level; good as any Adele, with sass to boot, accompanied with full band including ‘backing’ singers Spice and Roy Jr whose talent also pushes them centre stage. The audience cannot be silenced as respectful cries and cheers fill the venue.

Other honourable mentions: Good Looks, Iguana Death Cult, Fatal Jamz, Puppy Angst, Cafuné, Divino Nino, OK Cowgirl, Death Valley Girls, M(h)aol, Ghum, THICK, Manny Walters, Enumclaw, Venus Twins, Hotline TNT, Thus Love, Strange Ranger, Bartees Strange,

SHEFFIELD, UK – FLOAT ALONG’S PATERNOSTER EFFECT LIFTS SPIRITS

| Just The Type

If you’ve ever searched for the top ‘must-do’ things in Sheffield, you will have come across its beloved Paternoster elevator – an endless rotation of carriages moving between the floors of the University’s Arts Tower. But the historic landmark isn’t the only way to experience the heights of all that can be discovered in the Steel City. Taking over the Moor Market end of town, this year’s inaugural Float Along all-day event hosted by live music promoters Strange Days, offered its own non-stop line-up of performance and conversation. Alongside Katy J Pearson, W.H.Lung, Warmduscher, Los Bitchos, Strawberry Guy and Steve Lamacq, here are eight emerging musical highlights from around the UK whose sets marked them out as well-worth hopping onto…

NOON GARDEN @ Sidney & Matilda

Keeping his cool, Charles Prest is in his element. With the bunting lining the tiny basement stage the only protection between the former Flamingods member and the early birds who are piling into the space to catch a glimpse of one of the festival’s opening acts (think the classic shrinking room scene in the original Charlie & The Chocolate Factory), his eyes are closed to block out any distraction whilst delivering poetic rhyming couplets and wah guitar dances about the clicks from his side-kick drum machine. Meandering through a set of glitchy patterns and cosmic nu-psych, the vibe floats along with the positive wisdom and mellow surf of a one-man Tame Impala.

ALICE LOW @ Record Junkee

Alice Low is stalling. “This is the bit I hate,” she says hesitantly with a wry smile whilst introducing the final number of her set, “it’s 15 minutes long.” Wiping strands of blonde hair away from the microphone, there is a momentary pause for breath before the acoustic guitar recording of ‘Ladydaddy’ signals the start of her swan song. A cowboy porch song duet in one, she prowls the stage witch-like, wrapped in a raven-hued satin slip and no stranger to transition, gleefully moves from falsetto to dog barks as each vocal character is brought to life like a fairy-tale delivered by Adam Green and Alex Cameron. Elsewhere squelchy toytown pop meets haunting John Maus style echo via Sparks-like artful delivery as she proudly wears lyrical meaning on bare shoulders; singing about life as it exists with little room for interpretation. Moving through the crowd Alice appears to make a grand exit, and chest up strides towards the back of the room until reappearing as a ghostly apparition, grabbing an innocent lamp from the merch stand and upturning it under her chin to emphasise the skeletal shadows of a Van Gogh Scream face grimace. “My parents are proud of me,” Alice smirks, during the set. The audience response? Woops of delight. Them too.

Noon Garden
Alice Low
Planning

REGRESSIVE LEFT @ Record Junkee

Everything about Regressive Left suggests they want to make you dance. A trio apparently beamed in from another space and time but performing with the kind of jarring contemporary squall Squid might serve up for snacks, their Northern Soul V-neck sweaters and wide leg pants are perfectly suited to their knee-jerking LCD Soundsystem grooves and vocal acrobatics. Performing their first Sheffield show since recording the fittingly titled Wrong Side of History EP with producer Ross Orton (Working Mens Club, Fat White Family), singer Simon‘s 80s pop croon (think the unaffected lament of Talk Talk’s Mark Hollis) is complemented by the calls of drummer Georgia and between wobbly SFX he upturns the microphone stand mere inches from taking out the ceiling lights to knock the ball out of the dark.

Regressive Left
O.
Steve Lamacq

O. @ Network

Ostentatious. Ominous. Out there. Whatever their name stands for, this duo is anything but Ordinary. With the raw power of a jazzed up White Stripes, both room and chests rumble to every beat as drummer Tash Keary whips up the thunder for the storm of grimy low squelches from her bandmate Joe Henwood’s earthy Baritone Sax. Panel capped with sax straps, like a python charming Super Mario in trouser braces, his blasts are manipulated with the force to tear a gateway to hell and heave fuel onto an incendiary mix of avant-garde metal, worldly techno and minimalism. Whilst initially appearing to be the role reversal of New Zealand duo Party Dozen who cause revellers to dance with free spirit, O. are a heftier beast. “It’s quality, not quantity,” Joe insists to the select audience of head-nodders, alluding to the crowd-size when really, it could just as easily be a sign for things to come.

Youth Sector
Katy J Pearson
Taco pit-stop

YOUTH SECTOR @ Record Junkee

Proving silly and serious can work simultaneously, Youth Sector are sewing up – like the tacked stitches of their DEVO matchy-matchy triangle-collared seventies untailored suits – impeccably tight stomping disco-funk threads where Talking Heads, The Vapors, and OK Go meet. As synth player Harvey wiggles on an invisible surfboard, lead singer Nick’s eyes dart back and forth between the ceiling and stage sidelines before ending the song with a “Thangyouverymuch” in pseudo-American accent. Between numerous name drops (fine when it’s your own band name), the punchy 5-piece deliver angular breakneck stompers from their EP Adult Contemporary with enough rubber-band bounce to displace the paint from the venue’s black box –  the Maximo Park punch of ‘Is Blood’ being a tearaway highlight before Nick introduces a new song with a few choice words of wisdom; “Life is a hill were all rolling down,” he declares.

Saloon Dion
Bands supporting bands… Saloon Dion bounce to Eades

SALOON DION @ Record Junkee

It’s tricky for shouty bands from Bristol to prove themselves these days but Saloon Dion pays no mind to the Idles effect and with a defiant boot resting on the stage monitor, singer Dave Sturgess and co are marking the 5-piece’s way as one of Bristol’s latest bands whose bark is worse than their bite. With shared duties of front person, the band spit through Pistols punk and ferocious funk, but not until they’ve learned the names “of all 6 of you” in the audience before them – apart from pal Katy J Pearson and crew who have shown up to offer their support. But whilst the rest of Sheffield have gathered to watch the evening’s headliners elsewhere, their loss is this small audience’s gain with an explosive set of tension release, marked by drummer-turned pirate for the night, Ben Molyneux’s spontaneous instruction, “Everyone say ‘arggghh.’” Beyond their beanies, Saloon Dion’s set nestles stomping start-stoppers where instrumentals abruptly halt and make way for angsty calls to arms.

Fake Turins
Eades

FAKE TURINS @ Sidney & Matilda

With the dramatic fusion of a psychedelic David Attenborough documentary soundtrack, it’s impossible to know where to look as this 11-piece collective cram themselves and their idiosyncratic mix of sax, clarinet, drums, guitar, floor tom, synths, and the kitchen sink – not to mention countless wires snaking about the floor – onto the stage of this small basement. The speakers appear to have sprouted fingers which dance about a synth like Thing Addams on hot keys whilst an invisible force at the back of the stage wields the neck of a guitar in and out of the darkness. Suited and booted in marshmallow-pink, to lead their own eclectic pick ’n’ mix, singer Dominic heads up the cacophony with a lounging mix of James Murphy falsetto and downbeat spoken word, complimenting the percussive session rhythms and funk grooves for a surprisingly coherent collection of sounds.

EADES @ Record Junkee

“I don’t know where to breathe in that song,” confesses Eades’ singer and guitarist, Harry, having removed his yellow gilet in preparation for hurtling through the band’s high-octane new track ‘Liquid Gold.’ Whilst their cap and dungarees would suggest end-of-shift antics after working at their local auto repair shop, what the Leeds 5-piece have truly been working up is a sweat as they race their way through 100 mph jagged garage-rock stompers. With a penchant for the raw crunch of Parquet Courts’ angular momentum and joyfully switching positions like The Strokes’ scamp-like younger cousins, eventually one microphone gives way under the vibrations, forcing singers Harry and Tom to move towards each other Libertines style around one mic. Earlier stage pals Saloon Dion and friends who are bouncing around before them swiftly come to rescue and prop it back up. Controlled chaos that only occasionally comes up for air.

BRIGHTON, UK – A GREAT EUROVISION ESCAPE

| Just The Type

The Eurovision Song Contest might have its own legion of followers, but you don’t have to look further than Brighton’s The Great Escape festival for international appeal. Taking over the seaside on the very same weekend, the annual event’s line-up serves up a Continental as fine as it does fish ’n’ chips and 2022’s event was no exception. Amongst 185 international acts on the bill, here are some choice artists (in no particular order) who ensured their busman’s holiday was well worth every mile travelled.

BRIMHEIM (Faroe Islands via Denmark) @ Waterbear Venue

Don’t let the pearls and prairie dress fool you; Helena Rebensdorff means business. “Ok, can we get started now?” she asks the back of the room, teeth gripping the pick between her lips, as bodies continue to pile in and plug the gaps of an already at capacity audience. With the answer affirmative and her four band mates nestled into the archway behind her, they launch into tracks from her frank album can’t hate myself into a different shape: each one a delicate unfurling of the truth. Stripped back intros lure listeners into a false sense of security before anthemic blasts of synth and guitar-fuelled shimmer. Making way for a simple vocal, her voice soars impeccably with vulnerability in its wake; embittered with Sharon Van Etten disdain, she is disappointed in you, herself and the world around her, under scathing Este Haim grimace. Placing her instrument aside for elegant highlight ‘baleen’ feeder’ she sings, “I wish I didn’t care what you think of me,”  her hands playing at her body, hinting at its meaning. It’s fitting “Brimheim” means ‘home of the breaking waves’; her first UK show ever, just metres from the ocean, might be uncharted waters but this afternoon she has transformed this beachside cavern into a new home on the range.

JAYWOOD (Canada) @ Green Door Store

With guitar worn high on his hip and Looney Tunes Space Jam t-shirt the uniform of choice, this afternoon, with 3-piece band in tow, Jay is playing feel-good cosmic jams of his own; alternative funk pop melodies flowing with danceable grooves and pounding bass from his forthcoming Captured Tracks LP. Like dreamily mellow affirmations of positivity glimmering within the dark, “This is brand spanking new,” he introduces of uplifting soul-funk number ‘Just saying.’ Guitar down and ringleading the Canada House audience in a singalong; his percussive set overflows with the warmth of Toro Y Moi summoning the summer, emitting uplifting festival vibes – even if his hometown of Winnipeg couldn’t be further from Brighton beach. “We’re from the prairies, our roads are fucking trashed don’t come,” he jests by way of respect for his newfound audience. “You guys have the fucking ocean, why would you ever leave?” Banter, like the songs, is strong; Canada quite literally is in the house and even inside, the sun is shining.

PARTY DOZEN (Australia) @ Komedia Basement

Whatever you do, don’t look saxophonist Kirsty Tickle in the eye. Her mouth may be preoccupied with another blast on the horn hanging around her neck, but head and gaze are the source of encouragement as her urgent nods and po-go bounce swiftly gee up those braving the front row. Like a punked-up snake charmer unleashing a tirade of pent-up stress relief, she loops squelch with an array of pedal effects before tilting the sax sideways and wailing down its bell, causing distorted vocals to escape like a manic megaphone. Behind her, percussionist Jonathan Boulet thrashes away on drums and, almost drowning out the hefty industrial chinks and throbbing bass of the Viagra Boys meets Zombie Zombie krautrock style backing track, the pair playfully call En Garde in a sonic duel without words, each frantically cranking up the dial whilst trying to catch the other out. With just two members on stage it could be the most exclusive social gathering ever, and yet, everyone’s invited.

Brimheim
JayWood
Party Dozen

JOHN MOODS (Germany) @ Patterns Upstairs

John Moods’ work here is done. Not because the smell of BBQed frankfurters in the air or the empty boozy miniatures and bottle tops strewn about the tables suggest a well-thrown Zeitgeist German showcase party; it’s that every single face about the room is sickeningly smacked with the glee of a kid at Christmas. Satisfied with his labour – a set of dreamy, romantic ballads and good vibes sung whilst bouncing between the light vocal harmonies and flute of his Mood-setting colleagues – he declares “Now for the announcements,” whilst unwrapping a scroll of paper like a town crier without a bell. After notices about his new album, merchandise and messages of thanks, John drops off the low stage and roams about the audience for one final scout around under the venue’s upturned UFO shaped silver canopy. Looking everyone in the eye with appreciation, the aftermath of a party it’s not, but a soothing treat for the last ones standing. Mood by name, mood by nature.

BUDJERAH (Australia) @ Prince Albert

More storyteller than songwriter, there’s something incredibly enchanting and impressive about how Budjerah can silence the usual chatter of a Great Escape venue. The evening crowd are hung on his every word which is sung as well as spoken; each breath is a soulful vocal drawn from the inside looking out. Between the brave opening cover of Sam Cooke’s ‘A Change Is Gonna Come’,  and original song ‘Missing You’ about the time he missed friends after dropping out of school in pursuit of a record deal, he shares proud stories of his indigenous roots, songwriting partners back home, and musical influences (namely D’Angelo and Amy Winehouse who played London’s Jazz Cafe where he recently “got to perform”). Serenading the audience with his own reworking of an Ed Sheeran song, he politely gestures to his hand-painted guitar which depicts the story of his own life from his upbringing in church and love of soul music to the meaning of its “fish” representing his original song “My Name.” Don’t forget this one.

A.O. GERBER (USA) @ The Mucky Duck

Friday 13th was always going to rear its ugly head in unexpected ways. For A.O. Gerber, it’s the sticky keys on her keyboard which are causing problems. Most might quit, but smiling through, she confesses and moves on with an inspired method of distraction. “Have you all met my sound tech Phoebe?” She gestures right. “Everyone say hello!” Phoebe waves and between the pillars in this small pub, A.O. continues to perform an intimate set of meandering songs from her debut album Another Place To Need. Despite the Open Mic setting, with tables moved out to make space for the day-long Hand In Hive / Sub Pop showcase, ‘In The Morning’ is beautifully heartbreaking (“Wish I could drown this fucking heart of mine”), ‘Tell Me’ is a hauntingly delicate acoustic ballad bringing to mind Angel Olsen, and A.O. ‘s simple, less-is-more fusion of guitar with keys and Casio style drum beats brings to mind the DIY ethos of a less weird Tickley Feather. The songs are confessional, as from a cathartic need to be written and performed, lending themselves to a personal portrait of an artist who writes in solitude from within the confines of her home. It’s a set proving that frustration is often better out than in.

John Moods
Budjerah
A.O. Gerber

HATIS NOIT (Japan) @ St Mary’s Church

Call it witchcraft or hypnosis, Hatis Noit knows how to cast a magic spell. Tonight, mobile phones are silenced, and standing tall, a Bjork-like resemblance of a beating heart in red dress, matching unicorn horns nosepiece, and gently holding a colour-coordinated microphone, Hatis is a scarlet sorcerer summoning the outside elements as her operatic chants of layered Gregorian vocals rise above a backing soundtrack of waves and seagulls. Singing in Japanese, her songs convey joy and the emotion of triumph over tragedy, particularly when referring to the Tsunami which caused a nuclear power plant disaster for families in her hometown. Haunting, it resonates among the church pews meeting stunned silence as she gracefully delivers her message to the heavens for any angels listening in. Her delivery is disciplined, rising above motorbikes rumbling outside, a phone dropping between in pews at her most a cappella moment, and even when a ghostly piano and choir of male voices from next door resound to steal the limelight. “Thank you for having us,” she beams, perhaps alluding to the many layers of her vocal personalities.

GRACE CUMMINGS (Australia) @ Komedia Basement

Watching Grace Cummings is a transcendent experience. With a roar as though rising from the depths of Laurel Canyon itself, the hefty tones of fellow Grace (Slick), Janis Joplin wail and contemporary rasp of Brittany Howard with Stones and Zeppelin Classic rock ferocity, this afternoon’s audience is being transported to the 1970s. With lyrical licks about leaves and cowboys, it’s a powerfully driven ride across a wild and free natural landscape which spirals off into the sonic abrasion of her denim clad band members whose separate parts instinctively meander together. “Are you ready?” she asks, her satin shirt shimmering under the spotlight. “Yeah!” exclaims a voice from the sound desk, confirming the techs are strapped in for the ride. “Thanks for giving time to an unwanted instrument,” Grace tells the crowd by way of an introduction, possibly referring to the opening number’s use of keyboard which remains redundant for the set remainder, in favour of a storm of spiralling guitars around her. ‘Heaven’ is a closing call to arms; with a low growl of “Ave Maria ” and shimmering percussion, the band play out the final bar over and over ten times or more giving an age-old saying, new life.

KRAPKA;KOMA (Ukraine) @ Zahara

“Everyone knows what’s happening, and what our songs are about,” quietly intones Alona Kovalenko (Koma), sitting conspicuously between keys and drum pads in her monochrome trouser suit. To her right, Ira Lobanok (Krapka) assesses the crowd, in equally eye-catching electric blue, from behind the shield of her open laptop. “We are proud to be the voice of our country at this Great Escape.” A multi-instrumental electronic duo from Lviv, it’s not surprising to see, under the neon rainbow strip lights of this basement, a room full of those showing their support to the only Ukrainian band performing at this year’s event. Despite technical issues enforcing a 30-minute delay and a painstakingly gaffa-taped backdrop giving up mid-set, the pair – alongside visual artist Becky-Boo (who, side of stage, occasionally turns her head to pull faces at crowd whilst conducting projections of crashing waves and flickering faces behind the duo), and vocalist Pixi Ink – treat the audience to some dreamy downtempo magic. To use their namesake (“semicolon” in English); it’s a colourful, glitchy and trippy set of soothing electropop soundscapes hinting at the free Jazz of their backgrounds. A tote bag bearing the flag of their country hangs from the table with the words Good evening, we are from Ukraine in their native language. It’s perfect product placement for a good evening indeed.*

Hatis Noit
Krapka;KOMA
Grace Cummings

NAYA ALI (Canada) @ Green Door Store

If the world was about to end, Naya Ali would be the one to save it. “Alright, let’s keep the shizz going,” she declares through her grill, before turning towards her beats-maker sidekick to check he’s good to go. Launching into a rap attack of positivity, the long straps of her Mission Impossible style dungarees swing behind her as she bounces stealth-like – a graceful robber or the superhero to rescue us. Her Marvel name? Ali – to mean “elevated”. Her weapon of choice? Rhymes of supersonic flow, and as her trusty sidekick waves his arms around to the glitchy electro, boom bap and trap underneath, the crowd bounce along with hands in the air. Unscrewing the cap from her water bottle and tossing it aside (“I’ll get it later!”) she asks, “how you all doing tonight?” before suddenly remembering it is only 3pm in the afternoon. “Hey, we’re in a cave!” she exclaims of Green Door’s nocturnal vibes. Laughter ensues and with everyone on side, the MC unleashes her final tactic for preventing Armageddon; meditation. Everyone closes their eyes; the frantic strobe and house lights are plunged into darkness and alongside wobbly atmospherics Ali delivers a poetic vision posing one simple question; to reach your goals do you fight with the snakes or accept them and keep walking? Not all heroes wear capes.

HIGHSCHOOL (Australia) @ Folklore, The Quadrant

It’s only a matter of time before Brandon Flowers discovers Australian band, HighSchool. With a knack for a synth melody like The Killers’ showman himself, danceable guitar riffs à la the now sadly defunct Finnish band French Films, careening Drums-like whimsy, mellow surf numbers with Smiths-like charm, and New Order danceability, their indie hearts firmly rest on their narrow vest top sleeves. But crammed into the corner of this upstairs pub, this is a band whose highly hung guitar melodies proudly glimmer with romantic sheen. There’s little talk, preferring to let the music do the self-loathing (or perhaps exhaustion is setting in from previous official shows of the day) but as the crowd bobs along and vocalist and songwriter Rory Trobbiani does his best running man arms on the spot alongside sister Lilli on keys and bassist Luke, everything is just fine. “This is a new song for Ivan,” he tells of the newest member to join the band. Clearly Ivan’s getting into the swing of it; as Rory repeatedly sings “it was only a dream,” Ivan makes his way to the top of the amp and whatever the fantasy was, feels like it could become reality.

Naya Ali
HighSchool
Balming Tiger

BALMING TIGER (South Korea) @ Folklore, The Quadrant

It’s impossible to know where to look at the chaos unfolding in this unsuspecting pub corner on North Street. Wearing turd brown tracksuits which offset spectacularly elevated levels of spirit, one band member of this 6-piece collective clutches a soft toy cat and pounds upon the stage with her fist whilst upside down headbanging. Another has possibly had one too many and with half-closed eyes, steadies himself on the banister beside him. Their leader, with jalapeño buzz cut spits out alternative hip-hop rhymes about social media misuse (‘I’m Sick’) and trusting yourself. With too many members to fit on this small stage, the socially conscious band spill to the floor. Moving to every beat like a synchronised swim group on dry land, the troupe bounce in a moving circle before the song transforms into a ballad. It’s all captured by another member, on his compact handheld video camera. “We are the alternative K-pop band, love is our mission,” their singer exclaims before set highlight ‘Kolo Kolo’; an enthusiastic back and forth of “Hakuna Matata” with the audience.

Honourable mentions: Kills Birds (USA), Unschooling (France), Roller Derby (Germany), Bad Waitress (Canada), The Bobby Tenderloin Universe (USA)…

*Support Ukrainian creatives – Artery is a free job platform helping displaced Ukrainian music professionals fleeing war, find jobs they love in great teams. Visit the site if you’re an employer looking for talent, or a displaced professional looking for a way to share your talent.

MANCHESTER, UK – COME ONE, COME ALL: JOHN HALL’S GROOVY BALL

| Just The Type

“…so when you get drunk Wilson, and you reminisce of the Hacienda, be told with a beautiful story of your own proper John Hall bender.“


– Leon The Pig Farmer

John Hall is missing. Scan the faces assembled by the stage and nowhere within his usual 4-feet-from-the-front can today’s man of the moment be seen. It’s late afternoon at Manchester’s Ritz where already, a wide-eyed gang of his groovy friends and acquaintances are uniting for a gala celebration and musical fundraiser marking his existence. Of John I know little; our paths first crossed in the snug of Salford’s Eagle Inn. He’d taken a liking to a friend’s socks and since then has been the guy with a grin on his face, panning his camera back and forth from artist to audience whilst filming the scenes unfolding before him (and sharing the gig footage online for fellow revelers to see). Today is a celebration of life and music in John’s honour and, like a Marvel comic power-huddle uniting the forces of his favourite musical friends met in sweaty mosh pits along the way, it’s now from the balcony where he watches. Below, legions of guests gather to revel in a bash to behold, like Capote’s Black & White masquerade ball had it been held in Manchester. Only without (pandemic-precautionary!) face masks, where rainbow is the colour, and everyone’s invited.

“oo’s missed discos?” booms a bold northern accent down the microphone. Loose Articles don’t ask questions; they demand answers, and in no time at all the audience respond to their interrogation as the local 4-piece punch through a set of X-Ray Spex style post-punk stompers, transforming the venue’s basement into their own euphoric dungeon. Doused in traffic-light hues giving each member a green-red aura, their bratty B-52’s-meets-Bis bounce, Cramps-like shrieks and whistles blown unleash their own torrid tales of grievances including a trundling bassline fuelled by the familiar frustration of the 142 bus route. ‘Chaos’ captures the party atmosphere as the band disappear from view among an increasing number of bobbing heads, almost censoring Natalie‘s beaded flame-print leotard which later, outside, catches the eye of a bouncer who chuckles with the humour intended.

Having been cooped up too long has much to answer for; it seems walking stick waving is the newest demonstration of live music appreciation as Cheshire trio Déjà Vega take to the stage. Crooked handles aloft as though a gang of rogue geriatrics have fought their way to the front, a pair of crutches happily dance in the air, bouncing each riff back to the band. Bassist Mike’s left knee wobbles, almost powering their Diiv-like propulsion as singer Jack roams the stage denting a cowbell. There are fewer stomped-out stage patterns as Liverpool’s The Mysterines thrust their metal-lite grunge upon the crowd, but singer Lia’s understated delivery allows her game face and songwriting to do the talking. “It’s always the same, life’s a bitch” she rasps in her hauntingly low register whilst taking out the tension on a battered guitar. Under red light, the band tease further tracks from their forthcoming debut album and show confidence as they embrace their heftier side, choosing to filter out lighter hits from their set like recent single ‘Take Control’.

Now performing as a 6-piece, The Blinders’ familiar opener ‘Gotta Get Through’ launches the expanded collective’s amped-up set, only witnessed so far as a stripped-back Lounge Lizard session. Latest LP Fantasies Of A Stay At Home Psychopath is interspersed with old favourites ‘ICB Blues’ and ‘Brave New World,’ with the meatier sound resonating as a band having found their stride. Some intricacies such as the shimmering tambourine of percussionist Paris and added guitar are inevitably lost within the traditional vista, but overall it’s a welcome return. “Shut the fuck up,” frontman Thomas hushes to an over-enthusiastic audience, indicating something important about to happen as the band themselves step away from their instruments, leaving just keys player Johnny to accompany ‘Circle Song’. “I’m thinking, I’m thinking some, how the hero always dies young” is poignant as the lyrics are delivered towards the balcony blurring all else into the background. Picking up pace, a couple twirl each other unsteadily among plastic cups at their feet as the gloomy ‘Black Glass’ moves towards its dramatic climax, and Document bassist Max steps forth on harmonica for a rousing ‘Rat in a Cage’.

Dirty Laces
The Mysterines
The Blinders

Hovering in the wings, Dave Haslam watches on before positioning himself at the decks for the night’s latest DJ set. Earlier, psychedelic scholars Astral Elevator, plus Jason Boardman and Jeff O’Toole took to the helm and now, in his Modern Lovers t-shirt, Dave steps up to flip through his CD wallet having famously bid farewell to his vinyl collection a few years earlier. Turning up the gain on bangers beginning with The Fall and Iggy Pop, a small group of Sunday night pleasure seekers force the venue’s sprung dancefloor to work overtime.

Also hard workers, Chadderton’s Dirty Laces open their own set with intent; “If you’ve not seen us before, you have now” tells singer Charlie, because there’s no time left at the end. “We’re halfway through but have just one song left”, he warns before the band plunge into the early Verve guitar sprawl and classic 70s rock refrains of 7-minute epic ‘You’. Hair now released from its scrunchie and stuck to his face, he steps down to join the front row and makes way for his bandmates’ instrumental outro. Upstairs however, it’s all about Intros. Tonight isn’t a politics party but the bard of Cabbage known as Leon The Pig Farmer is raising his own toast for our musical champion; “So deck the halls with Johnny, make your own hall of fame, make your own Lesser Free Trade Hall, be like John, don’t be the same, so let’s gather the reverb nation, applaud on all four walls, mark my words with appreciation and raise a glass for mister John Hall.”

“Life’s changed dramatically and yet it remains the same” offers Cabbage co-frontman Lee as a long-awaited live welcome whilst teetering on the stage edge. Delivering a high-energy set of delightfully grotesque anthems from latest album Amanita Pantherina including angular songs about Jeremy Corbyn and for the second time this evening, transport-inspired woes (this time it’s trains), a swaggering Leon returns and the band recall their own story of meeting mister Hall during Cabbage’s earlier incarnation. “John spied me, he said ‘You gotta be in a band, what you called?’ His response to the initial band name? “Oooh, do you want some psychedelic drugs?” and The Ritz descends into rapturous laughter and applause.

Leaving the night on perhaps an even bigger high, headliners Peter Hook & The Light briefly lure the man of the moment, or rather, an enthusiastic waving groovy arm, from the balcony for all to see. Cradling his low-slung bass with typically wide power-stance, ‘Hooky’ and co deliver a hefty Joy Division set featuring John’s ‘favourite song’ ‘Novelty’, an electrifying audience sing-along of ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’ and, casting a light from the shadows of a tough year, ‘Atmosphere’ is dedicated to “all those not lucky enough to be here tonight”. But that’s life; it is tough, and the set serves a stark reminder that whilst there will be a time when we no longer see John in the crowd, rest assured our lovable music-lauding laureate will still be around somewhere; perhaps getting a good angle, making more friends from strangers, or even admiring another great pair of socks.

>> Concert For John has raised over £10,000 so far, kick-starting the charity John plans to establish for assisting grassroots musicians at the start of their careers. Current plans include providing free, clean, rehearsal space in Manchester. Check back soon and a link will be added here for how you can support the cause.


AUCKLAND, NZ – LICKS AND LAUGHTER AT THE BETHS’ BIG BREAKFAST

| Just The Type

With the honk of a comedy horn, the shot cuts to a wobbly phone camera, led around the room by a hand which is holding a chocolate biscuit and lunging towards the mouths of both audience and band. ‘Snack Cam’ might seem a weird proposition in the real world but this is The Beths’ wildly exuberant cosmos, where sampling local delicacies on tour has become such a habit, that to ignore it would be a glaring omission from their latest set. Welcome to the world of The Beths TV. On Cable. In Stereo.

It is episode 4 of the Auckland band’s monthly House live streams, and their final serving peers out from under the covers of lockdown with one simple premise: good chat, good tunes, and good times. Broadcasting from within the peppermint walls of guitarist Jonathan Pearce’s Tāmaki-makau-rau production studio into the front rooms of the world via YouTube, each 40-minute session is an intimate DIY hangout with The Beths in their natural habitat – and a closer listen to the inner consciousness of vocalist and guitarist Elizabeth Stokes.

“It’s really early,” she tells the 15 or so friends who have gathered before them in the form of an awkward school photo line-up. Viewers at home might disagree; it is 10am Auckland time but 11pm in the UK and that ‘Snack Cam’ biscuit is looking less like elevenses and more like a bedtime bite. In fact their stash of crisps, apples and cake would suggest apocalyptic bunker rather than studio, and a band just as prepared for impending Armageddon as they would be for a midnight feast.

With cables snaked around the floor and all wearing headphones, Liz runs through the script with Jonathan, bassist Benjamin Sinclair on the left, and drummer Tristan Deck in the corner behind her. Together, in their cocoon of makeshift soundproofing from what appears to be a collection of covered mattresses and upturned sofa cushions, The Beths have become their own production crew as the cameras roll on their inverted entertainment show. Observing every angle of the room as the view rotates 360 degrees to show bunches of flowers, bird artwork, various technical stations and special guests, music lovers from across the miles are invited to join the fun and revel in The Beths’ organised chaos, with more than a hint of ‘90s morning TV programme The Big Breakfast.

As the camera pans to the audience grinning and bobbing their heads from side to side, the band strum the cool, breezy riffs of indie-pop opener Dying To Believe with buoyant charm and receive rapturous applause. Taken from The Beth’s new record Jump Rope Gazers on Carpark Records, the follow-up to their 2018 debut LP, the House party doubles as album launch. Treated to a sneak preview of the title-track’s video, stickered with Day-Glo Beth TV icon and live chat over the top like a Beavis and Butthead outtake, the live rendition is dreamy with the more tender touch of Wolf Alice. “It’s very emotional… I’m sorry about that,” apologises Liz, introducing the song before singing through her atypically clenched-teeth whilst the band’s Beach Boys harmonies chime in and a ‘Hot New Track’ gif animation blazes in the top right corner of the screen to indicate a Beths’ exclusive.

In fact harmonies is a hot topic of conversation; between songs The Beths respond to their socially distanced audience’s questions via Callum in the ‘Question Time!’ corner, such as ‘what’s everyone’s favourite breakfast egg’ or ‘where do the harmonies come from?’ “From my brain,” Liz suggests with a smile as laughter erupts around the room, and no doubt, in front of screens worldwide.

As in earlier episodes between chats about Animal Crossing, masking tape, making ginger beer and with spinning pineapple face animations, there are live performances of songs from their first album Future Me Hates Meand the acoustic first House session which aired at the height of lockdown when Liz and Jonathan performed as a duo. Now reunited as a full band with audience, Little Death builds to the early ‘90s lo-fi indie-pop they’ve become known for whilst the hooky Great No One recalls the familiar C86 vibes of The Pastels and the driven jangling Britpop of Echobelly with fresh two-thousands style.

Their set is broken up with more inspired features; ‘Time Zone Check!’ has become a favourite in the chatrooms of their earlier streams and there are even interviews with special guests; Philippa Emery, the artist behind Jump Rope Gazers’ joyfully surreal artwork reveals how nostalgia, relationships and incorporating text into the artwork was integral to her own creative process. The session’s tech team and video producer pals Callum and Annabel of Sports Team, with director of photography Samuel, discuss their film-making method and share how the track’s ‘alien meets girl’ concept came about during a daily recommended lockdown walk. 

With accidental Fight Club style subliminal messaging, the screen occasionally blinks to black with the phrase ‘looking for the phone’ and an illustration of a cat napping only reinforces the band’s motto of nothing but light-hearted quality control, before ‘Snack Cam’ and a banana bitten by many mouths makes one final interruption. “New Zealand is currently completely Covid free, I’m sorry if that stressed you out,” laughs Liz as Ben removes the plectrum stuck to his forehead, ready to satisfy everyone’s appetites once more with their irrepressibly cheerful ‘Uptown Girl.’ “Our new album’s out, we’re really proud of it; a big thanks to the whole universe,” Liz says and raises a glass, as the universe stays turned on, tuned in and ready to pop-rock out.

During the performance, The Beths showed their support for Black Lives Matters; namely the Marsha P. Johnson Institute, which protects and defends the human rights of Black Transgender people in the US and PARS (People at Risk Solutions), an Aotearoa Not for Profit that delivers a range of specialist services to prisoners, released prisoners, deportees from overseas, at risk youths and their whānau. Just The Type joins them in asking that you please check out these important causes and consider donating to them if you can. Thank you.

JOHNNY DREAM: AN OBITUARY – THE BLINDERS AVENGE COLD-BLOODED MURDER

| Just The Type

Disappearing as quickly as he appeared to arrive, Johnny Dream was omnipresent in The Blinders’ uprising. Mysterious agitator and alter-ego of the Doncaster-Manchester trio, he was as notorious for his bat-like appearance as his provocative persona.

The only sides anyone knew of Johnny Dream, were those he chose to reveal. To some he’d appear as the man in black; his Joker eyes tarred with melting ink, like evil bleeding from the reaper himself. Others believed him to be The Blinders’ unsummoned hitchhiker; their dark passenger channelling the spirit of Arthur Brown with political activism in his arsenal. Johnny Dream, of his Codeine Scene, age unknown, has been found dead, gunned down between the eyes.

Those avenging Dream’s honour? A trio of urban outlaws from Doncaster by way of Manchester, riding into town with the blistering brocade of new album Fantasies Of A Stay At Home Psychopath. Bringing up the rear, Matty “Deadeye” Neale whose demonic thousand-yard stare over a drum skin will paralyze with fear; Charlie “Bruiser” McGough who, it’s said, could draw blood with one almighty axe-wielding swing of his bass, and Thomas “Books” Haywood, whose mind slays with the words of a simple sentence. The Blinders, to give their wanted name, are lawlessly leading Fantasies’ cross-contamination of society’s asylum, in which Mary Magdalene brushes her bare shoulders with vulgar lunatic dictators, dumb fucks and psychopaths, in an unapologetic pursuit of answers.

In his own Columbia, Johnny Dream cried out at corrupt society, a dystopian wasteland where dictators ruled as master manipulators. On Fantasies, The Blinders edge towards a similarly unsettling frontier but this time as ringleaders of their own rodeo. Through an alternate Westworld they’re barging into the saloon and upturning tables; the mirror Dream held up to society now lies shattered amongst the dust as they appear to embrace the bargaining and acceptance stages of grief, and prophesise possible futures beyond Dream’s angry reflections of the present. The universe of Brave New World has expanded to new world order with further damnation of doublespeak, but the biggest threat now is the silence of the underclass as Fantasies lassos the existential and aims from the head as well as the heart.

The blue-collar trudge of ‘Something Wicked This Way Comes’ is an ode to class struggle whilst ‘Lunatic With A Loaded Gun’ glares at the newspaper headlines and propaganda of Dream’s discourse then flicks a middle finger at broken America and its delusions of grandeur. The ferocious ‘Mule Track’ poses questions of where ultimate power truly lies as it wanders the path of illuminati conspiracy theories with philosophical and religious texts under its arms. Blending fiction with tragic fact, The Blinders run rings around cynics with cyclical imagery, whether through ‘From Nothing To Abundance’s “wheel of Big Ben”, the “Cannonball Mountain” of ‘Black Glass’ or each repeated coda, all a cautionary echolalia of Dream’s mantras that warn of a regretful future where history has repeated itself.

Unswervingly confrontational, Dream’s influence was etched on the faces of audiences who witnessed his bellicose sermons; young guns and old punks alike were all transfixed upon the gothic messiah before them. His outspoken tirades would make them question all they knew. He shook up their existence whilst dividing the congregation before him and stepping out with rallying calls to arms; “Come together we need each other,” he’d summon through Columbia’s ‘Rat In A Cage.’

In the absence of Dream’s rage, his fellow sharpshooters offer an intimate and perhaps more troubled dystopia as outside mob mentality is drawn inwards toward the self. Fantasies is solemn and quashes any notion of becoming a concept with eleven episodic vignettes from the workings of a concerned mind, each reaching a hand outward to offer potential solutions. Unlike Dream’s Columbia, Fantasies favours ‘You’ and ‘I’ which delivers hope at the hands of the individual and eyes of the beholder. And yet, from the inside, comes the inevitable awareness of being trapped by its surrounding walls, allowing inner turmoil to set in. Deeply personal, ‘Forty Days and Forty Nights’ depicts a toxic relationship turned sour, ‘Rage At The Dying’ and the Starman waltz of ‘Circle Song’ are gut-wrenchingly anxious as they cut to the bone and ‘In This Decade’ closes with wilful acceptance up to its poignant close; “for in this decade there’s no knowing if there’s gonna be a tomorrow.”

With a knack for melody, Johnny Dream favoured fury. Emerging in the spotlight of The Blinders’ debut British Embassy show at SXSW, he channelled “a sound you can truly believe in,” according to event compère and broadcaster Steve Lamacq, yet with that came a short fuse. The fire in his gut was combustible, a fierce energy exploding with every frustration, inciting a melodic tempest to the point of doom-laden destruction.

Fantasies sees The Blinders pause for thought and widen the expanse of their sonic horizons among the vintage furnishings of Stockport’s Eve Studios. ‘Forty Days and Forty Nights’ and ‘Lunatic With A Loaded Gun’ are torched with Columbia’s blistering threat of Armageddon with the words, “the world’s gonna burn” to the satanic chorus of backing vocals which cut through the grunge of ‘Mule Track’ and disorientating clubby swells of ‘From Nothing To Abundance.’ Only now, the scales are tipped; the atmospheric ‘I Want Gold’ is laced with found sounds which build upon Columbia’s fallen wine bottle field recordings and ‘electric jug’. Pushed and pulled, new ideas bend to the moment they splinter, as strands of twangy distortion unravel with Morricone-esque arrangement and the rusty sounds of jingling prison warden keys and hollow pipes. Percussion and snare shimmer like spurs at their heels, menacing organ drones and bongos drive through warped vinyl; although if Dream was around to have his way, their wicked experimentation would cut through the guitar storm and make Fantasies’ punch even more potent.

Serving up more surprises; fan favourite ‘The Writer’ is left for the cutting room floor and blistering live track ‘Fantasies Of A Stay At Home Psychopath’ is twisted into a sinister spoken word ‘Interlude’ allowing pause for breath. Their final selections show restraint and focus, as the sound has been sharpened like the lines of their funeral-ready suits.

As for Dream’s family, little is known. Preferring to reside in the company of his Codeine Scene, who he is survived by, rumour has it they have taken to a new ranch in Mexico where ravens pick at the skulls of cattle carcasses and Columbia’s heroes Orwell and Huxley hang in the humidity. Fantasies holds its friends as close; with PJ Harvey producer Rob Ellis at the helm, the bluesy ‘I Want Gold’ recalls The Doors’ ‘Riders On The Storm’ whilst turning a wry smile; “they say I can’t have it well I’m gonna get it.” And ‘Rage At The Dying’ is enchanting, like The Last Shadow Puppets leading a bleak procession which passes visceral rock opus ‘Black Glass’ as its tempo shifts from atmospheric to cataclysmic via the ruthless chaos of Sabbath.

If they’re not careful, everything The Blinders represent could lead to their own untimely demise. Should listeners heed their advice and the world eventually begin to heal, The Blinders as we know them will face a similar fate to their departed companion. It’s the world or them. In which case, Fantasies’ acoustic porch song finale ‘In The Decade’ – a bittersweet ballad akin to the freewheelin’ Dylan folk of Haywood’s recent ‘Cotton Eye Joe’ and ‘Folsom Prison Blues’ covers – may hint at plans for their next life. After all, comfort has never been on the cards.

After a failed manhunt, Dream’s killer remains at large but his ruthless agenda remains. Whichever town The Blinders find themselves in next, Fantasies marks the moment they round up a new cavalry and wield their flag with extra all-seeing eyes. Hatches will be battened, babies will cry, and leading liars will scream; only then can justice be done.

Johnny Dream, dissident rogue and alter-ego, born unknown; died 31 December 2019

GLASGOW, UK – A SMASHING TIME AT GLASVEGAS’ BUCKFAST HOUSE PARTY

| Just The Type

In these trying times thank Glasvegas for easing any pre-apocalyptic tension. Singer, James Allan and guitarist, Rab Allan are just a couple of songs into their Instagram Live acoustic set and the Buckfast is well and truly flowing. In fact, it’s been knocked for six and the only sound to be heard is that of shattered glass, followed by Rab’s chuckles at his stunned cousin. “It’s because of the glasses!” James exclaims, blaming his shades for the mishap. “It’s a good job we got 5 bottles. It’s such a waste,” he surrenders forlornly whilst around 600 viewers giggle into the glare from their phones.

Acoustic and electric guitars, and a couple of reverb drenched mics at the ready, Scotland’s finest rockabilly romantics are spending their Saturday night in the comfort of strangers; they’ve stopped by the offy for a few carrier bags of their favoured red stuff and taken to their candy-striped couches to perform the evening’s hottest virtual ticket in town – a live set of choice cuts from their back catalogue, stripped back in all its acoustic Glasvegas glory.

This is not your typical House party; there are no cops or kids on scooters churning up their mam’s petunias a la Quadrophenia. The ragers of youth have been replaced with a rather more sophisticated occasion and tonight’s 30-minute set offers a moment of calm amidst the storm. Doused in red lamplight, there is a loungey boudoir feel and angled towards each other, there’s a poignant intimacy (with the air of an empty Twin Peaks Roadhouse) as projections of footage depicting mushroom clouds from atomic testing explode in slow motion and time-lapse cityscapes cascade across back-to-front drawn curtains, seemingly reflecting the fragile moment we’re currently living in.

Opening with fan favourite ‘Flowers & Football Tops’ from their self-titled debut album, it’s in this setting the duo’s vocals and guitar lines shine, each complementing the other from their backing harmonies to what’s become their trademark all-black uniforms. The pair joke with the viewers and discuss the merits of bandmate Paul’s bum and reminisce of times performing on late night TV shows in the US, likening the current situation to that of a ‘Letterman lockdown’ before dedicating ‘It’s My Own Cheating Heart (That Makes Me Cry)’ to the TV host. With the camera on landscape, the reception is intermittent as the two hosts are occasionally transformed into outlined blobs, but the stream soon settles and essentially, their haunting reverb resounds as a reminder that each song is suited equally to the living room as performing before a full house at Barrowland. 

Those having caught the pair perform as part of their acoustic tour at Manchester’s Soup Kitchen just before Christmas will remember discussions about forthcoming new album Godspeed – which, whilst James briefly darts out of view to find his capo, Rab assures viewers is on its way. “It’s ironic that it’s taken us about 6 years to finish this new record and now its finally ready, something is saying don’t release this fucking album!” he jokes. “Ah but how long did it take Brian Wilson to release Smile?” asks James reminding everyone that the good will out.

They explain that the album was scheduled for an October release but has been put back “to give it the best chance,” then unleash their new song ‘Keep Me A Space’ – a stand-alone first single because; “it wouldn’t fit the album aesthetically,” and which, they reveal, will precede more single releases this year with the new album release and touring next year. As archive footage showing crowds of people with 70s haircuts walk in slow motion it’s a track that somehow mirrors our stark reality and moves to its own, dreamy, lullaby; its bittersweet melody swinging back and forth before building to a rousing and suitably apt chorus; “nothing lasts forever some people say, all things must pass.”

After a brief early Mother’s Day appreciation message for their mums who are care workers, a fan posts “support the NHS” and the duo move through the remainder of the set with more fan favourites including ‘Geraldine,’ ‘If’, and ‘Daddy’s Gone,’ the latter of which James reveals he has shared a turbulent relationship with. ‘Go Square Go’ and ‘Whitey’ resound as more comments stream in from the right of the screen and the pair closing their set with their revered cover of The Ronettes’ ‘Be My Baby.’ ‘Songs so full of emotion’ offers one viewer. Others might just call it ‘smashing.’

BERLIN & VILNIUS – CHROMATICS AND DESIRE: A STORY OF LOVE AND LUST

| Just The Type

Guitar slung over her shoulder, Chromatics’ Ruth Radalet casts an ethereal stare beneath her blonde bangs towards the hip crowd gathered before her. Tonight, surrounded by the retro remnants of a former theatre in Berlin’s Friedrichshain district, she is commanding and holding their attention with hypnotic spells of love and mystery. To her left, synthpop maestro Johnny Jewel nods as his hands dance upon the keys with the fervour of a marionette possessed.

A glamourous retro-future utopia with Desire in tow, the Double Exposure tour marks Chromatics’ first European shows in 6 years. Before both gangs of beautiful misfits take to the stage, the audience is met with what’s been keeping the band busy as a changing backdrop of neon 80s synthwave artwork depicts every release on Johnny’s vast Italians Do It Better label.

With his raven mane, skinny tie and ornamental teardrops on his face, Johnny Jewel is the gothic-indie antithesis to the melodrama of his technicolour world. Playing bass, and synths balanced on flight cases, he’s a Warholesque enigma; ringleader of his own muse-driven vision, yet creator of music that smoulders with emotion. ‘Back From The Grave’ is a pentatonic dream that ascends into a blissed-out groove and ‘Time Rider’ is ignited by its hefty analog vs. digital static as Johnny seats himself at the electric piano.

In Vilnius’ Loftas, Ruth sings with the grace of Nico through the smoggy disco haze of ‘I Can Never Be Myself When You’re Around.’ The pounding heartbeat of ‘I Want Your Love’ throbs like Faithless as it ricochets off the industrial hooks and pulleys of the former factory. Fans of Lynch’s Twin Peaks are treated to ‘Shadow’ as heard on the show and images of flames, smoke, monochrome zig zags and red velvet curtains appear whilst Johnny bobs to the beat with a fan-flung rose between his teeth. “That’s the first flower solo we’ve had,” he grins.

Falling to one knee and bowing to his singer-guitarist, Johnny thanks Ruth before turning his appreciation to the crowd. “Thanks for coming, mind if we play a few more?” Returning for an encore, the audience fall silent for Ruth’s heavenly acoustic solo of Bruce Springsteen’s ‘I’m On Fire,’ and Kate Bush’s ‘Running Up That Hill’ is given a Chromatic twist to finish. It’s sass, with pure class.

  • Desire @ Vilnius Loftas
  • Chromatics @ Berlin Astra Kulturhaus

If Chromatics is love, Desire is lust. Singer, Megan Louise appears to have rolled onto Berlin’s Astra Kulturhaus stage across a slick of liquid tar, standing dominatrix-like in a skin-tight rubber catsuit. The devil to Ruth Radalet’s angel, in Vilnius her uniform is pillar-box red, and both nights’ crowds are met with military marching and waving salutes.

Swapping the glass of red she’s holding to pick up a classic telephone, she spirals its wire around her fingers and delivers lyrics down the receiver. “This is for lovers and future lovers,” Megan tells, before launching into the Drive film favourite ‘Keep Me Under Your Spell,’ and a rousing cover of New Order’s ‘Bizarre Love Triangle.’ On keys, partner Johnny and the sunglasses-wearing Heaven, close with a synth duel and hold the fuzz to a swell that could rip the venue in two.

NEW YORK & PENNSYLVANIA, USA – FONTAINES D.C. STORM THE EAST COAST

| Just The Type

“I wanted real adventure to happen to myself. But real adventures, I reflected, do not happen to people who remain at home: they must be sought abroad.”

James Joyce – An Encounter, Dubliners

The eyeballs of Fontaines D.C.’s Grian Chatten are fixed towards the ceiling. You can hardly blame him. It’s a typical November night in Brooklyn – in September. Just days before, Hurricane Dorian was hugging the south-eastern coastline and nudging ever closer to New York City; its path an unpredictable whirlwind leaving only chaos and destruction behind. All day, the Music Hall of Williamsburg has been hammered by inclement showers and bracing gusts so tonight, as the Dublin 5-piece take to its stage, there’s a very real threat of “tearing down the plaster”  as Grian delivers ‘Hurricane Laughter’; stoking the storm’s eye with their turbulent tones and enough stabs of sonic distortion to leave Mother Nature herself recoiling in its wake.

It’s the opening night of Fontaines D.C.’s month-long, debut North American headline tour and the next phase of the band’s explosive trajectory. Following an emergency culling of their festival appearances since returning to the UK after a momentous SXSW in Austin, Texas and the release of their Mercury-nominated debut album Dogrel, they’re now reaping the benefits of having had a brief well-earned rest. As the thick brogue of Luke Kelly delivering his poem ‘For What Died The Sons Of Róisín?’ resounds through the speakers, the band are called to the stage and with a simple “Good to see you,” tonight’s sold out crowd brace themselves for lashings of frenetic noise that ricochets off every bolthole.

Whipping the congregation into a frenzy through an aggravated release of poetic sermons, Grian blesses each audience member with his gaze and as the tension mounts, they become euphoric. Geeing up the crowd, he wrings his wrists and paces back and forth with controlled convulsions. ‘Too Real’ sees a schizophrenic transformation in the pit from appreciative to cataclysmic, as the mass surge to the left. Phones are hung on to* and stances widened as Grian dons a Peaky Blinders style flat cap likening him to a Victorian baker boy in his shirt-slacks combo. Meanwhile, guitarist Carlos O’Connell launches himself into the crowd; kick-starting a domino effect of fans hurling themselves off the stage and riding a wave into the shadows.

At Johnny Brenda’s, Philly
Whipping up a storm in Philadelphia

The lone stage-diver repeating such behaviour in Philadelphia the following evening could only hope for such a smooth ride. Part-way between a diner for locals and intimate burlesque theatre with its low red lighting and wooden interior, the second night’s venue is Johnny Brenda’s. Sitting in Fishtown on the corner of a bustling intersection, the city’s Saturday night suburb is neon lit like a 50s film noir. Opposite, late night coffee is being served at Joe’s where the din of the venue’s groups of men drinking into the early hours carries across the street. Commotion and layers of half-conversations spill on to the sidewalk, fuelled by one, two or perhaps even five rounds of Boilermakers.

Upstairs the band have jumbled the previous night’s setlist and as they take to the venue’s corner stage, Grian greets the sea of faces at his feet and those scrutinising from the surrounding balcony with an awkward wave. At the rear of the stage hangs a velvet curtain, strung with what seems to be the clear plastic crystals from a cheap jewellery box, and the room is doused in UV light. Opening with ‘Television Screen,’ it’s an energised set; from the atmospherics of Carlos working the amp, extorting its feedback with each swing of his guitar and beer bottle string sliding, to the hefty punk beat laid down by drummer Tom Coll and Conor Deegan’s thundering bass. Tugging at his baggy stripes, Grian jerks as though to shake off any shred of lingering self-doubt and it’s intense, like watching a band fighting to escape the confines of a matchbox.

As ‘Liberty Belle’ rings out for what could be the city’s adopted anthem (the bell itself, a symbol of Philadelphia), a rogue reveller hugs the monitor at Grian’s feet and struggles with it as he crawls up on to the stage. Predicting what comes next, guitarist Conor Curley is on standby; wearing his white cowboy shirt with fringing and halfway holding out a hand to assist, he’s like Frankie Avalon in Grease’s ‘Beauty School Drop-out’ dream sequence coming to the rescue, until it’s too late. Rising from his knees, the unexpected visitor hurls himself across the room, head-first into the tiny venue’s supporting pillar – taking Grian’s microphone out in the process. The interruption is over as quickly as it begins and apart from a crafty lyrical edit nodding to the fact it happened, the band power on through.

The rest of the set is seamless; the blue hue pulses with the strobe effect of a Stranger Things electrical warning and the band are on fire. Whether over-compensating from the effects of a late night prior, or simply finding their stride, tonight is just better. Everything is wound tighter and cranked up a gear higher. Rubbing his face, banging his chest and dipping his hands deeper into his pockets as if to awaken himself, Grian’s pacing is most noticeable when contrasted by the band’s statuesque shredding. The most affecting moment is ‘Roy’s Tune’; a tender performance showing a band who can do beauty as well as they do brawn. ‘The Lotts’ is suitably gloomy, its spiralling 80s melancholia haunting through beautifully smoggy refrains and Grian breaks out the tambourine for electrifying new song ‘Televised Mind’ – a ferocious cyclone of rhythmic unravelling with dizzying wads of Orwellian dread.

Moving from one skyline to another, the Fontaines D.C. storm is ready to wreak havoc on its next location; both nights’ sets are just under the hour offering a short, sharp, shock from a rising band who pack one hell of a punch. Or to quote Philadelphia’s revered local hero Rocky Balboa, “The world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows…” but therein lies a damn good place to start.  

*Not mine. It’s still in Brooklyn… somewhere. Big thanks to my gigging partner-in-crime, Denise, for sharing her pics!

AUSTIN, TEXAS – SXSW 2019: 10 TOP SETS

| Just The Type

Returning from SXSW there’s only ever one question; ‘which band was the best?’ After taking some time to reflect (and sleep!) it’s without doubt, this year, the charge was led by British bands… so instead of choosing the best acts of the week, here’s 10 killer sets from around the world that made this year’s trip to “The Lone Star State” so great…

Amyl and the Sniffers – Thrasher x Vans: Death Match @ Weather Up

There’s a storm brewing at Weather Up. On the edge of town, a good ten blocks from the downtown action, chaos has erupted and the pit of colliding human-sized atoms bouncing off each other are being rewarded for their eneavour to one of South-by’s most easterly venues. Call it rage, a tantrum or simple flip out, singer Amy Taylor knows how to summon a storm. Her bandmates create a relentless tirade of 110mph rapturous punk-rock as ignited by the spirit of Johnny Ramone and swilled down with a vodka-infused Gatorade chaser. Yelping in her Aussie twang, “I’m not a loser!” Amy grins as she sings with a mischievous glint in the eye. There’s some chat about poppers, the moshing becomes a scrappy swirl, dust clouds tan the revellers and just like Debbi Harry with the sass and savvy of a guttersnipe alley cat, she launches herself upon the crowd and rides their arms on one giant wave of enthusiasm – a solid celebration from the newest queen of punk-rock, positioning this band as the best kind of SXS-mess.

Ratboys – Stereogum Range Life @ Cheer Up Charlies (Outdoor Stage)

They say you can take a band from its hometown but can’t take the hometown out of the band. And as the clouds gather above the swinging canopy which is gradually picking up momentum over Cheer Up Charlie’s outdoor stage you can’t help but think, from their on-stage attire, Chicago’s Ratboys are right to be tuned to the climes of their Windy City. Standing centre-stage, singer Julia Steiner occasionally glances up to the sky from under the fold of her Chicago Bears beanie and seemingly gives a few knowing smiles to partner-in-rhyme Dave Sagan and the Ratboys live band, before they launch into a rollicking set of honest songs about toxic friendships and taxing relationships from their latest GL (Good Luck) EP. Emitting sweetness through summery strumming, gauzy choruses swell from alt country undertones and offer a hit of serotonin through the grey of the day; fresh, like the packs of free Stereogum gum being handed around the crowd.

Art d’Ecco – Desert Daze + Ritual Events @ Hotel Vegas (Inside Stage)

Apostrophe placement has been a hot topic this week. From The Beths’ Jonathan Pearce talking about spelling of ‘y’all’ to Liverpool’s Her’s declaring at the Brooklyn Vegan party they “know it’s grammatically wrong, but don’t care.” Fellow apostrophe rogues Art d’Ecco are a figment of Lynchian subconscious and the most glamorous of punk-rock dreams. Hailing from the Pacific Northwest, the Hotel Vegas back room is dwarfed by their super-sized Bolan-esque tones and spiky starboy synths. Hook-laden stompers brim with Patrick Wolf pop majesty, Gossip shimmer and Public Access TV indie rock sensibility. That the singer looks immaculate with a raven bob framing porcelain sky-high cheek bones, bold colour to the eyes and lips, and is sporting a shimmering jacket kissed by the mauve and pink hues of the dive bar lighting, whilst three of the most dapper suited and booted band members sway to the beat, makes it all the the better. No-nonsense, just genuinely danceable, straight-up glamorous indie rock n roll with the biggest of hearts. Like being given a naughty VIP pass, the entire room is enticed to join the party in their nostalgic but forward-facing world.

  • Amyl and the Sniffers

Mike Krol – Hipster Robots Suck @ The Side Bar (Outdoor Stage)

Rocking back and forth in his Elvis t-shirt with one foot on the drum kit, Mike Krol is taking care of business. It’s a good job; most of the crowd who’ve gathered around this DIY backyard stage – complete with monitors on patio furniture – have been awake just a few hours and what they need is a shot of driven and raw garage-grunge adrenaline. Surrounded by band, Mike leans forward in his shades and pulls himself up, holding balance before dropping back off and pacing the stage. A sermon of his sharp take on the world through scratchy Strokes-tinged yelps, Mike tambourine-bashes like he’s secretly powering the band through each track; if he stops, they stop and together they clatter through songs from latest album Power Chords. ‘What’s the Rhythm’ is a highlight, enticing the sun from behind the clouds and transforming the yard into a blazing hot sun trap, keeping it all very cool but igniting a fire for his SXSW debut. “I tend to avoid SX like the plague,” he says, “but I don’t know why. This is a lot of fun.”

Durand Jones & The Indications – Ticketmaster Showcase @ Stubbs BBQ

When ‘screaming eagle of soul’ Charles Bradley passed away he left a James Brown wail-sized hole in the lives of many soul fans. Durand Jones & The Indications might not be able to fill it, but they’re doing their damndest to try. As the sun sets over Austin’s famous outdoor venue, the crowd are hit with the talent of the 7 musicians before them. Durand can hold a breath-defying note to challenge the sustained chords of the organ and his voice effortlessly soars to sooth the most jaded of South-by souls. On ‘Is It Any Wonder?’ the drummer’s time travel-inducing falsetto harks back to a golden age of smoke-filled jazz clubs and just like a tight family unit raised in Daptone’s House of Soul, the skills of each member are given chance to shine. Stepping back into the spotlight after a stint on saxophone, Durand takes the mic and gestures to The Indications’ trumpet player; “we like to play a game,” he tells the crowd, before trying to catch her out in an improvised contest of call-and-response. Fans of Marvin Gaye, Smokey Robinson or Nick Waterhouse will recognise the band as vintage soul enthusiasts rather than revivalists; a fresh young band who can take a pause as well as they can throw a party.

Dreamer Boy – Vinyl Me, Please: Rising @ Empire Control Room

“Do you wanna go to Nashville?” asks one Zach Taylor, donning his Stetson and grinning before navigating the edge of the stage and joining the clumps of crowd in front of him. Tonight, wherever we find ourselves; his hometown or Austin, the true destination is more complex. Better known to friends as Dreamer Boy, his mellow chillwave is befitting of the stage name as it filters through the speakers and laps upon glitchy Bieberesque r’n’b pop. Singing and flexing wibbly auto-tune alongside synths from right-hand man and Love, nostalgia collaborator Bobby, this stripped-back dive bar set is that of a DIY bedroom set-up, yet Zach’s showmanship shines as he weaves about huddles of curious cats, serenading them with teenage love songs on the right side of awkwardness and sweetness. Wherever we are or wherever we’re heading, this set is one wild trip.

  • Mike Krol

Emerson Snowe – International Day Showcase @ Austin Convention Centre

You’ve got to hand it to Jarrod Mahon, even when presented with the most sterile of spaces, under his Emerson Snowe moniker, he is a pure entertainer. Stood with guitar in hand and only a backing-track for company, he sweetly delivers dreamy nursery rhyme pop to ‘Ballroom G’s rows of chairs, and their occasional occupier. Majestic swan song ‘If I Die, Then I Die’ is a glittery waltz wrapped in a smog of Lemon Twigs splendour and sensitive synth ballad ‘Could You Love Me?’ sees Jarrod showing off his best sides to the cameras transmitting his image across multiple screens surrounding the stage. It’s a tricky set for the Brisbane songwriter but in his world, if the party doesn’t come to him, he’ll take the party to them; when not strumming his guitar, he sings whilst climbing and hanging from the rigging and ducking under the TV monitors, before leaping off, strolling down the aisle, and leaving those in their seats to serenade unsuspecting delegates in the foyer outside.  

The Wants – Quit Your Day Job @ Cheer Up Charlie’s (Indoor Stage)

It’s early days for this Brooklyn 3-piece who’ve been infiltrating the city’s subterranean scene and gradually causing a buzz with the defiant, murky sound of their own rhythmic underworld. Tonight, with an extra member in tow, an unexpectedly short 20-minute set proves only one mission; to leave the crowd wanting more. A clue in the name, perhaps? ‘Ape Trap’ and ‘Clearly A Crisis’ possess the stark art-pop bounce of Franz Ferdinand with the stop-start stomp of Gang of Four, and the bobbing heads of a packed crowd pick up speed as the tracks gain momentum. The set is mostly industrial doom-laden post-punk and danceable guitar grooves powered by throbbing basslines and singer Madison Velding-VanDam’s monotone, interspersed with a side helping of anxiousness and melancholia. The brevity of the set might hint at a lack in material but could only mean one thing; more good things to come.

  • Avalanche Party
  • The Blinders
  • Fontaines D.C.

Avalanche Party / The Blinders – End of Trail Records @ Valhalla

A special moment in the trajectory of Avalanche Party and The Blinders’ careers to date, SXSW was always going to be more British invasion than pilgrimage. A billing featuring both acts would only result in the deepest of war wounds and a trail of destruction left in its wake. Punked-up poets, each perform solid sets, erupting with a blistering and unapologetic gut-punch of monumental proportions. Yet, it’s the surprise collaboration between the two, in tribute to The Amazing Snakeheads’ recently passed Dale Barclay, which is pivotal and emotional. Performing a rousing ‘Memories’ from Dale and his band’s Amphetamine Ballads album, Avalanche Party frontman Jordan, typically bare-chested and sweat-clad after an impassioned performance from within the crowd, is joined by The Blinders’ singer Thomas who swigs from his Lone Star and positions himself at a second mic. Together, the band stir up the Snakeheads’ distinctive stoned groove, and a cacophonic sound erupts, unravelling into bittersweet scenes of beautiful disarray. Dale would be proud.

Fontaines D.C. – DIY Magazine @ Swan Dive (Patio)

“My childhood was small, but I’m gonna be big,” intones singer Grian on frantic post-punk number, ‘Big’ before pacing the stage and shaking his wrists with pent-up energy. Taken literally, it’d be a bold prediction for the Dubliners; building a buzz at the world’s largest music event, particularly with an unreleased debut LP, is no mean feat; there’s stiff competition. But putting similar confidence into their set, the Fontaines frontman roams his invisible cage and surveys the faces surrounding the band. ‘Boys In The Better Land’ is ferocious and the 5-piece hammer through each track with vigour. Through the band’s relentless commotion their usual nonchalance is, tonight, injected with restless spirit; guitarist Carlos stands tall on the speakers, hunched under corrugated awning whilst bandmate Conor shreds his strings with a cig gently resting in his lips. Wearing a baggy pinstripe shirt, Grian’s resemblance to Ian Curtis is evident as he clutches at the mic before adding to the band’s racket with a tambourine in hand, moving their position from big prediction to big premonition.

Honourable mentions (in no particular order): Blushh, Illuminati Hotties, Sharkmuffin, Odonis Odonis, Sneaks, Pkew Pkew Pkew, Cherry Glazerr, TC Superstar, The Beths, Squid, Black Midi, Thyla, Black Belt Eagle Scout, Madeleine Kenney, Viagra Boys, Dylan Cartlidge, Murray A. Lightburn, Anteros, Whenyoung, Samia, Bedouine, Trudy and the Romance, The Texas Gentlemen, Fatherson, The Mystery Lights, Oh Sees, GRÜN WASSER, Sports Team, Gabriella Cohen, Fruit Tones, Her’s, Sweet Spirit…