Category: Live Reviews

Tropics
The Old Blue Last
Sunday 18th May

Although you may be hard pushed to call them a ‘super group’ in the seventies rock concept style, Tropics feature many an ex-member of past UK post-hardcore faithfuls among their ranks.

Featuring Jodie Cox from Bullet Union on guitar, Dan Reeves from An Emergency on guitar, Matt Flag from Navajo Code on bass and Robin Silas Christian from Bullet Union on drums, with all this past experience, Tropics certainly know their chops. And pillaging the Dischord Records back catalogue for their main inspiration, they take the Fugazi blueprint and carve out their own style into it with passion and an eye-bulgingintensity and conviction. With the whole band sharing vocal duties, each song explodes into life propelled by Robin’s distinctive drumming style as the band throw (shudder) ‘angular’ shapes around his contorted grooves. Well worth checking out. Go see.

“If you close your eyes and concentrate,” says Pissed Jeans singer Matt Korvette, standing on the lip of the postage-stamp size stage as the crowd follow his lead and close their eyes. “You can smell the men’s toilets from here.”

He’s right, they stink. You can smell the rancid piss flooding into the venue as Pennsylvanian sick fucks Pissed Jeans begin to unleash slabs of disgusting noise from their amps. It’s almost as if their noise has the power to heighten our senses of smell and just when we’re at our weakest, they unleash the stink smeared across their piss crusted jeans and floor us all.

And then it fucking kicks off. Pissed Jeans are hardcore but they’re not fast or generic. They produce a lurching, doom-drenched monstrous noise that recalls Jesus Lizard at their most brutal. And it’s not just the noise they make, frontman Matt is a dead ringer for David Yow, shirt off, writhing around the stage, always looking for the next person to fuck up or bizarre item to improvise with. Then there’s drummer Sean McGuiness, pounding the kit like a back room John Bonham, screaming for marijuana between songs, breaking most of his kit as he smashes the shit out of it (and Tropics have to keep lending him parts of theirs with pure fear in their eyes). He plays so hard he cuts his finger to shreds, spewing blood everywhere. Then there’s bassist Dave Rosenstraus. He’s wearing a Void T-shirt. Nuff said. And on guitar we have Bradley Fry, pulling faces that look like a man in the throws of an uncontrollable mental fit as he spews out shards of broken glass riffs and grunge.

Think Killdozer. Think Scratch Acid. Think Melvins. Think Jesus Lizard. Now go and piss your fucking pants.

James Sherry

Electric Ballroom
06.05.08

Death Cab For Cutie are one of those bands that you know will always be with you. You liked them from a while back and they just continue to better themselves with each and every album. And they’re creative so always making music (even if it’s other collaborations or solo projects) and hardworking so often on tour. One of life’s constants. Well, as constant as a band can be.

So their ‘intimate’ show at the Electric Ballroom was bound to be a success. These guys are just pros. There’s no need for chatter or banter with the audience, the songs speak for themselves and Death Cab just get on with it. The understated epic nature of new single I Will Possess Your Heart followed the sweet simplicity of I Will Follow You Into The Dark mid-set to provide the core of the evening. A smattering of oldies rewarded those folks who’ve been with the band the longest or have made the effort to get to know their entire catalogue with the heart-melting 405 being whipped out of the bag for the band’s substantial encore. It’s gems like this that make you remember why you fell in love with this band in the first place.

A few of the newer songs didn’t seem to really add much to proceedings but that’s always the way when bands first play new material. And the generally seamless flow of the set made up for any slight blips. Narrow Stairs may not have the instantaneous appeal that Plans had but its deftly crafted in the way that all Death Cab songs are and will no doubt become a treasured collection of songs in many an indie fan’s collection. It’s the fact that this band can draw on such an extensive catalogue that will always make their live performances special. A mixture of old and new is where it’s at and these Seattlites know it. Couple this with their flawless musicianship and ability to create the most beautiful of songs and you’re bound to have a near perfect performance every time.

Sarah Maynard

Bang Gang DJs
Bumblebeez

Cargo, London
15.05.08

The Vice-led Stag & Dagger night featured a huge number of acts spread across 15 venues in East London, but as soon as I heard that Bumblebeez and A-Trak were playing Cargo, I knew that the other venues wouldn’t be graced with my presence.

Now, I think the Bumblebeez album is good, but haven’t listened to it as much as I should have for one reason or another, but after this set, I’m going to be spinning it like some kind of circus entertainer with his plates. The huge bass reverberated around Cargo as they bounded on stage to Clubb Clubb and the noise didn’t weaken throughout their set, the highlights of which were Dr Love, Rio and Radio Fabulous.

After their ever-dancing DJ had finished her post-band set, A-Trak took to the stage and got the Hoxtonites moving in that spastic don’t-drop-the-tray way that they do. Jokes aside, though the crowd could have been more live, the atmosphere was great and with the Canadian dropping everything from electro to dubstep, hip hop to bassline, the energy was cranked right up and stayed there throughout. Highlights of the set were hearing Jaylib, Daft Punk, Benga, DJ Assault’s Bounce That Ass and the infamous Papa Roach electro tune that’s now doing the rounds all over the place.

Following A-Trak isn’t an easy task, especially when quite a few people left when he was done, but Australia’s Bang Gang DJs got those who stayed pumping their fists with their large dose of basslines. Admittedly I didn’t stay that long, but in the half an hour they were playing when I was about, it was a fittingly heavy end to the night.

Abjekt

London Camden Underworld
12/5/08

On entering the Underworld at the painfully un-rock n’ roll hour of 8pm, it’s heartening to see that the majority of those present have forsaken the comfort of bar area to go and watch Latitude. It proves a wise decision, as the band’s thunderous post-rock assault proves highly compelling; with musical self-indulgence kept to a minimum in favour of cavernous riffs that seem to burst out of nowhere and threaten to swallow you up. Promising stuff.

It seems odd that Rolo Tomassi aren’t more widely known, given that the likes of the NME have given them their seal of approval. That said, it’s unlikely that the electro/punk hipster crowd will be warming to the Sheffield crew anytime soon, not least because Rolo Tomassi are fucking terrifying. They mix ultra-abrasive, polyrhythmic hardcore à la Converge with all manner of disjointed electronic trickery; the end result sounding like a computer not so much breaking down as fighting back. Uneasy listening? Yes, and impressively so.

Horse The Band have been dubbed ‘Nintendocore‘, due to keyboard player Erik Engstrom’s use of Game Boy sound chips to replicate the sound of early video games. Call them what you will, but it’d take a churlish punter to deny that an evening with Horse The Band are about as much fun as you can have with your (very sweaty) clothes on. Although they have little more than a cult following on these shores, said cult is highly dedicated; kicking up a maelstrom in the pit and roaring along to the likes of ‘Cutsman‘ (influenced by the ‘Mega Man‘ video game, no less) with the fervour of an over-caffeinated child clamouring for their Playstation back.

“You with the freakishly long arms – quit trying to grab my balls!” growls vocalist Nathan Winneke; a man blessed with a wonderfully sarcastic sense of humour. Well, sir, if you will let your bassist prance around in a ridiculously tight vest and short shorts, you can’t blame us all for feeling a bit, erm, frisky. By the time HTB close with the disco stomp of ‘Sex Raptor‘ (!), it’s clear that they’re treading a fine line between the sublime and the ridiculous. Fortunately, they’re doing it very well.

Alex Gosman

Scala
13.05.08

Every so often you’re in the audience for a show that reminds you just why you love music, and just how great an experience a gig can be. The crowds packed into Scala last night for Finch‘s comeback show were treated to just such an experience, with a set that ripped through the venue, emotions careering off every wall, guitar chords whipping through the audience as Nate Barcalow and his screamo crew bought the crowd to their knees.

Having blasted onto the scene in 2002 with their Mark Trombino produced album What It Is To Burn – Finch were a band who combined beautifully written melodies and intelligent lyrics with searing aggressive screamo. Sell out tours and the festival rat run followed before they returned to the studio for their second album. Having parted company with Trombino , they went it alone and took their time to produce the difficult second child ‘Say Hello to Sunshine‘. A new drummer and 3 labels later (Drive Thru, MCA and then Geffen) and things started to fall apart. Rumours of in-fighting, lacklustre performances at GIAN and a general sense of impending doom seemed to hover around them, until February 19th 2006 when it was officially announced they were taking a ‘indefinite break’. It was all over……or so we thought.

Fast forward to October 25th 2007, a blog goes is posted on their My Space by guitarist Randy Strohmeyer “Finch are back! It’s true!” And so we’ve waited, impatiently, for the California five piece to cross the Atlantic and give us our fix, and after a 3 year break they came back to London stronger than ever. With 2 new members (Drew Marcogliese on drums and Daniel Wonacott on bass) the band take to the stage after sets from Envy On The Coast and Armour for Sleep – both of whom play perfunctory decent sets, but it’s a shame for them that juxtaposed next to the jagged, nerve searingly raw talent of Finch, they come off as just rather lukewarm, lightweight emo outfits. Tonight the headliners are the real deal, as they throw themselves into New Beginnings – the wall of sound punches off the stage, hitting your ears and enveloping you in jagged melodies, the bass pounding in your chest as Nate Barcalow tears up and down the stage, pacing, spinning, throwing himself on the floor to scream out lyrics as though they physically hurt him to spit them out.

This evening we’re treated to tracks old and new – with Post Script, Ink, Untitled, Stay With Me and Perfection Through Silence all highlights of a set that we could have watched all night. Three Simple Words whips its way around you, with Barcalow leaning out over the audience to growl “With my hands around your neck..who will stop me now?” as the front rows go into overdrive, and the already insane mosh pit turns up another gear. They even belt out ‘Letters to You’ – a rarity despite it’s popularity. Alex ‘Grizz’ Linares is rocking out on the left of the stage, totally immersed in the sound, whilst Strohmeyer bounding around the stage, a grin plastered on his face.

It’s a welcome return to form from a band who tonight left their support bands trailing in their wake. With a new EP landing on July 15th, hopefully Finch have found the perfect formula with their new line up. What It Is To Burn wraps up the night, leaving the crowds reluctant to leave, desperate for just one more track. With such a fervent fanbase after a 2 year hiatus, it’s clear that Finch are still very much in demand, their sound is still one step ahead of their contemporaries, and they’re still very much a force to be reckoned with.

Dee Massey
Photo by Ashley Gorsis

Old Blue Last, London
12/5/08

Photos: Louise Roberts

Ms. Santi White, or as most know her, Santogold, took to the sweaty stage in style on Monday night, turning up fashionably late with an equally fashionable gold jacket and Kiss tshirt on. No-one cared that they’d been waiting an hour longer than they expected and the support band hadn’t even turned up. The weather was so nice that it felt like an indoor festival so spirits were high.

Who are we kidding? It was fucking hot in the Old Blue Last and you know it. Santogold knew it as well; “You guys need air-conditioning, woo!” Known for it’s rowdy sweaty gigs, this was sure to be one of them as Santo ran through the collection of songs from her self-titled debut album. I guarantee you have heard every last one of these songs, even if you don’t own the album, as her mix of accessible jungle-dub-pop has been used all over the place since the end of last year.

Tracks like “Creator” have already infused into your brain from hair product adverts, and got one of the best reactions of the night. Painfully catchy latest single “LES Artistes” is the one that you’ve been singing for the past 4 months now, whistling on your way to work, in the shower, humming as you fall asleep, then singing when you go to work the next day, whilst Abjekt tells you he was into her before the hype. It’s true, I’ll give him that.

Back to the gig, and amongst the sweaty punters throwing pointed hands in the air were some of the music elite. Ricky ‘Kaiser’ Wilson was stood at the back peering over the crowd as the neon and gold singer whipped up the audience into some sort of tribal dance. Alongside him was super-producer and Santo collaborator Mark Ronson, who had her featured on his Version album. They both enjoyed it, so did the rest of people there.

With a ‘one to watch’ label stamped on her for 2008, including this night’s host of events Levis, it does strike me as odd. We all know we should be watching Santogold, we’ve known this for ages and this is why we spent the best part of 2 weeks trying to get hold of tickets for tonight. Although she was good tonight, very good, and will certainly be a soundtrack of the summer, I didn’t feel like this was her best performance. Maybe the heat was too much and that’s understandable, but I’d definitely recommend seeing her in a proper venue to get the best from that voice. And you might even have a bit more room to dance around like you know you should.

Moose.

Part of the Weekend Never Dies
30th April Bristol Academy

There’s a recurring sensation I’ve been feeling when attending shows, you know, when this obscene compound of muscle, flesh and bone that we call a body is absolutely riddled with excitement. Hope saturated with joyful anxiety flowing through your veins, leaving you in a giddy rush and a strange new accent that puts off the opposite sex more than piss stained briefs, unless of course they’re a quirky one and that’s their ‘thing‘. And this is all before I’ve walked into the fucking doors. Those overwhelming doors, plagued with bouncers who confiscate your pistachio nuts that you were saving for the train home (enraged, I was), that somehow only enhance this unmatched excitement of seeing musicians that your ears have given unhesitating consent to on countless occasions. The night is going to be perfect, right?

The recurring sensation that follows the above recurring sensation, is that terribly awkward waiting period during a gobshite support act that does nothing but savage your mood, so when the main act finally graces the stage, you can’t enjoy it because you’re too busy focussing on the crowd being rubbish or something. All because of those bastard support acts, who are, let’s face it, nearly always crap. This is where we turn to those Belgians for help again, you know, like we do when we want nice chocolates or a quaint little investigator who, despite his brilliance, is impossible to be taken seriously because of that hilarious moustache. In this case, it is Soulwax who are our heroes for the evening who, being so wonderfully Belgian, have nonchalantly made the greatest decision in the world and have supported themselves at a gig for their own premier. Brilliant. No buzz-killers here then (eww, did I really just say that? Saying that, did I really just follow it up with ‘eww’? Have a word) Then, naturally as ever, providing a happy go lucky audience with more varied rock fuelled techno nonsense than you can shake a flaccid member at. And there’s always someone who has to try and shake a flaccid member at it isn’t there? Needless to say, the Dewaele brothers showed this conch who’s the daddy, quite literally. No, really.

Opening with a reverse of structure in the deliciously bass grooved nite version of E-Talking, with the motif ‘part of the weekend, never dies‘ being repeated until it reaches the meaningful level of holy scripture – broad, vague, and un-fucking-forgettable. The night continues in similar sweaty bopping fashion with a great selection from the ‘Most Of The Remixes‘ collection, including a breathtaking, heart pounding mix of Robot Rock into the equally speaker vibrating Phantom Pt. II. Twinnings Infusions haven’t got shit on Soulwax’s guitar fused electronica. And this is coming from someone who really, really likes herbal tea. Seriously, T’Wax are light years ahead, and are showing no sign of slowing. ‘Any Minute Now‘ classics like ‘Miserable Girl’ (surely Whitey’s primary inspiration?) and the irreplaceable ‘NY Excuse‘ (Album version! Album version!) were jammed to bring this nightmarishly exciting set to its final crescendo. Riton (a brilliant DJ who kept the crowd bumping in between sets with some great body-jerking anthems like Daft Punk’s ‘Rock N Roll’ and M.I.A.’s ‘XR2’) managed to tempt a large portion of the crowd away from the traditional interlude piss break and just hold it in for another wiggle on the dancefloor before those Dewaeles returned to the stage.

If you’ve ever seen a 2manydjs set before, you should know what to expect here. A consistently rapturous flow of musical delight backed with a sublime choice of records to suit anyone’s boogie-ing (how are you meant to spell that? Realllllly) requirements. From Aphex Twin to Sebastian Bach, Mr Oizo to Crookers, Zombie Nation to MGMT, no one wanted it to end. Thankfully, this tour seems to be going on for some sort of era, so if you get the chance to go, don’t think about hesitating; I can guarantee that it will be one of the most fun nights out you’ve ever had. If only Soulwax could host every party.

Joe Moynihan

Birmingham Academy
09/04/08

Almost two years ago, Birmingham’s Carling Academy played host to Down’s first ever performance on UK soil. It was gig that had been some fifteen years in the making, and as such the response afforded to them on that fateful evening was little short of hysterical. More impressive still was the fact that this was a band without any form of record deal. A band that had decided to book their own shows, arrange their own travel and do everything solely for the love of music – a people’s tour down to the last detail.

Now, with a new label and a new album to boot, Down fever is officially an epidemic. It’s a fact that’s obvious simply by taking one look at the pubs and bars that surround the venue hours before the band will take to the stage. Much like the venue itself come show time, they’re full to the brim and bubbling with anticipation. If ever proof were needed that Down is a band very much in it for the long haul, and that the success of their previous visit was due to more than mere novelty, tonight is a case in point.

With a collection of home videos and behind-the-scenes clips taking the place of a support band, every last details of the night is about one band only. As they make their arrival shortly after 9pm, the screams that fill the air are nothing short of deafening, with the band themselves turning in a performance that more than justifies such adulation. For just over two glorious hours this evening, the New Orleans quintet are nothing less than stunning; a shining example of rock and roll and its absolute pinnacle. With their roots planted firmly in the same soil gave us the likes of Black Sabbath and Deep Purple forty years ago, songs such as Lifer, Ghosts Along The Mississippi and the ever-filthy Hail The Leaf positively soar, providing the type of soundtrack that’s tailor-made for late night smoking sessions of the most pungent kind. At the back of the stage former Eyehategod drummer Jimmy Bower unleashes a stunning range of swaggering percussive beats, locking in perfectly with the low end rumble of former Pantera bassist Rex Brown. At the sides Crowbar main man Kirk Windstein and Corrosion Of Conformity legend Pepper Keenan let loose with an array of dirt-encrusted riffs and blues-drenched leads that demand a shot-downing response; something Phil Anselmo – who tonight is on fine form despite cutting an unusually humble figure up front – could likely provoke with ease.

However, what shines most tonight are the effects that such songs and indeed such a performance have on the crowd itself. At one point this evening several people will openly flaunt the smoking ban – not to mention the illegal drugs act – while at the same time building a precariously structured human pyramid. Others will climb atop the shoulders of their friends to wave banners and flags with pride. The rest will simply stand in awe of a band that are – to those here tonight – legends in their own right. You see, for those who hold them dear, Down is much more than a mere band: it’s a way of life. And, for tonight at least, it’s easy to see why.

Stelios Bitterman

Photos by Graham Pentz @ G-Tizzle Photography

Free Butt, Brighton
05/05/2008

There’s a crap awful band playing when I turn up. I take a quick look then retreat to the bar where thankfully they have ice cold bottles of Weston’s Organic Cider.

H8BALL from Eastbourne are up next, and hampered by very low guitars for their opening numbers, it’s all drum ‘n bass, oh cripes! The soundman thankfully turns up the appropriate knobs and normal service is resumed, with some energetic PunknRoll that sees the boys working the stage and shaking the limbs of the sunbaked Bank Holiday crowd. There’s a rowdy interpretation of Clash standard “Bankrobber” towards the end, and call me a stick in the mud, but I don’t think any cover can ever touch the original.

Now here’s a thing… bassist Alvin Gibbs is back in the UK Subs for a UK tour for the first time in a long (long) time (he usually just does their overseas dates) and the last time (and only time in fact) I saw him in the Subs was in a backwater town called Hailsham in early ’82… and the support band that night was Criminal Damage, from nearby Polegate, whose drummer Tezz is now in H8BALL… nice to see we’ve all found better things to be doing with ourselves… hahaha…

Completing the UK Subs tonight, alongside Alvin and singer Charlie Harper, are shit-hot drummer Jamie Oliver and firebrand Japanese guitarist Jet… he of the mega-quiff. And I’d have to say that this is one of the tightest line-ups I’ve seen from these veterans in ages, as they blaze thru 45minutes of prime cuts from their immense back catalogue… kicking off with “Young Criminals” and touching base with all the best-known standards… “Teenage” “Stranglehold,” “Tomorrow’s Girl” “Left for Dead” and of course no UK Subs set will ever (ever) be complete without the rumbling anthem “Warhead“, which sounds as powerful as ever with the audience joining in for a full throated chant of the chorus of a song whose subject matter is as relevant as ever in 2008…. “There’s children in Africa with Tommy guns, Getting ready, While the Islam armies are beckoning on, They’re getting ready…”

With Alvin on board we get a rocking rendition of “Down on the Farm” (from the “Endangered Species” album) which he penned, and Guns ‘n Roses infamously covered, plus there’s a dusting down of “Police State” off the “Shake Up The City” EP… an often overlooked record that I always dug.

You can say what you like about The UK Subs, but they have never been away, never thrown in the towel, still kept at it, and refuse to lie down and die. On tonight’s evidence there’s still plenty of fuel in the tank.

Pete Craven

The Varukers, Sick On A Bus
The Purple Turtle, Camden London
April 28th 2008

Although there’s a distinct lack of actual purple turtles in Camden tonight, the punks are out in force and some of them do look a bit like Turtles. And one even had purple in his hair.

So, if, like me, you’re both old and punk then you will either by alarmed at the sheer volume of bands from your youth reforming and playing again or you’ll be happy as a punk in vomit at the thought of getting to see some of the greats and original innovators again. Over the years, some reformations have been great. Agent Orange, The Adolescents, Stooges, TSOL, The Ruts, Only Ones, The Sonics have all turned in fantastic high-energy sets recently. And some have been not so good. The less said about the Dead fucking Kennedys the better. I can’t believe they are coming back to Europe yet again on another Biafra-less tour in an attempt to milk the sacred cash cow (their words, not mine) that little bit more. Well guess what. We’re not going. Fuck you. You might enjoy playing the music BUT IT IS NOT THE DEAD KENNEDYS WITHOUT JELLO YOU DUMB FUCKS!!

Sorry, where were we? Oh yes, reformed bands. Systematic Death formed in 1983 in Yokohama Japan and split up in 1988. Between that time, alongside other classic Japanese hardcore bands like Gism, S.O.B., Gauze, Lipcream and Deathside, they created some of the most ferocious hardcore thrash punk to explode from this planet. The Japanese hardcore bands always had an edge and odd twist over their western contempories and Systematic Death were no different. I originally came across them as part of the classic ‘Thrash ‘Till Death‘ (with Lip Cream, Gauze, systematic Death, Outo) album that came out on the Pusmort label (Septic Death Singer/Zorlac skates and Metallica artist Pushead’s eighties hardcore record label). Their tracks stood their ground well in an album of heavy hitters. I never expected to see them live, certainly not in 2008. And guess what? They were fucking incredible.

Admittedly, some of this is down to the less than inspiring support bands. Sick On The Bus do a punked up, sloppy punk n’roll version of Motorhead (ending their set with a cover of Lemmy classic ‘Bomber‘) and The Varukers are old enough to know better. Some of their early eighties releases are good Discharge inspired hardcore punk but their sloppy set tonight lacked energy and bite. Both bands are damp squids compared to the whirlwind of fury that Systematic Death unleash. Drummer Hiromichi propels the whole band forward like a Tasmanian Devil, exploding like a jet-engine at the back and sending each grenade of a song exploding into the shell-shocked crowd! He manages to play stupidly fast and still hit the drums like sledgehammers as each song ricochets off the stage like a short sharp electric shock and sends as reeling.

This is how hardcore should be done. Watch and learn.

James Sherry