Previously published on mINtSOUTH.com in May 2010
Words - Suzy Sims
(c) mINtSOUTH.com
DIARY - THE GREAT ESCAPE, BRIGHTON 2010 - PART 3
Ah, Saturdays in Brighton. The busiest day of the festival, plus a herd of confused shoppers trampling you underfoot. Bliss.
The day starts in a confused fashion, with everyone piling downstairs into the Queens Hotel to see the Chapman Family. There’s been a change in the programme however, and we’re about an hour early. Instead mINtSOUTH finds space by a pillar to watch Rachelle Van Zanten’s brazen blues. She’s a Canadian star with plenty of easy confidence and a few stories to tell, including about one song written when she was deported to Sweden after being caught without the correct visas in Swindon. Wiltshire’s loss, clearly.
It was then time to zip along the seafront to Digital, where the Aussie BBQ was taking place. We arrived just when BlueJuice were coming to an end – a shame, as they were energetically sweaty with some sexy bass. Teenagersintokyo were full of deliciously dark disco pop and each band member has their own super magnetism, particularly singer Samantha Lim and icy guitarist Sophie McGinn. I found them captivating. This band was another of my high points of the festival.
They were followed by the spectacular Bridezilla, a band worth checking out for the name alone. I like them even more now that I know their lead singer is called Holiday Sidewinder, a name of total awesomeness. The rest of the band look a little nervous at times, but Sidewinder completely disappears into a romantic, theatrical performance where nothing and no-one can distract her. Bridezilla are a beautiful yet slightly crazy cacophony of sounds.
Being born at St Mary’s Hospital in the heart of Portsmouth gave me the birthright to seek out the FA Cup Final. I end up at the Honey Club, site of many a great gig last year, but oddly left off the location list this time round. I’m briefly joined at my table by a middle-aged man called Patrick, keen to have a drunken chat before continuing his pub crawl. “Where are you from? Why are you here? The Great Escape, what’s that?” I explain as best as I can and he offers his condolences for my choice of football team (and Chelsea hadn’t even scored yet). Anyway, we know how that match ended – not as bad as it could have been. God bless the woodwork, eh.
mINtSOUTH then scooted to Hector’s House for an interview with Detroit Social Club before their gig this evening. They’re running a little late so we arrive just in time to see the soundcheck. Their manager hands us a pair of foam earplugs. It’s going to be a loud night.
The night starts at Pony Pony Run Run downstairs in the Freebutt. There’s something so damn attractive about French electro pop, especially when there’s flashing lights and everyone’s dancing. The band are clearly enjoying themselves, which is always a good sign.
Then it’s onto the fiery furnace that is Hectors House on a Saturday night. It’s boiling and absolutely heaving. We have to squeeze our way to the back where there is some standing space. Detroit Social Club come onstage and as promised, they’re loud, bluesy and hard rocking, with suggestions of a darker, psychedelic side. The band have been highly tipped in recent times from the likes of NME and you can see why; they’re easy on the ear – in a tough kind of way.
The crowd are mainly here to see Band Of Skulls, who are already making serious strides this year. There’s something vey moreish about their garage rock. The band promise to play as many songs as they can from their album, then point out this shouldn’t be too hard; Baby Darling Doll Face Honey is their only one, after all. There are crowdsurfers tumbling all over the place and the waves of heat pulse across the venue as the guitar solos ooze coolness. I Know What I Am, recently lauded by Fearne Cotton of all people, and Death By Diamonds And Pearls go down particularly well. The crowd clamour for more, but unfortunately there’s a curfew so we don’t get it.
Saturday night is party night and so we head for Concorde 2. There’s no queue and it’s surprisingly empty. French electronic act Chateau Marmont are onstage being bleakly atmospheric and quite chilling, and it’s fascinating to listen to. Check out Solar Apex to lose yourself.
Sleigh Bells approach as figures in the mist, then a buzzing bass roars in so loud the glasses rattle off the tables and the floor vibrates so wildly it tickles the soles of your feet. mINtSOUTH gives thanks for the foam earplugs we received earlier. The band are slightly frightening, with an urgent, distorted, highly aggressive and completely in-your-face sound. The sheer power of this band can actually slay small animals within a two mile radius.
After picking up eardrums and smoothing down wind tunnel hair caused by Sleigh Bells’ drums, mINtSOUTH leave the Great Escape. But never fear, we’ll be back next year.
HYPE-O-METER
-The crowd for Delphic was packed – with delegates, critics, and other industry types. The other queue for normal gig-goers was much, much smaller. Overhyped much?
-Fenech-Soler – never heard of them before this weekend, but they made a name for themselves by playing a number of shows
BANDS YOU WOULD TOTALLY SEE BASED ON THEIR NAME ALONE
Bridezilla, Wax Fang, Curry & Coco, Katzenjammer, Is Tropical, Fenech-Soler, Tim and Sam’s Tim and the Sam Band with Tim and Sam, Felix Fables, Ling tosite sigure, Gringo Star, Ghost Bees
NOT SO GREAT ESCAPE
-BBQ at Digital. Huzzah! Unfortunately, before the end of the bands they had run out of everything bar three spoonfuls of potato salad. mINtSOUTH’s stomach was not impressed
-This year there were three levels of entry – normal wristbanders; delegates, who can queue jump but who still have to wait outside if the venue’s busy; and a new guestlist option which guarantees instant entry. Guestlisters are still allowed in if the venue has been one-in-one-out for a few hours. They are still allowed in if various industry experts and music lovers have been stood outside for some time. mINtSOUTH spoke to one peeved delegate whose friends with normal wristbands had been unable to get into at least two venues. When she went into one to assess the situation and see if it was worth everyone sticking around, she noticed a large group of people playing pool and not watching the bands who everyone else was desperate to see. Bastards.
TGE OVERHEARD
“Marina and The Diamonds – all I’m hearing is blah, blah, blah.” Unimpressed punter
“Band Of Skulls, someone told me they’re from New York. Oh, they’re from Southampton? That’s a bit of a difference.” Detroit Social Club during the Skulls’ set
CELEBRITY SPOTTINGS
-Mercury Music Award-winning Jamie Reynolds (Klaxons) hanging around Horatio’s in his role as manager of Cabin Fever
-Chiselled hunk Alex Kapranos (Franz Ferdinand) strolling through The Lanes
-Radio 1’s all-mighty Huw Stephens tweeting and chatting with friends during Warpaint and Egyptian Hip Hop at Horatio’s
-Ross Jarman of The Cribs looking slightly lost in the delegates’ area at The Dome
-The drummer from teenagersintokyo walking past Las Iguanas
-Slow Club dining out at Las Iguanas
-The drummer from Fallout Boy wandering about
-Guy at Pony Pony Run Run who looked just like Alan Rickman as The Sheriff Of Nottingham
-Guy at Band Of Skulls who looked just like the Austin Powers baddie who says: “They’re always after me lucky charms”
Saturday, 3 July 2010
Diary - The Great Escape, Brighton 2010 - Part 2
Previously published on mINtSOUTH.com in May 2010
Words - Suzy Sims
(c) mINtSOUTH.com
DIARY - THE GREAT ESCAPE, BIGHTON 2010 - PART 2
FRI 13th MAY
Good morning, Day Two. We ease ourselves into the day with some Coco Pops and a bit of Alternative Escape at The Latest Music Bar. Tim and Sam’s Tim and the Sam Band With Tim and Sam are first onstage, looking nervous beneath the lights in their matching blue shirts. It’s a gentle start to the day with delicately crafted, looping tunes.
Next on are The Momeraths, a band created from tea and gingham and possibly knitted by someone’s aunt. They’re jaunty and poppy and have some charming flags across the stage announcing who they are. The Momeraths are definitely one of the most cheerful-sounding bands of the weekend.
mINtSOUTH stops off for a quick chat with the two bands before legging it upstairs to the Fortune of War, where Everything Everything are playing a stripped down, three song surprise set. It’s not really a surprise judging from the number of people crammed upstairs, casting resentful looks at each other as the simmering tunes play on. I’m a fan of Everything Everything’s unexpected key changes, and everything has a nice beachy sound to it.
The evening starts with a few beers and a march along the pier, past the sweet smell of doughnuts and waffles hanging in the air, past the seagulls and the tarot readers, to join everyone piling into Horatio’s for the hotly anticipated NME night. Best Coast kick off first. My friend told me they are amazing. Tim and Sam’s tour manager told me they were rubbish. I kind of sided with him. The general sound was good but there wasn’t much variation in the songs they played – it could have been the same one over and over; sort of garage, surf rock. Best Coast are a little afraid of playing a show out on the end of the pier. “It’s pretty scary. It fucking moves!”
Meanwhile the young ‘uns in the crowd are obviously busy trying to be hip in case they end up with a vox pop in NME. “iPhone knows what’s up. I trust iPhone,” blathered someone as I passed.
Warpaint are cool, mysterious, memorable, with many instrumental breaks, with an arty, psychedelic swagger to boot. Although their recorded stuff sounds effortless, they are more strident live and create some sort of a sonic labyrinth. I also very much enjoyed the revitalising Egyptian Hip Hop, with their hot punchy basslines and plinky synths. On coming back from the toilet I suddenly realised I was in the Eighties, in a very stylish way, but in the Eighties nevertheless.
It’s then time to trek across the city with aching feet, but it’s worth it for a nice sit down and a bottled lemonade at the Duke of York’s Picturehouse. We time this well enough to catch Alessi’s Ark and Peggy Sue without having to cram into the aisles, like most of the watchers. Young Alessi has a beautifully rounded and quirky voice full of kindness but she looks absolutely petrified of being up on stage. Everyone loves Peggy Sue, though I think they’ve been hyped up a bit too much. Rose and Katy are cooler than cool, with their lipstick and tousled hair and funky hat. Both acts bring out the alt-folk love; delicately constructed tunes with real heart.
And so ends Day Two of the Great Escape for mINtSOUTH. The danger with putting on late night gigs in a cinema is that those people who didn’t go to sleep until 5am (us) tend to start nodding off in the chairs, so alas we had to leave slightly early. Plenty of time to refresh for Day Three...
Words - Suzy Sims
(c) mINtSOUTH.com
DIARY - THE GREAT ESCAPE, BIGHTON 2010 - PART 2
FRI 13th MAY
Good morning, Day Two. We ease ourselves into the day with some Coco Pops and a bit of Alternative Escape at The Latest Music Bar. Tim and Sam’s Tim and the Sam Band With Tim and Sam are first onstage, looking nervous beneath the lights in their matching blue shirts. It’s a gentle start to the day with delicately crafted, looping tunes.
Next on are The Momeraths, a band created from tea and gingham and possibly knitted by someone’s aunt. They’re jaunty and poppy and have some charming flags across the stage announcing who they are. The Momeraths are definitely one of the most cheerful-sounding bands of the weekend.
mINtSOUTH stops off for a quick chat with the two bands before legging it upstairs to the Fortune of War, where Everything Everything are playing a stripped down, three song surprise set. It’s not really a surprise judging from the number of people crammed upstairs, casting resentful looks at each other as the simmering tunes play on. I’m a fan of Everything Everything’s unexpected key changes, and everything has a nice beachy sound to it.
The evening starts with a few beers and a march along the pier, past the sweet smell of doughnuts and waffles hanging in the air, past the seagulls and the tarot readers, to join everyone piling into Horatio’s for the hotly anticipated NME night. Best Coast kick off first. My friend told me they are amazing. Tim and Sam’s tour manager told me they were rubbish. I kind of sided with him. The general sound was good but there wasn’t much variation in the songs they played – it could have been the same one over and over; sort of garage, surf rock. Best Coast are a little afraid of playing a show out on the end of the pier. “It’s pretty scary. It fucking moves!”
Meanwhile the young ‘uns in the crowd are obviously busy trying to be hip in case they end up with a vox pop in NME. “iPhone knows what’s up. I trust iPhone,” blathered someone as I passed.
Warpaint are cool, mysterious, memorable, with many instrumental breaks, with an arty, psychedelic swagger to boot. Although their recorded stuff sounds effortless, they are more strident live and create some sort of a sonic labyrinth. I also very much enjoyed the revitalising Egyptian Hip Hop, with their hot punchy basslines and plinky synths. On coming back from the toilet I suddenly realised I was in the Eighties, in a very stylish way, but in the Eighties nevertheless.
It’s then time to trek across the city with aching feet, but it’s worth it for a nice sit down and a bottled lemonade at the Duke of York’s Picturehouse. We time this well enough to catch Alessi’s Ark and Peggy Sue without having to cram into the aisles, like most of the watchers. Young Alessi has a beautifully rounded and quirky voice full of kindness but she looks absolutely petrified of being up on stage. Everyone loves Peggy Sue, though I think they’ve been hyped up a bit too much. Rose and Katy are cooler than cool, with their lipstick and tousled hair and funky hat. Both acts bring out the alt-folk love; delicately constructed tunes with real heart.
And so ends Day Two of the Great Escape for mINtSOUTH. The danger with putting on late night gigs in a cinema is that those people who didn’t go to sleep until 5am (us) tend to start nodding off in the chairs, so alas we had to leave slightly early. Plenty of time to refresh for Day Three...
Diary - The Great Escape, Brighton 2010 - Part 1
Originally published on mINtSOUTH.com in May 2010
Words: Suzy Sims
(c) mINtSOUTH.com
DIARY - THE GREAT ESCAPE, BRIGHTON 2010 - PART 1
THURS 12th MAY
BRIGHTON. Beautiful, seasidey, hip and trendy Brighton. Once again the Great Escape is upon us. Three days of much music and not enough sleep lie straight ahead.
We arrive in the city just in time to sit down in the sun for a chat with a very buoyant Pulled Apart By Horses. Then follows some time spent doing Media Things, such as checking out the available space in the press area, working out who’s covering what on the extensive schedule, and wondering if there is any free lager hidden in one of the side rooms (There was. And even better, there was cake too).
“We are Funeral Party. And you are the audience,” announce the band performing in front of the Doughnut, one of the Relentless Street Gig venues for the weekend. The sun is shining and as it’s early, many wristbanders opt to stay on the beach to listen to the perfectly fiddly synths. One girl nips over to take a photograph. She has a £3.49 bottle of cider poking out of her satchel. The band finishes by hurling their tambourine into the waves behind. The music is pretty good though, and promised more top times for the rest of the weekend.
It’s then time to locate Jam in time for Hungry Kids Of Hungary, whose melodies are sundrenched and juicy, with a definite Sixties vibe. They provide a bright and refreshing start to the night. Someone in the crowd is trying to impersonate an Irish accent – which was a little bit out, seeing as the band are actually from Australia. (Insert Family Fortunes incorrect buzzer here).
HKoH is followed by the carefree and optimistic sounds of Pearl & The Puppets, whose music seems poised to soundtrack something indie hip like The Inbetweeners. Unfortunately mINtSOUTH’s reviewer is unable to see either band due to the anti-paparazzi fug emanating from the smoke machine, and the fact that we are a good two foot shorter than everyone else. However both bands sound very enjoyable and easy to warm to.
Skipping along the seafront, we eventually come to Concorde 2. The bar staff are gawping at a screen showing something unusual taking place in the main hall. In neon headdresses and flowing robes, female choir Gaggle are doing their best to hypnotise the crowd by singing in rounds... singing in rounds... singing in rounds, about nasty men and the like. The rockers in the crowd look confused and slightly disorientated, apart from one man in leather trousers who is doing some bizarre dance with his gloved hands, like he’s trying to roll a pea deftly along his arm and fingers without dropping it. Gaggle are entertaining if you like fancy dress and musical theatre. I don’t.
Thankfully a few minutes later, Pulled Apart By Horses stride onto the stage to let launch some shouting and heavy rock. There’s sweat, swearing and a distinct lack of shirts. The crowd are bobbing their heads and enjoying the banter. We have a stand in drummer tonight as the usual tattooed one is at home for family reasons, however he does a fine job of keeping up with their mighty pace.
Then it’s onto The Walkmen... oh no, it’s not. Stranded somewhere that’s not Brighton due to the volcanic ash, the band are instead replaced by Little Comets, who turn out to be one of the highlights of my festival weekend. I heard Adultery on MySpace a couple of years ago and found it slightly annoying. I was pleasantly surprised to hear Little Comets are oozing summer elements and plenty of singalong opportunities. Their instruments / stage gear also includes a saucepan, and a very strange shaped thing that some guy keeps hilariously yelling “ARMADILLO!” while pointing at it. “From up here, it sounds like you’re saying ‘I’m a dildo’,” the band counter drily. They sound like indie pop with a bit of ska and it’s all very splendid and danceable.
The evening takes a downward turn as I head to Fionn Regan’s show at the Terraces. He’s really good, so people keep saying. I hadn’t really paid much attention to the programme and thought I was listening out for a Fiona, so my bad. His set was wholesome folk fun, spoilt somewhat by the noise in the venue, as people couldn’t see anything more than six rows back so weren’t bothering to listen either. Regan tried saying “Shhh,” but that was never really going to work. It was too crowded to hear any banter or nuances in the music. The final track really picked up speed, but by this point it was too little too late to get my attention.
The evening finished as all good evenings do – by befriending a tramp. Shaun likes to stand outside music bars and listen to bands play songs by The Libertines. He especially likes it if they wave at him. If you see Shaun, say hi.
Words: Suzy Sims
(c) mINtSOUTH.com
DIARY - THE GREAT ESCAPE, BRIGHTON 2010 - PART 1
THURS 12th MAY
BRIGHTON. Beautiful, seasidey, hip and trendy Brighton. Once again the Great Escape is upon us. Three days of much music and not enough sleep lie straight ahead.
We arrive in the city just in time to sit down in the sun for a chat with a very buoyant Pulled Apart By Horses. Then follows some time spent doing Media Things, such as checking out the available space in the press area, working out who’s covering what on the extensive schedule, and wondering if there is any free lager hidden in one of the side rooms (There was. And even better, there was cake too).
“We are Funeral Party. And you are the audience,” announce the band performing in front of the Doughnut, one of the Relentless Street Gig venues for the weekend. The sun is shining and as it’s early, many wristbanders opt to stay on the beach to listen to the perfectly fiddly synths. One girl nips over to take a photograph. She has a £3.49 bottle of cider poking out of her satchel. The band finishes by hurling their tambourine into the waves behind. The music is pretty good though, and promised more top times for the rest of the weekend.
It’s then time to locate Jam in time for Hungry Kids Of Hungary, whose melodies are sundrenched and juicy, with a definite Sixties vibe. They provide a bright and refreshing start to the night. Someone in the crowd is trying to impersonate an Irish accent – which was a little bit out, seeing as the band are actually from Australia. (Insert Family Fortunes incorrect buzzer here).
HKoH is followed by the carefree and optimistic sounds of Pearl & The Puppets, whose music seems poised to soundtrack something indie hip like The Inbetweeners. Unfortunately mINtSOUTH’s reviewer is unable to see either band due to the anti-paparazzi fug emanating from the smoke machine, and the fact that we are a good two foot shorter than everyone else. However both bands sound very enjoyable and easy to warm to.
Skipping along the seafront, we eventually come to Concorde 2. The bar staff are gawping at a screen showing something unusual taking place in the main hall. In neon headdresses and flowing robes, female choir Gaggle are doing their best to hypnotise the crowd by singing in rounds... singing in rounds... singing in rounds, about nasty men and the like. The rockers in the crowd look confused and slightly disorientated, apart from one man in leather trousers who is doing some bizarre dance with his gloved hands, like he’s trying to roll a pea deftly along his arm and fingers without dropping it. Gaggle are entertaining if you like fancy dress and musical theatre. I don’t.
Thankfully a few minutes later, Pulled Apart By Horses stride onto the stage to let launch some shouting and heavy rock. There’s sweat, swearing and a distinct lack of shirts. The crowd are bobbing their heads and enjoying the banter. We have a stand in drummer tonight as the usual tattooed one is at home for family reasons, however he does a fine job of keeping up with their mighty pace.
Then it’s onto The Walkmen... oh no, it’s not. Stranded somewhere that’s not Brighton due to the volcanic ash, the band are instead replaced by Little Comets, who turn out to be one of the highlights of my festival weekend. I heard Adultery on MySpace a couple of years ago and found it slightly annoying. I was pleasantly surprised to hear Little Comets are oozing summer elements and plenty of singalong opportunities. Their instruments / stage gear also includes a saucepan, and a very strange shaped thing that some guy keeps hilariously yelling “ARMADILLO!” while pointing at it. “From up here, it sounds like you’re saying ‘I’m a dildo’,” the band counter drily. They sound like indie pop with a bit of ska and it’s all very splendid and danceable.
The evening takes a downward turn as I head to Fionn Regan’s show at the Terraces. He’s really good, so people keep saying. I hadn’t really paid much attention to the programme and thought I was listening out for a Fiona, so my bad. His set was wholesome folk fun, spoilt somewhat by the noise in the venue, as people couldn’t see anything more than six rows back so weren’t bothering to listen either. Regan tried saying “Shhh,” but that was never really going to work. It was too crowded to hear any banter or nuances in the music. The final track really picked up speed, but by this point it was too little too late to get my attention.
The evening finished as all good evenings do – by befriending a tramp. Shaun likes to stand outside music bars and listen to bands play songs by The Libertines. He especially likes it if they wave at him. If you see Shaun, say hi.
Saturday, 8 May 2010
Single Review - The Little Philistines 'Head On Fire'
Words - Suzy Sims, April 2010
THE LITTLE PHILISTINES - HEAD ON FIRE
“To my surprise and wonder, my life is on the up.”
London types The Little Philistines don’t ever have dark days, misery or humdrum times. There’s no moodiness, no bad rock attitude, no complicated time signatures. They are possibly the most cheerful sounding band I’ve heard in some time, equally at home in a mucky scruffy indie venue as they could be dressed as clowns entertaining at a children’s party, juggling with cakes and balloon animals and the like. Possibly.
It therefore gives me pleasure to announce that Head On Fire is another chipper single to get your toes skipping excitedly and your head spinning. “My body is a holy temple / I fill it up with smoke,” they announce before launching into the catchy heads on fire and beds on fire line. Gosh, they’re just so darn jolly. I particularly liked the lyric “Even death has a drink at the weekend.” This is a spritely and relentlessly cheerful tune.
Head On Fire is a double A side released alongside Stick Together which has a hint of the Sixties in the jangling guitar. This one is a bit more subdued and subtle, yet warming. The comfortable softness provides a rest from the band’s usual exhaustingly happy pace.
Be sure to check out the cartoon artwork, which is drawn by the Little Philistines’ John Riordan.
The Little Philistines are a pick me up band for those who like their indie pop to be friendly and their tunes bright. As appealing as they are, I imagine some people would be turned off by their permanent smile. However if you’re an easy-going sort and like to keep your mood buoyant, then give them a whirl.
The Little Philistines
THE LITTLE PHILISTINES - HEAD ON FIRE
“To my surprise and wonder, my life is on the up.”
London types The Little Philistines don’t ever have dark days, misery or humdrum times. There’s no moodiness, no bad rock attitude, no complicated time signatures. They are possibly the most cheerful sounding band I’ve heard in some time, equally at home in a mucky scruffy indie venue as they could be dressed as clowns entertaining at a children’s party, juggling with cakes and balloon animals and the like. Possibly.
It therefore gives me pleasure to announce that Head On Fire is another chipper single to get your toes skipping excitedly and your head spinning. “My body is a holy temple / I fill it up with smoke,” they announce before launching into the catchy heads on fire and beds on fire line. Gosh, they’re just so darn jolly. I particularly liked the lyric “Even death has a drink at the weekend.” This is a spritely and relentlessly cheerful tune.
Head On Fire is a double A side released alongside Stick Together which has a hint of the Sixties in the jangling guitar. This one is a bit more subdued and subtle, yet warming. The comfortable softness provides a rest from the band’s usual exhaustingly happy pace.
Be sure to check out the cartoon artwork, which is drawn by the Little Philistines’ John Riordan.
The Little Philistines are a pick me up band for those who like their indie pop to be friendly and their tunes bright. As appealing as they are, I imagine some people would be turned off by their permanent smile. However if you’re an easy-going sort and like to keep your mood buoyant, then give them a whirl.
The Little Philistines
Friday, 7 May 2010
Live Review - Stereophonics @ Portsmouth Guildhall
What I really like is when someone calls me up mid-afternoon and says "I've got a ticket for a gig tionight but I can't go - do you want it?" Yes please matey, yes please.
Previously published on mINtSOUTH.com in February 2010
Words - Suzy Sims
(c) mINtSOUTH.com
STEREOPHONICS + TAPE THE RADIO @ PORTSMOUTH GUILDHALL 25/01/2010
I did a little bit of internet research to find out what other people think about Stereophonics, because for a lot who are frankly quite middle-of-the-road, they can be quite polarising. They rock. They are freakin’ awesome. They are the best band ever. They are dull. Predictable. Better than Snow Patrol (is this good or bad?). Their fans can’t spell ‘Wembly’.
It’s the first date of Stereophonics’ tour; a cosy warm up gig. They’ve sold out the SECC, the NIA, the O2, the MEN. Therefore it’s strange to find a handful of tickets still available on the door for a few lucky and hopeful fans who had been told this show was also sold out. The seat next to me was empty all night. It cost a whopping £30-odd squid to get into the Guildhall. Those on the guestlist have to pay at least a small sum for charity, which was a jolly decent thing to do.
First up come Tape The Radio. They warmed up the crowd almost as much as an ice cube shoved hastily down the pants. This band wear leather trousers – always a dubious sign of being rawk and roll. Their music is averagely plodding. They were aiming for dark, sultry and controlled, but it just came across as a dull roar; like a hefty helping of tinnitus, you’d shake your head slightly, but they were still there. It’s the kind of commercial rock which angers tutting trendy types. They were okay really, with harmless background music. Single Save A Life was a glimmer of interest in the murk, but you wouldn’t make a special trip to catch them play. I hoped the headliners had someone a bit more special in mind for their arena support.
Tape The Radio are what I feared Stereophonics would be like.
Tonight is a bit of a tasty treat for Stereophonics fans – the chance to get a lot closer than when the band play the O2, little specks upon the stage, while half the crowd struggle with vertigo and the rest queue 45 minutes for a drink. The queue’s not quite as big tonight, though Portsmouth Guildhall isn’t exactly known for its speedy bar service.
The band announced that they’re playing around with the setlist just before the start of the arena tour. They seem comfortable and are enjoying themselves. It’s good value as they cram a lot in, playing for well over an hour and a half.
It’s obvious that Stereophonics have truly earned their reputation as a fierce live band. With various releases watered down guitar-wise, it’s easy to lose track of the fact they are first and foremost, a rock band. Kelly Jones’ voice is impressively husky and he can really hold a tune while looking completely at ease onstage, surrounded by spotlights.
The crowd listened patiently for the first half but perk up slightly for the oldies and goodies – a charming Help Me, Pedal Pusher, Mr Writer, A Thousand Trees, She’s Alright, Innocent, Local Boy In The Photograph. I felt disappointed that a band as massive as Stereophonics couldn’t galvanise the crowd into moving. Everyone was so damn static. From upstairs, I was looking down into a sea of cameraphone lights. I wanted the band to do well. I wanted everyone to be having a great time. But atmosphere-wise, it was a little flat, and music-wise, I just don’t know enough of the band’s catalogue to fully throw myself into it. Some of it was a bit samey, but the band’s musicianship carried them though and I found myself impressed by their professionalism and enjoying the set.
The best moment was the end. No, I don’t mean it like that. The volume of applause and stamping for an encore showed the crowd were having a fantastic time. Then Dakota came on and the place burst open. People on the balcony finally got to their feet and danced. The number of hands waving in the standing area increased and a small moshpit formed to the right. There was even one crowdsurfer, and my, did he look pleased with himself. Everyone filed out chattering – they had a blistering time, and Stereophonics got to practise before their arena concerts. I found them to be much better than expected. Everyone’s a winner.
Stereophonics
Tape The Radio
Previously published on mINtSOUTH.com in February 2010
Words - Suzy Sims
(c) mINtSOUTH.com
STEREOPHONICS + TAPE THE RADIO @ PORTSMOUTH GUILDHALL 25/01/2010
I did a little bit of internet research to find out what other people think about Stereophonics, because for a lot who are frankly quite middle-of-the-road, they can be quite polarising. They rock. They are freakin’ awesome. They are the best band ever. They are dull. Predictable. Better than Snow Patrol (is this good or bad?). Their fans can’t spell ‘Wembly’.
It’s the first date of Stereophonics’ tour; a cosy warm up gig. They’ve sold out the SECC, the NIA, the O2, the MEN. Therefore it’s strange to find a handful of tickets still available on the door for a few lucky and hopeful fans who had been told this show was also sold out. The seat next to me was empty all night. It cost a whopping £30-odd squid to get into the Guildhall. Those on the guestlist have to pay at least a small sum for charity, which was a jolly decent thing to do.
First up come Tape The Radio. They warmed up the crowd almost as much as an ice cube shoved hastily down the pants. This band wear leather trousers – always a dubious sign of being rawk and roll. Their music is averagely plodding. They were aiming for dark, sultry and controlled, but it just came across as a dull roar; like a hefty helping of tinnitus, you’d shake your head slightly, but they were still there. It’s the kind of commercial rock which angers tutting trendy types. They were okay really, with harmless background music. Single Save A Life was a glimmer of interest in the murk, but you wouldn’t make a special trip to catch them play. I hoped the headliners had someone a bit more special in mind for their arena support.
Tape The Radio are what I feared Stereophonics would be like.
Tonight is a bit of a tasty treat for Stereophonics fans – the chance to get a lot closer than when the band play the O2, little specks upon the stage, while half the crowd struggle with vertigo and the rest queue 45 minutes for a drink. The queue’s not quite as big tonight, though Portsmouth Guildhall isn’t exactly known for its speedy bar service.
The band announced that they’re playing around with the setlist just before the start of the arena tour. They seem comfortable and are enjoying themselves. It’s good value as they cram a lot in, playing for well over an hour and a half.
It’s obvious that Stereophonics have truly earned their reputation as a fierce live band. With various releases watered down guitar-wise, it’s easy to lose track of the fact they are first and foremost, a rock band. Kelly Jones’ voice is impressively husky and he can really hold a tune while looking completely at ease onstage, surrounded by spotlights.
The crowd listened patiently for the first half but perk up slightly for the oldies and goodies – a charming Help Me, Pedal Pusher, Mr Writer, A Thousand Trees, She’s Alright, Innocent, Local Boy In The Photograph. I felt disappointed that a band as massive as Stereophonics couldn’t galvanise the crowd into moving. Everyone was so damn static. From upstairs, I was looking down into a sea of cameraphone lights. I wanted the band to do well. I wanted everyone to be having a great time. But atmosphere-wise, it was a little flat, and music-wise, I just don’t know enough of the band’s catalogue to fully throw myself into it. Some of it was a bit samey, but the band’s musicianship carried them though and I found myself impressed by their professionalism and enjoying the set.
The best moment was the end. No, I don’t mean it like that. The volume of applause and stamping for an encore showed the crowd were having a fantastic time. Then Dakota came on and the place burst open. People on the balcony finally got to their feet and danced. The number of hands waving in the standing area increased and a small moshpit formed to the right. There was even one crowdsurfer, and my, did he look pleased with himself. Everyone filed out chattering – they had a blistering time, and Stereophonics got to practise before their arena concerts. I found them to be much better than expected. Everyone’s a winner.
Stereophonics
Tape The Radio
Live Review - Shed Seven and The Holloways
Previously published on mINtSOUTH.com in January 2010
Words - Suzy Sims
(c) mINtSOUTH.com
SHED SEVEN + THE HOLLOWAYS @ PORTSMOUTH PYRAMIDS 17/12/2009
I’m showing my age now. In 1996 I was a young teen and an avid Top Of The Pops viewer, as were all my school pals. Back in the playground on the following day, you’d discuss the things you’d spotted, such as the Gallaghers swapping places on Roll With It and sticking their tongues out instead of miming, the cheeky scamps. We all witnessed Shed Seven’s appearance in sparkly suits to perform Going For Gold. I don’t remember if we discussed this – after all, it was just Shed Seven, and they weren’t the key movers and shakers. If you’d told me that I’d be seeing them live, 13 years in the future, I would have told you to jog on (or whatever the mid-Nineties equivalent dismissal was).
Shed Seven were on the whole, a thoroughly decent sounding, if slightly average, Britpop rock band. If you want to find their fans, try yelling ‘SHE LEFT ME ON FRIDAY!’ to see who correctly responds with ‘IT RUINED MY WEEKEND!’ “Yes, they’re still going,” I found myself answering to everyone, and was curious to see what the experience would be like.
Opening the night were The Holloways, the perfect example of what Shed Seven were like a decade ago. They are a cheerful band with uplifting music, who toured with the likes of the Pigeon Detectives. Highly tipped and great fun live, with little sweaty moshpits and cheerful fiddles and singalong choruses, they always leave you in a good mood.
Then something changed. Generator received a bit of Radio 1 play, and was subsequently re-released approximately 400 times. Then fiddle player Rob Skipper left. Now they’re opening for larger acts but instead of a fond fanbase waiting for them at the front of the Pyramids, they find a crowd of mature indie kids, arms crossed, waiting for the headliners. One man dances over to his friends, beer aloft, and the band regard him hungrily. They appear desperate for more people to be enjoying the show. “This is one you should recognise,” says red hatted singer Alfie Jackson as they start Generator and the crowd wakes up. I’m not sure if I‘m just imagining a bitter note in his voice.
The band open with Dancefloor, play Two Left Feet and a couple of newbies off recent album No Smoke, No Mirrors, but the crowd is quiet and the band try to rise above it but seem slightly disappointed in the reception.
Then we’re back in 1996 as Shed Seven stride out to bursts of light and cracking shots of noise. The crowd parts and men with curtains and sports jackets take prime positions in the audience.
Singer Rick Witter has turned into a wiry chap and is sharp witted and charismatic in a slightly waspish way. Some girls at the front start whooping and ask him to do a shout out to one of their friends. “This isn’t a fucking meet and greet. We’ll be here until midnight if I say hello to everyone...“ he responds, and spends a good portion of the night making lewd comments about someone else’s mother, who may or may not have been waiting in their tour bus.
I found myself recognising little snippets (‘It’s like I’ve never been born’ – On Standby, ‘Shame on you...’ - Dolphin) from songs which otherwise I would have been hard-pressed to recall. It’s amazing how little melodies suddenly bring back memories and whole lines of songs you used to sing to. Most of the crowd were in their early 30s; obviously 16-odd when the Shed were at their peak, now reliving the moments when they had few responsibilities and were about to step into the world as fresh-faced adults.
In bad moments it all gets a bit pub rock, sounding like Oasis b-sides when they weren’t really trying. However the songs are warm and familiar friends to most of the crowd, rocking along fuzzily with the odd psychedelic loop. The Heroes is a quirky epic, Getting Better and She Left Me On Friday still make you roar along, Disco Down sees a moshpit kicking off and a pint of what we all hoped was lager descending on our little group, but everyone is waiting for the sweet tune of Chasing Rainbows, a touching song that can still bring a tear to the eye, and is performed with some fantastic colourful lighting.
Shed Seven do (and did) get knocked for not being quite up there with the Britpop elite – Blur, Oasis, Pulp etc – but it’s evident they made an impact on their fans. Rick Witter shakes hands with a guy in the front row who has seen the band 25 times. And I bet he’s not the only fan who keeps coming back.
Shed Seven
The Holloways
Words - Suzy Sims
(c) mINtSOUTH.com
SHED SEVEN + THE HOLLOWAYS @ PORTSMOUTH PYRAMIDS 17/12/2009
I’m showing my age now. In 1996 I was a young teen and an avid Top Of The Pops viewer, as were all my school pals. Back in the playground on the following day, you’d discuss the things you’d spotted, such as the Gallaghers swapping places on Roll With It and sticking their tongues out instead of miming, the cheeky scamps. We all witnessed Shed Seven’s appearance in sparkly suits to perform Going For Gold. I don’t remember if we discussed this – after all, it was just Shed Seven, and they weren’t the key movers and shakers. If you’d told me that I’d be seeing them live, 13 years in the future, I would have told you to jog on (or whatever the mid-Nineties equivalent dismissal was).
Shed Seven were on the whole, a thoroughly decent sounding, if slightly average, Britpop rock band. If you want to find their fans, try yelling ‘SHE LEFT ME ON FRIDAY!’ to see who correctly responds with ‘IT RUINED MY WEEKEND!’ “Yes, they’re still going,” I found myself answering to everyone, and was curious to see what the experience would be like.
Opening the night were The Holloways, the perfect example of what Shed Seven were like a decade ago. They are a cheerful band with uplifting music, who toured with the likes of the Pigeon Detectives. Highly tipped and great fun live, with little sweaty moshpits and cheerful fiddles and singalong choruses, they always leave you in a good mood.
Then something changed. Generator received a bit of Radio 1 play, and was subsequently re-released approximately 400 times. Then fiddle player Rob Skipper left. Now they’re opening for larger acts but instead of a fond fanbase waiting for them at the front of the Pyramids, they find a crowd of mature indie kids, arms crossed, waiting for the headliners. One man dances over to his friends, beer aloft, and the band regard him hungrily. They appear desperate for more people to be enjoying the show. “This is one you should recognise,” says red hatted singer Alfie Jackson as they start Generator and the crowd wakes up. I’m not sure if I‘m just imagining a bitter note in his voice.
The band open with Dancefloor, play Two Left Feet and a couple of newbies off recent album No Smoke, No Mirrors, but the crowd is quiet and the band try to rise above it but seem slightly disappointed in the reception.
Then we’re back in 1996 as Shed Seven stride out to bursts of light and cracking shots of noise. The crowd parts and men with curtains and sports jackets take prime positions in the audience.
Singer Rick Witter has turned into a wiry chap and is sharp witted and charismatic in a slightly waspish way. Some girls at the front start whooping and ask him to do a shout out to one of their friends. “This isn’t a fucking meet and greet. We’ll be here until midnight if I say hello to everyone...“ he responds, and spends a good portion of the night making lewd comments about someone else’s mother, who may or may not have been waiting in their tour bus.
I found myself recognising little snippets (‘It’s like I’ve never been born’ – On Standby, ‘Shame on you...’ - Dolphin) from songs which otherwise I would have been hard-pressed to recall. It’s amazing how little melodies suddenly bring back memories and whole lines of songs you used to sing to. Most of the crowd were in their early 30s; obviously 16-odd when the Shed were at their peak, now reliving the moments when they had few responsibilities and were about to step into the world as fresh-faced adults.
In bad moments it all gets a bit pub rock, sounding like Oasis b-sides when they weren’t really trying. However the songs are warm and familiar friends to most of the crowd, rocking along fuzzily with the odd psychedelic loop. The Heroes is a quirky epic, Getting Better and She Left Me On Friday still make you roar along, Disco Down sees a moshpit kicking off and a pint of what we all hoped was lager descending on our little group, but everyone is waiting for the sweet tune of Chasing Rainbows, a touching song that can still bring a tear to the eye, and is performed with some fantastic colourful lighting.
Shed Seven do (and did) get knocked for not being quite up there with the Britpop elite – Blur, Oasis, Pulp etc – but it’s evident they made an impact on their fans. Rick Witter shakes hands with a guy in the front row who has seen the band 25 times. And I bet he’s not the only fan who keeps coming back.
Shed Seven
The Holloways
Thursday, 6 May 2010
Live Review - Haunted Stereo Curates At Hamptons
Apologies for the lack of band links at the end... Blogspot decided it was going to have one or two issues...
Previously published on mINtSOUTH.com in January 2010
Words - Suzy Sims
(c) mINtSOUTH
HAUNTED STEREO CURATES @ HAMPTONS 16/01/2010 - MONEYTREE, THE MOPES, SO SAY SO, THE LITTLE PHILISTINES, NOT MADE IN CHINA
Haunted Stereo are looking nervous. It’s Saturday night in Southampton. They’ve put together a splendid gig line up, but now the sky is emptying bucketloads. It’s not the sort of weather you really want to go out in, unless perhaps your shower is broken. “I’m hoping all our friends turn up and the weather won’t have put people off,” frets Haunted Stereo’s Andy Harris, shortly before the first band take the stage.
The opening act of the night is Not Made In China. This name sounds a little more exotic than Made In Bournemouth, where the band have kindly travelled all the way from tonight. It wasn’t too much trouble to come all this way. Nothing seems too much trouble for them and they look eager to please. The band themselves don’t sound very exotic, just terribly, terribly nice, or “about as edgy as a muffin,” as mINtSOUTH’s snapper remarks. Not Made In China are full of goodness and jangly Rickenbacker rhythms. They’re very chirpy and keen and keep grinning. Charming as it is to begin, the flat pleasantries are a little wearing.
Things perk up a bit as The Little Philistines cram onto the stage with guitars, drums, violin and trumpet. They’re louder and brisker with tales of ‘complications when communicating in relationships’ and muggings, with some warmly amusing banter and onstage personality shining through. Love Explodes is a highlight of the set, bursting out with brash guitars and a lovely melody. What I particularly enjoy about the band is that they haven’t forgotten that a memorable tune is a fairly important thing, and they do their best to pop it up but without taking themselves too seriously. A joy to catch.
Trendy types So Say So also feature a girl with a violin. I feel a bit left out, as I failed to bring one with me tonight. The mood gets a bit darker as they flood Hamptons with the cool sound of electronic angst, tipped with a dash of optimism and hidden beneath some very Eighties t shirts. The male keyboardist plays with a twisted and focused expression, like he is trapped in his very own glass case of emotion. “Please buy a t shirt – we need to cover the petrol back to London!” they beg. (I almost do, but there’s only so many white-band-t-shirts-with-black-writing that a person can have. If there had been a tipping bowl, I would have left enough money for them to have a service station Ginsters between them). So Say So were something a bit different, and my favourite band of the night.
I was slightly disappointed by The Mopes. They’re a motley crew but they impressed everyone with their lively set, although my ‘scary instrument radar’ started bleeping when some miniature maracas and an accordion were pulled out. I was half fearing some bagpipes would be foisted on us as well, but luckily the band play a lot of blues and foot-stamping country folk, which doesn’t often call for the pipes. It looks like most of the crowd have seen them before and are pleased to welcome them back – there’s a handful at the front dancing. The band can sense the love in the air. “Can anyone buy seven people a drink?” they ask hopefully. The Mopes seemed very experienced and professional, but struggled to capture and hold my full attention.
Moneytree look familiar, probably because half the band had been stood next to me, energetically throwing shapes to the electro music that was pounding out the speaker between acts. “This band are so good, they literally shit music!” enthuse an over-excited Haunted Stereo as the headliners take to the stage and cheerfully power out a set including singles, b-sides and a ‘three-quarters finished draft’, where they appear to repeat a large chunk because everyone is enjoying it so much. Moneytree are currently one of the top acts in Southampton, mainly owing to likeable frontman Campbell Austin, who is in fine voice tonight. I don’t quite agree with the curators’ opinion – Moneytree are a good band, but not life-changing - but their polished indie rock is a big step above the quality of your average local music scene. It doesn’t matter that they get everyone’s names wrong when trying to thank them (“The Small Philisteens! Sorry, the Little Philistines... Say So Say! Oh wait, no, So Say So...”) because tonight they are amongst friends.
Moneytree
The Mopes
So Say So
The Little Philistines
Not Made In China
Previously published on mINtSOUTH.com in January 2010
Words - Suzy Sims
(c) mINtSOUTH
HAUNTED STEREO CURATES @ HAMPTONS 16/01/2010 - MONEYTREE, THE MOPES, SO SAY SO, THE LITTLE PHILISTINES, NOT MADE IN CHINA
Haunted Stereo are looking nervous. It’s Saturday night in Southampton. They’ve put together a splendid gig line up, but now the sky is emptying bucketloads. It’s not the sort of weather you really want to go out in, unless perhaps your shower is broken. “I’m hoping all our friends turn up and the weather won’t have put people off,” frets Haunted Stereo’s Andy Harris, shortly before the first band take the stage.
The opening act of the night is Not Made In China. This name sounds a little more exotic than Made In Bournemouth, where the band have kindly travelled all the way from tonight. It wasn’t too much trouble to come all this way. Nothing seems too much trouble for them and they look eager to please. The band themselves don’t sound very exotic, just terribly, terribly nice, or “about as edgy as a muffin,” as mINtSOUTH’s snapper remarks. Not Made In China are full of goodness and jangly Rickenbacker rhythms. They’re very chirpy and keen and keep grinning. Charming as it is to begin, the flat pleasantries are a little wearing.
Things perk up a bit as The Little Philistines cram onto the stage with guitars, drums, violin and trumpet. They’re louder and brisker with tales of ‘complications when communicating in relationships’ and muggings, with some warmly amusing banter and onstage personality shining through. Love Explodes is a highlight of the set, bursting out with brash guitars and a lovely melody. What I particularly enjoy about the band is that they haven’t forgotten that a memorable tune is a fairly important thing, and they do their best to pop it up but without taking themselves too seriously. A joy to catch.
Trendy types So Say So also feature a girl with a violin. I feel a bit left out, as I failed to bring one with me tonight. The mood gets a bit darker as they flood Hamptons with the cool sound of electronic angst, tipped with a dash of optimism and hidden beneath some very Eighties t shirts. The male keyboardist plays with a twisted and focused expression, like he is trapped in his very own glass case of emotion. “Please buy a t shirt – we need to cover the petrol back to London!” they beg. (I almost do, but there’s only so many white-band-t-shirts-with-black-writing that a person can have. If there had been a tipping bowl, I would have left enough money for them to have a service station Ginsters between them). So Say So were something a bit different, and my favourite band of the night.
I was slightly disappointed by The Mopes. They’re a motley crew but they impressed everyone with their lively set, although my ‘scary instrument radar’ started bleeping when some miniature maracas and an accordion were pulled out. I was half fearing some bagpipes would be foisted on us as well, but luckily the band play a lot of blues and foot-stamping country folk, which doesn’t often call for the pipes. It looks like most of the crowd have seen them before and are pleased to welcome them back – there’s a handful at the front dancing. The band can sense the love in the air. “Can anyone buy seven people a drink?” they ask hopefully. The Mopes seemed very experienced and professional, but struggled to capture and hold my full attention.
Moneytree look familiar, probably because half the band had been stood next to me, energetically throwing shapes to the electro music that was pounding out the speaker between acts. “This band are so good, they literally shit music!” enthuse an over-excited Haunted Stereo as the headliners take to the stage and cheerfully power out a set including singles, b-sides and a ‘three-quarters finished draft’, where they appear to repeat a large chunk because everyone is enjoying it so much. Moneytree are currently one of the top acts in Southampton, mainly owing to likeable frontman Campbell Austin, who is in fine voice tonight. I don’t quite agree with the curators’ opinion – Moneytree are a good band, but not life-changing - but their polished indie rock is a big step above the quality of your average local music scene. It doesn’t matter that they get everyone’s names wrong when trying to thank them (“The Small Philisteens! Sorry, the Little Philistines... Say So Say! Oh wait, no, So Say So...”) because tonight they are amongst friends.
Moneytree
The Mopes
So Say So
The Little Philistines
Not Made In China
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