Goliath/The Bad Joke That Ended Well/The Scarlet

@ Louisiana 10.02.10

Popped into the Loui' last Wednesday with a hankering for a good chunk of live new music. A mate of a mate was taking to the stage, so after a pleasant pint of Gaymer's Pear, it was upstairs to catch soulful three-piece The Scarlet (previously known as Shades of Autumn).

Two lovely ladies and a gent on acoustic guitar made a very pretty sound - all soulful harmonies and gentle love stories in most songs, including a wicked cover of Paramore's Ignorance. Lead vocalist Sara Lynn has a strong, crystal clear voice with pop and r&b influences, and coupled with nice guitar work from Olly Curtis, the songs gained an emotional fragility that stopped them from being too polished (my usual problem with slick, over-produced chart fillers, no offence Mariah.)

The set could have done with a little more dynamism, particularly as Olly and supporting vocalist Liv Baxter remained seated throughout, making the whole performance a bit static. All three are talented, but it almost felt like a vehicle for Sarah's vocal talent than a comfortable, unified band.

Next up, The Bad Joke That Ended Well. A tongue-twister of a name, but some really interesting music.

This folky foursome were quite shy, letting their banjos, accordions, harmonicas and the rest do the talking. Hiding behind beanies and beards, their sweet mix of Americana-tinged railroad noisiness was more than enough to get the soul soaring.

Looking a bit like the love-children of Devendra Banhart and Steve Zissou, this band were drawing from a whole range of influences. Most songs began simply with a low, gravelly vocal and one bass drum, and built up into all-encompassing layers of lovely, stompy sound.

What with the folk renaissance that's taking place at the moment with bands like Beirut, Noah and The Whale and Mumford and Sons, T.B.J.T.E.W should, hopefully, be set for big things over the next year. Having said that, I hope they aren't just lumped into the same category, as they're making music that's original enough to be considered in its own right.

Last up were Goliath (below), whose slow, guitar-driven atmospheric set put me in mind of The Goo Goo Dolls.

They were trying to build up deft sonic layers into a gradual crescendo, but it just left a bit of a sour taste. Each song began to drag, and the set was early-'90s-rock predictable. They could have been playing the Cold Feet soundtrack. Half the band wore 'cool' matching white shirts and black ties, and their myspace smacks of a wannabe James Bond convention.

They weren't terrible, but the lack of onstage charisma and lyrical drippy-ness really turned me off.
Goo Goo Dolls fans may appreciate, though.

More music coming soon! x

snortin' and cavortin': Skins Party 29/01

Yes, the great teenage trainwreck Skins is back on our screens for a fourth series, still 'shocking' us with lewd images of immaculately-voiced shop mannequins taking drugs and being all cool and shit. Don't get me wrong, especially considering the location-bumming nature of the last post, it's great to see programmes set in Bristol, but I've just never got Skins.

Perhaps all these ridiculously beautiful youngsters a-snortin' and cavortin' makes me feel distinctly un-rock'n'roll and a bit old into the bargain, but the dialogue is clunky and the acting is awful. The whole pretentious thing isn't a gritty exploration of a dark, misunderstood young underworld, it's Channel 4's big suits trying to prove how edgy and ker-azy they still are by broadcasting a bit of coked-up nubile tit. (Can you tell I've been reading a lot of Charlie Brooker lately?)

So, it was with two minds that I approached the transparent-PR-athon of the Skins House project at the Old Fire Station. On the one hand, it's great to see emerging talent that's a little under the radar come to Bristol - Ou est le Swimming Pool, Two Door Cinema Club, Man Like Me, Chew Lips and various DJs - have, over the last two weeks, all been under the same roof and for great value, with tickets only at a measly quid.

On the other hand, the great unquashable cynic inside me was predicting crowds of gurning little shits, Nathan Barley-esque fashion horrors and an actual altar at which to worship Effy, Cook and 'the crew' before sacrificing yourself to the god of trashy television.

Friday saw Monkey!Knife!Fight! take residence, with the likes of Turbowolf, Man Like Me, Crystal Fighters and Pulled Apart By Horses gracing the subtly branded main stage, above and below, whilst DJ sets from Shitmat and Scotch Egg kept things ticking over nicely in the upstairs room.

A line-up like this can't really be sniffed at, and, musically, there was something for everyone. The dancefloors were full with a crowd that was noisy without being rowdy. (I didn't really get the chance to take that many photos, as it was quite busy and I was quite pissed, so here's the lovely sign again, from a slightly different angle.)

Big Jeff was there somewhere, and if it's alright for Big Jeff, then it's alright for me. The venue itself is wicked (the great red building sat just before Broadmead) with a spacious but not cavernous interior, and there are different rooms on different levels to stop you getting bored. Get rid of the wanky tv tag and it'd be perfect.

Thankfully the focus was on the music - there were no meet'n'greet autograph booths or 'special appearances' - which was enough to pull in all types of post-teenagers not necessarily willing to gobble down any old E4 bullshit poured down their awaiting throats, but make up their own minds about new and interesting music and a venue with atmosphere. (There were some sartorial 'attention seekers', it must be said, particularly an outfit Rupert the Bear's dad would have really dug and a girl with a cassette tape strapped to her head. Not making it up...)

Anyway, I just hope this isn't the future of live music - that we'll need to rely on multi-million pound corporations with their own agenda to provide these events - because then there'll be too much competition for normal people to get any sort of new and innovative ball rolling.

Maybe I'm taking it too seriously. Checking out new places and dancing to music and dressing up is good, and if there's a chance you can get on some cool tv show, then even better. Or whatever.

White Lies

@ Academy 02/12/09
Support: Asobi Seksu

I had to work later on Wednesday, so I could only get to a packed-out Academy half-way through the support set from the sublime and interesting Asobi Seksu.

A New York four piece fronted by Yuki Chikudate, who often sings in a combination of Japanese and English, giving their lushly textured rock an even dreamier quality.

Her naturally high range and tiny frame couldn't betray the rough'n'ready raw chords of guitarist James Hanna, and with Larry Gorman and Billy Pavone on drums, synths and bass, Asobi Seksu crafted a delicately cool slice of art-punk into the one of the biggest, crashing-est crescendos the Academy has ever seen.


After a quick, over-priced and watered-down pint from the soulless bar, we fought tooth and nail to get anywhere back near the stage for the main attraction. (Here would be a good point to apologize for the awful quality of the photos, but I was being jostled by that many tall elbows that just holding on to the camera was an achievement.)

As soon as the boys from Ealing took to the stage, all minor Academy irritations were forgotten. Launching hell for leather into Farewell To The Fairground, they proved immediate comparisons with Joy Division/Editors (dark yet strangely uplifting), though vocalist/guitarist Harry McVeigh, bassist Charles Cave and drummer Jack Lawrence-Brown had a stage presence that put them comfortably in their own league.

Harry's voice sent shivers down my spine, being technically note-perfect, sounding exactly as haunting and remote as on every track of debut album To Lose My Life.


You've probably guessed it already, but I find the Academy quite impersonal - a bit underwhelming as a venue - but White Lies suited that cold environment, took the cavernous black space and made it their own.

After a slightly pretentious double-encore, including a good cover of a Talking Heads track, the crowd were satisfied. I ended up enjoying White Lies so much I only took two photos during the whole set.
One of which didn't come out.

x

Chew Lips

@ Louisiana - 25.11.09

Support: Nova Robotics

These guys are going to be massive. You know when you can just tell? I hate to say wanky things like "yah, huge for twenty-ten, I was there at the beginning of course..." but when Chew Lips painted the town all sparkly-purple on Wednesday, bringing their catchy electro to a busy Louisiana, the excitement in the air was of the palpable sort that only comes when seeing a band on the cusp of greatness.

Starting things off was one man and his trusty laptop, Bristol's own Nova Robotics, who pushed out some choppy electro bass and big beats, and topped them with live lonely guitar chords, perfecting the shy-bedroom-mixer-type, whilst acknowledging other genre-benders like Bloc Party/Explosions In The Sky/Errors.

Keeping his hoodie firmly around his ears, Mr Robotics kept the crowd captivated with his instrumental, expressive combinations of heavy dancey synths and instinctive, yet delicate melodies over the top.

It's music to ponder something to, alone on a train going through a city early in the early morning, or walking back from work in heavy rain. (You know, that sort of built-up pace but with a melancholy edge.)

Unfortunately, his laptop died on him (we've all been there) in the middle of the set, but things quickly got back on track after a technological shuffle and a few apologies.

We spoke to him later when buying an EP (a bargainous £3) and he was such a lovely guy. I'll definitely be keeping an eye out for future performances.

Kitsune's Chew Lips then took to the mircokorg-laden stage in a strange whirl of tweed and sequins, the whole room seemed to fill with energy. Comparisons with Yeah Yeah Yeahs and La Roux immediately sprang to mind, but there was something very likeable and unique about frontwoman Tigs.

All of a sudden there are some very cool girls on the music scene, doing their own thing and trying to out-crazy-outfit each other, and don't get me wrong -that's better for music than the uniform bikini dance routines of a couple of years ago... but it's all happened so quickly that it can sometimes be a little like 'Which one are you again?'

Tigs and Chew Lips, however, will have no such problem - she's gorgeous and stylish - but perhaps because fame is still relatively new, she's much easier to relate to than the usual popstar.

With a glittery arrow drawn on her face and buckets of charisma, she roared through a wicked set with bandmates James and Will at the electro-pop helm, telling us we were a wicked crowd when fans sang back to her during singles Solo and Salt Air.

The band later changed their facebook status to "Bristol was the best night of the tour, nice one peeps." Which was quite nice.

popdockx

gig no.2

Oxjam, Start The Bus
25/10/09

Yep, popdock did two gigs in one night, and we'll say it was a deliberate, well-timed effort rather than a happy accident after one too many pints of Thatcher's Gold... but no matter!

Start The Bus's juicy leg of the Oxjam celebrations culminated with a rather wicked performance from Bristol's own lil' legend Kid Carpet, and who else should have been there but the wonderful Jeff! (Blue beard explained later...)

In case anyone doesn't know, Kid is the ultimate geek-chic-bedroom-DJ: a connoisseur of children's toys - mashing plastic Fisher Price instruments with 80s casio keyboards to make his unique brand of 'shit-hop', as it was once labelled. Never afraid to take the piss, he launched into a brilliant remix of an old (crap) local radio advert for the "Bristol! Car-pet fact-ory!" mixed excellently with Starship's We Built This City.

"We built this city - Bristol! - We built this city - Bristol! - We built this city ..." music cuts.


Kid - "...on slavery."

And sadly, he's got a point.


Oxfam were at The Bus in force, using Oxjam to keep everyone aware of current global issues and what can be done to help for the future- which is why almost everyone had a bit of blue on their face... you know... climate change, cold....

A wicked little mash-up, with a good cause.

x

gig no.1

Camera Obscura - Thekla
25/10/09

Again, apologies for getting behind with posts. We're all go with t'interweb now, so regular updates from hereon in, I swear!

So, last Sunday popdock enjoyed a sweet, soulful treat aboard the beloved Thekla, from the likes of Camera Obscura and support, Magic Arm (below).
Despite a good cover of LCD Soundsystem's Daft Punk Are Playing At My House - keeping a lot of the original's coolness - there was a bit of awkward tension between songs, and the audience started to feel a bit restless.

Manchester based multi-instrumentalist Marc Rigelsford could certainly work his loops and pedals, but it seemed a little too confused - acoustic guitars and trumpets clashed with with electro synths - and it was difficult to get into, but by no means unpleasant.

The boat then began to get Busy, with an influx of folkies of all ages eager to hear the lush Parisian-style tones of the Glasgow five-piece named after the latin for dark room...yep, Camera Obscura!

Fronted by the effortlessly cool Tracyanne Campbell (below) their chic pop, akin to a sixties girl group that could play their own instruments and buy their own drinks, soon got toes a-tappin'.

Think Belle and Sebastian meets Nouvelle Vague with plenty of strings and catchy tambourines and you're halfway there. There's just enough British eccentricity in the group's dynamic (Campbell had a pair of heels brought on about five minutes into the set) and the bittersweet heartbreak lyrics to bring home how refreshing this smart, unique band are.

After just a little while, the quick stage banter, beatiful melodies and pretty dresses got everyone carried away enough to take part in the handclaps, shimmies and sways, or at the very least walking home kicking the Autumn leaves like they lived in a Chanel advert... Altogether lovely!

x