THE BEST LIVE ACTS OF TWO THOUSAND AND NINE



In 2009, I saw 482 sets from 389 different acts, mostly because I’m a failure as a human being. Here’s the Top 50:

50. LEONARD COHEN (Coachella Festival, Indio, California)
An overwrought schmaltz-fest for much of its duration, but there's simply no beating Cohen, still impeccably stylish in his mid-70's, crooning “Hallelujah” at sunset in the middle of the Californian desert.

49. DM STITH (London Hoxton Hall)
The ramshackle Victorian splendour of Hoxton Hall was the perfect fit for Dan Stith's eerie, Jeff Buckley-esque vocals and haunting piano melodies- it's just a shame more people weren't there to witness it. Plus, he had Marla Hansen in his band and I think I love her. <3

48. MODEST MOUSE (Ten Years of ATP, Minehead)
Ditching Marr was the best thing that could have happened. Their dire Royal Albert Hall gig nearly put me off Modest Mouse for life, but despite Isaac Brock's faltering vocals they had a purpose and tightness here that was solely lacking in '07. No “Float On” though :-(

47. TAKEN BY TREES (London Garage)
Taken by Twee. Former Concretes songstress Victoria Bergsman lent her cool, evocative vocals to gentle, ethnic-tinged melodies, with cute projections and a fantastic Animal Collective cover completing the thoroughly charming package.



46. BEACH HOUSE (London Fleapit)
Mediocre at the beautiful Union Chapel, but excellent at this obscure shoebox-sized sweatpit, Beach House appear to be more suited to intimate venues. The new “Teen Dream” material takes their ethereal dream-pop to new levels of swoonworthiness, with the divine “Walk In The Park” the standout.

45. MONO (London Scala)
It's post-rock Jim, and exactly as we know it. But whilst the Japanese four-piece may not the advance the genre in the slightest, they certainly know how to rock the ridiculously epic crescendos.

44. YNDI HALDA (London Union Chapel)
Having never heard the Canterbury post-rockers before, this daytime session at Union Chapel came as a very pleasant surprise. Think Hope of the States at their most cinematic, but with more cool bell-type things.


(Photo: Christoph! (Flickr))

43. GOD HELP THE GIRL (London 100 Club)
Literally the twee-ist thing that has ever happened. God Help The Girl are basically Belle and Sebastian with three female singers, and if that concept floats your boat (as it did mine) you'll be in pastel-tinged heaven.

42. DEVO (ATP Vs. The Fans Festival, Minehead)
Q. Are We But Men?! A. WE ARE DEVO! The fact that the flowerpot-hatted ones still look like they're enjoying themselves 35 years on is impressive enough, but their flair for entertainment and well-honed musicianship sets an example younger bands should take heed of.

41. FUCK BUTTONS (Ten Years of ATP Festival, Minehead)
To appropriate a quote I overheard elsewhere at the festival, “it was like a full body sonic massage, mate.” Euphoric stuff.

40. CRIPPLED BLACK PHOENIX (London Dingwalls)
Their orchestral show in Bristol over-egged the pudding, but their ill-attended Dingwalls gig combined post-rock, prog and a sardonic sense of humour to great effect. Bloody loud too.


(Photo: Adam Elmahdi)

39. AMANDA PALMER (Coachella Festival, Indio, California)
Crowdsurfing through a packed tent to the strains of “Ride of the Valkyries,” the Dresden Dolls' frontwoman proceeded to perch on a audience member's shoulders and play “Creep” on a ukulele. Say what you like about the woman, but she's certainly got style.

38. PORTUGAL. THE MAN (London Madame Jojo's)
Subtlety be damned! What we want is hysterical vocals, six minute guitar solos and the world's most enthusiastic bassist. Ridiculous, but in the best possible way.

37. THE FIERY FURNACES (London Cargo)
Not as obtuse as it could have been. True, it takes a while to work out which song the band is playing at any given time but the straightforward rock interpretations of their back catalogue works surprisingly well, and their sense of rhythm, offbeat as their time signatures may be, is impeccable.

36. PYRAMIDDD (London Flowerpot)
Pfft, they'll always be Starfucker in my eyes. Imagine if MGMT's live shows didn't involve a couple of drug-addled, vacant-eyed karaoke merchants squandering goodwill like piss on a garage wall, and were actually, you know, fun.


(Photo: Maximillian.Garth (Flickr))

35. TITUS ANDRONICUS (London Hoxton Bar & Kitchen)
It's a shame they refuse to play the festival circuit, because such messy, passionate, punky indie-rock deserves a far bigger audience. The end of “Fear And Loathing In Mahwah, NJ” sounds like Sigur Ros fighting the Pogues in a downtown bar, and for that reason alone you should check them out.

34. HANDSOME FURS (London Garage)
Dan Boeckner's cracked rock star yowling and Alexei Perry's manic intensity give the Handsome Furs their viscerality, but it's their obvious affection for each other that provides their emotional heart. Aww.

33. EFTERKLANG (London Barbican)
Their smaller shows may be more fun, but Parades performed in conjunction with the Britten Sinfonetta was as glacially beautiful as you'd expect. “Mirador” and “Cutting Ice To Snow” were particularly lovely, and the debut airing of “Modern Drift” an unexpected treat.



32. MUSIC GO MUSIC (London ICA)
The Seventies were done and dusted long before I was born, not that you'd be able to tell from this retro-tastic performance. A star turn from Meredith Metcalf, whose down to earth charm contrasted nicely with her powerhouse vocals, ensured Music Go Music’s shamelessly camp ABBA revivalism was more than just a guilty pleasure.

31. ANDREW BIRD (London Shepherd's Bush Empire)
Musical demi-god Andrew Bird strums, whistles, fiddles and loops his way through the most consistent set I've seen him do. His reinvention of old material (including a brilliant new arrangement for “Dark Matter”) keeps things fresh, and the new “Noble Beast” songs displayed the same marvellous ear for melody we’ve come to know and love.

30. BISHOP ALLEN (London Barden's Boudoir)
Simple formula, marvellous results. Bishop Allen's tweetastic indie-pop shouldn't be as good as it is, but there's something effortlessly charming about what they do and the generous smattering of “Broken String” material really made my day.



29. GRIZZLY BEAR (ATP Vs. The Fans Festival, Minehead)
Their fancy-schmancy show with the LSO may have got all the hype, but to be honest I thought their regular set up was more impressive. I maintain their harmonies tend to be stronger than their actual songwriting, but when they hit the motherlode with “Knife” and “Two Weeks” there's no denying they're something special.

28. I’M FROM BARCELONA (London Favela Chic)
If you've seen I'm From Barcelona once, you've seen them a hundred times. But if you're a sucker for balloons and confetti and chirpy major-key melodies and crowdsurfing frontmen and pretending to be a treehouse (which I clearly am), then their lack of variety is a moot point.

27. MONOTONIX (London Scala)
Here's a tip: when holding up drum kits for mentalist Israeli punks, ensure your finger doesn't get caught in between the metalwork because it REALLY REALLY HURTS. Then again, I should consider myself lucky for getting away so lightly, for Monotonix are not so much a band as a force of fucking nature.


(Photo: John Gleeson)

26. THE ANTLERS (London 229)
The heartbreakingly bleak narrative of “Hospice” is movingly recreated by the remarkably talented Brooklyn three-piece, whose layers of reverb and muscular drumming serve only to accentuate the emotion in Peter Silberman's breathtaking lyrics. The 229 show was the strongest of the five times I saw them, but I'd be remiss if I didn't mention their unbelievable “Epilogue” at Bush Hall.

25. tUnE-YaRdS (London Scala)
Merrill Garbus combines her soulful, dexterous vocals with tribal drumming and a loop pedal to produce something quite unlike anything I've ever heard before. Unique, offbeat and rather brilliant.

24. DEERHOOF (London Scala)
Tiny Japanese women yelping about pandas, basslines that shift between angular mathrock and all-out funk, and Greg Saunier flailing about like an enraged octopus...man, I love Deerhoof. And so should you.


(Photo: John Gleeson)

23. BELL ORCHESTRE (London Garage)
The climax of Icicles/Bicycles was one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard. Rest of the show wasn't bad either, although seeing Richard Reed Parry and Sarah Neufeld in action made me miss Arcade Fire so very much.

22. M83 (Pitchfork Festival, Chicago)
Dreamy shoegaze peddlers M83 may not seem like a natural fit for festivals, but with Anthony Gonzales cranking up the bass and Morgan Kibby looking and acting increasingly like Karen O by the day they proved to be the highlight of the whole Pitchfork weekend. There's something about “Kim and Jessie” that makes me feel like I'm in a John Hughes film...

21. GANG OF FOUR (ATP: Curated By The Breeders Festival, Minehead)
Gang of Four's taut, groove-heavy post punk may have been delivered with a brutal, angular efficiency that put their younger rivals to shame, but my enduring memory is watching frontman Jon King smash a microwave to smithereens with a baseball bat. I'm simple like that.

20. ZUN ZUN EGUI (London Luminaire)
The Bristolian band have been variously described as “tropical grunge” and “bhangra funk” which suggests whatever they are, they’re not your garden-variety indie band. One would have mistaken the lead singer for your average punter until he started ululating wildly in the middle of the audience, as the drum and bass slowly built to a luminescent climax half Fela Kuti, half Deerhoof. With the British indie scene clogged to the gills with over-earnest folk-rock gubbins, it’s heartening to see a UK band with the balls to do something different.



19. SOAP & SKIN (London Purcell Rooms)
From the harrowing scream that punctuates “Spiracle,” to the haunting a capella rendition of a Holocaust survivors’ anthem, there’s a darkness to the work of 19-year-old Anja Plaschg that sets her well apart from her peers. Her vocals veer between shimmering delicacy and steely Teutonic harshness, and there’s an unhinged quality to her intensity that’d be unsettling if not for her strong sense of the theatrical. A remarkable performance from an outstanding new talent.

18. DIRTY PROJECTORS (London Scala)
Occasionally infuriating, mostly brilliant. The extra female vocalists boosted their celestial harmonising to new and breathtaking levels, and David Longstreth’s avant-garde guitar work continues to astonish. Who’d have thought they’d have been able to do R&B so well though?

17. AMIINA (London St. Leonard's Church)
A bewitchingly ethereal set from the all-female Icelandic instrumentalists, soundtracking the wonderful 1920's silhouette animations of Lotte Reiniger in a candlelit church in Shoreditch. A perfect festive treat, and a delightful epilogue to a sublime year of gigs.


(Photo: Weilin Wang (Flickr))

16. MÚM (Ten Years of ATP Festival, Minehead)
They asked us to sing along, and sing along we did. An outstanding performance from the cheery Icelanders, which struck the perfect balance between their experimental, glitchier early stuff and the playfully effervescent chamber pop of new. “Green Grass of Tunnel” complete with Sigur Ros style wall-of-noise ending was perhaps my single favourite musical moment of any of the ATP’s.

15. BURAKA SOM SISTEMA (Coachella Festival, Indio, California)
If you can get a whole tent pogo-ing at half 4 in the afternoon, you must be doing something right. Twenty five minutes of sweaty, revelatory hip-hop/electronica/rave insanity from the half-Portuguese, half-Angolan collective.

14. AFRIRAMPO (Ten Years of ATP Festival, Minehead)
Two Japanese ladies dressed like the dancing girls from Gogol Bordello make the audience scream weird, incoherent noises whilst contorting their body into letters of the alphabet, conduct a sing-along of “Happy Birthday” to ATP, talk utter nonsense in broken English, and perform some of the wildest, tightest off-kilter rock 'n roll ever seen in Minehead. Like Lightning Bolt-meets-Deerhoof-meets-an otaku wet dream, they may look and act shambolic, but there's real skill and complexity at the heart of Oni and Pikachu's rhythmic cacophonising. Baffling, bizarre and utterly brilliant.


(Photo: John Gleeson)

13. THE DECEMBERISTS (London Coronet)
Colin Meloy and co. can be a bit hit-and-miss, but this epic performance saw the Portland band at the height of their powers. Their uninterrupted play-through of “rock-opera” The Hazards of Love was perfectly delivered, and a more playful second half concluded with a wonderful “Mariners Revenge,” where the audience was asked to pretend they were being eaten by a whale. I felt my flailing and girlish screaming was particularly authentic.

12. BATTLES (Ten Years of ATP Festival, Minehead)
FUCKING BATTLES! BOOM BOOM BOOM! Delivering a set of mostly new material, it's good to see that the next album won't simply be a rehash of Mirrored. More accessible and, well, danceable than their old stuff, there's a vaudeville lightheartedness to several of the tracks that's sure to split opinion. But despite the increased prominence of Tyondai Braxton's vocals, there's no denying the star of the show's still John Stanier, assaulting his drum kit with a measured, mechanical precision that's terrifying/awesome to behold. And yeah, Atlas is still brilliant

11. SPIRITUALIZED (London Royal Festival Hall)
Performing their seminal “Ladies And Gentleman, We Are Floating In Space” LP in its entirety, this was naturally just as inconsistent and meandering as the album. But hearing the title track and Come Together with 20 musicians and a 12-piece gospel choir was an experience one won't forget in a hurry, and the strobes during “Electricity” were so transcendentally intense I started seeing colours I'm sure don't actually exist.


(Photo: John Gleeson)

10. THE NATIONAL (London Royal Festival Hall)
The National may not be the most innovative live band around but they’re certainly one of the most reliable- the fact I’ve seen them nine times now and I’m still not bored suggests they’re doing something right. Exceptional song-writing, fantastic musicians, great stuff.


(Photo: Weilin Wang (Flickr))

9. THE FLAMING LIPS (London Troxy)
It's difficult to place the Flaming Lips in a list like this. For whilst half the show consists of Wayne Coyne massaging his over-large ego and spouting endless streams of cod-philosophical bollocks, the other half is so stupidly joyous that I can't help but be reduced to a state of child-like glee. An uncharacteristically downbeat setlist seemed at odds with all the multi-coloured confetti and giant balloons, but I was personally overjoyed to hear “Pompeii und Gotterdammerung,” and “Do You Realize?!” continues to be one of the best set closers of all time.


(Photo: Valido (Flickr))

8. MY BLOODY VALENTINE (Coachella Festival, Indio, California)
You know, I actually heard “You Made Me Realise's” 20-minute wall of white noise shift into the coda this time round- at the Roundhouse, my ears were just too wounded to accept sound any more. This is thanks to the miracle-makers at Coachella, who achieved a crystal-clear sound mix without sacrificing the punishing decibel-levels we've come to expect (and while this may break the tenets of the Orthodox Church of Shoegaze, I thought being able to hear the vocals was kinda nice).



7. ST. VINCENT (London ICA)
Annie Clark solo can be frustrating and pretentious; Annie Clark with a couple of guitarists; a bit bland. Annie Clark with a proper band with saxophones and bass and all – fucking sublime.


(Photo: Leah Pritchard)

6. YEAH YEAH YEAHS (Ten Years of ATP Festival, Minehead)
When Karen O's on form, few can match her for charisma, vitality and downright sexiness, and this performance of “Fever To Tell” was elevated a hundredfold by her mesmerising stage presence. It was also one of the more energetic sets of the year, with me ending up on the other side to the Pavillion to where I started, having lost my MP3 player in the process.


(Photo: tnarik (Flickr))

5. SUNSET RUBDOWN (London Garage)
They played Mending Of The Gown, You Go On Ahead and The Men Are Called Horseman There in succession. The rest of the set could have been Scouting For Girls covers for all I cared, and it still would have made my top 5.


(Photo: John Gleeson)

4. DAVID BYRNE (London Royal Festival Hall)
If the sight of David Byrne in a white tutu wasn't enough to catapult this into the higher echelons of my end-of-year list, the fact he got the whole (all-seated) RFH on their feet and dancing before the half-way mark stands testament to his brilliance. Inventive choreography, excellent arrangements and a liberal sprinkling of Talking Heads material- what more could you want?



3. PONYTAIL (Primavera Festival, Barcelona)
A small creature of indeterminate gender yelps wildly, bounding energetically around the Pitchfork stage at 1 in the morning. Amazingly intricate guitar lines fizzle with creativity and vitality, held together by exceptionally tight drumming. Relatively few people seem prepared to miss MBV for this little known Baltimore band, but for my money Kevin Shields was thoroughly outclassed here. Ponytail's latest album is called “Ice Cream Spiritual,” and it suits them perfectly- lighthearted but epiphanal, brilliant fun but with substance under all the high-pitched squealing. Though the crowd was modest, there was a real sense of atmosphere- they were clearly putting on the performance of their lives, and the audience were responding in kind. Best festival set of the year, bar none.



2. WILDBIRDS AND PEACEDRUMS (London Union Chapel)
The Swedish husband-and-wife duo have consistently impressed since I first saw them at the Luminaire last year, but I reckon this set was as close to a religious experience as I'll ever get in a church. Mariam's husky, soulful vocals and Andreas' peerless jazz drumming are remarkable by any standards, but it's their riveting, breathtaking passion that elevates them to the very top tier of live acts. “My Heart” with its steel drum coda was sublime but Today/Tomorrow, accentuated by the wonderful acoustics of Union Chapel was just something else entirely- the best individual gig moment of the year, and one of the most astounding things I've ever heard.


(Photo: Kata Rokkar (Flickr))

1. THE DAN DEACON ENSEMBLE (San Francisco Great American Music Hall)
The ULU show may have been better overall, but seeing one of my favourite acts for the first time- and in San Francisco no less- made this, without a doubt, the most memorable gig of 2009. Dan Deacon doesn’t do things by half-measures when it comes to audience participation- even with a broken arm, he directed a cavalcade of madness which resulted in a frenzied dance-off, the entire crowd running circuits round the GAMH and a shifting archway of people that snaked its way through the entire venue, including backstage. In between the antics, the atmosphere was no less anarchic with the whole venue going bat-shit mental for old favourites like “The Crystal Cat” and “Paddling Ghost,” and of course there was the 14-piece ensemble that impeccably recreated “Bromst” in all its glory (the percussion in particular was phenomenal). If the quality of a show can be measured by the number of people leaving with grins on their face, then this would be a contender for the greatest gig ever. In reality, it wasn’t quite on the same level as Bjork, Arcade Fire and Sigur Ros, but in terms of euphoria induced it came respectably close.

(Unless otherwise stated, photos by Anika Mottershaw)

AMIINA (London St. Leonard's Church, 17/12/09)



All-female Icelandic instrumentalists Amiina (playing as a trio tonight) soundtrack the work of visionary animator Lotte Reiniger in an entirely candlelit church in Shoreditch. Amazing in principle, and happily, just as amazing in practice. Reiniger's extraordinary 1920's silhouette animations are a marvel to behold- wonderfully intricate, full of imagination, charm and good humour and the haunting, evocative compositions, employing strings, bells and musical saw lent them a superbly ethereal edge. One of the most utterly enchanting 30 minutes of 2009, "Animagica" was as exquisite a festive treat as anyone could possibly conceive.

Also worthy of note were kazoomophone-wielding supports Plaster of Paris; think a more burlesque Liz Green and you're almost there. Amazing voice, solid songwriting- definitely an act I'd like to see more from next year.

(Photo: Anika Mottershaw)

TAKEN BY TREES (London Garage, 14/12/09)



Taken by twee. Victoria Bergsman's post-Concretes project eschews the sugar-coated indie-pop of old, and draws upon Pakistani musical influences to add ethnic flavour to her serene, detached vocal style. Whilst the traditional musicians that gave East of Eden its distinct character aren't in attendance tonight, the all-Swedish band recreate the intricate, tribal percussion and bouncy melodising superbly, adding their own twists to tracks like “Anna.” Their short but delightful set finds room for two covers- crowd-pleaser “Sweet Child O' Mine” and “My Boys,” an inspired take on Animal Collective's “My Girls”- and the excellent video projections further typified the care and attention the band have clearly bestowed on their live shows.

(Photo: Anika Mottershaw)

TEN YEARS OF ALL TOMORROW'S PARTIES (Butlins Minehead, Somerset, 11/12/09-13/12/09)



One could point out the irony of All Tomorrow's Parties celebrating a decade of pushing the boundaries by bringing back a bunch of bands that have already played before, but let's give the organisers their dues- this was one hell of a line-up. The discerning hipster's festival has had some strong rosters over the last ten years, but this arguably was the best of a lot- the crème de la crème of alternative music. Bardo Pond were a fine opener, perfectly epitomising the eclectic, challenging, revelatory ethos of ATP- at times droney, at others shoegazey, they were at their strongest when drawing upon Isobel Sollenburger's ethereal vocals with the final track particularly striking in its dreamy beauty. Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks' affable if unadventurous set passed the time nicely enough though their tendency towards overlong jams frustrated a little; J. Mascis and the Fog were considerably tighter, and had the advantage of Dinosaur Jr. songs to pad out their set. But the first true standout came from an unexpected direction...



“YOU SONS OF BITCHES, WE JUST GOT HERE MOTHERFUCKERS!” Such is Karen O's defiant introduction upon arriving on stage 40 minutes late to a chorus of boos from the audience. Many bands would be thrown by such a cold reception, but not the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Pulling out a bottle of champagne and spraying it heedlessly over the front row (probably causing several grands worth of camera damage in the process), she then launched into one of the most energetic, flamboyant and downright sexy performances this reviewer has ever seen. Playing “Fever To Tell” in its entirety was an enticing if risky strategy, given not all its songs fit the festival mould, but despite a slightly ropey sound mix it worked marvellously well, despite the occasional dip in energy levels. The audience responded to her vampish, irrepressible energy in kind, resulting in mass pogoing, crowd-surfing and caterwauling of various quality (especially during “Maps”), and the band's curfew-breaking encore including a superb “Heads Will Roll,” was simply the icing on this most delectable of cakes.


(Photo: Weilin Wang (Flickr))

If the Yeah Yeah Yeahs hadn't left me on enough of a high, the always entertaining Mum decided to raise their own game several notches, resulting in the best set I've ever seen them do. Striking the perfect balance between their more experimental, glitchy earlier stuff and the playfully effervescent chamber pop of new, they skilfully weave pristine harmonising with charming, rich instrumentation (including the most well-judged use of melodica ever committed to stage.) Tracks like Marmalade Fires and Sing Along sounded incredible and the rare airing of Green Grass of Tunnel complete with Sigur Ros style wall-of-noise ending was perhaps my single favourite musical moment of the festival. And if Tortoise were a little too cerebral to take the 1am Friday night slot by storm, that's no reflection on the quality of their performance. Their sound is hard to pin down exactly, a fusion of post-rock (a genre they were heavily influential in), math-rock and jazz elements, but it's delivered with rare flair and technical proficiency. A couple of songs were too noodly for their own good, but the likes of “Gigantes” with its rattling dual-percussion and electronica influences compensated for the rare moments of self-indulgence.


(Photo: Tismey (Flickr))

Papa M (AKA Slint's David Pajo) provided a mellow start to Day Two, with a stately set of unostentatious post-rock that lay easy on the audience's hangover-addled brains. However, the performance that followed could never be described as mellow. Or stately. Or unostentatious. What it could be described as is “fucking mental.” A potted summary of Afrirampo's set would run thusly: two Japanese ladies dressed like the dancing girls from Gogol Bordello make the audience scream weird, incoherent noises whilst contorting their body into letters of the alphabet; conduct a sing-along of “Happy Birthday” to ATP, talk utter nonsense in broken English, and perform some of the wildest, tightest off-kilter rock 'n roll ever seen in Minehead. Like Lightning Bolt-meets-Deerhoof-meets-an otaku wet dream, they may look and act shambolic, but there's real skill and complexity at the heart of Oni and Pikachu's rhythmic cacophonising- even Jim White, standing by the sound-desk looked suitably impressed. The standout moment of a set full of them was Pikachu's appropriation of Oni's guitar as part of her drum kit whilst Oni continued to play atop a bass drum- not only did it look cool, it sure as hell sounded cool too. Baffling, bizarre and utterly brilliant.



Energetic Ozzie instrumentalists Dirty Three always put on a good show, with Warren Ellis high-kicking his way through impassioned violin solos when he's not spouting hilarious improvised banter and Jim White effortlessly showing the rest of the world how drumming should be done. But having seen them deliver a similar set at the Southbank Centre earlier in the week, I left a few songs in to check out Shellac, who were as reliably entertaining as ever. For those who've never seen them live, they've a tendency to intersperse their sets with Q&A sessions, which never fail to deliver the lolz. This weekend's best question: “Do you ever masturbate over how brilliant you are?” Albini's answer- “No, I masturbate over the brassieres in the Sears Roebuck catalogue.”


(Photo: Tortilladc (Flickr))

Then for my most anticipated set of the weekend- the mighty Battles. Showcasing mostly new material, there's little doubting that the next record is going to split opinion in a big way- those expecting Mirrored Part II are going to be disappointed. Much more reliant on Tyondai Braxton's distorted vocals than before, there's a strong Animal Collective-ish vibe to some of the tracks; what's even more pronounced is a new-found sense of vaudeville lighthearted-ness. But if the jauntiness of the likes of Ice Cream confound initial expectations, the bedazzlement they evoke with their technical brilliance remains undiminished. The irregular math-rock time signatures, the sense of experimentalism and John Stanier's ground-sundering percussion are still there, but they've been packaged in a (comparatively) more immediate form, and on the strength of the material here that's no bad thing. That said, it's pleasing they still found room for slightly reworked versions of Tonto and Atlas, both rapturously received by the Pavillion crowd- whilst it's good to keep moving forward, it's unwise to entirely eschew one's past.



After catching the tail end of the Melvins' blistering, tinnitus-inducing set- involving no less than FOUR drummers- it was time for an band who have historically disappointed me terribly. Modest Mouse are a very hit-and-miss live act, and personal experience has tended towards the latter but to their credit they were on sparkling form here, despite Somerset's Arctic conditions causing Isaac Brock to lose his voice. To be fair, he was never the most tuneful or accomplished of vocalists in the first place, and his vocals were actually lent a rough-hewn edge that worked rather well in the circumstances. Ditching Johnny Marr was the best thing they've ever done- they appear to be a functioning, multi-faceted entity again rather than a mere extension of the former Smiths' guitarists' ego- and the vastly expanded range of instruments gave a fuller and more varied sound than before. A balanced and commendably unobvious setlist (no Float On!) was another nice touch in a set that consistently impressed and entertained, even if it never threatened to truly astonish. Then to Apse, who passed the time nicely enough- the falsetto vocals are remarkable, their songs sometimes less so. Dancier and less experimental than on record, I was also suitably impressed at the singer's five hundred layers of clothing in a venue where I was sweating in only a T-shirt.


(Photo: Soulsick (Flickr))

Saturday's final act (for those too wussy to stay up for Sunn O)))) were The For Carnation, whose sombre, downtempo material would have been better placed in an earlier slot. But despite the unhurried, drone-like grooves producing a soporific quality that ultimately defeated the less hardy of us, there was no denying the beauty of it all, especially with Brian McMahan's deep, characterful half-spoken, half-sung vocal delivery.

Three ATP's have taught me that there's no better wake-up call than Shellac, so I was glad to begin my Sunday with the fourth performance of “The End Of Radio” that's graced the Centre Stage this year. For the first few minutes Todd Trainer appeared to be AWOL, which seemed slightly odd until the sudden report of a snare drum alerted me to the gaunt but oh-so-cool drummer standing a few feet away from me at the back of the room. I was also confused to see least two infant children present, although I have no doubt those babies are going to grow up to be AWESOME.


(Photo: Smokingdrum (Flickr))

If I'm ever reincarnated as a diminutive Japanese woman, I'd quite like to be Satomi Matsuzuki. Small in stature, massive in charm and energy, the star-jumping, nonsense-yelping Deerhoof guitarist is one of the most endearing performers of the festival, although her flailing, remarkably talented drummer husband Greg Saunier gives her a run for her money. Endlessly inventive, technically dazzling and always slightly tongue in cheek, they're one of the best live bands around, and they don't disappoint here, rounding off their cover-heavy set with the Velvet Underground song that lent the festival its name.



It's a shame that Explosions In The Sky were selected to perform the Pavillion. Despite the “veil of stars” that turned the soulless food-court into something much more magical, the sound simply wasn't loud nor sharp enough to do their soaring crescendos justice. That's not to fault the band themselves, who played little, post-rocky hearts out but they never sounded as all-encompassing as one would have hoped. Fuck Buttons on the other hand rocked Reds to its foundations with their unscheduled early-evening performance, the fuzzy, eardrum-obliterating peaks of Surf Solar and Olympians as euphoric as anything as any grandoise post-rock climax you'd care to name. They might not be the most interesting act to watch visually, but any band that can spark a rave atmosphere at 8pm in the evening is totally alright by me. To appropriate a quote overheard earlier in the day, “it was like a full-on sonic massage, mate.”


(Photo: Belkus (Flickr))

Having once endured a Stephen O' Malley set that involved three notes being played over a period of half an hour, my expectations were set low for SUNN O))) . But my interest was piqued when I discerned through the fug of a hundred overdriven smoke machines that the band appeared to be fronted by Sauron, who seemed to have a penchant for shooting lasers out of his fingers. Their doomy drones were as heavy as they come, with the subterranean bass reverberating through every fibre of my body, and although the sinister, cultish chanting towards the end was 100% pantomime, it was undeniably effective. Then for another round of Apse, before I failed as a man and returned to my B&B without seeing Lightning Bolt tear apart Reds with Afrirampo. I will never, ever forgive myself for this.

This year, I've been lucky enough to attend Coachella, Primavera, Pitchfork and both the May ATP's and these were all excellent in their own ways, but Ten Years of ATP was by some distance the best of the lot. Indeed, for sheer consistency- I didn't see a band I disliked all weekend- I'd actually say it's the best festival I've ever had the pleasure of attending. So let's raise a well-deserved toast to All Tomorrow's Parties- thank you for the music, and to another Ten Years! (Beyond that, I'll probably be too old and decrepit to care.)

(All photos: Leah Pritchard unless otherwise specified. Check out more of her brilliant photography here)

BEACH HOUSE (London Fleapit, 09/12/09)



Third time lucky, eh? I've had a slightly tempestuous relationship with Beach House, having loved their albums but not feeling their live shows at all but tonight things were finally set a-right. The Fleapit may be about the size of a cereal box and hotter than an Luciferian jockstrap forged from molten lava, but it provided the perfect environment for the dreamy synths and Victoria Legrand's vocals to envelope the audience like a giant blanket of joy. "Teen Dream" may very well be their strongest release yet, and despite "Gila" and a few other oldies making a welcome airing, the highlight was undoubtedly the wondrous "Walk In The Park," which made me swoon in a very Anika-ish way.

(Photo: Anika Mottershaw)

DIRTY THREE (London Queen Elizabeth Hall, 07/12/09)



Finally got to see Warren Ellis, Jim White and Mike Turner in action, and it certainly didn't disappoint. Their intricate, powerful, cinematic instrumentals are given life by Ellis' high-kicking energy on the violin and White's effortless mastery of the drums, but the real draw is the improvised banter, with the long-bearded one recounting hilarious stories about being trapped in an Butlins chalet, the ignominy of being held responsible for emo, and the general advisibility of drugs.

(Photo: John Gleeson)

FEVER RAY (London Forum, 05/12/09)



Review: HERE

(Photo: Anika Mottershaw)

YO LA TENGO (London Rough Trade East, 03/12/09)



I don’t normally review in-stores, but this special free show by indie stalwarts Yo La Tengo deserves a brief mention. Taking place 25 years and a day after their first ever gig, they took requests (including a jaunty Mr Tough), played a Monkees cover aired at that debut performance and although I’m still not sold on their more paired-back material, I found myself won over by their amicability and seasoned charm.

(Photo: Love_Disaster (Flickr))

OH NO ONO (London 229, 02/12/09)



Good band, shit hair. The Danish five-piece struggled against ridiculous bass levels, but nonetheless moments of excellence shone through. The discordant falsettos and more overwrought elements of their OTT synth-pop grate at times, but Internet Warrior and The Wave Ballet displays a promise that they’ll hopefully live up to in the future.

(Photo: TC Electronic (Flickr))

DEER TICK (London Borderline, 01/12/09)



Their infectious country-rock may appal those who find derivativeness anathema to their being, but Deer Tick’s rip-roaring show certainly entertained despite a lack of new ideas. Lively and slightly lewd, they made several jaunts into the audience and closed with an a capella number where they marched through the Borderline, invading the toilet and merch tables before winding their way back to the stage. Even better though were supports Megafaun, a chirpy and likeable trio who are basically Akron/Family without the more infuriating flights of self-indulgence.

(Photo: bixentro (Flickr))

LIGHTNING DUST (London Bush Hall, 30/11/09)



Review: HERE

(Photo: Anika Mottershaw)

TOUTPARTOUT 15TH ANNIVERSARY PARTY (London Scala, 26/11/09)



Review: HERE

(Photo: Anika Mottershaw)

THE ANTLERS (London Bush Hall, 25/11/09)



The fifth time I’ve seen Peter Silberman’s wonderful band in as many months, and I can’t see myself getting bored of them any time soon. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if in years to come their semaphore effort “Hospice” is in held in the same awed regard as Neutral Milk Hotel’s “In The Aeroplane Over The Sea.” Both tackle poignant subject matter in a stunningly poetic and moving way, without ever seeming overwrought or wallowing in misery for the sake of it, but here the focus is even tighter- the story of a man’s fraught relationship with his dying lover. Not the cheeriest of subject material, but the best works of art tend to reflect the darker side of life and The Antlers succeed masterfully without succumbing to shameless melodrama. The narrative being so central to the music, it’s natural that the band play the album straight through with little banter to disrupt the flow; though this may seem alienating at times it’s a necessary sacrifice to ensure the maximal emotional impact.

What *was* slightly disappointing was the muddy sound that robbed some of the power of Silberman’s vocals; I also felt Sylvia was slightly shorn of its emotional resonance due to an over-rapid tempo. Nonetheless, it was an achingly poignant hour of dense guitars, slow building crescendos and beautiful passion, most perfectly encapsulated in the final song, the devastating “Epilogue.” From its acapella intro to its intense post-rock coda, it’s an absolute marvel of a closer; one of the most affecting musical moments of the year, and one that I can imagine will be only more sublime when they perform it at the peerless Union Chapel next March.

(Photo: John Gleeson)

PYRAMIDDD a.k.a STARFUCKER (London Flowerpot, 24/11/09)



Review: HERE

(Photo: (Flickr))

GOD HELP THE GIRL (London 100 Club, 21/11/09)



Review: HERE

(Photo: Christoph!(Flickr))