Category Archives: Music

Music

Clang Sayne at Cafe Oto

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Cafe Oto is quiet on this bleak bank holiday weekend night, even the sound technicians are on holiday. My only familiarity with tonight’s artists prior to the show was one gorgeous Clang Sayne track on the Wire Tapper 22. Still, with no other plans for the weekend, a show at Cafe Oto – London’s foremost venue for new music – seemed like a pretty good idea.

The night starts off with Hyperpotamus who builds up funky songs and dreamy ballads with just four microphones, some loop pedals and his own voice. It’s an awesome spectacle to behold as he commences singing a few notes or beat-boxing into a mic and we watch as almost magically they come together to form intricate multi-layered compositions. In between he talks to the audience and introduces tracks with names such as The Unhappy Hedonist. For Someone Somewhere lulls us into a dreamland with its gorgeous rhythms as Hyperpotamus intones “Leave your fucking phone off, no use for that here”. When he finishes a queue quickly forms around the merchandise table to pick up a copy of his 2009 debut CD Largo Bailón along with the complementary clothes peg.

He is followed by James O’Sullivan who performs solo improvisations on prepared electric guitar. The electric sound is a departure from what I’m accustomed to hearing from the instrument. Softly and with great precision James draws a soulful lament from the aether. Whether rubbing the guitar with the head of a drumstick, tapping its strings with a spanner or dragging its head across the floor, each tiny contact births a new and wondrous sound.

James then joins up with Laura Hyland and the rest of Clang Sayne for the main performance. The group are comprised of Laura on vocals and guitar, James O’Sullivan, bassist Peter Marsh and percussionist Paul May and are backed by gorgeous blue projections of organic forms. Blending sounds more often associated with free improvisation with more traditional song-forms the group’s music seems like a natural extension of James’ earlier solo set. It retains the beautiful restrained feel but adds rhythm along with Laura’s emotionally charged lyrics crying out softly into the dark. As the gig comes to a close I pick up a copy of every CD available and head home to listen on loop.

Richard Youngs – Ultra Hits

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I found myself in Kilburn on Sunday night, enjoying the local park and pubs while waiting for the Richard Youngs gig at The Luminaire. Richard performed a “greatest hits” set followed by a full performance of the newly reissued Beyond the Valley of Ultrahits, which Richard called the “ultra hits” set.  Beyond the Valley of Ultrahits is ostensibly a Richard Youngs pop album, with gorgeous melodies and sing along choruses. Richard even makes attempts at soliciting crowd participation but unfortunately, with a few exceptions, most are too shy to sing along. Regardless, the music is awesome and Richard’s voice is as beautiful as ever.

The set ends all too soon, leaving us hungry for more but Richard simply replies there are only ten ultra hits. That may be true but there is still plenty of Richard Youngs goodness available at Volcanic Tongue.

By The Throat

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Part Wild Horses Main On Both Sides kick off proceedings at The Luminaire taking us to another place with flute, drums, sampled birdsong and bells. The crowd sits on the floor meditating as we are pulled into Part Wild Horses’ ritualistic free-jazz. The audience was then asked to stand to let more people in as the next act, Teeth Of The Sea, prepared to begin. Teeth Of The Sea increased the tempo with a kind of prog/punk rock. The drums providing a primal beat on top of which the guitars, keyboard and trumpet created a feedback heavy sonic landscape. Nothing, however, could prepare us for what was to come.

Ben Frost at the Luminaire

Ben Frost took the stage in his bare feet, guitar around his back. As he built the first sounds of the performance he rocks back and forth before his laptop as if charging it with his energy. He then turns his back on the crowd to play guitar before the two massive amps at the back of the stage. The sound is so intense the whole venue is shaking. Glasses slide across the floor and audience members clutch their heads for fear of exploding. The music shakes us and I find myself moving with the beat. The closest reference point I have is the work of Burial et al through some of London’s loudest club sound systems. Between tracks Ben trades remarks with the crowd telling a fellow Scotsman by my side to “just be quiet” and later announcing “here’s the hit single” before commencing a performance of Killshot. The whole of London seems to be crumbling around us as I begin to feel the title By The Throat is incredibly appropriate. Then we start to smell burning. The set continues as smoke pours from one of the monitors. When I get outside I feel like my entire body has been shook to its core. Nothing will ever be the same again.

The Fall at Shepherd’s Bush Empire

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I last saw The Fall on the tour of Imperial Wax Solvent in Cambridge only a few days before I moved to London. Mark E Smith was wheelchair bound at the time and gave an awesome but rather strange performance, at one point singing from behind a door off the back of the stage.

I arrived a little early after work so wandered around the nearby Westfield shopping centre which on two separate occasions has been described to me as a likely site of any future “zombie apocalypse”. Shepherd’s Bush Empire isn’t much better, a medium-sized venue run by O2 with a rather soulless atmosphere. The opening act is inexplicably a teen pop-rock outfit who get complete silence from the audience with the exception of a few hecklers. They are followed by a laptop performance which irreverently mixes video and sound sources from the likes of Elvis and Michael Jackson. A similar performance was given on the last tour and I was somewhat taken aback by the intolerance of the Cambridge audience to anything that didn’t involve guitars; Shepherd’s Bush seems more appreciative but their attention starts to wane about 10 minutes into the set. Not long after The Fall storm the stage and launch into Y.F.O.C Showcase.

Tonight’s set draws mainly from Our Future Your Clutter and Imperial Wax Solvent with Mark E Smith giving the kind of performance he is famed for. The band ploughs through the material as Smith snarls fragments of lyrics which loosely resemble what’s on the album. He wanders the stage turning the volume on the amps up full and when that’s not enough presses his mic against them to give the sound an extra boost. The only quiet moment is when the band perform Weather Report 2, towards the end of which Smith seems to be talking to the audience. As I strain to make out the words all I pick up is Smith stating “This song, Weather Report, is the worst song I have heard in my entire life” before he turns his back on the audience and laughs dementedly into the microphone. The band return for a rampaging encore of Sparta FC and when I reach the underground platform the fans are still chanting its lyrics.

Carla Bozulich

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On a cold Monday night we migrate from nursing a pint in The Kingsland pub for over an hour to the short line outside Cafe Oto. After some grumbling about the doors not being opened fast enough we’re on our way in. In the absence of a stamp my wrist is scored with a marker pen and we make our way to a small table right in front of the stage.
The night starts with Jack Shirt who plays a kind of sinister fairground music on a guitar and an array of effects pedals. The music is hauntingly beautiful but the feedback often spirals beyond his control and he finally apologises and gives up. The crowd applaud warmly in support, and Jack looks a little dejected as he packs up. We decide to grab his CD-R, nicely packed in a felt pouch and wait for the main event.

Carla BozulichSimilar technical difficulties occur near the start of Carla’s set as Francesco Guerri’s cello falls silent and he frantically unplugs effects pedals to try locate a fault. Thankfully with two on stage Carla happily jams away on her guitar until the problem is solved and they launch into the first song. One of the highlights of the night is when Carla lays down her guitar to perform Baby That’s The Creeps. Carla wanders through the audience, brushing past audience members and knocking over furniture, captivating the room with her intense performance. When I start to shiver I’m unsure if it’s really because of the cold.

As the set ends Carla asks if she’s played a good amount, gesturing the length of the set with her hands. After shouts of “more” and rapturous applause Francesco and Carla return for an encore. I’ve put a handful of my photos on flickr.