This review first appeared on Soundblab
The Middle East have got something brewing. Their only release to date has been The Recordings of The Middle East, a five track EP. Yet in tonight's hour-long set the Australians from Townsville play only two songs from it, preferring to spend their sold out New York headline show testing a series of tracks that will undoubtedly grace their first full-length release.
It's a shame, because the best moments come from the two released tracks, particularly set opener The Darkest Side. Taking to the stage, the band fiddle around for what seems forever. The crowd get restless, talking and turning away from the stage. But then Jordan Ireland starts plucking out the opening chords and begins his alto timbre, stopping only to request more light from his stage crew. "We asked for low light," he jokes. "But I can't see a thing." The interruption only heightens the mood, and Bree Tranter soon adds her delicate mumblings. A hush sweeps over the crowd. These two can sing.
After that, though, it gets a bit chaotic. The seven bodies pit mandolins, microphones and macbook pros against banjos, basses and beats. Trumpets and flutes jump in and out of action and a glockenspiel and accordion get some time in the limelight. It's eventful, certainly, but in this little venue it all seems a bit much. The music loses its momentum, and save for the instances when all five microphones are put to good use, the sound is unfortunately loose.
A large part of this is surely due to the extensive touring the band has undertaken in the past couple of months. This latest leg is in support of shows with Mumford & Sons, and although the Englishmen show their support from the crowd, you get the feeling the stage is not the place for these talented Australian folkies right now. There's just too much they're itching to lay down in the studio, and a bit of recording time never hurt anyone.
Showing posts with label live review. Show all posts
Showing posts with label live review. Show all posts
Wednesday, 9 June 2010
Friday, 23 April 2010
Bear in Heaven @ The Lexington - 20 April 2010
I fear for my beloved instrument. In the hey days of punk, grunge, or any rock n roll, the bass was the lynchpin of the band. You couldn’t put a price on someone who could pump out a deep groove for the rest to build themselves around. I get the faint sniff that nowadays it’s becoming a peripheral instrument. More and more, I’ll go and watch a band and see the bass passed around guitarists and keyboardists like an unwanted child of a divorced family at Christmas. The result is more often than not a show that lacks any real grunt.
It was no more evident than tonight at the Lexington. Bear in Heaven, who hail from Brooklyn but spent the last 50 hours trying to negotiate a flight ban into the UK, are an act for the noughties – plenty of synths, plenty of fast beats, plenty of high-pitched vocals. Don’t get me wrong, they show incredible potential. I don’t profess to be hugely au fait with them, but I was taken with a number of their tunes tonight. They create great energy, and know the right moments to break down the beats.
But one thing in particular bugged me: neither guitarist nor vocalist seemed to really know how to get the most out of the bass. The lines they played were fine – even impressive – but being guitarists at heart they didn’t move away from the close frets at the higher end. They were reticent to walk their fingers down the neck to find the real impact of the instrument. At times, it was even discarded altogether.
The result was a show that lacked a pulse. It seemed there was nothing gluing the three of them together, no grunt to really drive the building crescendos home. My ears hurt from the abundance of treble that even the drums seemed to contribute to.
It’s a problem easily fixed. The beauty of a great bassist is that they don’t garner the attention of the crowd in the way a front man does. You can sit them in the corner and they know their job is to look after the basics. Bear in Heaven would benefit hugely from the services of a four-stringed specialist.
It was no more evident than tonight at the Lexington. Bear in Heaven, who hail from Brooklyn but spent the last 50 hours trying to negotiate a flight ban into the UK, are an act for the noughties – plenty of synths, plenty of fast beats, plenty of high-pitched vocals. Don’t get me wrong, they show incredible potential. I don’t profess to be hugely au fait with them, but I was taken with a number of their tunes tonight. They create great energy, and know the right moments to break down the beats.
But one thing in particular bugged me: neither guitarist nor vocalist seemed to really know how to get the most out of the bass. The lines they played were fine – even impressive – but being guitarists at heart they didn’t move away from the close frets at the higher end. They were reticent to walk their fingers down the neck to find the real impact of the instrument. At times, it was even discarded altogether.
The result was a show that lacked a pulse. It seemed there was nothing gluing the three of them together, no grunt to really drive the building crescendos home. My ears hurt from the abundance of treble that even the drums seemed to contribute to.
It’s a problem easily fixed. The beauty of a great bassist is that they don’t garner the attention of the crowd in the way a front man does. You can sit them in the corner and they know their job is to look after the basics. Bear in Heaven would benefit hugely from the services of a four-stringed specialist.
Friday, 26 March 2010
Tindersticks @ Shepherd's Bush Empire - 24 March 2010
The thing about a Tindersticks gig is that you’re surrounded by dedicated followers. Throughout tonight’s show at Shepherd’s Bush Empire, a hushed silence is only broken when the band’s disciples shower the stage in approbation. The cue is a low, mumbled “thank you” from enigmatic frontman Stuart Staples. He’s experienced at controlling this. He’s coy, holding on until the last chord rings out of every tune before he lets us know it’s ok to display our affection.
Tonight feels like a show of two halves. Predictably, the band kicks off with Falling Down a Mountain, the title and opening track from their latest album. It’s a comfortably disjointed opener that puts the seven-piece band to work. But then they seem to slow down, playing slow, moving ballads, one after another. It’s hardly surprising, given Tindersticks’ back catalogue, but for a long time these gentle paeans don’t take off.
All that changes when a resounding version of The Other Side of the World announces itself. Although one of the band’s more recent tracks, this song seems to encompass everything Tindersticks is about. It’s perfect for Staples’ brooding baritone, and it lifts the band into action as they find their momentum.
It stays that way for the rest of the night, as Tindersticks thread seamlessly between new and old. Can We Start Again, the opening track from 1999’s Simple Pleasures, the first of the band’s foray into soul, is a crowd favourite, but given the way people are behaving tonight, a reading from the Old Testament by Staples alone would be enough to send this group of devotees home happy. In their eyes, Tindersticks could do nothing wrong.
Tonight feels like a show of two halves. Predictably, the band kicks off with Falling Down a Mountain, the title and opening track from their latest album. It’s a comfortably disjointed opener that puts the seven-piece band to work. But then they seem to slow down, playing slow, moving ballads, one after another. It’s hardly surprising, given Tindersticks’ back catalogue, but for a long time these gentle paeans don’t take off.
All that changes when a resounding version of The Other Side of the World announces itself. Although one of the band’s more recent tracks, this song seems to encompass everything Tindersticks is about. It’s perfect for Staples’ brooding baritone, and it lifts the band into action as they find their momentum.
It stays that way for the rest of the night, as Tindersticks thread seamlessly between new and old. Can We Start Again, the opening track from 1999’s Simple Pleasures, the first of the band’s foray into soul, is a crowd favourite, but given the way people are behaving tonight, a reading from the Old Testament by Staples alone would be enough to send this group of devotees home happy. In their eyes, Tindersticks could do nothing wrong.
Tuesday, 9 March 2010
Wild Beasts @ Koko - 4 March 2010
If there’s one word that sums up tonight, it’s disorganised. And it’s not just the technical faults and meaningful glances off stage that plague Wild Beasts on what should be their crowning moment: it’s the constant lulls between songs to tune instruments; the missing of impactful intros while members toy with sounds; the uncertainty of which of the group’s two front men is leading proceedings.
The latter doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing. I don’t have a problem with sharing the limelight. In fact, the best moments of tonight’s show are when Hayden Thorpe and Tom Fleming jostle for position, pitting falsetto against baritone in a battle of mis-matched machismo (the crescendo of His Grinning Skull, with both vocalists wailing their respective grave-raiding directions, would certainly register as many an audience member’s highlight).
What hurts is to have to see either of these brutes step back to allow the other his moment. Here are two huge personalities, singing songs of ardent masculinity, and to see one defeated is to see a gladiator befallen. Tonight, the duelling that comes across so effectively on Two Dancers is lost.
And so it happens that the tracks from the superior studio album are overshadowed by those of its predecessor. Transferred out of the studio and onto the stage, Two Dancers lacks the lustre of Limbo, Panto. Although The Fun Powder Plot makes a superb opener, with an intricate bass line building alongside equally compelling drums, and All The King’s Men is a huge show of bravado, Two Dancers struggles to conjure up the flair of His Grinning Skull and Brave Bulging Buoyant Clairvoyant.
Fleming looks humbled as he introduces the latter track - their first single - reporting that this is the band's biggest show to date. If they didn't know that, I feel it might also have been their best, because unfortunately the occassion and their bid to make it perfect seems to have overwhelmed Wild Beasts.
The latter doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing. I don’t have a problem with sharing the limelight. In fact, the best moments of tonight’s show are when Hayden Thorpe and Tom Fleming jostle for position, pitting falsetto against baritone in a battle of mis-matched machismo (the crescendo of His Grinning Skull, with both vocalists wailing their respective grave-raiding directions, would certainly register as many an audience member’s highlight).
What hurts is to have to see either of these brutes step back to allow the other his moment. Here are two huge personalities, singing songs of ardent masculinity, and to see one defeated is to see a gladiator befallen. Tonight, the duelling that comes across so effectively on Two Dancers is lost.
And so it happens that the tracks from the superior studio album are overshadowed by those of its predecessor. Transferred out of the studio and onto the stage, Two Dancers lacks the lustre of Limbo, Panto. Although The Fun Powder Plot makes a superb opener, with an intricate bass line building alongside equally compelling drums, and All The King’s Men is a huge show of bravado, Two Dancers struggles to conjure up the flair of His Grinning Skull and Brave Bulging Buoyant Clairvoyant.
Fleming looks humbled as he introduces the latter track - their first single - reporting that this is the band's biggest show to date. If they didn't know that, I feel it might also have been their best, because unfortunately the occassion and their bid to make it perfect seems to have overwhelmed Wild Beasts.
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