Officially nothing to do with Russia or its circles, the three Chicago natives behind ‘Enter’ deal in instrumental rock that fidgets and fits in the best of ways. That the six tracks here take more than fourty minutes to unwind points to the post-post-rock (where will it) end of things but there’s haste, speed and an amplified fire here that means the ‘Circles are much more than another Mogwai photocopy. These tunes go from the complex shimmy of early Tool to the gentle loveliness of Joan Of Arc to the sheer doom attack of Motorhead. Couple that with the straight up Will Haven-esque ‘Death Rides A Horse’ and you have the perfect example of instrumental music for people that don’t really like instrumental music. And a gem of a record for people that do.
Also appears at New-Noise
6.26.2006
6.19.2006
SILENT CIVILIAN- Rebirth Of The Temple
Johnny Santos spent six years fronting Spineshank. Though that band would never escape their ‘baby Fear Factory’ tag they did write some killer tunes. Santos jumped from the sinking nu-metal ship a couple of years ago but is now back in action with Silent Civilian and this new group are a heavier prospect all round. At the centre ‘Rebirth of the Temple’ is the sort of heavy metal that’s made Machine Head’s name. Unfortunately though, instead of concentrating on power, energy and writing defiant anthems, the ‘Civilian favour more of the fashionable metalcore flavours that have been heard already. By everyone. Everywhere.
It’s not terrible stuff. ‘Funeral’ kicks things off as neatly as anything from the last Trivium, God forbid or Caliban albums but therein lies the problem. There is nothing here that hasn’t already been done better somewhere else. The kick drums go into overdrive for the bludgeoning intro to ‘Divided’, there’s great Metallica-esque twiddly bits on ‘The Song Remains Un-Named’ and Santos’ knack for a vocal melody creeps through during ‘Bitter Pill’ and ‘Blood Red Sky’. But, there’s always that awkward feeling that the band have been reading over metalcore’s shoulder and stealing what they think are the right answers. And, at 13 tracks, some pushing seven and eight minutes long, it doesn’t half go on a bit. Hell, even Spineshank were smarter than this.
So, while there’s nothing really wrong with what Silent Civilian have done here, ‘Rebirth…’ is destined to sink without trace.
It’s not terrible stuff. ‘Funeral’ kicks things off as neatly as anything from the last Trivium, God forbid or Caliban albums but therein lies the problem. There is nothing here that hasn’t already been done better somewhere else. The kick drums go into overdrive for the bludgeoning intro to ‘Divided’, there’s great Metallica-esque twiddly bits on ‘The Song Remains Un-Named’ and Santos’ knack for a vocal melody creeps through during ‘Bitter Pill’ and ‘Blood Red Sky’. But, there’s always that awkward feeling that the band have been reading over metalcore’s shoulder and stealing what they think are the right answers. And, at 13 tracks, some pushing seven and eight minutes long, it doesn’t half go on a bit. Hell, even Spineshank were smarter than this.
So, while there’s nothing really wrong with what Silent Civilian have done here, ‘Rebirth…’ is destined to sink without trace.
5.29.2006
THURSDAY. Zodiac, Oxford. 26.05.06
It’s been nearly two years since Thursday were last in the UK and even longer since any new material. So after a lengthy wait the New Jersey sextet (now featuring keyboardist Andrew Everding full-time) return for a flying seven-stop run with cracking new album ‘A City By The Light Divided’ in tow.
With all that time off, new songs to learn and this being the first night of the tour, the band could be forgiven for sounding a little rusty but apparently Thursday have a point to prove. The gunshot drumming, buzzsaw guitars, layered vocals and Everding’s added dimensions mean the set sounds huge. Geoff Rickly looks healthier than he has in years and throws himself into tunes like crowd favourite ‘For The Workforce, Drowning’ and new single ‘Counting 5-4-3-2-1’ with equal reckless abandon. Quality levels don’t drop an inch throughout but it’s not until they play flawless renditions of ‘Cross Out The Eyes’ and ‘Jet Black New Year’ you realise how essential this band remain and just how much their passion and honesty is missed. And nobody here would swap this show for front row tickets to the next Aiden gig, not for anything in the world.
With all that time off, new songs to learn and this being the first night of the tour, the band could be forgiven for sounding a little rusty but apparently Thursday have a point to prove. The gunshot drumming, buzzsaw guitars, layered vocals and Everding’s added dimensions mean the set sounds huge. Geoff Rickly looks healthier than he has in years and throws himself into tunes like crowd favourite ‘For The Workforce, Drowning’ and new single ‘Counting 5-4-3-2-1’ with equal reckless abandon. Quality levels don’t drop an inch throughout but it’s not until they play flawless renditions of ‘Cross Out The Eyes’ and ‘Jet Black New Year’ you realise how essential this band remain and just how much their passion and honesty is missed. And nobody here would swap this show for front row tickets to the next Aiden gig, not for anything in the world.
CITY AND COLOUR+ Jacob's Stories. Camden Barfly, London. 25.05.06
Dallas Green never even saw this coming. His self-confessed ‘soft songs’ were only supposed to be for him to play, to help him work through some issues or jam the kinks out of tunes for his day job in Alexisonfire. They weren’t supposed to be flown around the world and performed in front of awe-filled and attentive audiences. But that’s how it is.
Despite the early doors (enforced so that 65 Days Of Static, playing upstairs tonight, don’t thud the show to death from above) the Barfly is full. Which means plenty of people get to hear Stuart Lee’s Radiohead-ian brilliance. Alone on stage but armed with keyboard, drum machine and the Jacob’s Stories moniker, it’s the mantra piano of ‘A Night With Steve’, hypnotic chirping of ‘Unfinished Idea’ and lilting but commanding nature of Lee’s voice that deserve to make the man a millionaire.
None of this is about the big bucks though. When the headliner has to squeeze through the crowd to get to the stage and tune his own guitar, a Chris Carrabba-type confessional is clearly not on the cards. Green doesn’t even cut a very demanding figure once he’s up there; in fact he looks a little dazed, like he still can’t believe that people want to see him this way. It’s his songs that compel all the attention. In between digs at the British transport system and the LostProphet’s ‘interesting’ haircuts tunes like ‘Hello, I’m In Delaware’ and ‘Comin’ Home’ are transformed. Fragile ballads on CD are stretched out into powerful moving tales, infused with genuine heart and real tragedy. During ‘Save Your Scissors’ Green asks the crowd to sing but few people do, eager to get the man himself back to the microphone. That he can do this; talk to the crowd with good humour, modesty and respect, and never miss a beat during heartfelt performances of ‘Sometimes’ and ‘Missing’, is enchanting.
The city was London and the colours were vivid and sharp. Even if Green never meant it to be this way, tonight was simply breathtaking.
Despite the early doors (enforced so that 65 Days Of Static, playing upstairs tonight, don’t thud the show to death from above) the Barfly is full. Which means plenty of people get to hear Stuart Lee’s Radiohead-ian brilliance. Alone on stage but armed with keyboard, drum machine and the Jacob’s Stories moniker, it’s the mantra piano of ‘A Night With Steve’, hypnotic chirping of ‘Unfinished Idea’ and lilting but commanding nature of Lee’s voice that deserve to make the man a millionaire.
None of this is about the big bucks though. When the headliner has to squeeze through the crowd to get to the stage and tune his own guitar, a Chris Carrabba-type confessional is clearly not on the cards. Green doesn’t even cut a very demanding figure once he’s up there; in fact he looks a little dazed, like he still can’t believe that people want to see him this way. It’s his songs that compel all the attention. In between digs at the British transport system and the LostProphet’s ‘interesting’ haircuts tunes like ‘Hello, I’m In Delaware’ and ‘Comin’ Home’ are transformed. Fragile ballads on CD are stretched out into powerful moving tales, infused with genuine heart and real tragedy. During ‘Save Your Scissors’ Green asks the crowd to sing but few people do, eager to get the man himself back to the microphone. That he can do this; talk to the crowd with good humour, modesty and respect, and never miss a beat during heartfelt performances of ‘Sometimes’ and ‘Missing’, is enchanting.
The city was London and the colours were vivid and sharp. Even if Green never meant it to be this way, tonight was simply breathtaking.
5.15.2006
DEAD TO FALL- The Phoenix Throne
Much like Giant Haystacks, Chicago metallers Dead To Fall are very heavy, probably quite imposing in the flesh and capable of delivering all sorts of killer moves. Unfortunately just like professional wrestling there doesn’t seem to be any real feeling behind the violence of 'The Phoenix Throne'. ‘Chum Fiesta’ could be used to induce heart attacks and ‘Heroes’ is classic sweaty thrash but beyond the tough exterior this is a band only play fighting.
5.08.2006
PROTEST THE HERO- Kezia
Kids these days. Forming in Canada at the tender age of 14, Protest The Hero have spent the last two years working on this, their debut album proper. Now 19 and with tours alongside Every Time I Die, The Bled and The Fall Of Troy under their belts and an upcoming UK tour and appearance at Download to look forward to they’re planning to make as much of a splash here as they have in their home country.
It’s easy to see why they’ve made an impact. This is a thrill-splattered combo of Coheed’s dizzying heights, As I Lay Dying’s numbing rumble, the murderous garage groove of new Every Time I Die and the breathtaking gallop of old Iron Maiden. The vocal inflections match all the musical madness too. Rody Walker’s high tone initially sticks out but soon seems like the only thing that would work, there are gang vocals, spoken and screamed back-ups and even a beautiful female croon.
Diversity like this is certainly striking, the musicianship is mind-boggling for some so young, but it’s often confusing. On first listen there is little here to really grab onto. ‘Nautical’ and ‘Blindfolds Aside’ are stuffed with memorable melodic hooks and ‘Turn Soonest…’ slows spectacularly from speedy metal thrashing to eerie spoken word passages to bruising metalcore to soft pop-like melodies and back again but elsewhere it gets too much. ‘Bury The Hatchet’ is crushingly heavy and ‘She Who Mars The Skin Of The Gods’ is impressive for sure but they ride too many genres, only settling down to create something memorable for moments at a time. The highlights here aren’t tracks but fleeting minutes and seconds.
It’s nowhere near a total failure though. You may need a degree in mathematics to keep proper time with it but ‘Kezia’ is a mighty fine first full-length and a solid sign of greatness to come. Protest The Hero remain paupers to the princes of Between The Buried And Me and The Red Chord but with time and this, a more dynamic and softer option, on their side, they could get very big indeed.
Also appears at Rock Midgets
It’s easy to see why they’ve made an impact. This is a thrill-splattered combo of Coheed’s dizzying heights, As I Lay Dying’s numbing rumble, the murderous garage groove of new Every Time I Die and the breathtaking gallop of old Iron Maiden. The vocal inflections match all the musical madness too. Rody Walker’s high tone initially sticks out but soon seems like the only thing that would work, there are gang vocals, spoken and screamed back-ups and even a beautiful female croon.
Diversity like this is certainly striking, the musicianship is mind-boggling for some so young, but it’s often confusing. On first listen there is little here to really grab onto. ‘Nautical’ and ‘Blindfolds Aside’ are stuffed with memorable melodic hooks and ‘Turn Soonest…’ slows spectacularly from speedy metal thrashing to eerie spoken word passages to bruising metalcore to soft pop-like melodies and back again but elsewhere it gets too much. ‘Bury The Hatchet’ is crushingly heavy and ‘She Who Mars The Skin Of The Gods’ is impressive for sure but they ride too many genres, only settling down to create something memorable for moments at a time. The highlights here aren’t tracks but fleeting minutes and seconds.
It’s nowhere near a total failure though. You may need a degree in mathematics to keep proper time with it but ‘Kezia’ is a mighty fine first full-length and a solid sign of greatness to come. Protest The Hero remain paupers to the princes of Between The Buried And Me and The Red Chord but with time and this, a more dynamic and softer option, on their side, they could get very big indeed.
Also appears at Rock Midgets
4.18.2006
WHIRLWIND HEAT- Reagan EP
Finished with the hype, over the half-minute punk noise and done confusing the hell out of White Stripes fans, Whirlwind Heat have managed to knuckle down and produce the ‘Reagan’ EP.
There is magic abound; Beck-like vocals simmer nicely, anybody using a kazoo nowadays deserves top marks, ‘I Fucked Up Reagan’ would sound great round a campfire and the drum punch drive of ‘Memory’ raises excitement levels a notch or two but there are bands in garages down your street that have produced more memorable work than the title track and ‘Macho Man’ here. Let’s hope this is less a taster for upcoming album, ‘Types Of Wood’, and more designed to lull the world into a false sense of safe indie security before Whirlwind Heat become the new Strokes.
There is magic abound; Beck-like vocals simmer nicely, anybody using a kazoo nowadays deserves top marks, ‘I Fucked Up Reagan’ would sound great round a campfire and the drum punch drive of ‘Memory’ raises excitement levels a notch or two but there are bands in garages down your street that have produced more memorable work than the title track and ‘Macho Man’ here. Let’s hope this is less a taster for upcoming album, ‘Types Of Wood’, and more designed to lull the world into a false sense of safe indie security before Whirlwind Heat become the new Strokes.
4.03.2006
LYE BY MISTAKE- The Fabulous EP
The first release on Lambgoat Records (sprung from the scene-leading website) will be Lye By Mistake’s second widely-available CD. Their first, ‘The Fabulous’ EP, clears up exactly why the fledging label decided this band should be their flagship. Intense, frantic and almost hysterical with content, the songs here bend, twist and melt from harrowing death rattles to eerie jazz segments to rippling thrash riffs. If the band on the Titanic were given crazy pills and electric guitars and broken amps they would have sounded like this. Incendiary.
PITCHSHIFTER+ Skindred. Astoria, London. 24.03.06
Ok, so Pitchshifter went on ‘indefinite hiatus’ rather than going the whole hog and actually splitting up but there’s surely only so many times they can do this reunion show thing and not have it become a joke.
Forgetting that particular hurdle for a minute and looking from the outside in the show looks like most other Pitchshifter shows; a varied crowd here to see a well-stocked line-up of all-British bands, support bands that the headliners have talked up themselves, and a line-up totally and absolutely refreshingly removed from anything emo or hardcore or metalcore or whatever you core it.
Despite, or perhaps because of, their schizophrenic sound (reggae-punk-metal-jungle-hip-hop anybody?) Skindred have spent years in the toilet-touring-circuit wilderness but are finally getting the attention they deserve. After slightly subdued receptions for Murder One and This Is Menace the crowd’s reception for the Welsh wanderers could have you thinking this is their headline show. Benji Webbe is a natural frontman but the band behind him also play with a massive self-confidence rattling through re-mixed and re-jigged versions of bouncing tracks like ‘Nobody’ and new single ‘Pressure’ with impressive flair. But that’s what breaking America does to a band.
After that Pitchshifter need to take off like a rocket but to start with the band are sluggish, nervous perhaps, but definitely mired in the awful Astoria sound. It takes almost three songs until a glorious rendition of ‘Eight Days’ clears the cobwebs, hell, it damn near lifts the roof off and from there on it’s business as usual.
The reason the band have hung around so long, the reason demand for them has never really dipped, is made fantastically clear in the songs they play. Running through their truly innovative and hugely varied back catalogue they supply favourites like ‘Microwaved’, ‘We Know’, ‘Hidden Agenda’ and ‘Genius’ alongside a crushing ‘Triad’ and the industrial smash and grab of ‘Virus’. Breakbeats skitter, guitars squeal and grind, bass rumbles, the drums sound fantastic and the show flies by with people singing and dancing (not beating the crap out of each other in the pit) all round the venue. A closing ‘W.Y.S.I.W.Y.G’ sums up the band; fast, loud and eight years after it was recorded, still sounding bloody vital.
There’s the usual showmanship from frontman J.S and whirlwind of headbanging from the rest of the band but where this could’ve been a joke Pitchshifter play tonight free from hyperbole. They don’t turn every song into a ceremony and there are no gimmicks, just another great gig. Hurdle leaped. Now don’t leave it so long next time.
Also appears at New Noise
Forgetting that particular hurdle for a minute and looking from the outside in the show looks like most other Pitchshifter shows; a varied crowd here to see a well-stocked line-up of all-British bands, support bands that the headliners have talked up themselves, and a line-up totally and absolutely refreshingly removed from anything emo or hardcore or metalcore or whatever you core it.
Despite, or perhaps because of, their schizophrenic sound (reggae-punk-metal-jungle-hip-hop anybody?) Skindred have spent years in the toilet-touring-circuit wilderness but are finally getting the attention they deserve. After slightly subdued receptions for Murder One and This Is Menace the crowd’s reception for the Welsh wanderers could have you thinking this is their headline show. Benji Webbe is a natural frontman but the band behind him also play with a massive self-confidence rattling through re-mixed and re-jigged versions of bouncing tracks like ‘Nobody’ and new single ‘Pressure’ with impressive flair. But that’s what breaking America does to a band.
After that Pitchshifter need to take off like a rocket but to start with the band are sluggish, nervous perhaps, but definitely mired in the awful Astoria sound. It takes almost three songs until a glorious rendition of ‘Eight Days’ clears the cobwebs, hell, it damn near lifts the roof off and from there on it’s business as usual.
The reason the band have hung around so long, the reason demand for them has never really dipped, is made fantastically clear in the songs they play. Running through their truly innovative and hugely varied back catalogue they supply favourites like ‘Microwaved’, ‘We Know’, ‘Hidden Agenda’ and ‘Genius’ alongside a crushing ‘Triad’ and the industrial smash and grab of ‘Virus’. Breakbeats skitter, guitars squeal and grind, bass rumbles, the drums sound fantastic and the show flies by with people singing and dancing (not beating the crap out of each other in the pit) all round the venue. A closing ‘W.Y.S.I.W.Y.G’ sums up the band; fast, loud and eight years after it was recorded, still sounding bloody vital.
There’s the usual showmanship from frontman J.S and whirlwind of headbanging from the rest of the band but where this could’ve been a joke Pitchshifter play tonight free from hyperbole. They don’t turn every song into a ceremony and there are no gimmicks, just another great gig. Hurdle leaped. Now don’t leave it so long next time.
Also appears at New Noise
3.20.2006
EMBRACE TODAY- We Are The Enemy
There are so many good points here. Embrace Today’s second album holds 12 short, sharp songs that never outstay their welcome, there’s the ferocious drum-pounding of ‘Sing Me a Lullaby’, the ethereal female backing vocals on ‘Diamonds are Forever’ and the slower intensity of the title track. But, and it’s a big one, this is still generic straight-ahead hardcore. While it’s thankfully not be in any way ‘emo’ it does rant and rage about topics covered a million times over in songs that, if you own anything by Sworn Enemy, Champion, or Bane, will sound awfully familiar. Deathwish may well be a label that doesn’t need great strength in depth to succeed but when it comes to ET and ‘We Are The Enemy’ there just aren’t enough flourishes.
3.13.2006
DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE+ John Vanderslice. Oxford Brookes SU, Oxford. 11.03.06
Oxford is about as far as you can get from the OC tonight; there are definitely no palm trees around, everyone's too wrapped up under scarves and gloves to work on their tan and it's bloody freezing. Seth Cohen would probably die instantly. But inside the Brookes University union Death Cab For Cutie only have two kinds of songs, love songs and summer songs- it's with that last kind that they bring California to the UK- great, catchy-as-all-hell, irresistible melodic slices of it. Tracks like 'Marching Bands' and 'Settling' simmer with the kind of heat you only get from sunstroke or a packed out gig.
But they're not the only ones that mess with the musical temperature gauge. On record John Vanderslice is another broken balladeer, moping lonely about suicide and fruitless dreams, but with the aid of a full backing band tonight his songs are transformed. They maintain their indie feeling but become the subtlest of guitar-pop, all breathy harmonies and handclaps, and every clever vocal or keyboard hook acts as the perfect warm-up for Death Cab.
The headliners have been on tour for six weeks now so they could be forgiven for forgetting what home looks like, let alone be able to sing about it, but for many of the collected emo faithful Death Cab are quiet, unassuming heroes and the greeting they get could inspire the dead. The band are on top form too, tight and hard, heavier than on record with frontman Ben Gibbard's voice cutting through the songs rather than floating over them. New single 'Crooked Teeth' gets a huge reaction, suggesting the bands' star is still on the rise, 'New Year' and 'Different Names' are emotional highlights and the seamless swapping of instruments and jokes with the crowd prove there is a sense of humour in there too.
Sometimes the band don't quite click, they've never looked or sounded like they should be playing in rooms this size. They never quite 'rock' either and stick to formula a little too often, including Gibbard's samey tone, which means songs mix into each other, but still there are thrilling highs and chilling lows. When Gibbard returns for an acoustic encore the room is totally silent except for those singing along, and it's moments like that, when the connection between band and audience is strongest, that Death Cab For Cutie make perfect sense.
But they're not the only ones that mess with the musical temperature gauge. On record John Vanderslice is another broken balladeer, moping lonely about suicide and fruitless dreams, but with the aid of a full backing band tonight his songs are transformed. They maintain their indie feeling but become the subtlest of guitar-pop, all breathy harmonies and handclaps, and every clever vocal or keyboard hook acts as the perfect warm-up for Death Cab.
The headliners have been on tour for six weeks now so they could be forgiven for forgetting what home looks like, let alone be able to sing about it, but for many of the collected emo faithful Death Cab are quiet, unassuming heroes and the greeting they get could inspire the dead. The band are on top form too, tight and hard, heavier than on record with frontman Ben Gibbard's voice cutting through the songs rather than floating over them. New single 'Crooked Teeth' gets a huge reaction, suggesting the bands' star is still on the rise, 'New Year' and 'Different Names' are emotional highlights and the seamless swapping of instruments and jokes with the crowd prove there is a sense of humour in there too.
Sometimes the band don't quite click, they've never looked or sounded like they should be playing in rooms this size. They never quite 'rock' either and stick to formula a little too often, including Gibbard's samey tone, which means songs mix into each other, but still there are thrilling highs and chilling lows. When Gibbard returns for an acoustic encore the room is totally silent except for those singing along, and it's moments like that, when the connection between band and audience is strongest, that Death Cab For Cutie make perfect sense.
3.10.2006
CAVE IN+ Jacob's Stories. Zodiac, Oxford. 06.03.06
It's difficult to use up all of the English languages' positive adjectives in one review but here goes.
How often does someone chatting over your shoulder ruin a perfectly good gig? Well for Jacob’s Stories it kind of makes sense, if only because they are so fantastically, amazingly brilliant their ethereal and angelic tunes block every other sound out.
Having taken many forms in the past, all revolving around one Stuart Lee, tonight JS are a two person band with Lee's light but utterly captivating vocals augmented by his own beats and synths and accompanying violin player. They craft the stuff of egg-sized goosebumps, the sort of music that allows you to think that everything’s going to be OK. By the middle of their set, no one is talking within 15 miles of the Zodiac. Probably. Inside at least, everyone is listening.
After that, Cave In could have seemed brutish and clumsy. Well, after that, any band could, but although they inhabit the exact opposite end of the volume knob, Stephen Brodsky and company make music that appeals to the heart and the soul and for all the same reasons. Despite their near flawless evolution from hardcore screamers to drone rock balladeers and back again, Cave In remain criminally underrated. However, the chance to catch them and their moving, affecting songs this close up is a rare thing indeed. But rarity, it seems, is to be the norm tonight.
Cave In are ill. Brodsky's voice cracks and squeaks, he coughs his lines and stops to sip lemon juice. It shows but it doesn’t matter. They are a piledriver, a heady rock band but with a coach-sized spirit, a wealth of talent and a veritable treasure chest of songs to choose from. They jam riffs, thinking what they can play that might save some tonsils and they make up the set list as they go, advised by non-stop requests. They pick out gems like 'World Is In Your Way', 'Trepanning', 'Off to Ruin' and 'Dark Driving', songs that other bands would kill for, and toss them out to a steadily more receptive crowd. And when Brodsky’s voice finally blows out on ‘Big Riff’ and he asks Stuart Lee to the front the result is magnetic. Singer-less and sick Cave In are still magnificent
It may sound like clunky, karaoke, Spinal Tap-like hell but this was once in a gig-going lifetime stuff, the sort of thing that will never ever happen again.
Breathtaking. Exceptional. Perfect.
How often does someone chatting over your shoulder ruin a perfectly good gig? Well for Jacob’s Stories it kind of makes sense, if only because they are so fantastically, amazingly brilliant their ethereal and angelic tunes block every other sound out.
Having taken many forms in the past, all revolving around one Stuart Lee, tonight JS are a two person band with Lee's light but utterly captivating vocals augmented by his own beats and synths and accompanying violin player. They craft the stuff of egg-sized goosebumps, the sort of music that allows you to think that everything’s going to be OK. By the middle of their set, no one is talking within 15 miles of the Zodiac. Probably. Inside at least, everyone is listening.
After that, Cave In could have seemed brutish and clumsy. Well, after that, any band could, but although they inhabit the exact opposite end of the volume knob, Stephen Brodsky and company make music that appeals to the heart and the soul and for all the same reasons. Despite their near flawless evolution from hardcore screamers to drone rock balladeers and back again, Cave In remain criminally underrated. However, the chance to catch them and their moving, affecting songs this close up is a rare thing indeed. But rarity, it seems, is to be the norm tonight.
Cave In are ill. Brodsky's voice cracks and squeaks, he coughs his lines and stops to sip lemon juice. It shows but it doesn’t matter. They are a piledriver, a heady rock band but with a coach-sized spirit, a wealth of talent and a veritable treasure chest of songs to choose from. They jam riffs, thinking what they can play that might save some tonsils and they make up the set list as they go, advised by non-stop requests. They pick out gems like 'World Is In Your Way', 'Trepanning', 'Off to Ruin' and 'Dark Driving', songs that other bands would kill for, and toss them out to a steadily more receptive crowd. And when Brodsky’s voice finally blows out on ‘Big Riff’ and he asks Stuart Lee to the front the result is magnetic. Singer-less and sick Cave In are still magnificent
It may sound like clunky, karaoke, Spinal Tap-like hell but this was once in a gig-going lifetime stuff, the sort of thing that will never ever happen again.
Breathtaking. Exceptional. Perfect.
DOOMRIDERS+ November Coming Fire+ Shaped By Fate. Furnace, Swindon. 04.03.06
Self declaring 'the best band in the world', The Doomriders are in fact just plain not very good. What they do have is Nate Newton, and the promise of a member of Converge on show in close quaters like these is always going to sell a few tickets.
But before all that, let's get the quality musicianship out of the way.
After an unenthusiastic review of their debut EP, Shaped By Fate suggested their new material would make me eat my words, well, someone pass the salt. The band have always made a mockery of their recorded output with their live show and if their next release has harnessed the jagged energy flowing through the new songs aired tonight there will be simply no stopping them.
A departing crowd seems to suck the life out of November Coming Fire (but whether they leave to nurse SBF-inflicted pit-wounds or steer clear of the now terribly-unfashionable NCF boys is unclear). A shame because their music, once the stuff of many many other bands, has mutated into, admittedly mostly mosh free, but brilliantly dark riff-led noise. Now more Mastodon than Norma Jean they are infinitely inventive and thrillingly refreshing and therefore go down like a band without a MySpace account.
You can excuse people for walking to the front to take a picture of the Doomriders mainman and then buggering off back to the bar, especially when the band seem so amateur after what's gone before. They start and fuck up and start again but do nothing that you couldn't already find on any Black Sabbath or Misfits album. The thing is, unlike the band before them, Doomriders couldn’t give a shit what Swindon thinks and while they might not play their sludgy skate-punk rock-and-roll note perfect they do it with reckless abandon- an attitude and style that sucks people from the back of the room, throwing their fists and dancing like metalcore never happened.
Apparently there’s nothing like good, but possibly not very clean, fun to make the scene look utterly ridiculous.
But before all that, let's get the quality musicianship out of the way.
After an unenthusiastic review of their debut EP, Shaped By Fate suggested their new material would make me eat my words, well, someone pass the salt. The band have always made a mockery of their recorded output with their live show and if their next release has harnessed the jagged energy flowing through the new songs aired tonight there will be simply no stopping them.
A departing crowd seems to suck the life out of November Coming Fire (but whether they leave to nurse SBF-inflicted pit-wounds or steer clear of the now terribly-unfashionable NCF boys is unclear). A shame because their music, once the stuff of many many other bands, has mutated into, admittedly mostly mosh free, but brilliantly dark riff-led noise. Now more Mastodon than Norma Jean they are infinitely inventive and thrillingly refreshing and therefore go down like a band without a MySpace account.
You can excuse people for walking to the front to take a picture of the Doomriders mainman and then buggering off back to the bar, especially when the band seem so amateur after what's gone before. They start and fuck up and start again but do nothing that you couldn't already find on any Black Sabbath or Misfits album. The thing is, unlike the band before them, Doomriders couldn’t give a shit what Swindon thinks and while they might not play their sludgy skate-punk rock-and-roll note perfect they do it with reckless abandon- an attitude and style that sucks people from the back of the room, throwing their fists and dancing like metalcore never happened.
Apparently there’s nothing like good, but possibly not very clean, fun to make the scene look utterly ridiculous.
VIATROPHY+ No Made Sense+ Outcryfire+ Embalmed Alive. Phatz Bar, Maidenhead. 02.03.06
From the outside in, Maidenhead looks alright. It's green, gracious and not exactly fast-paced but tonight it throws up four bands that seem more than a little pissed-off. What exactly is there to be mad about?
The fact that Embalmed Alive arrive onstage taking longer to introduce their songs than actually play them should only endear them to metal fans everywhere. Theirs is a furious mix of grind, thrash and hardcore that, when they work out how to make a proper show of it, could go down very well indeed on many bigger stages.
Outcryfirestomp and groove like vintage metal should, but quite how five teenagers manage to sound so damn, well… old, is remarkable. Some of their set hammers hard enough to grab the attention but elsewhere they find the gear marked 'plod' all too easily and take just a little too long to get the point of their songs across.
No Made Sense begin as a thrilling prospect but suffer almost the same pacing problems. They've fired their horribly fashionable lead singer and in guitarist Leo have a superstar in the making but the now three-man unit still churn out the same screaming metal without much change in tempo and wading through flowery minutes of widdling guitars and pointless sludge is never fun.
Viatrophy have all the right moves; the players are obviously talented and singer Adam is suitably violent, but their metalcore is equally difficult to enjoy as too often their fantastic, mammoth riffs are interrupted by attempted atmospherics. If they can reign in the desire to make every song a tribute to Unearth, start firing on all their own cylinders and their genre retains its bankable market, they have the ability to turn heads on a national scale.
Local scene shows can only go a few ways, occasionally throwing up real gems but normally producing self-conscious or self-important shit. Tonight fell somewhere in the middle, revealing nothing too special, but proving that there's enough rage, even in a conservative, middle-class commuter town like Maidenhead, to form the odd band, and get a few people to come along to a show or two. Wish you were here?
The fact that Embalmed Alive arrive onstage taking longer to introduce their songs than actually play them should only endear them to metal fans everywhere. Theirs is a furious mix of grind, thrash and hardcore that, when they work out how to make a proper show of it, could go down very well indeed on many bigger stages.
Outcryfirestomp and groove like vintage metal should, but quite how five teenagers manage to sound so damn, well… old, is remarkable. Some of their set hammers hard enough to grab the attention but elsewhere they find the gear marked 'plod' all too easily and take just a little too long to get the point of their songs across.
No Made Sense begin as a thrilling prospect but suffer almost the same pacing problems. They've fired their horribly fashionable lead singer and in guitarist Leo have a superstar in the making but the now three-man unit still churn out the same screaming metal without much change in tempo and wading through flowery minutes of widdling guitars and pointless sludge is never fun.
Viatrophy have all the right moves; the players are obviously talented and singer Adam is suitably violent, but their metalcore is equally difficult to enjoy as too often their fantastic, mammoth riffs are interrupted by attempted atmospherics. If they can reign in the desire to make every song a tribute to Unearth, start firing on all their own cylinders and their genre retains its bankable market, they have the ability to turn heads on a national scale.
Local scene shows can only go a few ways, occasionally throwing up real gems but normally producing self-conscious or self-important shit. Tonight fell somewhere in the middle, revealing nothing too special, but proving that there's enough rage, even in a conservative, middle-class commuter town like Maidenhead, to form the odd band, and get a few people to come along to a show or two. Wish you were here?
2.27.2006
KID DYNAMITE- Four Years In One Gulp DVD
Boasting family ties with Lifetime, Good Riddance, Ink and Dagger and Paint It Black, Philadelphia’s finest, Kid Dynamite, were something of a hardcore punk institution before they even played a gig. The fact that their last show was barely four years later is something lamented by most of the people on board ‘Four Years In One Gulp’. The DVD charts the trials of refining a nervous group of friends (grainy basement footage) into sweat-soaked and sturdy performers (bigger and better venues with Alkaline Trio) by way of far too many hours on the road, hours and miles that would eventually end the band (until the momentous reunion shows). It’s obvious KD meant everything to the people in the right place at the right time; this just gives the rest of us a chance to catch up.
2.20.2006
WE ARE SCIENTISTS. Fez Club, Reading. 14.02.06
Somebody booked this an age ago. We Are Scientists have sold out the Astoria two nights in row on their upcoming April tour but tonight they play a club about the size of your living room, surely the setting for gig-of-a-lifetime stuff. The fervour of people's conversation revolving entirely around the three Scientists and their all-catchy debut album, the smell of those sweaty fans straining to get close to the band, the screams of their voices drowning out the music, every word sung in unison, this is how the Fez is supposed to be tonight.
Except something's gone horribly wrong. Even when the band play their hits, songs that have been clogging up MTV2 for weeks like 'It's A Hit' and 'Nobody Move', well, nobody moves. There are some half-hearted hand wavers and the odd camera flash but there's no dancing, no choir of loved-up couples (it's Valentine's, people), nothing.
To their credit, the band seem unfazed and with the aid of a sharply accurate sense of humour, some killer tracks (including a cover of 'Be My Baby' from Dirty Dancing) and some bad-ass moves do eventually get a reaction and if anybody had stayed still during a closing 'The Great Escape' they may as well have been declared dead at the scene.
This could have been an event; a last shot at catching close-up the breath of cool that We Are Scientists provide. As it is most of this crowd thought they themselves were all the rage, either for pulling a fast one on real fans and snagging tickets here or just for their new shoes.
Whatever happened, a massive chance went begging.
Except something's gone horribly wrong. Even when the band play their hits, songs that have been clogging up MTV2 for weeks like 'It's A Hit' and 'Nobody Move', well, nobody moves. There are some half-hearted hand wavers and the odd camera flash but there's no dancing, no choir of loved-up couples (it's Valentine's, people), nothing.
To their credit, the band seem unfazed and with the aid of a sharply accurate sense of humour, some killer tracks (including a cover of 'Be My Baby' from Dirty Dancing) and some bad-ass moves do eventually get a reaction and if anybody had stayed still during a closing 'The Great Escape' they may as well have been declared dead at the scene.
This could have been an event; a last shot at catching close-up the breath of cool that We Are Scientists provide. As it is most of this crowd thought they themselves were all the rage, either for pulling a fast one on real fans and snagging tickets here or just for their new shoes.
Whatever happened, a massive chance went begging.
2.19.2006
JOHNNY TRUANT+ Waterdown+ Architects. West End Centre, Aldershot. 13.02.06
Apparently Aldershot is a glutton for punishment. Booking Johnny Truant to play anywhere means reinforcing the walls but when they've got this much fire in their bellies and a crushing new album to showcase it's like asking for a demolition order. And getting German hard(core)men Waterdown and Brighton new boys Architects to join them only increases the size of the wrecking ball.
High on talent but low on fashion, whole tours like this can end up playing to the proverbial one man and his dog but as the devastation begins the West End Centre is almost full. There's not much movement in the crowd though, maybe it's cold feet, maybe it's cold everything; it's bloody freezing outside, or maybe people are just stunned by the sheer ferocity on show. Architects, including a manic lead singer and guitarists who are apparently robots, flay the shit out of their songs, gleaming slabs of scything and technical metal. The technicalities don't distract from how much fun the boys are having or how heavy they play and on the basis of tonight's cuts their new 'Nightmares' album is going to be stunning.
Waterdown are having a blast too. Despite being roundly ignored in the UK, even in the face of three albums worth of fantastic riff-driven, choppy hardcore, tonight they bring the party. There are glitters and streamers and dance moves and singers getting in people's faces and even a Refused cover but still they find it hard to get the crowd going. They don't hold it against us though, unless somebody can translate German and find out what they really think.
What Johnny Truant think is that their rightful place is on the front cover of your new favourite magazine, that they should be touring with Metallica, that it's their time now, and if it hasn't quite happened just yet it's surely only a matter of time.
The new material is explosive, the crowd lap up the real metal behind Truant's grinding hardcore and the band are loving it too. Singer Olly collapses and tenses like he's got mains current for blood and his voice may be frightening but there are smiles all round.
'I Love You Even Though You're A Zombie Now' and 'The Bloodening' sound massive and through all the lyrics of drugs and sex and death the band laugh and joke and put on a real show. 'Realist Surrealist' and 'Throne Vertigo' are quick-fire mosh rockets spinning the crowd into a frenzy and an extra guitarist thickens up the abrasive sound until it rumbles like a bee behind your eyes and when the band click into a groove or ride a riff until it dies they look triumphant.
Tonight felt like metal shows used to, when it didn't matter how tight your jeans were and you didn't have to be po-faced to be heavy. Tonight was a lesson in how to make music that sounds like 1000 dying screams, fun.
Also appears at New-Noise
High on talent but low on fashion, whole tours like this can end up playing to the proverbial one man and his dog but as the devastation begins the West End Centre is almost full. There's not much movement in the crowd though, maybe it's cold feet, maybe it's cold everything; it's bloody freezing outside, or maybe people are just stunned by the sheer ferocity on show. Architects, including a manic lead singer and guitarists who are apparently robots, flay the shit out of their songs, gleaming slabs of scything and technical metal. The technicalities don't distract from how much fun the boys are having or how heavy they play and on the basis of tonight's cuts their new 'Nightmares' album is going to be stunning.
Waterdown are having a blast too. Despite being roundly ignored in the UK, even in the face of three albums worth of fantastic riff-driven, choppy hardcore, tonight they bring the party. There are glitters and streamers and dance moves and singers getting in people's faces and even a Refused cover but still they find it hard to get the crowd going. They don't hold it against us though, unless somebody can translate German and find out what they really think.
What Johnny Truant think is that their rightful place is on the front cover of your new favourite magazine, that they should be touring with Metallica, that it's their time now, and if it hasn't quite happened just yet it's surely only a matter of time.
The new material is explosive, the crowd lap up the real metal behind Truant's grinding hardcore and the band are loving it too. Singer Olly collapses and tenses like he's got mains current for blood and his voice may be frightening but there are smiles all round.
'I Love You Even Though You're A Zombie Now' and 'The Bloodening' sound massive and through all the lyrics of drugs and sex and death the band laugh and joke and put on a real show. 'Realist Surrealist' and 'Throne Vertigo' are quick-fire mosh rockets spinning the crowd into a frenzy and an extra guitarist thickens up the abrasive sound until it rumbles like a bee behind your eyes and when the band click into a groove or ride a riff until it dies they look triumphant.
Tonight felt like metal shows used to, when it didn't matter how tight your jeans were and you didn't have to be po-faced to be heavy. Tonight was a lesson in how to make music that sounds like 1000 dying screams, fun.
Also appears at New-Noise
2.13.2006
ROCKY VOTOLATO-Makers
Maybe the past is the best place to start. Rocky Votolato used to be in the too short-lived Lying On Loot. When they broke up he played guitar and sung in eternally unsung indie rockers Waxwing. Rocky’s younger brother, Cody, used to play guitar there too but The Blood Brothers stole him away.
Maybe not. Forget all that. Skip to the present. ‘Makers’ is Votolato’s fourth solo album, a point he has reached with no money behind him, little critical mention and few album sales. Now, you don’t get so far, off so little, without doing it for all the right reasons and being entirely comfortable with your sound.
The sound here is the easy part. ‘Makers’ is mostly-acoustic folk rock with a genuine soul and aching heartbeat that’s refreshingly emo-free and expands so much further than man-with-guitar melancholy. These are stories, tracks utterly untouched by the noise of your new favourite band but imbued with the spirit of cigarettes, whiskey, Mark Lanegan and The Beatles.
The hard bit is understanding why Votolato has remained so ‘underground’ (read ‘unheard’) because there’s plenty here to get wrapped up in. ‘White Daisy Passing’ is a quiet, weary, travelling tale built on beautiful harmonies that sets the tone for the entire album and ‘Wait Out The Days’ is somehow dark and uplifting at the same time.
Elsewhere, swathes of simple harmonica and piano, rippling electric guitar and light percussion make their own tender marks but all these songs are gentle peeks into Votolato’s personality. On highlights ‘Goldfield’, ‘Portland Is Leaving’ and ‘Tinfoil Hats’ you can almost hear the road dust stuck in his throat. It’s not quaint or rootsy, it’s chilling and moving and fucking great.
So to the future. It might be that Votolato is a little too grown-up to be down with the kids and too honest, too raw to appeal to fans of Dashboard Confessional and the like but he is certainly not expecting to get rich and famous off these 12 songs. If you’re listening that’s great, but he’s singing to get the demons and tales out of his head for two more years or whenever he decides to bless those in the know with another dose of bittersweet reality.
Also appears at New-Noise
Maybe not. Forget all that. Skip to the present. ‘Makers’ is Votolato’s fourth solo album, a point he has reached with no money behind him, little critical mention and few album sales. Now, you don’t get so far, off so little, without doing it for all the right reasons and being entirely comfortable with your sound.
The sound here is the easy part. ‘Makers’ is mostly-acoustic folk rock with a genuine soul and aching heartbeat that’s refreshingly emo-free and expands so much further than man-with-guitar melancholy. These are stories, tracks utterly untouched by the noise of your new favourite band but imbued with the spirit of cigarettes, whiskey, Mark Lanegan and The Beatles.
The hard bit is understanding why Votolato has remained so ‘underground’ (read ‘unheard’) because there’s plenty here to get wrapped up in. ‘White Daisy Passing’ is a quiet, weary, travelling tale built on beautiful harmonies that sets the tone for the entire album and ‘Wait Out The Days’ is somehow dark and uplifting at the same time.
Elsewhere, swathes of simple harmonica and piano, rippling electric guitar and light percussion make their own tender marks but all these songs are gentle peeks into Votolato’s personality. On highlights ‘Goldfield’, ‘Portland Is Leaving’ and ‘Tinfoil Hats’ you can almost hear the road dust stuck in his throat. It’s not quaint or rootsy, it’s chilling and moving and fucking great.
So to the future. It might be that Votolato is a little too grown-up to be down with the kids and too honest, too raw to appeal to fans of Dashboard Confessional and the like but he is certainly not expecting to get rich and famous off these 12 songs. If you’re listening that’s great, but he’s singing to get the demons and tales out of his head for two more years or whenever he decides to bless those in the know with another dose of bittersweet reality.
Also appears at New-Noise
2.06.2006
PANIC! AT THE DISCO-A Fever You Can't Sweat Out + THE ACADEMY IS...-Almost Here
There's no way this is over anytime soon. Emo may already be a dirty word in alternative circles but it's only just begun to divert into the mainstream. For the people who watch CD:UK, My Chemical Romance are a new vogue, the edgiest rock sound since Limp Bizkit, and although Fred Durst is a joke now remember exactly how long nu-metal lasted. Try to forget how bad it got though and say hello to the new (nu?) kids on the block, two groups of pretty boys with guitar-powered pop songs, emo's great white hopes.
Both building huge buzz and collecting fans through the Internet, both signed to Fall Out Boy Pete Wentz's Decaydence label and both just finished a quickly sold out UK tour without an official release between them the grammatically difficult Panic! At The Disco and The Academy Is.. are bands that, if not already on your radar, are about to crash straight into your musical eye view.
The similarities between the groups' early good fortunes are outweighed by musical differences. Sure they both deal in dead catchy rock-lite that is stuffed with quirky hooks and heart-on-sleeve cleverness but where The Academy drive their tunes straight and hard with a classic rock punch, Panic! meld their skipping guitars with stuttering synth thuds, dance beats, lilting strings or classical piano.
It's Panic!'s mix that works best. A game of two halves, their debut is divided; by an 'Intermission' no less, between the computer-enhanced digital-dance of the first part and the dark orchestral restraint of the last. So where 'Time To Dance' comes fully loaded with its own call-and-response hooks and 'Nails For Breakfast...' is peppered with the kind of effects Cher made famous, 'Build God...' sounds like a warped years-old Disney soundtrack. The whole thing is tied together by the driest of humour and the wildest of imagination.
The Academy Is... aren't short a song or two designed with screaming crowds in mind either. 'Attention' is a simple but killer opener that went down well on tour and 'Down And Out' is a moment of genuine emotion that just about balances out the exaggerated breathlessness elsewhere but it's the gorgeously made 'Checkmarks' that comes closest to making a real impact.
There's no more cool points to be had from owning these, it's too late. Soon everyone will have them. But that doesn't stop them sounding really rather good.
However, despite this and all the other sycophantic press both bands have received their albums share one more similarity, a fuck-you tune dedicated to Mr. Magazine; those critical website writers and prying journalists, so they probably couldn't care less what moderaterock thinks anyway.
At least the zeitgeist has its martyrs now.
Both building huge buzz and collecting fans through the Internet, both signed to Fall Out Boy Pete Wentz's Decaydence label and both just finished a quickly sold out UK tour without an official release between them the grammatically difficult Panic! At The Disco and The Academy Is.. are bands that, if not already on your radar, are about to crash straight into your musical eye view.
The similarities between the groups' early good fortunes are outweighed by musical differences. Sure they both deal in dead catchy rock-lite that is stuffed with quirky hooks and heart-on-sleeve cleverness but where The Academy drive their tunes straight and hard with a classic rock punch, Panic! meld their skipping guitars with stuttering synth thuds, dance beats, lilting strings or classical piano.
It's Panic!'s mix that works best. A game of two halves, their debut is divided; by an 'Intermission' no less, between the computer-enhanced digital-dance of the first part and the dark orchestral restraint of the last. So where 'Time To Dance' comes fully loaded with its own call-and-response hooks and 'Nails For Breakfast...' is peppered with the kind of effects Cher made famous, 'Build God...' sounds like a warped years-old Disney soundtrack. The whole thing is tied together by the driest of humour and the wildest of imagination.
The Academy Is... aren't short a song or two designed with screaming crowds in mind either. 'Attention' is a simple but killer opener that went down well on tour and 'Down And Out' is a moment of genuine emotion that just about balances out the exaggerated breathlessness elsewhere but it's the gorgeously made 'Checkmarks' that comes closest to making a real impact.
There's no more cool points to be had from owning these, it's too late. Soon everyone will have them. But that doesn't stop them sounding really rather good.
However, despite this and all the other sycophantic press both bands have received their albums share one more similarity, a fuck-you tune dedicated to Mr. Magazine; those critical website writers and prying journalists, so they probably couldn't care less what moderaterock thinks anyway.
At least the zeitgeist has its martyrs now.
2.02.2006
I've got the bruise...
...of the year.
LISTEN TO Deftones
Who somehow have been trying to write a new album without worrying about the fact that they've never put a foot wrong before.
The Internet thinks the album, supposed to emerge in the Spring, is going to be called 'Saturday Night Wrist' and the heaviest thing the band have ever released. As long as it has the same stunning meldodies, twisting riffs, simple but hugely effective guitars and the voice of god on it everything's going to be OK.
Cross your fingers.
LISTEN TO Deftones
Who somehow have been trying to write a new album without worrying about the fact that they've never put a foot wrong before.
The Internet thinks the album, supposed to emerge in the Spring, is going to be called 'Saturday Night Wrist' and the heaviest thing the band have ever released. As long as it has the same stunning meldodies, twisting riffs, simple but hugely effective guitars and the voice of god on it everything's going to be OK.
Cross your fingers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)