Liam Gallagher - Live at Hackney Round Chapel, London

There is absolutely no doubt where the hottest ticket in London is tonight, June 5th.

The 250-capacity Hackney Round Chapel isn’t renowned for its musical heritage (its most popular income stream being as a wedding venue), but the tiny venue is packed tonight and the great and the good – including Miles Kane, Kyle Falconer, Dynamo and, rather wonderfully, Krishnan Guru-Murthy – are all in attendance to see one man.

In case there was any doubt, the set-up on stage features the simple words ‘Rock ‘N Roll’, Manchester City’s initials and the bass drum an image of Leo Sayer, a nod to the latest grenade thrown in the endless Gallagher War and our host’s succinct opinion on his elder brother’s new musical offering.

It has the atmosphere of a comeback, which to all intents and purposes it is, even though Liam Gallagher’s last gig was less than a year ago. Ostensibly to promote his new single, but actually to launch a new pair of custom Adidias Spezial trainers, the gig was only announced last week and obviously sold out in seconds. The anticipation before he takes to the stage is palpable and, as ever, intro music ‘Fuckin’ In The Bushes’ whips the crowd into a frenzy.

Picking up exactly where he left off, the opening one-two of ‘Rock ‘n’ Roll Star’ and ‘Morning Glory’ takes the raucous crowd into ecstasy. Hearteningly, it’s a very mixed crowd; the old school fans (those with grey hairs and beer bellies) are to be found from the middle back and seated in the rafters, not that many people are seated at any point. The first few rows however are generally made up of men (it’s always men) that can’t have been born when Definitely Maybe was released. It’s testament to the power of the Gallaghers that they are still able to entice the younger generation.

It’s also an ongoing mystery as to exactly why. Anyone who has ever been to see the man live knows exactly what to expect. Minimal interaction with the crowd, very little body movement aside from a shake of the maracas (at one point shaking them into the mic, Liam accidentally knocks it off its stand and leaves it to be picked by one of the crew – that’s about as impromptu as it gets), but the sheer magnetism and charisma has long filled rooms bigger than this. He’s just got an aura around him. But it all plays second fiddle to The Voice; to paraphrase his brother, when you hear that voice you know you’re at a gig.

Singing as he does, shredding his larynx night after night, it’s a wonder Gallagher has a voice at all. It’s still so powerful, the herbal remedies he is taking to preserve it are working a treat. Tonight he sounds absolutely at the top of his game, not quite as wondrous as it was in the mid-90s but as strong as it’s been since then. He’s found the sweet spot between singing and shouting again and, on this form, no singer in the world comes close.

It helps that it’s probably his strongest solo set to date. The highlights from his first album (‘Wall Of Glass’, ‘Greedy Soul’, ‘For What It’s Worth’) seem to be standing the test of time, and he even throws in ‘Soul Love’ from the Beady Eye years. Tellingly, that and new single 'Shockwave’ are the only songs that incite trips to the bar, but give the latter a month or so and it will be a set highlight. But, of course, it’s the Oasis songs that make the gig transcendent.

Liam has been giving the people what they want on that front, with many of The Hits present and correct from day one. But he’s also been listening to suggestions (via Twitter) for some of the deeper cuts. While the first half of the gig is very familiar, for the second half he throws out a couple of surprises; ‘Columbia’, which has been played live on a handful of occasions in the last two decades, sounds as menacing and brooding as it ever did, while ‘Lyla’ (a number one single but such is the competition, still something of an outsider) sounds mighty and really works well with his maturing voice.

His band have evolved too; in the early days the musicianship was very straight forward so as to give Liam the full spotlight, but perhaps now they have the confidence to spread their wings; the elaborate outro to Lyla is played in full, and the famous opening to ‘Morning Glory’ is restored.

But these gigs are largely about the crowd. Every word is sung loud and sung proud, there’s crowd surfing and good old fashioned moshing. The common parlance nowadays is ‘limbs’, and it’s a perfect summation. Nowhere more so than on ‘Cigarettes & Alcohol’, its message of hedonism as valid now as it was then, the ultimate anthem to immerse yourself in. Knowing that the crowd can go no further, the closing number is a truncated, keyboard and cello only ‘Champagne Supernova’. And then he’s gone.

There wouldn’t have been a stronger set anywhere in the world tonight and, unbelievably, it’s less than an hour in duration. Quality not quantity. Just imagine what damage he’ll do and what joy he’ll bring when the tour starts. Given the electric atmosphere, the adulation from the crowd and strength of the set, tonight would be a career highlight for many.

Business as usual for Liam Gallagher.

Pip Blom - Boat

Feted as Ones To Watch back in 2016, Pip Blom have taken the long way round with Boat.

The band are named after their lead singer and songwriter, who during her teens answered an advertisement for a songwriting competition in her native Netherlands that set her creative juices flowing. Despite only reaching the semi-final, her future was decided whilst writing numbers on a Loog guitar. Ploughing on, Blom self-released songs on the Internet having recorded all parts herself, and attention started to come her way.

Requiring a band, she enlisted her brother Tender (round of applause for the Blom parents please) on guitar, Darek Marcks on bass and Gini Cameron on drums to embark on live performances. A handful of singles were unleashed before Heavenly Records beat what was no doubt a clutch of labels to the punch by signing the band late last year.

It may appear that releasing the debut album a few short months later would mean a rushed one to capitalise on the hype (numerous festival appearances including Glastonbury await this summer), yet Blom has crafted these songs from scratch and has been perfecting them over the last few years. A DIY act in its truest sense, the effort shows.

There is real craft and attention to detail here. Every song has a well thought through arrangement and structure but, inevitably down to their circumstances, they are slightly held back by the limited instrumental options available, though exposure after a few listens reveals that the melody is key.

Not that there is anything wrong with the instrumentation; wonderful things can and often are achieved on guitar, bass and drums, and the range of options are on display here; the stinging guitar on ‘Daddy Issues’ complement the naggingly infectious chorus, which like much of the album manages to retain the rawness of Pip Blom’s early demos. Elsewhere, the throbbing bass on ‘Aha’ nearly blows out the earphones, and clattering cymbals are expertly deployed on several occasions to herald another splendid chorus.

Yet, as well as melody, one suspects the intention is to create atmosphere. Blom’s voice, while not having the greatest range, expertly conveys the emotion pertinent to the song. ‘Say It’ sounds like The Strokes but she has such anxiety and desperation in her voice that the subject matter is apparent. On ‘Set Of Stairs’ she’s assertive, and on ‘Ruby’, one of two album highlights, she’s having fun with the verse which fits in with the wonderful pop and, once again, an insanely catchy chorus. Her lo-fi distorted vocals too work well in parallel to the inflating bass on ‘Tinfoil’, but both add to the atmosphere of a march to a hangman’s noose. Finally, on The Lemonheads inspired ‘Bedhead’, she’s gone for a double tracked vocal, beautifully slovenly in the way that only love can make.

Blom’s lyrics are able to convey everyday anxiety beautifully (‘Tell me what you’re feeling, cos I can’t read your mind’) as well painful honesty, specifically on the wonky 60s garage of ‘Say It’ (‘I think I’m hard to please’) suggesting there’s a bright future ahead.

But that’s for another day; on Boat we’re lucky enough to hear the fruits of her labour to-date, and that will do just fine.

Richard Hawley - Further

Now a relatively successful solo artist, Richard Hawley has had a lengthy career and is the definition of a cult hero.

But rather than peak early with a breakthrough hit or band, he simply and quietly goes about his business whilst going from strength to strength. As a member of the short-lived but never forgotten Longpigs in the 1990s, he briefly touched the top 40 then went to the top via All Saints’ cover of ‘Under The Bridge’ (he recreated the famous guitar).

The King Of Sheffield has often been praised by Arctic Monkeys and was a semi-regular member of Pulp, but can claim none of the success of either. Further is his eighth studio album and, with all of the previous seven having been named after Sheffield icons or landmarks, offers insight into where his head is at.

The naming choices were at risk of becoming a gimmick, but Further adopts the same principle. Lyrically, the album is about ploughing forward and reaching out whilst at the same time looking into the distance, daydreaming.
Opener ‘Off My Mind’ is a straight forward thrash, clocking in at under three minutes its immediacy sets the precedent for the album, no other songs lasting over four. Some of his previous laments, beautiful though they were, had a tendency to outstay their welcome and so the succinct approach suits him. It’s also a great rock and roll single, complete with squawking solo. ‘Alone’ follows suit with a simplistic yet sweeping chord sequence. The strings soak the song in a melodrama which befits the title.

The album is roughly divided between guitar heavy blasts and the more sombre, intimate slices of observations that have long been the touchstone of Hawley’s career; ‘My Little Treasures’ is based on conversations with friends of his father following his death some years ago. For whatever reason, perhaps because of the emotions attached to it, the song has been gestating for 12 years, and the wait has been worthwhile. It manages the rare feat of making the listener nostalgic on first listen.

The title-track is jaunty and romantic, while the elegant music hall of ‘Emilina Says’ is this album’s mandatory kitchen sink tale. Elsewhere, ‘Not Lonely’ might be the most fragile thing he’s ever done. On the other side of the coin, he’s evoking Britpop and garage on the rockier numbers. ‘Is There A Pill’ is grandstanding, with a chorus very similar to Lennon’s ‘Just Like Starting Over’. ‘Gallay Girl’ is unchallenging, but speaks to the soul not the heart, and ‘Time Is’ has the scale and propulsion of Oasis. It’s much more straight-forward than the psychedelic envelope pushing he embraced on 2012’s Standing At The Sky’s Edge, but no less powerful.

Richard Hawley’s oak voice is the perfect accompaniment to those red wine fuelled nights of contemplation, his dexterity on guitar a perfect balance of breaking your heart, then giving you a hug and singing at the sky with you. Now nearly twenty years into his solo career, and still without a ‘hit’ to speak of (Tonight The Streets Are Ours would be his only single to come close), Hawley is rightly lauded amongst those in the know, easily able to sell out large venues and with A-list status on BBC 6Music.

On the basis of this, his well-most rounded album, that status will only be reinforced.

Interview - The Blinders

The pressure put on bands to represent the voice of the people – be it a specific generation, class or political inclination – is a curious one.

Few other creative types have such responsibility placed upon their shoulders, largely due to the unique passion and life-changing effect that only music can have. But spare a thought for those handling the pressure. Such is the absolute world that we now live in, to walk that tightrope is a thankless task.

“If you’re talking about politics it gives you a reason to be shut down,” ponders The Blinders’ Charlie McGough when talking to Live4Ever at South By Southwest 2019. “If you’re just a band talking about your Friday night, what is there to criticise? If you then do or say something that might be politically incorrect, or make money from those reasons, then that’s a reason to disqualify anything of the band.”

Expecting sympathy for a trio of young men (Thomas Heywood, guitar and vocals; McGough on bass and Matt Neale on drums) who are living not only their dream but countess other peoples’ too may be optimistic, but some empathy should be applied. It’s not an original observation, but musicians earn a pittance of what they once did and yet because of social media are scrutinised more than ever: At the tail end of 2018 one of the band’s songs, the mighty ‘Brave New World’, was used on an advert for leading betting organisation William Hill.

Barbs were slung in their direction, of ‘selling out’ or being insincere. It did seem curious, an usual misstep in what had otherwise been a faultlessly principled journey. Debut album Columbia was met with acclaim, stocked to the gills with parallels of western culture viewed through a dystopian prism or righteous fury. To fall so quickly and controversially into the trap of capitalism seemed beneath them.

‘That nearly split up the band actually,” Heywood explains.

‘This was an argument we discussed for a very long time. We knew we would get flak for it, there was no question about that. The way we got around it was to preach to the converted. We saw Cabbage go on Soccer AM. That’s on Sky, everything that they talk against. Yet they wore the Justice For The 96 shirts. It’s something that nearly broke up the band and is one of those…The idea was to put the song out there to as many people as possible, and that was the only thing that could justify that. If it is justifiable.”

“We live in a capitalist society don’t we? That’s the nature of it,” McGough continues. “We sell t-shirts, we make profits on t-shirts but then you’ve got to make a profit to survive. The advert thing, it goes to pay off a debt with the record label that needs paying off.”

Context and compromise are key. In an ideal world, The Blinders wouldn’t have been in a position which could be perceived as selling out. Rock stars, like the rest of us, have to make ends meet. But the alternative would be for the band to cease functioning. Too heavy a price to pay for all of us. Not least for the band themselves, three childhood friends who have been playing music for as long as they can remember. It’s the familiar but heart-warming tale that Heywood regales us with; “We were all into similar music and we were the only ones that really played instruments. We went to secondary school together and we magnetised naturally through playing instruments, and the love and passion we shared for mutual bands.”

The trio are now based in Manchester but hail originally from Doncaster, a collection of villages in Yorkshire that, it’s probably fair to say, are not particularly renowned for rock heritage. The musical DNA of Doncaster is more based around an older tradition, explains Heywood. “My father was a brass band musician and so was my mother, so they were musicians in their own right, but they never forced me to go down the brass route! That’s the kind of thing that was in Doncaster. It’s in the blood, if you like.”

An aptitude for music is a start, but harnessing the sound takes time. Long hours are required in the practice room, but whilst in that grind it’s hard to see past the next rehearsal. Eventually, a leap of faith is required. The Blinders were lucky enough to have a helping hand.‘The bar where we used to play in Doncaster, we played there for our second or third gig I think it was,” McGough explains. ‘The guys who ran the bar stopped and watched us, and we’re now good friends with them. That felt like a good moment because it got us other shows. That was a catalyst at that early stage. They were the cool guys in town and to have their approval…”

All the band are in their twenties, but they are fast learners. The price of being in a larger, more culturally astute environment is that the competition is of a higher standard. This is especially true with a city like Manchester. From the Buzzcocks to Everything Everything, the Cottonopolis has always had a relevant stake in alternative music, ergo it would be easy to drown in the creativity. “You have to actively do something to stand out from the crowd,” argues Heywood. “We very quickly realised that we did have something to say. Whether or not we knew how we wanted to say it was a different matter. I think we’re still finding that out.”

For those that haven’t had the pleasure of entering their ‘alternate world informed by reality’, it’s a wonderfully immersive place, not only because of the political allegories which are rife throughout but because of the imagery surrounding courtyards, kingdoms and older hierarchical societies managing to find the perfect balance between whimsy and social commentary. “That’s exactly what we wanted to put across”, Heywood informs us.

“We can’t think of a better way to enjoy our music. We’re not here to say something or change people’s minds on matters. Unfortunately, we’re the type of band to write as a mirror rather than give any answers to anything. We just write what we see and hold a mirror up to society. It’s there if you want to see it but it doesn’t have to be. Just tap your foot if you like.”

So on to the future. It’s an old cliché that bands have twenty years to write their debut and a year to write their sophomore. Is a return trip to Columbia a possibility, or are we sailing for alternative shores? We’ll have to wait to find out.

“We’re always working on new material. We’ve really sunk our teeth into writing and creating music now we’ve been in the studio. We’ve seen what we have at our fingertips and there’s no reason why we shouldn’t push the boundaries. We’ve got about a dozen songs written over the last six months, give or take. We want to write double that by the summer.”

“We have sort of realised that we want to create as opposed to perform. So we’re focusing on a lot of new material and ways to try and take whatever we’ve got going on as far as we can as fast as we can. We have no intention of dabbling around the same sound – because we’ve been given the platform to do whatever we want, basically, we’re going to do that. That’s just how it feels with the future.”

Frustratingly cryptic but understandable. The Blinders have worked very hard so far, with attention paid to all elements of their output, be it the theatricality of their live shows (Heywood doubles as Johnny Dream onstage) to the over-riding themes mentioned on their album. Art should not be rushed, especially principled art. However, demonstrating you have some form of social conscience arms your critics, as the furore over the William Hill advert proved. The issue clearly still rankles with the band, if only because they resent being confronted with the dilemma in the first place. McGough elaborates:

“Although that sits uncomfortably with you, what do you do? What is the answer? Arctic Monkeys might get criticised for not saying enough, but that’s OK because they’re making money so they don’t have a voice, basically. Then Bono stands in front of 90,000 people and makes however much from the Zoo TV tour but then gets criticised. So where is the balance?”

“They all do it. Bruce Springsteen is outspoken and one of the richest men in the country. U2 are invalidated because they don’t pay their tax in Ireland. That’s fair enough; criticise a band for letting their music be on a betting advert. Choose to listen to that band or not then. But you’ve got to understand that money has to be made somewhere. I don’t know whether that’s a valid point or not.”

The issue has clearly strengthened the band’s resolve and made them arguably even stronger and closer. This is a band who thrive on conversation and debate. “I think in this day and age it’s a very private world we live in, as well as very open. I don’t think we’ll ever get people coming and discussing open politics. But if, as a consequence of listening to our music or coming to one of our shows, that triggers something in their minds…” Heywood makes no bones about their stance, whatever Joe Public thinks.

“We have no intention of shoving this down people’s throats. It’s just what we’re writing about and what feels natural to us. If people get behind it then they get behind it.”

“Isn’t that what all music is, really?”

Pottery - No. 1

Some bands take a while to harness their sound. Debut offerings, be it EPs or albums, are often varied in style and contain a plethora of ideas that have been percolating for a number of years and can either display a band full of ideas or a band throwing mud at the wall to see what sticks.

More often than not, that occurs over a choice of hand-picked songs designed to demonstrate their diversity. In Pottery’s case, they demonstrate it over a matter of minutes. No. 1 is a furiously frantic journey, opener ‘Smooth Operator’ is naught more than an instrumental, the drumming full of fills reminiscent of Humbug-era Arctic Monkeys, bristling with the scrape of funk guitars which build the mood before they clang as intensity kicks in.

‘Hank Williams’, despite the title, sounds like Britpop Blur at their most Kinks with a bassline that prods you in the ribs. Meanwhile, second track ‘Spell’ has a chiming guitar intro which could be eighties Edge but then turns on its head to broaden its palette into more all-encompassing post-punk. It’s only two minutes but must be exhausting to play.

That must be true of all songs on the EP. The listener is certainly never allowed to rest on their laurels. It’s elaborate to the point of indulgent, with lots of drum fills, leaps up and down the bass fret and vocal ticks. In truth, it does cover up a paucity of melody but there’s little time to dwell on that as the music never sits still for more than ten seconds, with the vocals given very little if any time. The band describe themselves as garage but they doing a dis-service; there is real musical dexterity at work, even if it is untamed.

George Harrison would be proud of the guitar licks on ‘Lady Solinas’, while ‘The Craft’ once again channels the vaudeville nature of The Kinks but with an urgent tempo that is fortunately intermittent. It’s a fairground ride of a song. No-one, possibly the band least of all, can predict where these songs are going. All are opuses, but special mention must go to ‘Worked Up’ which starts as a louche jam but descends into an overweight, bass driven epic. We go to for a quick jaunt around the world before ending up where we started for the last thirty seconds which recall the opening, but manage to sound nothing like which immediately comes before it. So immersive is the song that to come back around again is startling.

But that’s nothing compared to closer ‘Lifeline Costume’, which is basically a distillation of every track that has every appeared on a Nuggets compilation. Arguably the most exhausting eight minutes ever committed to tape, it flies out of the traps with feverish instrumentation, goes everywhere from the dark alleyways to the wheat fields, up to Mars and then back again. How we are expected to keep up when it sounds like the band barely are is anyone’s guess.

Like the rest of this EP, it’s brilliantly bonkers.

Clinic - Wheeltappers And Shunters

All hail the unheralded heroes.

Ever since The Velvet Underground, who have now taken their rightful place as one of the most influential bands of all time, there has always been those acts that operate in the shadows or the underground but have no end of plaudits from those in the know.

Love, Neu and the Buzzcocks can all lay claim to shaping British music in the sixties and seventies. The recent rebirth of Gang Of Four has led to a re-evaluation of their back catalogue. Devo are not a well-recognised name but can claim huge influence.

On this side of the year 2000, one of the early movements was to be found on Merseyside, with The Coral, The Zutons and The Dead 60s spearheading the charge for off-kilter, guitar driven, spiky scally rock. It’s a distinctive sound that is identifiable as being unique and self-contained enough to come from that corner of the North West, and to ignore Clinic as pioneers, or at least flame-bearers of that movement is to do them a huge dis-service. That they’ve been operating for 21 years from behind the curtains is a crying shame.

On this new album, their first after a sustained period of productivity (one album every two years without fail since 2000), we are once again welcomed into their weird and wonderful world. Few tracks exceed three minutes in length and manage to be both individual bursts of life that hang together to form a structured and coherent piece of work. It could easily be both concept album or Best Of collection.

The broad theme is of old-fashioned, family participating entertainment, references to circuses and fairs abound. Band conductor Ade Blackburn states that in serious times it’s nice to have some inoffensive fare to feast on as refuge. But like those once-halcyon days, there is a dark heart lurking beneath the surface. An air of looming menace pervades, as it always has done.

Incidentally, it’s been a good week for Wheeltappers and Shunters. For those fortunate enough not to remember it, the album is named after a long forgotten Granada TV production from the 1970s, where light entertainment favourites would perform in a fictional club environment. Think of a slightly less fictionalised version of Phoenix Nights. In a strange coincidence, the video for Noel Gallagher’s latest single centres around the show. Classic Gallagher cribbing? We’ll probably never know.

Once again, they are brimming with ideas. ‘Laughing Cavalier’ is hurdy-gurdy lightweight psychedelia with Blackburn’s unique blend of earnest and grappling vocals leading us into ‘the fun of the fair’, grabbing the listener by the hand like the madcap ringmaster he was always meant to be. Complex echoes early Gorillaz, harmonica and drum machine working in spooky synchronicity, with background voices, either whispers or shouts, persisting in the lower levels of the mix. ‘Flying Fish’ is more like the intense Clinic of old, the whimsy temporarily stripped away, while ‘Congratulations’ is a Hammond organ kaleidoscope of a song. Rejoice! is glam at its most insistent. The whole album has a deftness that Clinic have undoubtedly always had but rarely utilised, perhaps due to the long sabbatical.

This album is unlikely to win over any new fans, but then that’s extremely unlikely to be Clinic’s priority, having never been so. We must treasure bands of their ilk; those whose charms only appeal to a select few but which are harnessed and shaped to appeal to many more.

Versing - 10000

Before we go on, let us be clear: there is absolutely nothing wrong with bands or artists emulating work of years gone by.

Such approaches hark back to the genesis of rock and roll, probably even further. Cover versions were always par for the course. No Jerry Lee Lewis, no Elvis. No Syd Barrett, no David Bowie. The Rolling Stones basically followed The Beatles’ career path for the 1960s before finding their own. Certain punk bands were interchangeable. Then, in the 1990s, a whole movement in Britain was largely dedicated to celebrating the past.

However a few years prior to that, guitar music was in a healthy and eclectic state. In the USA, grunge was dominating the alternative charts. Across the pond, as well as welcoming the plaid shirt invasion, the fuzzy pan-swept noise of shoegaze was on the rise. Two differing approaches, each with their own strengths and weaknesses, which now sound so quintessentially tied to those few years that they evoke memories of Tab Clear, smiley-face hoodies and fizzy drink branded yo-yos. Both have been imitated but never bettered, but there have been very few bands brave enough to try and merge the two. Until now.

Versing have the pedigree; songwriter/guitarist/vocalist Daniel Salas was an alternative music director at a college radio station in Seattle, where he met the rest of the band. After gracing the local scene for a few years, they released an album in 2017 called…Nirvana. If you are thinking that they must be extracting the Michael, you’d be half-right. All too knowingly aware of the noise they are making, Versing are getting their pre-emptive strikes in whilst also paying tribute. 10000 is unashamedly nineties, and once you’ve stopped smiling at their gall, there is much to enjoy here.

Comparisons are easy but unavoidable; the early R.E.M. of recent single ‘Offering’ is combined with a very Dave Grohl-esque vocal, whilst having the breezy attitude of The Lemonheads. ‘By Design’ channels Elastica and by proxy Wire in the chugging riff which accompanies slacker vocals before becoming its own thing with an aspirational outro. ‘Violeta’ is more disconcerting, being moody, dramatic and angst-ridden akin to the Smashing Pumpkins with added feedback, while ‘Tethered’ opens with a Peter Hook bassline and then follows the Pixies formula of quiet verse/loud chorus.

On it goes: ‘Long Chord’ has the yearning vocal delivery and swampy sound of early Ash, while ‘Loving Myself’ is pure Slowdive in its panoramic glory. Whilst college grunge is the main touchpoint, there are sprinklings of shoegaze throughout. Fortunately, there is purity beneath the plagiarism, as ‘3D’ conveys a feeling of defiant inadequacy while closer ‘Renew’, which works very well as an accompaniment to opener ‘Entryism’ (the songs have very similar guitar melodies, tempos and moods), finds Salas reflecting that, ‘Some things never stay the same’. Ironically put, purposeful and, like the rest of the album, delivered with an enthusiasm that is impossible to ignore.

The band know exactly what they are doing, and make no bones about. ‘9/11 messed up a lot of things culturally, including music’, Salas insists, ‘it engendered a deep social conservatism’. It’s a valid point and deserves further discussion beyond the ‘rock music is dead’ arguments. But for now, with this strong collection of songs, Versing are at least breathing life into the corpse by evoking one the genre’s many heydays.

Fat White Family - Serfs Up!

And so the Fat White Family allow us entry into their decadent world once more.

It’s been quite a while since we heard from the south London outfit; after intriguing us all (and grossing some out) on their depraved debut Champagne Holocaust, in all its gleeful grime, things took a turn down a dark alley. The follow-up, Songs For Our Mothers from early 2016, sounded like their lifestyle had taken its toll on their psyches. No strangers to the more sinister trappings of inner-city London life, whilst also being a favoured rock band, the Whites had taken their high street sleaze and seemingly embraced the dark side on an album which was at points unbearably downbeat.

Not only that, but it was a lifetime ago. We were still in shock about David Bowie’s death when the album was released. Countless heroes have fallen since, to say nothing about the state of the western world. Whilst all this was happening the band’s core members, brothers Lias and Nathan Saoudi and Saul Adamczewski, relocated to Sheffield to distance themselves from temptation. Adamczewski followed after a sabbatical. They weren’t idle; numerous side projects occupied their creative urges including The Moonlandingz and The Insecure Men.

Now, the mother ship is ready to sail again and their extracurricular activities have broadened horizons to bring us a more refined, albeit no less cynical, sound.

Marketed as their ‘slick pop album’, Serfs Up! is a much more eclectic mix of sounds than that which has gone before. First single ‘Feet’ is slinky disco with striking strings and a restless humming choir adding to the song’s in-built sense of urgency. Better with every listen, there’s a sparkling gleam to the song which was missing from their previous work.

The whole album sounds like it has been given a polish after being bolted together industrially; ‘I Believe In Something Better’ pulses to accompany Lias’ whispering intensity over drunken banshee wailing and wonky synths. ‘Fringe Runner’ features crashing guitars and an addled bass line which add to the drama inherent in the song. It sounds like late-90s Blur as produced by Brian Eno in Berlin and is by far the most interesting thing they’ve ever done.

‘Kim’s Sunsets’ is almost joyful, steel drums adding to the drenched tropical air. We’re a long way from Peckham now. ‘Tastes Good With The Money’, meanwhile, has the boisterousness of Slade and The Monkees with added Dury (Baxter, not Ian) just for effect, and ‘Oh Sebastian’ has a gorgeous string arrangement worthy of McCartney.

Lyrically we’re often in familiar territory; ‘Feet’ references anal sex while ‘Bobby’s Boyfriend’ discusses prostitution at length. Whether or not that’s your cup of tea is a matter of choice, but abstaining for that reason would be short-sighted. Their previous albums were intriguing but hard listens. ‘Serfs Up!’ is smoother in every way; the blackened tinfoil has been stripped away, the hands have been washed and the core has been soaked in glitter.

They won’t trouble the hit parade, and may even lose some of the manly parka mob, but Fat White Family have finally made music as fascinating as themselves, without losing their subversive edge.

TVAM & Hockeysmith - Live at The Thekla, Bristol

Now this is a curious proposition. Hockeysmith consist of three members; a lead vocalist/keyboard player, a guitarist and a dancer. The stage setting is minimalist, consisting only of said members and their instruments.

But there is a lot to watch as the trio engage in some in-your-face dancing (hopping) against a backdrop of wind-swept squalling guitar, accompanied by beats and backing music. It’s a bit performance art, and initially the crowd aren’t sure what to make of it. The music is solid, electric pop with a twist, whilst the guitarist doesn’t so much play the guitar as ravish it. But the performance of the trio and, importantly, their beguiling enthusiasm does win you over.

As a precursor to headliners TVAM, there couldn’t be more of a contrast. It’s like cheese and chalk; the high energy of Hockeysmith compared to the inconspicuousness of TVAM is striking.

The two piece are drenched in darkness, naught but silhouettes, the meat in the sandwich of a television (see what they did there?) front and centre, the images also displayed on the backdrop of the stage. Throughout the set, the imagery includes mirrored split-screens, car safety videos from years gone by and simple displays of the world. It’s nondescript, but as literally the only thing to look at for the entire set it’s perhaps a statement of how dominant the idiot’s lantern is that we’ll watch anything. Some lyrics are also displayed, which comes in useful as one cannot decipher what Joe Oxley is saying.

Not that all this matters; the music itself is fantastic, albeit perhaps not for a Sunday evening. It’s more Sunday morning music, namely witching hour at the end of the night. ‘We Likes Fires’ sounds like the soundtrack to an 80s synth led sci-fi B movie. The psychedelic drone of ‘Narcissus’ brings to mind Death In Vegas at their most intense and experimental, and ‘These Are Not Your Memories’ sounds like the road Tame Impala should have taken had they not succumbed to success.

The key touch-point is the driving rhythm of krautrock, specifically Neu. The propulsion is claustrophobic at points, working in tandem with the industrial beats and tempo. The ice-cold electronica works well with the neo-psychedelia which is their starting position. To be making all this noise from a guitar, a keyboard and more effects pedals than you can shake a stick out is some feat.

The last track, ‘Total Immersion’, could not be better named; when the two down tools and walk off stage, to come back to the real world and realise there were other people sharing that experience with you is a slight wake-up call.

The Good, The Bad & The Queen - Live at Cardiff University

There are supergroups and then there are supergroups; as The Good The Bad & The Queen take to the stage, one is immediately reminded of the amount of history that each of these individuals have. Simon Tong played on Urban Hymns and was part of The Verve during their most successful period, Paul Simonon was a member of one of the most important groups of all time, we haven’t got time to list Damon Albarn’s achievements, and Tony Allen is Tony Allen. The fact that not one of them relies on past glories or presumption of recognition makes it all the more remarkable.

Not only that, but not any of the music played tonight would be recognisable from any other musical avenue they may have frequented. The winding lament that is ‘Merrie Land’ gets more tragic each time, but when contrasted to the pomp of ‘Gun To The Head’ it could be a different band. Meanwhile, the heartbreak of simplicity of ‘The Poison Tree’ is a welcome respite following the funk chaos of ‘Last Man To Leave’. Merrie Land the album definitely grows on you, but when everything is given space to breathe in the live arena it highlights what an impressive feat it is.

Playing it in full, in order, it’s interesting to get an insight into the foursome’s chemistry. Their laconic, shuffling style seems casual but actually requires the attention to detail that only experienced musicians can bring. Specifically, Allen and Simonon are in perfect sync. Allen comes from the same school as Charlie Watts; perhaps oblivious to his talent, he has the air of a man bemused by finding himself in this situation. He doesn’t miss a beat. Simonon, meanwhile, never stops moving and carries the air of authority that suggests he’s the one really in charge, despite Albarn conducting matters as he often does.

And what of Damon Albarn? We know of his genius, but as a stage performer for this outfit it’s a tricky balance which he never quite pulls off. The music doesn’t lend itself well to the confrontational style he uses when with Blur, but he still tries. Other times, when he chooses to hide behind a performance as he does for ‘The Truce Of Twilight’, he seems more comfortable. Although he does shoehorn his location (‘in the dancefloors of England…and Wales’) which as a crowd pleasing tactic isn’t worthy of him. At another point he tries to encourage the crowd to a singalong but Simonon, pulling rank, cuts the idea down in its prime. Above everything else he’s a musician, therefore he is at his best when he’s sat at the piano or behind the comfort of the acoustic guitar. His voice has aged beautifully and when the intense noise is stripped back for ‘Ribbons’ you could hear a pin drop.

The encore consists of a healthy chunk of songs from their first album. Simon Tong adds real spike via his guitar for ‘80s Life’, and his frenzied introduction to ‘Kingdom Of Doom’ is a sight to behold before it becomes a full on stomper. The added strings provided by a quartet ensure ‘Herculean’ ascends and somehow make ‘Green Fields’ even more gut-wrenching. Perhaps Albarn’s masterpiece, the track gets the biggest response of the night and is bolstered by a majestic full band performance. Displaying remarkable restrain, perhaps aware that they could go on all night, ‘The Good, The Bad & The Queen’ (the song) is cut short but loses none of its music hall madness.

A majestic end to an astonishing set.

Sleeper - Live at The O2 Academy, Bristol

It’s pretty easy to differentiate between those bands who have reformed; those that are in it for the money (and perhaps always have been) and those that are doing it for the love.

Naming no names (the Stone Roses) you can virtually smell the ambivalence from the crowd if relationships are sour and haven’t improved despite lengthy absences. Then there’s those that cannot take the smiles off their faces and are just happy to be doing something they love.

There’s no doubt which category Sleeper fall into. The Britpopiest of Britpop; featured on the Trainspotting soundtrack, frequent appearances on TFI Friday, they couldn’t be more 1990s if they tried. By rights, there shouldn’t really be a place for them in 2019. There was a reunion tour last year which sold out quickly, but one would assume that was the nostalgia thirst quenched for a while before another round of touring in a couple of years’ time. So good on them for not resting on their laurels; this year’s splendid The Modern Age album is as strong as anything they’ve ever put their name to, if not better, and to be touring just one year later with a new album in tow means there can be no cynical accusations thrown at them.

All that said, it would be naïve to assume this crowd is present to hear the new songs, despite their excellence. If there’s anyone present under 35 they must have had a tough paper round. Perhaps due to their age, the audience take a while to warm up. The jaunty ‘Nice Guy Eddie’, one of the hits from their peak, doesn’t get much of a reaction as an opener, so lesser known second song ‘Delicious’ doesn’t stand much of a chance. Ironically the first slice from the new album, ‘Paradise Waiting’, gets more of a response, but the anthemic ‘What Do I Do Now?’ really kicks things into life and from there on it’s smiles all round.

Perhaps the mind is playing tricks, but your correspondent seems to recall that Louise Wener always played guitar back in the day, yet she does so very rarely tonight. The key line-up has been bolstered by a couple, so perhaps there is less requirement to do so. Wener makes the most of it; ever the star, she strides around the stage like she owns it, which frankly she does. Meanwhile, the Sleeperblokes (Google it) do their thing more than capably and are the solid foundation she can rely on. It’s a glib comparison but has some merit; her breathy vocals, particularly on ‘The Modern Age’, command the occasion and her resistance to the aging process brings to mind Debbie Harry. That their clever move of including the cover of Blondie’s ‘Atomic’, complete with mid-section mini-cover of ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’, makes the comparison obvious doesn’t mean it’s invalid.

The new material is the most interesting from an objective point of view; the intense ‘The Sun Also Rises’ is a perfect reminder of how powerful and heavy they can be while the wry, confrontational Look At You Now belies their generally sugar-sweet pop.

However, these occasions are about more than that. They are no-lose situations; new songs justify their existence and keep the band interested, the crowd get what they want with the old stuff and when you can see what are presumably their children at the side of the stage dancing with wilful abandon to the classic ‘Sale Of The Century’…well one realises that’s what it’s all about.

Fontaines D.C. - Live at the Thekla, Bristol

There’s something special about watching a band live in the week they release their new album.

They’re normally brimming with energy and crackling with confidence, safe in the knowledge that their latest masterpiece is finally finished and about to be unleashed. That can be doubly applied to debut albums, when the finishing touches have been put on songs that have been worked over, pulled apart and reconstructed for years. Throw in the fact that a lifetime ambition has been achieved, and you can see why they are pleased.

So it is with Fontaines D.C. Their album Dogrel has been met with positive reviews, justifying their ‘ones to watch’ status. Promotion has been extensive and with this, the first night of the tour, expectations are high. They are ‘hot’. The crowd knows it; it’s body-to-body in the sold-out venue, one of those nights when you have to hold your drink to your chest because there’s nowhere else for it to go.

The boys from Dublin (ish) have the crowd in their hands as soon as they take to the stage. A sizeable chunk of the songs on display have already been released in some way shape or form, so there are singalongs a-plenty. ‘Chequeless Reckless’ kicks things into gear, its jet plane guitars whipping the anticipation up some more before Big, which follows ‘Supersonic’ and ‘I Wanna Be Adored’ as a perfect mission statement: ‘my childhood was small but I’m gonna be big’. Few here would doubt that prediction.

They are a band in the truest sense; everyone has their role and obviously takes it very seriously. Frontman Grian Chatten has the slightly withdrawn confidence of Mark E Smith, his lyrics delivered in such a matter-of-fact way that you don’t doubt it’s anything but gospel. The rest of the band either look down at their instruments or, occasionally, at the whipped up crowd. They’ve honed this sound and these songs for years and aren’t going to mess it up now. The performance is minimalist but the music is powerful. The winding and claustrophobic ‘Hurricane Laughter’ could go on forever and probably has done in rehearsals. It’s simple and intense, as Chatten repeats ‘there’s no connection available’ while all is refined chaos around him.

There’s a real wisdom and maturity beyond their years. ‘Television Screens’ has levels of both anxiety and righteousness that should only come from experience. ‘The Lotts’ sounds musically like The Cure and is a succinct epic, given more chops live by virtue of its insistence. More familiar tracks like ‘Boys In The Better Land’ and ‘Too Real’ are delivered with a bravado that must come from their roots; the whole album is loosely themed around Dublin and its gentrification, and it’s not hard to surmise that they’ve played most toilet venues and haven’t always been met with positivity. Indeed, the defiance it’s given birth to is their defining feature (‘as it stands, I’m about to make a lot of money’).

This is a band who know they are going places but will be unfazed by the stop-offs.

Drenge - Live at SWX, Bristol

As we know, and has been proven on countless occasions, momentum is key.

Ordinarily you’d hear this principle applied in the sporting arena, namely football, but it’s equally as important in music. Many is the band that have stalled after taking a long break, and Drenge could have found themselves at such a fork in the road; their third album Strange Creatures was released a few weeks ago, nearly four years after their last.

It wasn’t completely barren before then; the Castleton mob kept their toe in through an EP release and a large amount of touring, but it’s been a few years now since they were lauded alongside Slaves as heralding the return of British rock. The landscape has changed, with kitchen sink punk being the order of the day. Is there room for Drenge?

Simply put, yes. The band have shuffled the pack a little; now a four piece, Rob Graham has moved from guitar to bass and they’ve brought enforcements in that department in the form of Ed Crisp. Their sound, always meaty, has been bolstered by the adjustments. They open with ‘Prom Night’, which sounds like a doom laden Arctic Monkeys in both lyrics and music. It’s a perfect tone setter before ‘Bonfire Of The City Boys’ explodes all senses; the mammoth beat is like the Prodigy at their most ferocious whilst the light show which accompanies it in time is hypnotic. It’s a barnstorming start.

From there on it’s an equal split of songs from their three albums. As ever, the earlier material gets the bigger crowd reaction; the chainsaw guitar on ‘Never Awake’ drowns them out, while it propels like mid-era Strokes on ‘Face Like A Skull’. Rob Graham’s move to guitar has been a revelation, he is the star of the show and the heart of the sound. Deserving of a specific mention is the sitar-esque chiming he adds to a new brooding version of ‘Backwater’, and he adds spectral mood to a Balearic breakdown during ‘Running Wild’.

The new boy Crisp gets his moments on bass too, sounding meaty on ‘Teenage Love’ and ‘Strange Creatures’. As for the Loveless brothers, Rory on drums is as stoic as ever and provides the patter between songs and Eoin gets lost in the songs, giving no care to the shapes he’s throwing. His vocals do sail quite close to Ricky Wilson at points, but offset against his intense delivery it’s purely coincidence.

The main set closes with ‘Let’s Pretend’, the live version inevitably expanded, scraping the sky then staring from the gutter for a glorious eight minutes or so. For the encore we are treated to the slinky, sleazy ‘When I Look Into Your Eyes’ before proceedings are brought to a close by the poptastic ‘We Can Do What We Want’. Although Drenge may have stepped out of sync, this showing is a pure distillation of why they should not fret if that this the case.

Their musicianship and power will always stand them in good stead.

Idlewild - Interview Music

It’s something of a shock to learn this album is Idlewild’s eighth offering; a perfectly reasonable amount – they’ve been active for 24 years with only a short hiatus in the early part of this decade – so perhaps it’s because it feels like they should be in double figures by now.

They’ve outlived several trends and, based on this evidence, are clearly still going strong. Opener ‘Dream Variations’ blows away any cobwebs that might be lurking in your cynicism (as good as Idlewild are, they aren’t particularly exciting) with agenda setting drums and harmonised vocals from a number of different tonsils. There’s no chorus as such, just a smattering of powerful verses that eventually gives way to a gentle, laconic coda reflecting on the nature of dreams.

‘There’s A Place For Everything’ serves as a reminder of how far Roddy Woomble’s voice has come. Far from the inner Billie Joe Armstrong he was channelling in the early days, here he delivers vox with a gravitas and confidence that can only come through experience. It’s still recognisably him, but there’s an assuredness that he once lacked. It’s quite high in the mix, which helps.

The title-track gives the entire band a workout. The bass holds the song together but guitarist Rod Jones provides a sense of scale on the verse before doing an about turn to squawk frantically. Again, there’s little in the way of a chorus save for a piano sequencing that appears intermittently. For the last two of its five minutes it’s basically a jam session, and it’s not hard to imagine the smiles in the studio.

In fact, that’s very much a pattern of the album; the songs are so packed that it’s more of a series of opuses. As you’ll have gathered, the trick of changing tack mid-song is frequently used, keeping the listener on their toes. It’s perhaps over-played one too many times; at 52 minutes it’s a bit overwhelming, but the whole thing has a joie de vivre that’s difficult to resist.

‘All These Words’ is classic Idlewild, positive, life-affirming music tempered by lyrical melancholia which then morphs into the more downtrodden ‘You Wear It Second Hand’. And so it goes on; ‘Miracles’ is a burst of buzz-pop, offset by ‘Mount Analogue’ which has an ear-worm of a verse before becoming a brass-led Primal Scream-esque beast. ‘Familiar To Ignore’, on the other hand, sounds like a spectral off-cut from Ryan Adams’ heart-breaking Love Is Hell albums before bursting into confrontational work.

Idlewild have outlived numerous fads, and it’s fair to say this is down to their timeless quality. Although they became briefly associated with the Travis/Starsailor acoustic rock that was mainstream on UK shores in the early part of this century, that was on the basis of one song (‘American English’) when in reality they were always more upbeat and, ultimately, heavier.

Harking back to the well of their indie-punk roots with some liberal splashes of tenderness, Interview Music is the most fully rounded Idlewild record yet.

Hightown Pirates - Hope Street Eternal

The story of Hightown Pirates is a fascinating one; highlighting how rock music can consume your soul, spit you out but how the passions and emotions it generates within the chosen few of us can lead to personal redemption and then, even better, how it can actually help lives.

The architect of Hightown Pirates is Simon Mason, who back in the 1990s was often found to be the chemical supplier to numerous rock outfits of the day. He released a book some years ago which outlines some of his associates, and it’s fair to say the names wouldn’t surprise you. Since then he’s hit record bottom (putting it lightly) through addictions but, long story short, amassed a collection of songs which he put to record over a very short period which became the fine debut Dry & High, released in 2017.

Now the Pirates set sail again for this special Hope Street Eternal EP. The title-track was released as a single late last year with proceeds going to the actual Charter Street Mission, a homeless charity serving the local community in Manchester. The track itself is evolved punk and mod psychedelia wrapped into one, a charging number which breaks down for its middle eight into a mellotron-lead pastoral offering before the burst of guitar which punctures the whole song reminds you that you are dealing with a rock band. Throw in some female, Gimme Shelter-esque vocals that add to the drama and there’s no mistaking we’re in a world where only integrity matters.

‘This One’s For You’ is aspirational, love-lorn and wistful, with lush production as provided by Youth (he of Killing Joke, who was an impressive production track record including work by James, The Charlatans and on The Verve’s masterpiece Urban Hymans). The third track, ‘God’s Country, is eerie, like a missing 60s scouse garage classic which winds around before coming back on itself. Lastly, the kitchen sink drama of final track Hope Street Eternal channels northern soul but with both more bite and more hope, which is the ultimate message of the EP.

In his past, Mason has been close enough to rock talent to get what it takes, a combination of hard work and passion which he and the band clearly have in spades. It resonates through his vocals, which bear resemblance to the gravity and maturity of 21st century Paul Weller but the urgency of his output while in The Jam.

But it’s the content that matters, and the passion oozes from every note of this fine collection.

Interview - Little Comets

As we talk, Brexit is no closer to being resolved; it’s such a fast moving beast that by the time you read this, things will almost certainly have significantly changed, perhaps even in a decisive manner.

The after-effects will long be felt and seem to have had a disconcerting impact on the way discourse is conducted in the UK. As ever, Robert Coles and Little Comets are keeping a keen eye on the state of the world, but have a radical solution to the problems we in the western world are currently facing. It’s called listening.

“These days, when everything is kind of apocalyptic and negative – I was watching Question Time last night and the fact that people are just shouting at each other and arguing at each other – the thing is, with the way our media is, everything has to be black and white,” he says to Live4ever during our chat this month. “Everybody has to take a side.”

“Whereas yes Brexit is an important thing, but most people in our country have a lot more in common with each other than this one dividing line that someone’s just drawn. Regardless of what you think, you should be respectful and listen to someone’s point of view.” With some justification Coles, Little Comets’ singer, co-writer and guitarist, believes we as a society need to focus on what unites us rather than what divides.

“Try and focus on the things you have in common with people and the values that people have in common. It’s easy news to have two sides of the debate and polarise it. Sometimes I have 5Live on in the car and they just seem to get people with the most extreme point of view from either side, and they just put them in the bear pit. It’s fairly reductive.”

“The World Cup was a good example: even if you don’t like football people had a common goal to unite around. The atmosphere everywhere was far more communal and people had a smile on their face. You would more readily stop and speak to people you wouldn’t normally have a five-minute chat with. That’s the other side of it. But since then the negative news-stories have just been piling up. People are like, ‘oh well, we just need to get on with it’. It’s hard, it’s complicated. How many years’ work have gone into this relationship? This is a complex thing to get right.”

Little Comets are back, and not before time. It’s been two years since the release of their last album Worhead, the second on their own Smallest Label. But the trio are doing things are bit differently this time. They recently released a single entitled ‘The Sneeze’ which followed hot on the heels of ‘M62’ in 2018. “I think we really enjoyed it a few years ago, when we started releasing things on our own label and had a really productive year,” Coles continues.

“We did three EPs and an album in the space of twelve months. It was nice to be constantly busy, and the good thing about having things like Spotify is that you can upload things straight away without necessarily playing the game of a release schedule. You can be quite fluid with it and that suits us. With our family situation we don’t tend to tour for 12 months and then be in the studio for 12 months. It’s a lot more piecemeal. The idea of uploading things as and when we finish them, and then putting them together for a physical release…I think that’s a pattern we’ll use over the next couple of years.”

Does this signify that the boys are giving up the ghost and turning their back on the traditional album format, which has apparently been dead for some time? “In terms of an album, because the songs are written in a similar timeframe and in a similar part of our lives that’s what gives our group of songs an identity and is the glue that keeps them together,” Coles says. “As long as we stick within time periods they’ll be quite cogent anyway. We will be doing the singles, but I still love the idea of producing something that people can hold and read. We do the artwork as well and I love that part of the process, decorating the cake. So we’ll still do that periodically because I think the songs will work together in an album format, simply because they’ve been done in a similar time. I think that’s what gives each of our albums a distinct sound rather than a conscious ‘this is the sound of this album’.”

As artists and musicians, Little Comets try not to stick to a regular style, format or cause, rather letting the process take its own natural journey. Yet sometimes it’s impossible to avoid the world around them. At the moment whichever newspaper headline you read, whichever television channel you watch, whichever social media platform you use, we seem to be at peak argument. Like there’s no escape. ‘The Sneeze’ was an attempt to distance themselves and the listener from it. “The Sneeze’ was quite cathartic; the way things have been going the last couple of years, things seem to be heading in quite an ominous direction,” Coles believes.

“That’s what ‘The Sneeze’ is about. On the front you can see a man-made disaster which could spell catastrophe just around the corner. It was nice to write about that. The video is quite intense so when we finished the process of the song and the mixing we were happy that it was out of us. When we did the video in Sheffield it was just around the time they were doing the real serious debate around the Brexit deal. We were listening to it all on the way home. It was almost purposely designed to turn yourself off from the process. I just felt so over-saturated with it so I just took no notice for two or three weeks. It’s dangerous because if you do turn off you’re just letting it wash over you, but I just think sometimes you need to do that.”

As hard as it is to believe right now, there is a future beyond March 29th, or even the end of June. The boys have big plans for the year. “We’ve got quite a bit coming up this year. We’ve got a bridging song which is quite a chilled out acoustic number coming out, then the one that sounds most like a single (‘American Tuna’) coming last. That’ll be the start of April and then after that we’ve got a tour announcement, and we’ve done something a bit cheeky with the first album that’s kind of under wraps. Then the album at the end of the year. The next song is completely different from ‘The Sneeze’, it’s a lot more positive and upbeat. It’s a nice contrast really.”

And presumably there will be a tour to follow? “We normally do about 10-12 dates, but this one’s going to be a bit longer. We’re looking to do a few dates in Ireland which will be good because we haven’t been over for a few years now. We’d like to book some American dates as well. If you look at where people are when they listen to music, a lot of top cities on Spotify data are actually in the US so it would be a shame not to do a few dates over there. But again, it’s got to make sense as we don’t have a label to fund the shortfall.”

“It has its upsides but that’s certainly a downside, in terms of getting to a new territory because you just can’t afford to make a £50,000 loss on the tour. It’s just not happening. We’d try and consolidate it into two or three weeks. It wouldn’t be a ‘let’s go and try and break America’ 12 months. It’d really be making sure we’d get something tangible from it.”

For their first two albums, Little Comets were signed to Dirty Hit, home to The 1975, Wolf Alice and Pale Waves among others. One of the founders of the label was former footballer Ugo Ehiogu, who sadly died in 2017. Rob worked with Ehiogu as the label was forming and has positive memories. “It was really sad,” he tells me “It was just after we’d left Columbia; I had an email from a guy called Jamie Oborne who manages The 1975. At the time he was setting up this new label and he said, ‘I’ve got a couple of other investors, one of whom is Ugo Ehiogu’. He said that he’d not necessarily made a lot of money from traditional investments, so he wanted to do something where he could have a bit of fun with it, and one passion he had was music.”

“So he came to a few gigs and we played football with him a couple of times. He was just a really lovely bloke. We hadn’t been working with Dirty for a few years, and I think he was taking a bit of a backseat because he hadn’t been coaching at Tottenham for that long. He was almost deciding what his next step was going to be, so it was a real shock. Such a shame, because not only was he a nice bloke but he seemed to be doing really well with his coaching career and he was obviously highly respected.”

Tellingly, the recollection brings to the forefront a key insight into Rob’s mindset, and a valuable lesson for us all: “Whenever anything like that happens you just try and relate it to your own life. You’ve just got to have fun with it really. Make positive decisions all the time.”

Anteros - When We Land

When is a new album not a new album? This one has been gestating since 2015, when Anteros released their first EP.

A smattering of singles and further EPs have followed and they largely make up the content of this debut album. As such, will long-term fans of the band perhaps feel slightly short-changed? Whatever, that’s not a question to trouble the rest of us too much – we can simply take When We Land on its own merits.

Of which it has many. The album has all the elements required for mass appeal; opener ‘Call Your Mother’ (‘she will make it better’) instantly sounds like it’s been around forever with a classic chorus which explodes into life. Second track ‘Ring Ring’’s crunchy guitar and circular bass complements it well and elsewhere, ‘Drive On’ is literal with a pummelling pace that is over before it’s finished and would sit well on compilation albums. Recent single ‘Breakfast’ is held together by frenetic guitars akin to early Bloc Party.

Indeed, the whole album is geared around the traditional song structure of a looming, functional verse which then both completely changes gear and ups the tempo for the chorus. No avant-garde nonsense for this four-piece; they are aiming for hearts and guts, and if they make you think then all the better. ‘Wrong Side’ has a ground level verse followed by an air punching, fist clenching middle eight. The best touch-point is the ambitious, widescreen pop of The Killers circa-Sam’s Town, or even the pop perfection of ABBA.

Wisely, the epic songs are allowed to breathe by the sequencing as the intermittent lower key moments also demand attention. The science fiction synth of ‘Afterglow’ brings the mood down for something a bit more layered yet equally determined, a reflection on the intimacies that can only be accessed post-coitus. ‘Ordinary Girl’, meanwhile, sounds like Florence Welch’s more tender moments, complete with epic drums and again, it’s got a nagging, familiar chorus that you know you’ve heard before, but this is perhaps testament to the songwriting chops of these young bucks. ‘Let It Out’ is initially more sparse, starting with electric guitar and vocals before allowing the rest of the band in for a mournful, intense ballad.

Proceedings are brought to a close by ‘Fool Moon’ which echoes the disco glam of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and the long forgotten Long Blondes. Final track ‘Anteros’ is a nod to their past, having been on their first release, with a closing coda (‘be the first part of the last start’) bringing to mind the grandeur of The Killers’ (them again) high point ‘All These Things That I’ve Done.’

But, for there must be a but, therein lies the rub. Those long-term listeners will have little to reward them here, aside from demonstrations of how the band have improved musically and sonically. This is nit-picking though; good pop can and should be heard countless times, and When We Land is nothing if not good pop.

Avey Tare - Cows On Hourglass Pond

Now there’s an album title to grab your attention.

As is the way of all the projects associated with Animal Collective, it’s ambiguous to the point of irrelevant, but that’s part of the fun of following this ever evolving outfit. This is ostensibly David Portner’s third solo album, with a project under the name of Avey Tare’s Slasher Flicks (Enter The Slasher House) – another cracking title – also put out under his name.

It’s as beguiling as before. Opener ‘What’s The Goodside?’ gently permeates into life with disconnected, dream state vocals offset by a dub bass line which eventually takes over the song, building up gradually to a soothing languid malaise rather than a grandstand finish. ‘Eyes On Eyes’ features the trademark Portner fast-paced vocals that carry a sense of disunity, and that also don’t scan. Meanwhile, ‘K.C. Yours’ has a wonderfully simple melody, again with soft staccato vocals.

It’s a deeply philosophical album (probably) lyrically. The over-arching theme is of questioning the bigger elements of the universe but striding into it headfirst regardless. The aforementioned ‘What Is Goodside?’ is the obvious example and on album highlight ‘Nostalgia In Lemonade’, Portner’s grandiose vocal delivery (‘my only lemonade’) reflects the comfort he finds in something familiar and recognisable amidst the unknown. A similar trick is pulled on ‘Our Little Chapter’, simply repeating the title as chorus but adjusting his vocals to a lower, warmer key.

The album somehow manages to sound minimal whilst being absolutely drenched in layers upon layers of production. At points both ethereal and earthy, each spin of the disc rewards the listener with something new. That said the bass (be it guitar, drum or keys) is the key musical element of the album. On ‘Nostalgia In Lemonade’ the pulsing is the backbone of the song, whereas on recent ‘single’ ‘Saturdays (Again)’ the mournfulness of the bass dictates the mood and texture of the piece. The familiar trope of sampling is used to greatest effect on the instrumental interlude ‘Chilly Blue’. Your reviewer may be wrong, but the sampling is used to great effect to generate whale noises, formulating a dense, underwater atmosphere.

Having listened to this and his co-collaborator Panda Bear’s Buoys in close succession, it’s slightly more apparent as to what the two members bring to Animal Collective. Avey Tare is a bit more down to earth and structures his songs traditionally, adding the human element via acoustic guitar, whereas Panda Bear contributes the sparse distant psychedelia. That’s by no means an exact science though; the lines are very blurred, which explains why they work so well together and equally as well apart.

Embrace - Live at the O2 Academy, Bristol

It’s very easy to be cynical about these ‘Album In Full’ gigs, especially this far into the game.

It’s virtually an industry in itself, and the logical evolution from band reformations. As there are very few bands that would generate excitement in reforming, we have basically come to the end of that road. Amidst all the (justified) hype about Doves’ return, it’s largely ignored that they didn’t actually split up in the first place. Similarly, while everyone is revisiting Sleeper’s back catalogue and are pleasantly surprised, it’s not doing them a disservice by suggesting their return wasn’t the most hankered for.

These bands ride the crest of a wave, but what of the long-suffering, long haul merchants? To want a slice of the pie is human nature, and the potential audience to play a beloved album to is considerable – Peter Hook has made a new career out of it. This year alone we have Massive Attack, Manic Street Preachers and Bloc Party all performing album shows, with countless others on the circuit. In the case of the latter, there’s not even a reason to celebrate; Silent Alarm being 14 years old is hardly a landmark.

That said, at least Embrace have the good grace to play the game; it’s been 21 years since their debut The Good Will Out hit the shelves. It was quite a big deal at the time; feted as the next Oasis (northern, brothers in the band), the Yorkshiremen made quite a splash following a series of hit singles. They’ve been plugging away ever since with varying degrees of popularity, but if tonight is anything to go by, they will always have a place in hearts.

Obviously the album is played in full, in order, so it’s a strong start; the anthemic ‘All You Good Good People’ has the crowd in fine voice from the first moment. Sadly, the purse strings don’t stretch to having a full brass section, such an important part of the song, but throughout the set the orchestral flourishes are ably provided by Mickey Dale on keys. It’s a barnstorming start, sustained with ‘Come Back To What You Know’ two songs later. As they work through the album, one is reminded of how much of a rock band they were before settling into Coldplay-influenced, uplifting melancholia on later albums; ‘I Want The World’ sounds mighty, as does ‘The Last Gas’.

Sadly, the McNamara brothers (Danny on lead vocals, Richard on backing and guitar) have never been able to list singing as their key strength and it briefly shows at points; Danny is a bit flat on certain songs, and when Richard takes the lead on ‘We Are Family’ and then ‘Refugees’ in the encore, he’s barely audible. Not that it matters, they have the crowd in their pocket throughout (‘let’s see if you can be louder than Manchester the other night’) and as such any deficiencies are drowned out through the power of the band or the audience singing along.

The encore is a run through of more recent hits, and by the time the closing salvo of ‘Gravity’ and ‘Ashes’ are reached the atmosphere is at fever pitch. But the gig is summed up at the close of the main set via a cannon shooting confetti into the crowd: good natured, a bit cheesy but ultimately about bringing smiles to faces.

So yes, it’s easy to be cynical about ‘Album In Full’ gigs, but when you’ve got a beaming band – one who have worked tirelessly for over two decades – being applauded rapturously by a thoroughly satisfied audience, the cynicism is swallowed by joy.

BC Camplight and White Denim - Live at the O2 Academy, Bristol

Brian Christinzio, for BC Camplight is he, has been around the block several times now.

His first three albums didn’t make much of a dent despite critical approval, and he was subsequently dropped by One Little Indian. With his second album on Bella Union, his fourth in total, he seems to be starting to gain some traction on this side of the pond.

It has to be said that is largely down to last year’s crossover hit ‘I’m Desperate’, but beyond that there is much to enjoy. Christinzio is quite the raconteur, and throughout the entirety of this support slot he has the continually expanding crowd entertained. There is a real off-beat sense of humour to both he and his music, more akin to one of those wise-cracking American stand-ups; ‘When I Think About My Dog’ is a solemn, piano-led ballad complete with barking, for example.

He regales the crowd by informing us that ‘Am I Dead?’ was written about a previous experience gigging in Bristol, and ‘Fire In England’ was inspired by a rejection letter, as signed by Theresa May, following his request for citizenship. But, everyone is here for ‘I’m Desperate’, and his live band don’t let him down, shaking the rafters and leaving White Denim with a tough act to follow.

They don’t even try to follow suit. The Texans are all about the music, delivering their set in a series of medleys, demonstrating their impressive musical ability and synchronicity. It’s very clearly built on friendship and respect as the four members frequently make eye contact and nod appreciatively at one another, be it during bass solos or drumming frenzies. The sky gets kissed a lot.

At one point, Steven Terebecki breaks a string on his bass and the band have to stop. Frontman James Petralli awkwardly addresses the crowd as he tells us that it’s only the second time in twelve years such a thing has happened. But undeterred, they pick up exactly where they left off, what surely must be hours and hours of rehearsal times paying off. Not so much watertight as ironclad. Nearly as impressive are Petralli’s facial expressions as he mouths every movement on the fret to himself. It’s pure unadulterated joy and is worth the entrance fee alone.

With eight albums in a decade, and a ninth forthcoming this spring, White Denim have built up a formidable back catalogue and the set spans their whole career. The medley style they’ve adopted isn’t wholly successful and does start to get repetitive during the fifth or sixth offering. It becomes hard to differentiate and appears as one long jam, which must be great fun to participate in but not so much to watch.

But on its own merits, not least for the proficiency on display, there is much to admire here.