music | Music Boats

Nubya Garcia live at Gorilla review – a gripping jazz odyssey
27
Jun

On her first UK tour since the release of her critically-acclaimed debut album, Nubya Garcia’s complex jazz creations were finally given time and space to be explored in their full glory, aided by a stunning trio of supporting musicians that might have even outshined Garcia herself.

It’s been a while coming, but as my friend Emma and I rocked up at Gorilla on a non-descript weekday night in Manchester, my concert-going muscle memory started to kick in. For obvious reasons, my gigging habit had previously stopped almost as soon as it began. I started by catching Parcels at Brudenell Social Club in 2018 (I was luckier than I realised; 3 years later and they’re one of my favourite bands of all), and managed to fit in American rock duo of mom jeans. and Prince Daddy & the Hyena before the world ended. Now with another half-dozen under my belt – including a scream-along special with Declan McKenna in Newcastle and an incredible, enthralling night with dodie in Manchester – I’m starting to feel like a bit of an old pro. At Gorilla it didn’t take long for me to suss out the bar and the messy hubub of thirsty people that it attracted in an undefined queue, and the staff were relatively efficient in supplying my usual pint of Coke and some disposable earplugs (much unlike my nightmarish experience at nearby Victoria Warehouse a few months ago). Then was the uncomfortable task of finding a satisfactory spot to stand in the crowd. For this, Emma proved to be an expert, and effortlessly weaved her way through the bodies, miraculously reaching a spacious spot an arm’s reach from the stage edge. There’s nothing quite like getting a spot so close to the stage you can practically worship the feet of the musician in front of you, especially when the musician in question is enigmatic jazz keyboardist Joe Armon-Jones.

As a keyboardist myself, Joe inevitably got much of my attention for the night, but a more obvious performer to venerate was the woman on the ticket: Nubya Garcia, one of the headline artists amongst the much talked-about vanguard of contemporary British jazz. With a Medusa-like splay of dreadlocks and a wide stance, she was an admirably powerful figure on centre stage, wielding a tenor saxophone – alto’s musclier, more serious big brother. Ever since her debut EP Nubya’s 5ive was released in 2017, it seems like the general excitement around her ability to inspire a generation of new, young jazz fans has only grown and grown. Even the supporting players in that EP – Moses Boyd and Femi Coleoso on drums, Theon Cross on tuba – have also become major players in the new genre, bringing their own extensive range of bands and solo projects. Start researching and it’s easy to get lost in the proliferation of new, British (but, let’s be honest, mostly London) jazz, and as a young jazz player myself, it’s thrilling to watch. On walking into Gorilla, however, we were reminded that for all the growing momentum of UK jazz, it’s still far from the mainstream. Gorilla can only handle up to 700 jazzheads and the flickering LEDs behind the band hardly screamed high-budget. UK jazz is still jazz after all, with all its challenging harmony and abstract improvisation, and Garcia’s particular brand is hardly aimed at converting Ed Sheeran fans. Instead, her music digs into long and often noisy solos powered by splashy, busy drumming and colorful injections of dissonant harmony. Heads often only have slightly less improvisation than the solos themselves and hooks, while undoubtedly present, are hardly abundant.

With an audience of fans that get it (unlike Garcia’s recent televised performances at the BBC Proms or with Jools Holland), Garcia rightly had no hesitation in fully exploring every tune with epic solos and fluid song structure. Absorbing opener Source was a perfect example: the 12-minute studio version may be a bit much for some, but on the night it became a 20-minute jazz odyssey. Thankfully, it was difficult to get tired of the sticky, heavy dub reggae groove it its centre, underlined by a Daniel Casimir’s bubbly basslines and Tom Jones’ snappy sidestick. All four performers had plenty of time to make their introductions. Armon-Jones’ solo was captivating, segueing from a brief section of precise samba to a dense cacophony of glissandos and cluster chords. Daniel Casimir’s double bass solo was both the most succinct and successful solo of the bunch, adding more character and groove into his plucking than I thought was possible. A final, stupendous riff was greeted by a stunned applause, with Garcia noticeably reluctant to take back the lead.

As you can imagine, time went quickly and the band only had time to fit in a streamlined selection of six songs to play for the whole night. Garcia delivered some light-hearted and fun chat in between each tune. She had a tendency to get lost on a tangent about the origin of a song or the experience of playing her first tour post-lockdown, but even so it was lovely to see the obvious joy that performing her music to a crowd brings. “I’m in a good place right now,” she earnestly told the crowd at one point, to which we all cheered. If Queen Nubya was happy, then so were we.

The Message Continues followed a thought-provoking chat about Garcia passing on the ‘message’ of her heritage, which she encouraged us all to do too. The sparkling groove – one of Garcia’s most immediate and memorable – nods to her Guyanese and Trinidadian roots with a cumbia-informed bass riff and lightly shuffling drum work. Afterwards, Pace delivered a whole different world for the musicians to play in: a frenzied and overwhelming solo section was intended to mimic the stresses of constant touring and socialising with no rest. The eventual mayhem was made all the more impactful by what preceded it – a total bass solo from Casimir, for which the others left the stage completely. He was more than worthy of owning the stage for a few breathless minutes, each melody more beautifully adventurous than the last. I don’t think any of us wanted it to stop.

Another moment of surprising solace came with Stand With Each Other, a sparse combination of solo saxophone and tasteful afrobeat drumming. Here, Garcia’s outstanding tone was on full display; breathy, soulful and immaculately controlled. The saxophone really did seem to morph into a fifth limb – no longer merely an instrument, but a second voice through which to speak volumes more than words ever could. There was a spine-tingling sense of awe in the room as Garcia effortlessly faded out a long final note into silence.

Daniel Casimir’s solo at the start of Pace was one of the highlights

For all Garcia’s technical brilliance, it would be going too far to say her performance was flawless. Even Emma – an even stronger supporter of UK jazz than I am – admitted that her solos could get formulaic. Gradually building chromatically to ever higher, ever louder long notes seemed to be Garcia’s go-to game plan and, unlike Armon-Jones or Jones, there were few times we were wowed by her technical dexterity, even if her tone and command of her instrument is immense. A brief sortie into the squeaky and impressive-sounding altissimo range of her instrument during Pace was only partially successful, and certainly the more foghorn-like lower end of her tenor range had more impact during the big moments.

That said, Garcia doesn’t have to be John Coltrane to be an exciting artist, and seeing her and her friends create art in front of our eyes was a thrill unlike any of the over-rehearsed rock and pop concerts I’ve attended recently. As with most jazz performances, Garcia and her band of outstanding musicians were intent on creating something unique and impossible to replicate. Even Garcia’s chats were free-flowing and improvised, and the atmosphere in the room benefitted as a result. The venues and audience may remain relatively small thanks to the inaccessibility of her boundary-pushing style to the average listener, but Garcia deserves praise to sticking to what she loves. In an industry of Tiktok-pandering overnight millionaires and the same old chart-storming pop idols, a night at Gorilla was a pleasant reminder that this corner of fast-moving jazz well outside the mainstream isn’t going anywhere.

Oscar Jerome live at Belgrave Music Hall review – a night of laughs, grooves and missed potential
20
Jun

In a belated end to his UK tour, Oscar Jerome had enough strong material and bewildering virtuosity to compete with the very best of his UK jazz peers. It’s unfortunate he was let down by a patchy setlist, limiting instrumentation and questionable sound design.

For a moment I questioned whether I’d ever actually see Oscar Jerome in Leeds as we suddenly found ourselves at the front of a lengthy queue outside Belgrave Music Hall & Canteen. It wasn’t the first time; this gig in particular has been toyed with by the pandemic. It was postponed twice from its now quaintly ambitious original date in October 2020 and a third attempt a year later tragically coincided with a city-wide venue boycott amidst a completely seperate, equally uncontrollable epidemic of syringe spikings in nightclubs across the country.

It was only once we had been let in to the chic yet understated Belgrave Music Hall that reality set in for me and my friends Emma and Fionn. Despite arriving at a leisurely 8pm, we really had benefitted from a quirk in the queuing system, and sauntered up to a gloriously quiet and queueless bar like royalty before taking our pick of standing spot in front of the stage (in the middle, right at the front, of course). At one point Oscar himself even walked across the near-empty audience space (just a few feet away from us!), prompting palpatations. Shadowy in a trench coat and with his two emmaculate mirrored locks of hair, we had to check with each other our anticipation for the gig hadn’t led to hallucination. No, Emma’s astonished face confirmed, it hadn’t.

To add to our pleasant surprise, it wasn’t particularly long before the man himself was just a few metres in front of us, with his trench coat now cast aside to reveal a playful striped t-shirt behind a chunky Ibanez guitar. I’ve spent good chunk of the 18-month build up to the gig daydreaming about just how good inevitable opener Sun For Someone would sound and feel live. That purring bassline paired with Ayo Salawu’s nimble jazz-funk drumming could surely be nothing but electrifying in the flesh. Indeed it was, especially after meditative solo guitar musings of Searching for Aliens, which worked well as a calm before the blissful storm that followed.

In truth, I felt some niggling disappointment as Sun For Someone segued into the decidedly less exciting Coy Moon. The levels were all off. The kick drum and that bass line – however competently played by Tom Dreissler – swallowed up both Jerome’s guitar and vocals, leaving the melody often noticeably warped and the need for a bit of wishful thinking in order to hear one of Jerome’s finest tracks in its full glory. Whilst it was a recurring frustration on the night, on balance I think the main cause of the issues was in a lack of gigging experience from me, Emma and Fionn. In our front-of-the-queue giddiness we had inadvertently selected sonically the worst spot in the house, resulting in a face full of kick drum whilst Jerome’s dulcet tones were directed into the space behind us by speakers beside the stage. We might have been close enough to examine the glossy sheen on Jerome’s faintly dyed hair or assess whether he needs to trim his nose hairs (he doesn’t), but in return the sound would never quite feel professional quality throughout the night.

Somewhat consolingly, it wasn’t just us. I overheard talk about the haphazard levels immediately after the gig had finished, and even in the middle of the set there was evidence that there was issues for the performers too. Jerome requested his mic to be turned up during and after Sun For Someone; Dreissler needed time to fiddle with his bass between songs later on and a misbehaving kick drum mic was a repeated concern for both Jerome and Salawu, at one point completely taking the limelight from a blistering Richie Smart conga solo. Whilst I’ve learnt my lesson that the front row isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, I’m sure there’s more the sound engineers could have done to make it a less significant drawback on the night.

If the jazz fans around me were annoyed by the sound issues, they didn’t show it. The mood in the room was one of celebration, with Jerome humble enough to engage with every slightly over-eager heckler. There was the obligatory marriage proposals (“I will if you can get me an EU passport,” Oscar offered) and an accepted request for happy birthday from a very possibly intoxicated fan. One man even managed to buy Oscar a pint and hand it up to him between songs. The resulting chant of “chug! chug! chug!” crossed a line. “I don’t do shit like that anymore,” Oscar laughed before taking a grateful sip.

Just as it had done for Declan McKenna, Orla Gartland and Nubya Garcia, the pandemic has created an unusually big gap between the release of Jerome’s strong debut album Breathe Deep and a subsequent tour. As a result, Jerome caved into temptation to devote a good deal of the gig to unreleased songs from the upcoming follow-up album. It’s a risky, and in my opinion a little impatient, decision to take, and the four new songs aired on the night proved to be a mixed bag. Groovy and hooky Berlin 1 was the pick of the bunch, but Feet Down South also provided a great opportunity for an arresting bass solo from Dreissler. Sweet Isolation, on the other hand, was the flattest moment of the whole evening: a drab, meandering track that did little to inspire movement from the audience beyond a polite nod of the head. Devoting so much time to new songs also meant less time for tried-and-true hits. Give Back What U Stole From Me and Fkn Happy Days ‘N’ That – both highlights from Breathe Deep – were the two most obvious set list casualties.

As the sound levels improved, the highlights came with the songs that relied most on Jerome’s guitar virtuosity. Joy is You, a heartwarming ode to his newborn nephew, saw Jerome have the stage all to himself yet still provide ample soul and colour with some dextrous plucking. “As the past slips through the window / The joy is you” he sang with a smile, revealing some tender vulnerability that was well recieved by the crowd. By contrast, sophisticated and dynamic Gravitate was powered by Salawu’s brilliant, stumbling drum groove, but still saw Jerome improvising at his scintillating best amidst sumptuous melodic bass playing from Dreissler. An extended guitar solo was the only opportunity Jerome had to display his full jazz solo prowess, developing a seed of an idea into an all-consumming spectacle before kicking into one last chorus.

Jerome’s lack of saxophonist was not as fatal as Orla Gartland’s lack of keyboardist a few months ago, but certain songs did lose a good deal of their original detail as a result. 2 Sides and fan favourite Do You Really sounded simply incomplete without the great hooks that had been offered by saxophone and backing vocals on the originals. The three of us certainly tried our best to fill in the melodic gaps with our own voices on the latter, but there was only so much we could do. That said, sax or no sax, Do You Really remains a career highlight for Jerome, and a strong chorus was rapturously recieved by the crowd, prompting demands for an encore, with which the band happily obliged.

There was mock horror just before the start of the gig when we spied on the setlist taped to the stage floor that underwhelming recent single No Need was scheduled to be the final song of the night. We were in for shock: No Need was easily one of the best tracks of the night, taking us from rapid swing to hypnotic funk and back again and at last turning Belgrave Music Hall into a proper dancefloor. Salawu’s tastefully played real drums and Jerome’s rhythmic guitar made perfect replacements for the studio version’s drum machine and wishy-washy keys, and the transition from jazz to dance was executed with a thrill lost on the original song. To my huge relief, Jerome assured us that the concert was being recorded; I’m already desperate for a second listen.

As he bid farewell with No Need‘s slap bass and pounding kick drum, I was reminded that Jerome, for all his outstanding musical ability, is still in the early stages of a very promising career. With little more than an album’s worth of material at his disposal, conjuring up a five-star set was always an uphill battle, and dealing with less experienced sound engineers at the smaller venues may just be par for the course. Even so, after having had a brief chat with him after the gig, the post-gig high was very sweet indeed. The three of us practically skipped through central Leeds and back to the car, jubilantly singing Do You Really with a tote bag full of signed vinyls swinging from my shoulder. At last, there was no gig left to postpone, no songs left to wishfully daydream. The long wait had been worth it.

“They’ll definitely blow your mind”: five of the best female rock bands on the rise
28
Apr

To celebrate International Women’s Day, Alex Walden takes a deep dive into the world of alternate rock music to showcase some new female groups on the rise who are definitely worth keeping an eye on.

It’s safe to say that the genre of rock is way out of its golden era. Long gone are the days of kids wanting to be rockstars after being completely in awe at the appeal of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll. However, if you think that means that rock has simply vanished, you’d be dead wrong. While the days of mass media constantly gazing upon the culture of rock gods have passed, it can be argued that the uniqueness diversity and overall creativity of rock music as a whole is on a completely different level to that of the 80s as these female acts prove. So, strap yourselves in because while artists such as Joan Jett, Stevie Nicks and Pat Benatar are iconic women who paved the way for female rock, they’ve got nothing on these girls.

Honourable mention: Christina Michelle of Gouge Away

Ok, I know what you’re thinking, and yes I know that Gouge Away are not an all-female band. However, I felt that they just had to be mentioned. It was on a complete whim that I discovered gouge away. Usually, I have a story of how I discover artists but, as weird as it is to say, I just sort of found them one day, and I’ve been hooked ever since.

Gouge Away have a sound that’s a blend of shoegaze and hardcore punk which works really well. It gives you that classic punch of that hardcore sound mixed with the sombre tones of shoegaze, giving their songs a slightly unsettling nature.

I remember showing Gouge Away to a friend of mine who said to me something along the lines of “you can tell that they really attack those instruments”. Considering this, it makes an undoubtably difficult task for vocalist Christina Michelle to essentially match the chaotic energy of her bandmates and essentially fight for her vocals to be heard over the thrashing of her bandmates and boy can you tell she goes for it.

Her vocals are so powerful and intense that it just brings something out of you

I think a commenter on a video one of Gouge Away’s live performances described it best with the quote, “this singer’s voice is mesmerizing. So unique and she doesn’t give in.” It can be difficult to bring the ferocity required to make a good hardcore track but rest assured that whatever it takes, Michelle’s got it.

If the aggression of that hardcore sound isn’t really your style, or you’re just discovering the genre and want something a bit more on the side of shoegaze, then Gouge Away have got you covered too. I recommend the songs Dallas and Stray/Burnt Sugar for the easy-going fans and the songs Fed Up, Can’t Relate and Ghost for those who want that bit of extra oomph in their ears.

5.Dream Nails

Up next we travel back to England as we look at the punk band Dream Nails. Originating from mutual friends as well as run-ins at drag shows, Dream Nails are slowly attracting their target audience with their feminist anthems. I first discovered Dream Nails after I heard through word of mouth that they were performing near me. Being down for anything music related I decided to check them out and upon reading the title of their most streamed song, Vagina Police, I immediately thought to myself “ok, these girls clearly have a message they want to send… I’m in.” After conducting some more research, I became hooked to their songs such as Good Guy, Joke Choke and DIY which are these incredibly fast-paced thrash punk tracks containing messages about completely destroying patriarchal values and throwing classic social societal values completely out the window and to that I say power to them.

4.Dream Wife

Staying in the UK, next up we have Dream Wife the London based punk trio who combine punk, pop and indie all in one. Considering the similarity to the name of the previous act, you’d be surprised to know that I discovered Dream Wife the same way I discovered Dream Nails. After hearing they’d be performing nearby I decided to check them out through their KEXP live performance and I’ve got to say, after just two songs (Social Lubrication and Love You More) I was hooked on the high-pitched screeches of the guitar that clash against those smooth bass lines and vocals. I could clearly see their indie and pop influence on just their first two songs. However, after discovering their song Let’s Make Out I was completely dumbfounded. Alice Go had transformed her role on guitar by switching to these filling chords that practically swallow the whole song if it wasn’t for the lead vocalist Rakel Mjöll fighting back with her amazing screams for the chorus.

Whether it’s a nice relaxing indie sound, some feedback heavy punk or just a cool image to follow, this band have something for you.

3.L.A. Witch

For my next entry we head to California for rock trio L.A. Witch. If I had to bet on any of the bands mentioned in this article obtaining a substantial amount of popularity in the near future, I can comfortably say I’d put my money on LA. Witch.

Originally founded in 2011 by guitarist and lead vocalist Sade Sanchez and bassist Irita Pai due to an ex-boyfriend forbidding Sanchez from playing in bands with other men, L.A. Witch has taken its feminine identity and kept it at the forefront of their band’s image.

The word ‘witch’ to us is like a cool way for us to hint that it was our feminine-type energy

Sade Sanchez
L.A. Witch have a very woozy-sounding garage/punk rock sound witch I think has great potential. While I think that punk is an awesome genre, having every single song go at over 200 bpm with blaring loud instrumentals and intense screaming can get not only repetitive, but also tiring on the ears. Not everyone wants to thrash all the time. Sometimes people want to listen to punk in a relaxed manner. Producing songs sounds with sound while also staying within the punk genre is a difficult task, however, L.A. Witch in my opinion are one of the few bands who have properly mastered it. They still have overdriven guitars that give off feedback and fast drums, but it still has a slightly relaxing feel to it, especially within their latest album Play With Fire. Ever since I discovered it, I’ve not been able to stop listening to it. Due to its well roundedness as a rock project, it’s become one of my essential albums for every occasion.

As with most bands, L.A. Witch’s sound has improved incredibly, and you can hear it throughout their discography. Granted it’s probably through years of practice finally paying off, but it feels like you can hear them becoming more confident in their sound and playing ability as you work your way from beginning to end. All I can say is that I’m super excited for what they’ve got planed for the future.

2.Otoboke Beaver

Next up we take a trip even further across the pond to the Japan for punk rock group Otoboke Beaver. You know that classic cartoon troupe where they give a kid coffee, or some other highly caffeinated drink and they just go absolutely wild? Yeah, Otoboke Beaver is the musical personification of that exact scene.

Best described by rock legend Dave Grohl who said “it’ll blow your mind, dude. It’s the most fucking intense shit you’ve ever seen,” Otoboke Beaver are quickly on the rise due to their ability to blend fury and finesse to construct a fast paced, high intensity punk rock that sounds the musical version of a perfectly executed boot to the face. I first discovered the band after hearing S’il vous plaît and I was instantly hooked to it’s extremity of the sound, yet it had such a high degree of delicacy to it, it almost felt cute somehow; it was a well-made song but it also had that degree of aggression and rebellion that that came with punk and it kept me interested. I decided to look further into their discography to which at this point I discovered the video for Don’t light my fire, which completely blew my mind.

It’s been about a year since I first watched that video and I still think that I haven’t seen a music video with as much authenticity and raw energy as that. The almost hostile levels of power in their songs can be heard to the point where if they don’t blow your speakers, they’ll definitely blow your mind.

The almost hostile levels of power in their songs can be heard to the point where if they don’t blow your speakers, they’ll definitely blow your mind.

At the time of this article being published, Otoboke Beaver are embarking on a US tour on which I’m sure they’re making a name for themselves, however I can’t wait for their next project. After nearly 15 years of music, I think that the band have finally mastered that perfection combination of fun and absolute carnage (especially within their last album Super Champon) and I can’t wait to see where they go from here.

1.Nova Twins

As far as being patriotic goes, I can’t say I’m really your guy at all. However, when it comes to this next group, I can honestly say that I’m proud to say that England’s own Nova Twins holds the number one spot for my top female groups to look out for. These girls are absolutely crushing everything they do with their heavy instrumentals which are channeled through a complete arsenal of pedals to make sounds that I thought previously to be impossible. It all goes hand in hand with guitarist and lead vocalist Amy Love’s hip-hop/punk vocals.

It may sound like an exaggeration when I say that discovering Nova Twins could be compared to that of a life changing experience however I’m willing to go there for this band. After scrolling through the list of endorsers for Marshall amps, I stumbled upon a picture of two girls dressed like guitar hero characters absolutely rocking out on stage. I was intrigued however it wasn’t until the next day that I decided to look them up. It was by chance that I was wearing headphones the day that I discovered their song Antagonist for the first time. I mention this due to the fact that it made the high-pitched wails of Amy Love’s guitar in the opining riff that much more impacting, however nothing prepared me for the absolutely thunderous bass tone that erupted from Georgia South’s bass into my headphones. It felt as If my headphones were erupting, I had never experienced anything like it. For the whole day it was pretty much the only song I listened to. That’s the joy of Antagonist: you can’t just listen to it once. It requires at least two or three listens to get over the sheer cataclysmic event for your ears that is listening to that song.

It requires at least two or three listens to get over the sheer cataclysmic event for your ears that is listening to Antagonist.

Not only are Nova Twins absolutely rattling your ear drums, they’re also making history through their activism. Whether it’s through their “Voices For the Unheard” playlist highlighting alternative P.O.C. artists or their related limited edition record which all proceeds of record sales went directly to The Black Curriculum, Nova Twins are always using the attention they have for the right reasons. However, neither of these acts compare to their open letter to the MOBO awards calling for them to introduce a new Rock/Alternative category to their award shows. Clearly MOBO had listened as the next year we were given the first ever MOBO Best Alternative Music Act category.

Whether its making absolutely monstrous music or paving the way for future artists. It’s clear that these girls are ready to carry the torch for the alternative music scene and pave the way for artists in years to come and that’s why I think these artists deserve the number one spot.

So there you have it. Whether you like the violent and bashful sound of hardcore band Gouge Away, or the soft garage rock sound of L.A. Witch or even the skull-crushing tone of Nova Twins, there’s something for you in this list to prove that, as the old saying goes, the future is clearly female. With these acts taking the reins, we’re here for it.

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‘I still try to put people onto Sonic music today’: in conversation with genre-defying producer AshZone
21
Apr

Following the release of his new lo-fi single me and you, Alex Walden caught up with East London producer and artist AshZone to talk about the story behind his most recent music video, some features you may have missed, and his influences as a producer as well as an artist.

AW: You posted in Instagram about how there’s a sort of storyline behind your latest music video.

AZ: Yeah, there’s a bit of lore behind the whole AshZone thingy.

How does that work then?

It’s more sort of like a personal thing, the storyline. Each song sort of tells a story of me as an artist. If you go all the way back to 2020, with my project called NIGHTINGALE, each song was telling a story. The whole story behind that EP was about finding myself as an artist and exploring myself – kind of like travelling. Although I didn’t actually go anywhere physically, it was about exploring different things and places as an artist so I kind of developed that a bit more in my recent songs.

My last four songs, papaya, get right!, move your body and me and you, all have some sort of connection in terms of my artistry, being obviously my purple self, but I’ve also allowed myself to create this world which is literally based off real life. Everything that happens in real life I draw or animate.

The way that you have your drawings blend in with the real world is dope in my opinion. I love how it shows you can blend your music with the real world.

Thank you. The way I went about it before was I used to draw everything, like literally everything, then I kind of realised from I think papaya onwards, the music video or visualiser or whatever, this blends really well. With papaya I used screenshots from this game called Forza so then I started trying to use more real-life stuff with the next music video get right! and I was like “you know what? I’m going to do a full-length music video,” and thenmove your body came and then with me and you I was like “move your body’s music video is good but I want do better” you know? “I want to do much more interactive stuff”. So, I went out several times and shot different things in Hornchurch, which is my hometown, just shooting different areas and stuff. I had to be careful so I brought the tripod so I could track the camera motion so that my animation would work really well with all that stuff.

When you draw, I notice that there’s often little pop culture references. When you posted the snippet of the character with the overall and rollerblades, I immediately clocked that’s got to be Tab from Jet Set Radio.

Yeah 100%

And I saw you had included a snippet of some Bomb Rush Cyberfunk in there as well. Would you say that those games have influenced the way that you make music as well as draw?

Oh 100%. It’s not even just Jet Set Radio and Bomb Rush Cyberfunk. I think at the end of the day, it always boils down to my love for Sonic the Hedgehog. I’ve always heard people say to me “your music sounds like something I would hear in a sonic game” and I’m like “yeah thanks, this is perfect,” because again, it goes all the way back to when I was 12. Actually, I started making music at like 11-ish and I think Sonic Colors had just come out at around that time and the soundtrack was what had literally pushed me to like… I remember saying to myself at a very very young age “I want my music to sound like that”.

It is a killer soundtrack to be fair.

Literally, Sonic music is so good and that is what gave me the push to look a lot deeper into music, into composition and all that stuff and to this day I still try to put people onto Sonic music as crazy as it sounds like.

Bro so do I! There are so many hidden gems in Sonic games.

Literally!

The way they construct a whole world with their music is insane.

Literally, like I feel weird sometimes listening to Sonic music but these guys… these guys know what they’re doing you know?

For real, they’re good at what they do.

Yeah but in terms of art, I got into art through my older brother because he does graphic design and back then he used to design a lot of characters and stuff so that kind of pushed me to do the same thing as well. For me to this day, art is still a hobby but at the same time it’s like… you know it’s one of those things where I was like “I can use this a lot for my music”, and my art takes inspiration from many things from Scott Pilgrim to Jet Set Radio. There’s this artist on Instagram called Cassandra Calin. She played a huge role with my art style and everything, but the music video itself does take inspiration from Jet Set Radio and in the outfit I

designed – well not designed because I already own it in real life – but the outfit is based off of Tab or Corn’s outfit from Jet Set Radio to the roller skates and just putting stickers everywhere in my town centre. I would’ve done graffiti but I realised that it would’ve been a lot harder to animate plus I’m sure it’s illegal. You know I’m for inspiring kids to do the right thing these days.

Wow a true role model if I ever heard one.

Ha-ha, exactly!

Moving from the inspiration in your drawing back to your sound; when I first discovered you it was when you released get right! It brought back this garage sound that I hadn’t heard in a while and then, looking further into your discography, I can see you have so many different sounds. You have garage, house Splatoon remixes and even Vocaloid music. With you having such an extensive range of sounds, do you ever find it difficult producing and releasing different genres of music because the audience might not like it or is it just “I want to make this song. I’m just going to make it”?

I used to have a bit of anxiety a little while ago. This was back when I was working on NIGHTINGALE because I had two distinctive audiences at the time. I had my real life audience which was friends I know, my brothers and all that stuff and then there’s my online audience who are mostly from America and they used to like my EDM and my drum ‘n’ bass and all that stuff whereas my real life audience – they’re more used to my mellow kind of hip hop-ish sound and at the time I was thinking like “what do I make, what do I make?” but nowadays I kind of just want to make whatever I want to make, you know? If I want to make a full on EDM track like something you would hear in Rocket League or a Twitch streamer’s stream or whatever then I would make it. I mean maybe not now because I’m kind of in this era of lo-fi house and dance music and all that stuff but if I feel like it I feel like it. It’s that sort of artistic freedom in a way, if you get what I’m saying.

So then if you were to make a project in the future could we expect multiple genres or just the one?

It depends on how I’d want the project to go. It could be like a full on EDM sound or it could be straight up dance music/dance lo-fi or it could be a mixture of both. I’m definitely not new to that concept as I’ve done it before. In fact I think my very first EP that I put out when I was like… how old was I?… I was like 16, 17. It was like a full-on hip hop EP because it was more aimed at my real life audience. Although I was still heavily influenced by Sonic music, I kind of wanted to go back to my roots and then after going back and forth between genres I realised I just wanted to try loads of different genres at the time so I made a project that was strictly this genre and strictly that genre. So yeah, I would do it again if I felt like it.

To be fair, you’re good at that stuff. I mean with get right!, move your body and me and you, they all sound a little bit different; they aren’t exactly the same genre but the way you produce it kind of creates your own unique musical universe with all these characters. Focusing on the characters in move your body, I’m guessing that it’s you and Lotu5 in the video along with the other characters. Are these characters all based off of real people or are they people that you just draw?

For move your body, every single person in that video is based off of someone I know in real life. It’s essentially their cameo appearance in that video. I drew myself with Lotu5 alongside with friends whereas with me and you, yes there were loads of cameo appearances, but there were also people that I designed myself. I don’t know if they count as video vixens, but I did design and style them myself, some of them. For an example, if you look in the video there’s a girl wearing a red, black, and white Ferrari Jacket. I designed her by myself and it’s kind of based off not people that I know but people that I see in real life, like the different hairstyles and all that stuff – different black hairstyles might I add – and different fashion senses. You know, I had to like actually go outside, which is a crazy concept, but I had to go out and seek and study people’s different senses of fashion and all that stuff and I tried to apply it to these people that I’m creating for this specific music video.

I respect it man. One that caught my eye was the sticker of a man with a pink jacket and his dog in the art style of Bathing Ape’s Baby Milo, is that a real person?

Yeah that’s my friend, his name is Diore and his Instagram is @realeffingdee. He’s a very, very supportive friend. He’s one of my good friends in this scene. I only met him earlier this year but we found out we went to the same school and everything and he’s been so properly supportive with my music and stuff and he’s also just a really great guy so he asked me if he could have a little cameo appearance and I was like “yeah, not only am I going draw but I’m also going to give you your own little Brent [Faiyaz] sticker in different places here and there” and he was like “bro thank you so much!” and I was like “aye man it’s nothing, you’re so supportive of me, this is like me paying my respects back to you”.

Towards the end of the video, you put a little trailer for 365 which is coming soon. As well as that is there anything else we can expect from you in the foreseeable future?

About the 365 thing, I was hoping people would take more notice – I was sprinkling a little bit of 365 here and there throughout the whole music video. What’s so lucky about where I live is that there is a bus route with the number 365, so I thought I’d take advantage of that. But anyways, yes at the end of the video I do tease a little something with an artist called honey. She’s released music with an artist called 10tendo called Money and the song is really good but it’s big as well. Me and her have got a little something together. 365 is… I don’t want to say too much but it’s definitely something we can expect in the future at some point.

Girl Ray live at Belgrave Music Hall review – playful disco gets lost in the mix
12
Apr

Playing to a sparse crowd in Belgrave Music Hall, Girl Ray’s undercooked hour of straightforward disco-pop had highlights but suffered from a muddy mix and was ultimately upstaged by their support act.

To be fair to me, the passage from the neon-lit buzz of Belgrave Canteen to the upstairs Belgrave Music Hall isn’t immediately obvious, particularly upon arriving relatively early on a Tuesday night. Not for the first time at this venue, I accidentally managed to skip the queue via a promising unmarked door next to the pizza stand, and located a toilet before approaching the security guards, receiving a slightly mean chuckle when they pointed out I had toilet roll stuck to the bottom of my shoe. Once in, I did at least have first dibs for the bar and for Belgrave’s limited seating, plus unfettered access to the merch stand. It wouldn’t be manned until after the gig three hours later, but I made sure to leave the venue sporting a bright red Girl Ray tee nonetheless.

Twenty minutes later came that sinking feeling that comes with watching a support act take to the stage to a nearly empty room, and tonight was a particularly tough draw for Kuntessa, whose audience numbered around 20 for her opener. She did at least seem to have three dedicated fans supportively bobbing up and down to the beat near the front, until I realised these were of course the Girl Ray trio willing on their friend. Astonishingly, the Italian electronica songwriter seemed unfazed, posing and preening joyfully across the stage and hilariously introducing zany songs that ranged from rants about her time as a bartender, her love of Kylie Minogue prosecco and a showstopper about wanting to become her crush’s bike saddle – all from her recent Pussy Pitstop EP, as she was at pains to remind us. It was a showing easily profane enough to prove the crudeness of her stage name is no mistranslated coincidence.

Support act Kuntessa played to an almost empty room.
I positioned myself at the front during the final build up to Girl Ray’s set and had expected the wide empty space behind me to fill up with latecomers. Instead, there remained a six-feet radius around me and I ended up uncomfortably feeling like part of the show, feeling too exposed to slip back into the crowd; I was closer to frontwoman Poppy Hankin than any other audience member. It was perfect for dancing, yes (and it had been no problem when a similar thing happened for Los Bitchos last year), but also mildly embarrassing.

It was a shame, because this has been a big year for Girl Ray. Mirroring Jessie Ware, although on a much smaller scale, the trio has pivoted from serviceable indie pop to energising disco through their rewarding recent album Prestige, which presented a sort of raffish charm that suited a genre accustomed to not taking itself too seriously. Faultless pop tunes like Everybody’s Saying That and True Love have no doubt already fueled wild nights in Girl Ray’s familiar North London haunts but, like a hungry young football team contemplating an away day to Stoke, could they deliver the goods on a drab night in Leeds?

The answer was, sadly, not really. Opener True Love immediately fell flat when Hankin’s crucial rhythm guitar was rendered inaudible by a messy mix, and over the course of the next few songs the balance hardly improved even when Hankin repeatedly asked the sound engineer to turn her up. Unlike Kuntessa, Girl Ray seemed understandably a little deflated by the poor turnout on this, the penultimate night of a sizeable UK tour. The gave it an admirable good effort, but lyrics like “baby, get down with me,” simply don’t work without maximum gusto.

In the end, that was what condemned this brief gig: Girl Ray’s performance was never simply bad, just consistently unremarkable. Solos were unambitious, never venturing far from the original recording and lacking any sort of technical dazzle needed to wake up a tepid crowd. Hankin’s vocals sound endearingly rough and ready on the record, but here they just sounded ordinary and slightly held back, like a shy friend delivering a relatively impressive showing at karaoke, good enough for a few raised eyebrows, if not quite a free drink.

Nonetheless, there were highlights to be found once the worst of the mixing issues had been resolved. Tell Me was easily the band’s most exciting song and provided a workout for Sophie Moss on bass plus Girl Ray’s most pleasingly silly couplet: “baby, we were hot like a cigar / but here I am crying in the back of my car”. Hold Tight arrived with a bouncy electronic drum beat from Iris McConnell at the back of the stage and Hankin’s acoustic guitar strumming was buoyant and peppy, even if it seemed to take perhaps a little too much inspiration from George Michael’s Faith.

Give Me Your Love, Prestige’s 7 minutes, 43 seconds closer and arguably the only song in Girl Ray’s catalogue to show some genuine creative ambition, closed the set. I had found it underwhelming on the record but was hopeful it would come alive in person. The entry of a severely overblown kick drum, engulfing all other instruments with every beat, put a swift end to those hopes. It was so deafening it even seemed to startle the three band members at first – good for clearing out my sinuses, less good for closing out a pop concert. It was fitting for this gig that a final, potentially interesting crack at the vocoder from Hankin was almost entirely lost to the din.

I had hoped to meet one of the band at the merch stand afterwards, but having lingered for ten minutes I settled on telling Kuntessa how much I admired her confidence before attempting my exit, trying a door I’d been through on previous visits to Belgrave for investigative purposes. I quickly turned around when the same security guard as earlier told me in no uncertain terms that I had to leave the same way I came in. Feeling sheepish, I decided a bus home would be a solo adventure too far this time and called an Uber. For me as for Girl Ray, sometimes it’s just not your night.

The Beths live at New Century Hall review – the sound of a band realising their potential
5
Apr

After releasing the best album of their careers last year, the Beths are reaping their rewards with bigger venues and an ever more affectionate fanbase. Improved on all fronts since their visit to Leeds last year, all that this gig needed was a bit of extra bite.

The ceiling lights in Manchester’s swish New Century Hall are so remarkable it wasn’t long before they were a topic of extensive onstage conversation from four-piece Kiwi rock outfit the Beths. Each of the perfectly uniform bulbs were framed by thousands of geometric slabs of smooth matte metal, creating an impressive array of shapes and shadows that could pass as one of the less noteworthy works in a spacious gallery of Tate Modern. “Does anybody know how many there are?” bassist Benjamin Sinclair wondered, to which an overly lubricated man beside me shouted “at least 12!”. But authoritative guitarist Jonathan Pearce – who radiates the musical expertise of a man who knows his vintage Fender Stratocasters from his Gibson Firebirds – had done the maths. 1,250 according to his assessment, having divided the ceiling into smaller, countable subsections. When he cued a “special message” written in the lights for one night only I’m convinced I wasn’t the only one that looked up with complete faith in his abilities.

Liz Stokes and Benjamin Sinclair of the Beths, with Tristan Deck behind on drums

The Beths can be forgiven for getting a little carried away with a venue as glitzy and capacious as New Century Hall. It’s been little over a year since frontwoman Liz Stokes was getting self-conscious over a poorly angled mirror above the bar at Leeds’ Brudenell Social Club, a decidedly more intimate venue that seemed to underplay the quality of her songwriting. Tonight they’ve graduated Leeds and are now filling out one of the trendiest venues in the city’s big brother to the west, an expensively refurbished hall that once played host to the likes of Jimi Hendrix, Pink Floyd and the Bee Gees in its heyday. 2022’s exemplary third album Expert In A Dying Field is surely driving the surge in support; an album that more than makes up for a lack of the cutting-edge with a glut of indelible chorus hooks and some of the most brilliantly crafted guitar solos of the year. As the crowds gathered ahead of the Beths’ entrance in Manchester, it was reassuring to see that good music can simply propel good bands onwards; for all the complaints about modern music’s “industry plants” and stadium-filling megastars pumping out one lazy album after another, a feeble musical meritocracy still stands firm.

A Passing Rain followed the hard rock formula to a tee: four good chords, played loud and fast, over and over.

Filling out the heart of the band’s set this evening, it was that batch of fresh material that provided many of the gig’s highlights. Head In the Clouds‘ wonderfully choppy bridge gave way to an anthemic chorus that had the crowds pointing to the ceiling bulbs in euphoria; lilting delight When You Know You Know had Stokes dusting off her acoustic guitar for the most exquisite chorus melody she’s ever penned. Given deserved late billing in the set list, all-rounder Expert In A Dying Field was greeted by the audience like an old friend.

Of course, this performance necessarily extended beyond all the great new songs, and the old essence of what first made the Beths worth listening to remained. It was telling that Future Me Hates Me – the title track from their debut album – was chosen to open the show ahead of recent, more obvious options. It worked well as the band’s introductory theme song, those four words in the title nicely encapsulating Stokes’ relatable lyrical style of half-serious self-deprecation. An endearing routine with the band members introducing one another in turn also remained, giving a sense of their individual personalities and providing a golden opportunity for Sinclair to plug his travel blog, which he sheepishly took.

At other times the Beths were perhaps a little too sheepish. More a musician than a performer, Stokes was not the sort of frontwoman to dictate any crowd participation beyond a knowing smile at any organic audience-clapping and moshing was out of the question. Sure, jumping around like a maniac has a time and a place, but there were a few songs that were heavy enough to deserve the full monty, not least A Passing Rain, which follows the hard rock formula for success to a tee: four good chords, played loud and fast, over and over. It didn’t help that Sinclair’s bass – used judiciously in this song to make its eventual impact in the second chorus all the more earth-shattering – felt weedy and undercooked, and the crowd seemed indifferent to the track as a result. It was this mixing issue that held back the Beths when delving into the punkier corners of their discography, with killer single Not Getting Excited also lacking crucial bite.

Each of Pearce’s guitar solos was a phenomenon, the crowd hooked on every twang and twiddle.

Even Pearce’s countless guitar solos felt a little restrained as a result of their conciseness, but wisely so. A majority of tracks were graced with his solos, each one its own phenomenon teased out one by one to a crowd hooked on every twang and twiddle. A lesser guitarist might be tempted towards directionless improvised shredding over such a juicy bounty of solid rock tracks, but Pearce’s guitar solos were meticulous and intelligently crafted, each one neatly wrapped up the moment before Stokes’ vocals rejoined. A refreshingly ingenious yet humble lead guitarist, it was Pearce that shone as this band’s outstanding talent.

Backed by a giant inflatable fish head, Jonathan Pearce’s guitar solos were consistently remarkable.

By far the evening’s most memorable moment came late on with Dying to Believe, which saw audience member Abi supplant Sinclair after the band spotted her banner requesting to play bass for a song. She performed it with complete conviction, and the audience erupted. There was something joyful about witnessing a person seize the moment with such aplomb, and a confidently delivered bass solo towards the end had the crowd rightly giving one of the biggest roars of the night. Sinclair somewhat amusingly became a spare part, microphone still in hand as he watched on. “I discovered quickly that I don’t know any cool ways to hold a microphone,” he would later write on that blog.

By the end of the night, it seemed confirmed that the Beths will never be the sort of rock band gunning for stadium-sized gigs as a result of their relatively lowkey and conservative approach to indie rock. And nor should they be: Stokes’ introspective lyricism doesn’t deserve to be lost to a melee of chucked beers and wayward limbs. The utterly heartbreaking acoustic encore track You Are a Beam of Light provoked a dumbfounded silence and stillness from the audience that was as emotionally potent an experience as any mosh pit. There is evidently still a space for subtler displays of emotion in today’s indie music, and the Beth’s trajectory remains upward; it was a symptom of their success that their latest album necessitated a cutting of some fine material from their live set (Whatever, Uptown Girl and River Run: Lvl 1, all highlights of last year’s gig in Leeds, have since been culled). Still, there’s work to be done. “They’re Australian, right?” I overheard one concertgoer ask a friend as we left the venue and almost tutted. These New Zealanders have come so improbably far already, but you get the sense there’s still a little more room to grow.

Couch live at Band On The Wall review – eight-strong funk group go all in
27
Mar

Every song was a showstopper for a celebratory final night of Couch’s debut international tour in an ambitious show packed with unrelenting funk-pop grooves, countless glorious solos and the best Harry Styles cover money can buy.

Tema Siegel stands centre stage, clad in a leather jacket with her microphone aloft in one hand, mug of coffee in the other. She’s reached the crux of Saturday, and slowly tilts her head back and shuts her eyes as she lets out an authoritative long note above a whirl of funky synths and guitars. A moment later and the entire song disintegrates when the band simply stop playing and Siegel switches from that momentary bliss to the neutral stance of everyday life in a moment. The song’s ending is met by an almost comic ripple of applause from the half dozen audience members, all of whom are loitering in a dark corner of Band On The Wall. For a song like Saturday clearly designed to whip up audiences into a frenzied party, it all feels shockingly flat.

The good news is the party hasn’t started yet. In fact, the six audience members are myself and the group of friends I’d travelled to Manchester with plus a sound guy. Through something like the dark arts (or, more specifically, some smooth direct messaging with Couch’s Instagram account), my friend Thomas had scored us ‘VIP’ access to the soundcheck, as well as a chance to personally meet some of the eight band members. We stood there at the back like sheepish starstruck superfans doting on the musicians’ every word as they ironed out fiddly issues with in-ear monitors and song transitions before hopping off stage and closely listening back to a recording just in case any mixing decisions needed tweaking.

Constant movement injected Couch’s set with fun.

Cut to three hours later and that careful, diligent preparation was invisible to the crowd as the eight excited musicians promptly kicked into their opening number. Since the low-key soundcheck, Band On The Wall – an impressively decked out and fresh-feeling venue in Manchester’s fashionable Northern Quarter – had transformed from a dark, empty void to the place to be in the city, with the most intense buzz of pre-gig anticipation I’ve felt since Sam Fender. The big draw of Thomas’ arrangements turned out not to be the soundcheck or even chats with the band but the early access itself, which meant we could snag an ideal spot at the front of the crowd, close enough to examine Siegel’s choice of trainers and directly hear the harsh parp of Jeffrey Pinsker-Smith’s trumpet before it was routed through the venue’s sound system. The thrill of such close contact with the stars, with the possibility of catching brief eye contact with a restless Siegel as she delivered her unwavering lead vocals, never wore off.

Almost every song featured a face-scrunching solo worthy of spontaneous yelps of support from the crowd and bandmates alike.

The proximity no doubt intensified the experience for me and my friends, but everyone in the room seemed blown away by the breathless opening set piece from the Bostonian band, who are riding high on the wake left behind by Vulfpeck, a funk band so spectacularly successful they’ve inspired renewed interesting in retro, jazz-informed pop amongst the young generation the world over. A brief rendition of the Wii Sports theme song set the tone for a light-hearted evening (and took a leaf out of Cory Wong’s playbook) before a sublime transition into the tumbling first chords of Fall Into Place, a song that instantly had the band – and therefore, the crowd – bobbing along to the groove enthusiastically. It was sounding surprisingly tight despite all the passionate moving and shaking onstage, ending with the first of many spine-tingling belted vocal moments of the night, aided by more than one flashy organ glissando. Immediate follow-up I’m Leavin’ (The Na-Na Song) continued the momentum with a masterclass in how to transform a lazy, grating chorus into an instant crowd pleaser on the night by way of punchier crescendos, noisier solos and a healthy helping of light choreography.

The best aspect of Couch’s performance, and also arguably the only weakness, was the fact that the high energy pop bangers started with Fall Into Place and virtually didn’t stop for the next 100 exhilarating (and exhausting) minutes. Almost every song featured a face-scrunching solo worthy of spontaneous yelps of support from the crowd and bandmates alike, and even the seemingly quiet tracks invariably wound up with a gobsmacking finale led by the indefatigable Siegel, her long notes often bridging dramatic stops in the accompaniment. The best songs were often simply the ones with the most ambitious climaxes. Earwormy Poems tailed off into the stratosphere even more than most, propelled onwards by a key change at an opportune moment. Still Feeling You, a perfectly crafted pop song and head and shoulders Couch’s best recorded track, was always destined to be a highlight, even if the knotty horns-led instrumental bridge inevitably frayed at the edges now played outside the comfortable surroundings of a recording studio.

Every band member got their moment in the spotlight.

An interesting selection of covers filled out a marathon 21-song set, all of which were Couch-ified with immaculately rehearsed details of group synchronicity, plus the trademark barnstorming final chorus. A zestful rendition of With A Little Help From My Friends was well received, and a smooth transition into Something milked the Beatles patriotism in the room for all it was worth. Billy Joel’s Vienna provided the sort of robust blues melody that Siegel eats for breakfast, and Pinsker-Smith was not one to pass off on an opportunity for a squawking muted trumpet solo. A less purposeful rendition of Sex On Fire, by contrast, felt surplus to requirement. It may seem like a cruel backhanded compliment for me to list the cover of Harry Styles’ somewhat bland, radio-primed filler Late Night Talking as the evening’s biggest highlight, but Couch’s reimagination of the track is so brilliant it’s already earning its own reputation in the States as one of the group’s niftiest showstoppers. Every corner of the song was masterfully slick and self-assured, from the chorus’ finely tuned vocal harmonies to the delightful yet well-restrained fresh flashes of trumpet and saxophone. It culminated in Danny Silverston’s breathtakingly funky Stevie Wonder-style clavinet breakdown (a surefire way to Undertone‘s heart), before Siegel reintroduced each instrument with a joyful campness (“Willy, where’s that bass at!?”). This was the sort of cover that will forever render the original a disappointment.

Chants of “we want more!” were instant after Couch left the stage; Siegel could only manage a few seconds hidden backstage before bursting back out to her adoring fans with a smile.

Couch proved themselves to be great musicians, but they were even better performers. From song one, movement onstage was constant and engaging, and rarely did all band members start and end a song in the same spot. Leading the pack, Siegel was particularly bubbly, often crouching down a few feet in front of us and looking into the phone cameras of the rapt front row fans, my friends amongst them. Wireless microphones and transmitters were an essential piece of tech for Couch, allowing almost every band member to wander the stage freely, resulting in the sort of dynamic and authentically spontaneous performance you’re unlikely to see in your traditional four-man rock band. Eric Tarlin on saxophone was the band member that seemed to most relish this freedom, initiating games of rock-paper-scissors or handshakes with bandmates before particularly magnificent solos. He travelled so much that his hijinks found him playing keyboard at one point, as well as an entertaining stint as lead vocalist. His solos were equally playful and cheeky, his face tight with a smile behind the mouthpiece.

In fact, every band member had plenty of time alone in the limelight – Still Feeling You was followed by several minutes of solos on the same chord progression. It could have been tiresome had each solo not been somehow more spectacular than the last. Jared Gozinsky’s long drum break into standout Saturday was thunderous and bassist Will Griffin was Dart-like in his enthralling few minutes at the front of stage, but it was keyboardist Danny Silverston who produced the finest solo of the night with his otherworldly synth adventures on Let Me Hold You, the more promising of two unreleased songs.

Countless more solos came and went by the time Siegel started saying her goodbyes. It had been a set admittedly lacking in versatility. The band’s formula of throwing the kitchen sink at the end of every song became a little too apparent after a dozen iterations and Siegel’s vocal performances, whilst commanding, lacked nuance. Fortunately, all the kitchen sink throwing was so passionately delivered there were few signs of tiredness amongst the celebratory crowd. Chants of “we want more!” were instant after Couch left the stage, and Siegel could only manage a few seconds hidden backstage before bursting back out to her adoring fans with a smile. Encore song Conjunction Junction gave the fans exactly what they wanted: unadulterated funk, complete with squelchy rhythm guitar, a sticky horns hook and lyrics that made good use of the word “funk”. To say the ensuing sax vs trumpet solo battle at the song’s climax tore the roof off would be inaccurate; Couch had metaphorically deroofed Band On The Wall several times already that evening.

The five of us left promptly and strode briskly back to Victoria station to catch the last train home, already eagerly throwing around “best gig ever” suggestions after our successful VIP experience. It was perhaps telling that whilst my friends exchanged video clips of the night’s highlights on the train, my first action was to find a row to myself, lie down and throw a coat over my head to block out the overhead lights. Couch’s show had been inconcise but potent, an adrenaline shot of high-octane pop destined to leave sore heads in the morning. Several band members had fittingly finished collapsed on the floor in the immediate aftermath of Conjunction Junction, and in many ways Couch were right not to hold back on their final night in the UK before flying back to the States. They had given it all, and it wasn’t just my friends’ special treatment that had made it a night to remember. That said, if Couch can be accused of bribery – giving away freebies in the hopes of praise from the esteemed tastemaker at Undertone blog – this time it worked magnificently.

Self Esteem live at Sage Gateshead review – left-field pop firebrand is the full package
15
Mar

Arriving at one of the grandest venues of her career to date, Self Esteem threw the kitchen sink at this performance at the Sage with snappy choreography and slick costume changes. Rarely was the show anything but utterly spectacular.

Something extraordinary happened about halfway through Self Esteem’s enthralling recent performance at Sage Gateshead. Amidst a chaotic screech of rising synths, Rebecca Lucy Taylor had snuck off stage, leaving us to gawp wide-eyed at the rest of the band, who were in the process of morphing out of their monochrome tuxedos and into blazing red head-to-toe body suits before our very eyes. Once her alien-like minions had fully materialised, Taylor returned in a blood red playsuit, an uneasy mix of playful and dominant with her huge, feather-brimmed cowboy hat. “I am not your mother,” she chanted with venom amongst the swirling clouds of smoke, storming around the stage during a particularly strenuous stretch of choreo. For several gripping minutes the room was awash with a chest-rattling kick drum and siren-like synths, before Taylor eventually climbed up the centre-stage plinth to have a bash of – or more accurately, abuse – a drum of her own. Cue a magnificent transition into the no less venomous How Can I Help You?, and the chaos continued unabated. As an artistic sequence, this was Taylor operating at the peak of her powers, providing a visceral, compellingly ugly spectacle. It set the tone for an evening of bold, inventive and ultimately uplifting pop.

It’s songs like How Can I Help You? – a no nonsense alt-pop monster – that had critics’ ears pricking up in the wake of Self Esteem’s latest studio album Prioritise Pleasure, which got a deserved Mercury Prize nomination and recognition as the Guardian’s Album of the Year in 2021. Since then, her live shows have only been getting bigger and bolder, and the imposing arena of Sage Gateshead’s main auditorium was a new high water mark that seemed to shock even the popstar herself. “A lot of Taskmaster fans in Newcastle,” she tried to jokingly justify to herself at one point, although it was obvious no one was here simply because they had spotted her on the New Year’s special episode of the TV show.

You Forever had the rowdiest fans below me almost jumping on their seats in ecstasy

It’s not just the sheer size of the Sage that makes it a difficult place to perform (it’s big but, admittedly, UK concert venues can get much bigger). With its many rows of seats and elegant wooden sound boards, the Sage is less of a venue, more a temple of listening, and performers have little hope of painting over unsatisfactory music with crowd pleasing visual flourishes in the same way they might do in less formal surroundings. Support act Tom Rasmussen battled admirably to make an impact with flashy dance music, but even their most dynamic tracks struggled when confronted with 1,600 people settling down in their padded seats with a freshly baked scone from the foyer cafe. Subsequent performer Mega got similarly swallowed up by the room, unwisely pitching up with just a guitar and cajon to support her.

Staging and lighting added potency to exhilarating How Can I Help You?

For Self Esteem, however, there was hope. Not over reliant on dance grooves or shock factor, her distinctive pop provides plenty for the attentive concertgoer to listen for. Her lyrics and not just frequently witty but fierce and unwaveringly earnest, and sonically her songs match abrasive pop trailblazing with a pained tenderness; on the night, How Can I Help You?‘s uncompromising stomp was balanced by achingly bare piano ballad John Elton. If the seating arrangements limited dancing, Taylor was at least sure to provide plenty of reasons to cry. In fact, in the end all the seats didn’t matter at all – the wealth of pop bangers on parade had the entire ground floor seating area on their feet for virtually the whole gig, not to mention the overenthusiastic group of tipsy women booked in the seats next to me.

With such an unusually interesting catalog at her disposal, Taylor could be forgiven for simply doling out the hits in Gateshead. Instead, this was a deeply intentional, meticulously detailed performance. Beyond the three costumes and their effortlessly slick transitions, razor sharp choreography from Taylor’s three hard-working backing singers offered a fresh visual dimension to the songs. In stormier sections the group often served shocking moments of synchronicity, their aggressive punches and kicks adding even more heft to Mike Park’s hulking drum beats. In other times, when Taylor’s mellow vibrato floated over subtler backings, the group produced heart-rending tableaux, linking arms or physically supporting not just Taylor but one another. Sonically, Self Esteem offered the full package, too. Bassist and purveyor of keyboards Sophie Galpin seemed at risk of being overworked, but she managed every room-filling synth hit and wild, sudden change of musical direction with miraculous ease. Taylor herself delivered with her powerful, hearty vocals, sounding just as comfortable belting out the apex of a beautiful ballad as she was snarling about misogynistic men in no uncertain terms.

Most musicians will spend an entire career reaching for artistry as exquisite as I Do This All The Time

It was a set packed with almost too many winning set pieces to mention. Punchy funk number Moody came repurposed as a glorious Y.M.C.A.-style dance-along, and sparkling You Forever was even more joyfully energetic, leaving the rowdiest fans below me almost jumping on their seats in ecstasy. Stirring slow burner The 345 was rightly billed as the big singalong tear-jerker at the business end of proceedings, but an earlier performance of Just Kids was even more emotionally penetrating. “Remember we had it all when we were just kids?” the gospel vocals soared as melting, bracingly artificial strings pierced through the track. It was The 345 that marked the start of the descent into hell by way of red mist and a cowboy hat, with the most fiery corners of Self Esteem’s released (and unreleased) material condensed into a blistering 15 minutes that hit like a shot of vodka. The conviction in which Taylor spluttered out her lyrics, utterly incandescent, was almost frightening. “I’m a truly hideous person but I’m very charming on telly,” she told us in her endearing Sheffield drawl after the dust had settled, briefly relishing in her own villainy before digging in once more with a propulsive performance of standout Girl Crush.

Rebecca Taylor performed closely with her hard-working backing singers

From the outset, we all knew this gig was only heading in one direction, namely I Do This All The Time, Taylor’s career-defining moment of genius, part determined hymn to healing, part poignant piece of heartbroken slam poetry. It may take some of its cues from Baz Luhrman’s Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen), but Taylor’s song is much more than just vague life advice in pretty packaging. Instead, everything in this song cuts straight through to the soul – the empowering group vocals, the devastating strings melody, Taylor’s endlessly quotable nuggets of wisdom, which are delivered with the crushing nonchalance of an artist on the verge of giving up. Most musicians will spend an entire career reaching for artistry as exquisite as I Do This All The Time. In Gateshead, Taylor forgetting the bulk of the first verse (“please don’t ask for a refund!”) was a fly in the ointment, but as that final gospel rush arrived, with Taylor earnestly linking arms with her backing singers in genuine camaraderie, the sheer amount of humanity on the stage made it difficult to hold back the tears.

It had been an evening of such variety for both eyes and ears it seemed unfair to ask for any more from Taylor, who no doubt will end this tour both physically and emotionally exhausted. That said, a live strings section was the one thing that could have elevated I Do This All The Time (and several other songs) even higher, and the two person backing band ended up feeling inevitably lacking for all Galpin’s multitasking heroics. Relatively unremarkable Still Reigning also marked a peculiar comedown after the aforementioned showstopper, and there was a sense that the audience was simply too exhausted by the previous emotional bulldozer to sing along with much volume. Make no mistake, though, Taylor’s live show is an artistic triumph, and by the sounds of the new material aired at the Sage, she may still be yet to hit her creative peak.

Like many others around me, I felt emotionally battered by the time the house lights came up. Shirley Bassey’s terrific disco hit This Is My Life was an inspired choice of exit music, her powerful refrain perfectly mirroring the intense joy left behind by Taylor’s art yet with a distinct undercurrent of melancholy. As I left the still dancing crowds below, I felt as I do after all the best gigs: deeply satisfied but heavy with sadness from the knowledge that experiences like these can never truly be re-lived. The one-time-only thrill is of course exactly what makes live music so special, exciting and often transcendent, but I have a habit of realising how precious the moment is just as it ends. Some of Taylor’s final words were still ringing in my ears as I made my way back over the Tyne Bridge and looked across to the beautiful light show on the rest of the city’s great bridges. “I will never forget this,” she had told us, voice wavering as the crowd’s standing ovation grew ever louder. Plenty of artists have said similar things at dozens of gigs I’ve seen across the country in the last few years, but this insistence of Gateshead’s specialness felt different. This time I could sense she really meant it.

Jeff Rosenstock live at Belgrave Music Hall review – songs to tear the roof off
8
Mar

Critically acclaimed punk rocker Jeff Rosenstock marked his return to the UK with an explosive, sweat-drenched performance in Leeds, packed with clever changes of pace, raucous singalongs and underlying anti-capitalist rage.

16 Undertone gig reviews deep, no act I’ve seen thus far has taken to a stage quite like Jeff Rosenstock did at Leeds’ Belgrave Music Hall. For most acts, their grand entrance onto the stage is hammed up as one of the most thrilling moments of the night. Be it dodie‘s gentle organ hum, Sam Fender‘s static fuzz or Jungle‘s interminable sirens, some sort of lavish musical fanfare usually marks the end of the hours-long wait for the artist on our tickets. Even less well-known artists like Larkins or The Beths dimmed the lights and donned facemasks to remain anonymous as they set up their own equipment onstage, attempting to save the big reveal for the giddy few seconds before the start of their first song. The Beths even had their own hoodies with words like “guitar tech” written on their backs in an attempt to fool the audience (stood right at the front and with prior knowledge of just how unusually tall guitarist Jonathan Pearce was, I wasn’t buying it).

It was a surprise, then, when Rosenstock and his band practically stumbled onto stage minutes after the phenomenal Fresh had wrapped up their supporting set. I once again found myself right at the front and within touching distance of the great man as he taped a scrawled set list to the monitor in front of me and wrestled with a mic stand that had become entangled in cables. When one of Rosenstock’s songs happened to come on as background music, him and his band even started briefly jamming along to the disbelieving delight of the crowd.

The lowkey start was indicative of punk music’s general lack of self-importance, and Rosenstock’s humility in particular. Before digging into furious thrash metal of opener NO TIME, Rosenstock announced that he was here just to play some songs. For a pop gig this might have sound like an admittance of creative laziness, but for Rosenstock’s endearingly homegrown brand of rock, “some songs” was all the performance we needed.

Rosenstock performing on his replacement guitar

It helped, of course, that Jeff Rosenstock happens to have one of the most lauded discographies in rock today. Since his solo debut in 2012, he’s released one outstanding project after another, peaking with 2016’s immaculately-paced WORRY., which gladly took up a significant chunk of the set list in Leeds. His latest effort, 2020’s bitter and cathartic NO DREAM, came to define the pandemic summer for me and close friend Ewan, who, just like me, was hardly able to contain his excitement as we waited near the front of the queue outside Belgrave Music Hall. I had donned my NO DREAM t-shirt whilst Ewan’s giant Rosenstock flag remained proudly hung up in his bedroom at home.

Despite the night being Rosenstock’s first UK performance in many years, he was in no mood for gentle reintroduction. Choppy Nikes (Alt) had fans pogoing early on, as we screamed about “staring down the barrel of our shitty future” and “looking for a dream that won’t morph into a nightmare”. Scram! – the finest single on NO DREAM – was just as thrilling, and there was something vaguely touching about a group of (mostly) millennial men coming together in a room to sing about how desperate they are to run away from all the myriad personal problems in their lives. Musically, the climax of Scram! is extraordinary, with a barrage of kick drum hits that wouldn’t sound out of place on a Slipknot track, before eventually giving way to a rollicking garage rock payoff.

Rosenstock held nothing back in his performance of every last song, convulsing and twitching towards the microphone during his most pointed lyrics, turning around and keeling over his guitar in the ecstatic pain typical of loud rock music during many vocal breaks. It was scarcely more than 15 minutes in by the time he started to get visibly sweaty, and another 15 minutes later I could feel the occasional speck of lukewarm sweat splatter onto me whenever Rosenstock got overly energetic in his dancing; such is the visceral experience of being at the very front of a Jeff Rosenstock gig. His poor guitar got so drenched that he had to swap to his ‘backup’ guitar halfway through, telling us a story about how he apparently sweats much more than the average person. We all believed him.

Fun and goofy-sounding up-tempo numbers like Hey Allison! and Monday at the Beach were even faster in the flesh, almost to a fault, although seeing Kevin Higuchi smack the snare drum at such a rapid tempo never got old. Festival Song was a clearer highlight of the night, with its bounty of singalong riffs and propulsive final chorus, elevated by the screech of Mike Huguenor’s guitar. Majestic You, In Weird Cities should really have closed the entire night, but it was still rapturously received much earlier in the set. Rosenstock’s saxophone antics of the song’s live version had Ewan and I excited, not least because keyboardist and guitarist Dan Potthast had been occasionally playing a tenor throughout the night. In the end we didn’t quite get the saxophone solo we had been hoping for, but an a capella singalong of the song’s awe-inspiring final hook nonetheless felt pretty special. f a m e, NO DREAM‘s grandest moment, was the only significant set list casualty of the night.

The hits continued with the restless N O D R E A M, which was a good excuse for Ewan’s first stagedive of the night to the ire of the Belgrave security guards and general approval of fellow revellers, although no one quite had the boldness to do any crowdsurfing of their own for the entire night. The absurd sight of my friend’s limbs coming in and out of view in the melee beside me enhanced the giddy excitement of Rosenstock’s noisiest tracks. After that first stagedive I wasn’t to see him for a good 30 minutes whilst I clung on to my spot at the very front, wary of crush injuries from the occasional mosh pit surge. I was close enough to Rosenstock for him to confer with me in bafflement when the inevitable “Yorkshire” chants arrived before the encore.

Rosenstock connected with the fans on the closing tracks

And what an encore. To the delight of Ewan and I, it was mostly devoted to the final five songs of WORRY., which are woven together beautifully into one remarkable ten-minute long rock opus. Every chorus set the mosh pit on fire, and in quieter moments Rosenstock was almost entirely drowned out by a crowd intent on screaming every last lyric. Exhausted, Rosenstock lay down on stage towards the end of the segment, dozens of hands pouring at his shoulders and willing him to push himself out above the heads of the audience.

It had been a show with little fanfare and little space for sentimentality, but at the very end Rosenstock gave us a morsel with the calming cooldown of We Begged 2 Explode. “All these magic moments are forgotten,” we all chanted as Rosenstock waved goodnight. If we had bothered to listen to the words we were screaming, we may have realised how fleeting emotional highs like these really are.

easy life live at O2 City Hall – indie pop stars get carried away
5
Mar

Hundreds of university students descended on Newcastle’s City Hall for an evening of singalong soft pop and RnB so unnecessarily injected with superficial rock and roll antics it made you wonder if Murray Matravers and co have chosen the wrong genre.

You know you’re in for a wild night when you find yourself on the frenzied brim of your second mosh pit of the night and the headline act hasn’t even appeared yet. Instead, it’s Archie Blagden, one half of Somerset hip-hop duo Sad Night Dynamite, that’s flinging himself around in the empty area in front of me, battle-ready with tinted goggles and aided by boomy 808s and scuzzy autotune. I had in some way asked for it – on the walk down to the City Hall I’d told my friend Izzie that I was eager for some full-throated mosh pit action now with the enthralling drama of cleopatrick’s heavy rock set last spring a distant memory. But to the sound of this grungy mess I was as reluctant as the rest of the peace-loving easy life fans around me when Blagden made his final orders to collide. Sad Night Dynamite worked hard during their set but eliciting such an extreme response from a set of fans that largely didn’t know they existed at lunchtime was always going to be an uphill struggle. As it happened, their set ended in a degree of ignominy, with the onstage Macbook crashing despite several midsong attempts at revival.

Thirty minutes later, and seemingly unperturbed by his colleagues’ struggles, easy life frontman Murray Matravers sauntered onto stage as if he simply hadn’t noticed the several thousand fans in the room loudly celebrating his arrival, still clutching his red plastic beer cup as he settled himself at a keyboard for the opening number. He was surrounded by a neat set mimicking the insides of a house – complete with fake, curtained windows and a prop door – to match the homely aesthetic of their second album MAYBE IN ANOTHER LIFE. A marked improvement from the debut’s rough edges and loose concept, it was that horns-infused second album that I was most looking forward to experiencing in person. Many in the room had affections for the quintet that long predated the 2021 debut album; easy life has supplied a steady drip of singles since 2017, and their disaffected, loose RnB style has already made them regular winning fixtures at festivals across the country every summer. Last year’s jaunt in Glastonbury was particularly notorious, with Matravers jumping several barriers to get down and dirty in the mud at Worthy Farm during skeletons. Through the TV screen, I could hardly believe what I was watching.

easy life’s staging was well put together.

Despite the reputation of their energetic live shows, more often than not it was the more laid-back numbers from the recent album that shone the brightest in Newcastle. Lazy funk head-thumper GROWING PAINS got the gig off to a good start with a display of Matravers’ endearing lackadaisical rap style and knack for an infectious groove. On serene OTT Matravers’ whiny and strained but oddly affecting vocals were also a highlight, doing well to avoid the autotune and instead opting for a stark authenticity that seemed to have the audience screaming along all the louder. No song was screamed louder than exquisite early highlight sangria, a song propelled by a deliciously groovy bass line and one of the finest chorus hooks easy life have penned to date. The refrain was so strong it made up for a pre-recorded Arlo Parks retaining her chorus for the live performance and some dubiously pretentious verses with lines like “euphoric but unbalanced, like two top-heavy fractions”.

The occasional horns that elevated the latest album appeared periodically in Newcastle as a three-piece tucked somewhat apologetically in a distant corner of the stage. It must be said that the musicians didn’t seem to be at their sharpest and on occasion big moments were fluffed by a dodgy note or lack of conviction, but they nonetheless delivered the goods for CALLING IN SICK‘s remarkable instrumental finale, their rousing melodies rising further and further into bliss. As questionable as the horn section’s performance was at times, they were criminally underused, and even obliged to exit via the prop door on songs where they were deemed surplus to requirement. A little more effort towards including them as part of the gang would have gone a long way – easy life’s jazzy pop inflections could suit an extra sophisticated instrumental edge. Besides, pop as a genre (like most things) could always do with more trumpet solos.

The horn section delivered the goods, their rousing melodies rising further and further into bliss.

easy life is a band that appeals to a very specific Gen Z audience, and I had arrived fittingly amongst a gaggle of a dozen university students eager enough to accept an hour waiting outside under the City Hall’s towering stone pillars before the gig. As a result, I found myself in the epicentre of a crowd of the most passionate easy lifers, and after the vigorous warm up of the support act I readied myself for battle, ensuring that the usual pint of Coke was fully consumed before the inevitable mayhem that would ensue. It was song four when I last caught sight of my friends, Matravers splitting the crowd for a booming rendition of BASEMENT. The song was a gritty highlight of the last album but the deafening, elephantine bass synth inevitably came out as a mangled, indistinct rumble from the overworked City Hall soundsystem. The muddy mix didn’t seem to help the audience enthusiasm, and there were audible groans when Matravers enthusiastically set up a second mosh pit for the third chorus. The screams that followed near me seemed more likely to be discomfort from the genuinely alarming crush than delighted exhilaration.

Frequent crowd surfing was both great fun and a major distraction.

The enforced fun didn’t stop there. skeletons was the climax of the night, with scruffy looking drummer Oliver Cassidy orchestrating a mosh circle before impressively extricating himself from the sea of bodies in time for the final chorus. To be fair, if any easy life song warrants such chaos, it’s this one, and performed with a little extra abrasive attitude than the originals the dirty synths and shouty hook gave a satisfactory reason to work up a sweat and inadvertently become intimately aware of the hair hygiene routine of the person in front of you. At other times, the rock and roll antics were simply uncomfortable distractions from unfittingly amiable pop songs. Matravers spent much of breakout hit Nightmares surfing the crowd and, as fun as getting a hand on his shiny leather coat was, I was too busy avoiding getting kicked in the head by the popstar to appreciate the song’s rock solid chorus. Later, an outrageously jazzy trumpet solo was demoted to background music as guitarist Lewis Berry also had a crack at crowd surfing, apparently twisting his ankle as he fell off the stage but getting stuck in regardless. It was telling that I only realised how good the instrumental section sounded when watching back through my jittery footage of the whole hullabaloo in front of me.

I was too busy avoiding getting kicked in the head by a popstar to appreciate Nightmares‘ rock solid hook.

As the night wore on there was a growing feeling that those around me were growing tired of the theatrics too, and even the calmer moments of crowd participation felt jarringly superficial. Matravers had to almost beg the audience to get their lighters in the air for ho-hum new ballad trust exercises, and elsewhere vigorous hand waving from Cassidy only just got the crowd swaying along. There was of course plenty of joy to be had at this easy life for the band’s most faithful followers, but for those still needing convincing the boyband could have done well to tone it all down a bit.

I staggered out the City Hall at 10.30pm underwhelmed but inevitably sweaty and lingered around in vain for a sight of any of the friends I showed up with, having last seen them on the other side of BASEMENT. Grateful for the fresh air, I gave it five minutes before zipping home on an e-scooter, head ringing. I had been given the sticky, claustrophobic music workout I had half-desired before the gig, but it came at the cost of easy life’s music. This is no hard rock or metal band, and I left more confused than when I arrived as to why the band felt the need to turn up the volume on their relatively gentle indie pop so forcefully. Moshing is a worthwhile experience whilst we’re young, but there’s a time and a place. Next time I’ll be more careful what I wish for.