AMIINA (London Bush Hall, 25/10/07)

Sandwiched between the high-energy mayhem of LCD Soundsystem and Arcade Fire, Amiina are definitely the black sheep of this week’s gig schedule. As far removed from roof-raising anthemics and irresistible punk-funk grooves as you can possibly get, the all-female Icelandic quartet may not occupy quite the same league of brilliance as those two rabble-raisers, but what last night’s masterful performance lacked in epiphenal moments, it more than made up with sheer loveliness.

Doubling as Sigur Ros’ touring string section, Amiina occupy a similar musical space to that most magnificent act, the otherworldly beauty of Iceland reflected in both band’s melodies and arrangements. But whilst Sigur Ros specialise in stately, glacial beauty, all soft-loud dynamics and sweeping orchestral soundscapes, Amiina strike a more parochial note. Typified by an mellow, almost child-like charm, their organic timbres, heavy use of glockenspiel and rhythmic precision are more akin to Efterklang or the works of Joe Hisashi than the bombast of their parent band. Always ardent multi-instrumentalists, they’ve added even more to the mix this time round; harps, mandolins, bowed glockenspiels and accordions nestling with the requisite strings, wine glasses and most strikingly, the saw played to such great effect by the astonishingly lovely Hildur Ársælsdóttir. Sexfaldur, its strings replaced with lo-fi keyboard was wonderful, but Seoul with its gorgeous melodic bells and the aforementioned saw was the highpoint of the set, the addition of a live drummer accentuating the mood far better than an iMac could ever do.



A couple of songs went on too long, or were too aimless or understated for their own good, but they’ve become a lot better at reining things in over the last couple of years. Indeed, it’s notable how much they’ve improved as performers since I first saw them in March 2006; although they still come across like giggling teenagers performing at a school recital, they’re now more confident in their musicianship. And they’re as charming as ever, their wonderfully lilting Icelandic accents bringing a smile to everyone’s face and their utter bewilderment at someone randomly shouting “SIT DOWN YOU BASTARD!” reducing the audience into fits of giggles. Brilliant choice of venue too; the ornate, intimate environs of Bush Hall fitting their delightful pixie-music like a glove.



It’s almost a shame they’re so closely associated with Sigur Ros, as their lack of big-hitters like Glosoli or Olsen Olsen tend to cloud the fact that Amiina’s charm lies in their subtlety. They’re not into jaw-dropping epics or crafting anthems for the ages; indeed, they’re almost quaint in comparison to their better-known brethren. But on the strength of performances like this, it surely won’t be long before Amiina are recognised as a gem of an act in their own right.

(Photos: John Gleeson; SquashFish (Flickr))

LCD Soundsystem (Brixton Academy, 23/10/07)

James Murphy isn’t the type to faff about. The LCD Soundsystem live show isn’t an orgy of razzmatazz and special effects; indeed, apart from your standard coloured spotlights and the lightbulb strips adorning the back of the stage, there’s no real visual aspect at all. It’s not a show that centres inexorably around its frontman either; Murphy unostentatiously dances his way a round the stage and acts the conductor to his band, but otherwise cuts a surprisingly anonymous figure. LCD:SS is purely about the music, and on those terms it delivered perfectly.

A set geared heavily towards critically-acclaimed sophomore LP Sound of Silver, Murphy and his impressively tight musical unit provide 90 minutes of relentless, wonderfully vibrant indie-disco bursting from the seems with addictive basslines, Stax-esque funk-guitar, mesmerising drumming and endlessly repeated but eminently memorable lyrics. In line with their no-nonsense policy, they open with the monstrous, cowbell-intensive Us Vs. Them, getting the audience utterly on side from the get-go. By the time we got to a brilliant North American Scum, Brixton Academy was a sea of flailing bodies being moshed about the venue like oversized, sweat-drenched pinballs. All Our Friends was a jangly delight, and Yeah! lived up to its reputation as a live classic, veering from LCD’s standard pumped-up electronica to outright rock territory. If Someone Great was a conspicuous disappointment, oddly lacking spark, then closer New York I Love You more than made up for it, the new album’s sole ballad inspiring an unusual hybrid of lighter-waving and crowd-surfing amongst some of the more over-excitable fans (which admittedly, by that stage, was half the audience).



One could complain that the songs didn’t vary overmuch from their recorded incarnations, but with LCD’s oeuvre very geared towards a “get up and dance” mentality, they’re intrinsically arranged to work well in a live setting. What sometimes seems overlong and repetitive on record finds its natural home in a room full of 4000 dancing maniacs; as good as their albums are, LCD Soundsystem are truly a band meant to be experienced in the flesh. You won’t walk away gabbling about Murphy's peerless audience interaction, or the jaw-dropping pyrotechnics (mainly because you’ll be too knackered to move of your own volition) but you'll have had way too much fun to care.

Les Savy Fav (London Scala, 22/10/07)

Tim Harrington is, quite simply, a God amongst men. A huge bear of a man, bald of head but impressive of beard, a cross between an imperious Russian Tsar and a genial hobo, Les Savy Fav’s near-legendary frontman makes Gogol Bordello’s Eugene Hutz look like Menzies Campbell. In a show chock-full of memorable moments, including dozens of jaunts into the audience, the dry-humping of a stage-diver, constant on-stage costume changes (culminating in a ladies’ nightie for the encore) and a sit-down in the middle of the Scala whilst the crowd moshed around him, it was Tim’s climb up the speaker-stack onto the balcony, and subsequent dangling backwards off said balcony that stands out as the single most stupid/brilliant thing I’ve ever seen anyone do during a gig. This reckless abandon contrasts beautifully with his band’s unflappable professionalism- the music, inevitably, is almost a secondary concern to Harrington’s crazed antics but LSF’s punk-flavoured, incongruously erudite indie-rock would be more than enough to carry the show on its own. The Pixies-ish chugging basslines and melodic, angular guitar survived the disappointingly muffled sound mix; the vocals, alas, were somewhat swamped by the sheer volume of the rhythm section.



But no matter- this did fuck-all to quench the enthusiasm of the audience, which almost matched Tim’s own. From start to finish the Scala was a mass of seething bodies; it’s certainly the sweatiest, most intense show I’ve been to in ages and rounding it off with a full-scale stage invasion seemed perfectly fitting. My lack of prior knowledge about the band perhaps prevented me from appreciating the songs as much as I might have done but even so, Les Savy Fav stand as a textbook example of how to put on one hell of a live show.

(Photos: Thefracturedframe (Flickr))

THE OUTSIDE ROYALTY (London Dublin Castle, 13/10/07)

After months of every man and his dog recommending them to me, I finally got round to catching the much-tipped (and inexplicably unsigned) American six-piece The Outside Royalty. Sounding like the love-child of Arcade Fire and Pulp, they can’t claim to be in the same league as those two behemoths of musical splendour, but there’s a definite sense of occasion about their shows, a feeling that this is a band that’s going places. And for good reason too- armed with an impressive collection of synth-and-strings drenched indie pop, they’re a band that know how to craft a sterling tune. More striking still is their charisma; engaging without being cocky and instilling their performance with a real fervent energy, they keep the audience’s attention for the entirety of their short-but-sweet set. But their greatest asset is their musical proficiency- Adam Billing is a characterful vocalist, with more than a hint of Brandon Flowers about him, but it’s their eccentric drummer and luscious strings (impeccably mixed in this tiny Camden boozer) that bring the songs to life, most notably on their debut single ‘Palladium’.



Nonetheless, there’s still some room for improvement; their song structure is too straight-laced to truly take advantage of their arresting talent and the arrangements, superbly balanced as they are, show a similar lack of creativity. But if they manage to inject a little more excitement into their songwriting, I genuinely think The Outside Royalty could be unstoppable. Any band that can deliver a cover of Eleanor Rigby (AF-gone-punk stylee) that’s been spoken in the same breath as the original are obviously something special…

(Photos: Simonse15 (flickr), from their Islington Academy show)

BATTLES (London Koko, 11/10/07)

One of 2007’s most exciting and original bands, Battles have garnered a formidable (and well deserved) reputation for their stunning live shows. Huddled round the hulking figure of ubermensch drummer John Stanier, their idiosyncratic blend of jazz rhythms, tech-metal, electronica and straight-out rock are delivered with the energy of a small nuclear bomb. Crazy-haired Tyondai Williams provides vocals (and the occasional burst of beatboxing) whilst playing simultaneously taking on guitar and keys, Dave Konopka lays down the bass and plays havoc with the effects pedals, Ian Williams’ pips in with anarchic rubato synths but it’s Stanier’s relentless, unnaturally precise drumming that lies at the heart of their avant-garde chaos. Blessed with an nigh-on perfect sense of timing, the band shift tempo and time-signatures with effortless ease, delivering intricate rhythms via a complex interplay between all four band members. The sheer level of instrumental proficiency is quite astonishing to behold, especially when coupled to the extraordinary viscerality of their performance.

Unfortunately, it’s this faultless technical pizzazz that’s also the reason why this performance (the third time I’ve seen them) couldn’t quite reach the heady heights of their mind-blowing show at the Scala in May. They’re such a tight unit, with such meticulous attention to detail that there’s no room for spontaneity; things that left you open-mouthed with wonder first time round lack the same punch on repeated viewings. Although their intensity and skill are beyond question, it’s a shame there’s not more variety between their sets. Also, their deliberate avoidance of melody and occasional forays into the dark depths of self-indulgence makes some stretches unnecessarily hard-going.

Saying that, all criticism was rendered mute in the face of the mighty Atlas; its relentless glam drum-line, Animal Collective-esque vocodered chorus and madly infectious syncopated guitar driving incessantly into the audience’s consciousness. Propelled with enough energy to power half of Africa, the entire Koko found itself bouncing up and down to this most unlikely of anthems, its eardrum-bursting, ground-shuddering intensity lending to an utterly sublime nine minutes of live music. If the rest of the show had maintained that lofty standard, Battles would quite possibly be the best live band in the world. They didn’t, of course, but for a band that so easily could have been insufferably pretentious on stage, they put on a truly marvellous spectacle, and one that’s thoroughly recommended for all lovers of live music.

Oh, and lest I forget- almost as impressive were their opening act Parts and Labor. Combining the blindingly intense math-rock of 65daysofstatic with the melodic nous of Menomena and a touch of Ratatat-style guitar, what the Brooklyn 3-piece may have lacked in the variety stakes they made up with a performance that’d put half the bands I’ve paid to see to shame. A glorious racket if ever heard one, they’re a band that I’d love to see get the acclaim they deserve.

STARS (London Scala, 08/10/07)

With Feist’s soulful folk, K-OS’s inventive hip-hop and Metric’s frenzied disco-punk (not to mention hipster totem Broken Social Scene) on their formidable roster, Canada’s Arts and Crafts label has an enviable reputation for indie talent. Stars perhaps lack the creativity and consistency of their esteemed labelmates, but for sheer passion they’re up there with the best. Now on their fourth album, their warm, lush orchestration and earnestly emotional songwriting sometimes leans too close to outright cheesiness, but more often than not they succeed in crafting songs both beautiful and vital.



In many ways, their live show recalls the superb Hold Steady - you can’t help but think they’re getting a bit old for all that rock-star posturing, but they’re so charmingly enthusiastic it’s impossible not to get swept along. The vocals may have a wispy, delicate quality (a situation not helped by the Scala’s echoey sound) but their performance was anything but, with Amy Milian rocking out at every opportunity and Torquil Campbell bounding round the stage with child-like glee. Trumpet and flute were deployed with marvellous effect, and their killer rhythm section deserve much credit for driving the show along with such elan. The rollocking, proggy Set Yourself On Fire, the delectable power-pop of Ageless Beauty and a wonderful singalong One More Night couldn’t help but delight a reverential audience, but the highpoint was an outstanding rendition of Soft Revolution, performed with a brash, multi-layered sonic intensity that’d put BSS to shame. The set did noticably dip in the middle with a surfeit of slower tracks, but they soon regained a heady momentum that carried them through to the end.



Concluding with Calender Girl, with its simple, almost child-like refrain of the months of the year, they wound up their last show of the European tour with all the energy and passion they could muster- Torquil screaming his heart out on the edge of the stage, completely unamplified; Amy grinding away at her guitar, their drummer dispensing flowers and their setlists (scrawled on paper plates) to the ladies at the front, patting me on the back and thanking me for coming. Their genuine, unashamed love of performing, in an age where poseur cool is held in such high regard is oddly touching and to marry it to such musical proficiency resulted in a fantastic experience for all present. Their recorded work might split critical opinion, but there’s no doubting that as live performers, Stars truly sparkle.

(Photos by: me. I was pretty close to the stage...)

THE NEW PORNOGRAPHERS (London Koko, 04/10/07)

The New Pornographers are not, by any measure, an amazing live band. They won’t stun you with their remarkable musicianship or innovative live arrangements. They won’t leave you marvelling at their sharp, Wildean banter, nor sweep their audience away in a near-religious rapture. But, if you accept the fact that they won’t change your life, they’re still a dependably fun night out.

Taking the ‘simple-and-loud’ approach to their repertoire, their songs don’t differ in any appreciable way to their recorded versions except, perhaps, the volume, which is uniformly loud and cheerfully unsubtle. AC Newman, the band’s talented but static frontman initially sounds like he’s singing with a sock in his mouth, thanks to the Koko’s suspect acoustics but things quickly improve for what is a polished, if unadventurous reel through the hits. Their superior power-pop carried well in a setlist well-balanced between material from new album Challengers and classics like From Blown Speakers and A Testament To Youth In Verse, but what made the show better than the sum of its parts was the audience. With an admirable lack of hipster reserve, the crowd happily bopped and sang along to Newman’s famously unintelligible lyrics, and the fantastic Bleeding Hearts Show unexpectedly got the whole venue moving. Finishing on the brash and bouncy My Slow Descent Into Alcoholism ensured the show ended on a high and even though no single moment came close to genuine brilliance, it seemed everyone left with a smile on their face. Which is something you need from time to time.



Oh, and Newman’s niece/keyboardist is cute as a button. Probably should stop leching over members of Canadian indie bands, ahem...

THE HANDSOME FURS (London The Fly, 06/10/07)


They cancelled because of visa problems, so I went home and drowned my sorrows in cheesecake.

THE DECEMBERISTS (Royal Festival Hall, 02/10/07)


Sets heavy with B-sides and rarities are often a recipe for disaster, but Portland’s favourite sons The Decemberists carried off a performance peppered with the more obscure tracks from their back catalogue with commendable panache. It helps that their literate sea-shanties and Tim Burton-esque gothic ballads don’t lend themselves to crowd-pleasing singles in any case (although O Valencia! naturally made an appearance) but to begin a headline show like this with the 18-minute, EP-only epic “The Tain” nevertheless displayed a certain testicular fortitude. It was a ploy that worked- many of the best moments came from relative obscurities like After the Bombs and the Culling of the Fold, although it goes without saying that the Crane Wife Pt. 1 (with audible glockenspiel!) was the show’s lusciously beautiful highlight. Colin Meloy’s a genial, engaging frontman and a fine raconteur to boot, despite his geeky demeanour and his acute case of Wayne Coyne Syndrome (which renders him incapable of shutting up). His earnest, folsky croon is an acquired taste, but it fits his music like a glove and carried well in the stylish environs of the Royal Festival Hall. The rest of his compatriots are a fun, energetic and talented bunch, most notably Jenny Conlee, whose sumptuous wurlitzer and accordion stylings recalled Sunset Rubdown at their crazed carnival best.



But despite the show’s many qualities, I couldn’t help but think that the band tended to play it too safe, often to the point of staidness. The fully-seated venue and the fusty, impassive audience scuttled Meloy’s unashamed love of audience participation (except for superb set closer The Mariner’s Revenger, where he implored the audience to scream as if they were collectively being eaten by a giant shark) and though the acoustics were hard to fault, the band didn’t really add new musical elements to the mix. As a result, it was hard to fault as a rendition of their recorded work (and you can’t knock them for effort), but for an so act defined by their characteristic sense of lyrical drama, one would have hoped for something more. Great fun, but a missed opportunity nonetheless.

JOANNA NEWSOM (Royal Albert Hall, 28/09/07)


For the consummate gig-goer, there’s nothing as satisfying as going to a show you’ve been ambivalent about and being completely blown away. Some of the best shows I’ve ever been to have come entirely out of the blue - Feist, Martha Wainwright, Battles, Built To Spill - but Friday night’s performance by oddball harpist extraordinaire Joanna Newsom has to rank as the most delightful surprise of them all. Indeed, if it hadn’t been for the slightly underwhelming encore, it might very well have been my show of the year.

There are a couple of reasons I’d had doubts about the gig. Firstly was the venue. As venerable and impressive as the Royal Albert Hall undoubtedly is, Modest Mouse’s performance there was wrecked by muffled, atrociously mixed sound and I was concerned, given that this was a seated show, that the same issues would once again conspire to ruin my enjoyment. Secondly, was the curious Miss Newsom herself. Although evidently talented, eccentric and more than a little bit attractive, I tended to feel that I liked her more in theory than in practice. The obvious sticking point is that unique voice of hers, which, depending on your point of view is either delightfully idiosyncratic, or a unpalatably screechy abomination. I generally find that she tends to veer between the two; sometimes enchanting, sometimes unlistenable. And thirdly was the fact I hadn’t listened to the most recent album Ys very much, even though I knew it’d form the majority of the set.



Thankfully, my worries proved to be unfounded. The sound, even from my distant vantage point, was flawless. Her voice, shorn of its characteristic shrillness, filled the rafters with an almost otherworldly air. And the music proved to be so enrapturing that even without knowing the songs I found myself falling head-over-heels in love. Although the lush orchestrated arrangements of Ys (courtesy of Brian Wilson collaborator Van Dyke Parks) are replaced with a violin, mandolin and drums, this simpler approach is a masterstroke, enhancing but never overwhelming the centerpiece harp. It also gives the music a greater sense of honesty and subtlety, which only accentuates the beauty of the compositions; indeed, Emily and Bridges & Balloons moved me to the point of tears. And Joanna herself wasn’t the gratingly kooky hippie I imagined her to be; to the contrary, she’s down-to-earth, charming and effortlessly engaging (not to mention insanely cute), at one part asking her support band to grab her mobile phone from backstage so she could take some snaps of the audience. It’s incredibly rare that all the elements of a show fit together with such perfection, but it’s hard to deny this deny this was one of those nights.

But as is the unfortunate tendency of all the best gigs, the encore didn’t live up to the rest of the show. Her new song was lovely, but Only Skin struck me as overlong and too avant-garde to be a satisfying closer; This Side of The Blue would have grabbed the audience far more effectively. That said, it didn’t stop her getting the full-scale standing ovation she so richly deserved, nor did it do anything to dissuade me that Joanna Newsom is one of the most original and astonishing talents alive today. A five star show if there ever was one.

(Photos courtesy of Robocod and Schrollum, Flickr. Nice work!)