Live in London – Pete Lawrie

He growls like a murderous truck driver, his voice all burnt ochre and autumn leaves.  He songs are relentless and intense, bruising cameos of bluesy rock that leave you exhausted and grimacing – but totally in a good way.  Meet Pete (rhyme unintentional, but enjoyed) Lawrie, a fresh-faced 20-something from a small Welsh seaside resort who sounds (and writes) like a scarred 60-something from, well, a small Welsh seaside resort.

Recently plucked from obscurity by Island Records, Lawrie several strings to his manly bow. Along with a voice so gravelly and characterful it makes Tom Jones sound like Aled Jones, the man from Penarth offers gently-plucked gospel ballads and pleasant piano-backed numbers.  But it’s on noisier grubbers like How Could I Complain? that he thrills, sounding a little like John Fogerty in his more outgoing, atmospheric solo moments. 

Not that you ought to tell Pete that I made such a reference.  He says on his page, in an example of typically fragrant MySpace get-me bollocks: “I make other music you cannot point to. A bit of glitchy, navel gazing instrumental hip hop under the name ‘lotide’ and some Narcissistic remixes of my own songs strung together under the highly unimaginative name ‘Pete Lawrie?’. You can find all of it here. If you find you can point to any of it, please let me know and I will be mortified, embarrassed and will instantly quit music and find another hobby. Probably Contradancing.  Contra dance (also contradance, contra-dance and other variant spellings) refers to several folk dance styles in which couples dance in two facing lines of indefinite length.”

Alleluia to that.  But, preposterous MySpace witterings and some occasionally clunky lyrics aside, this is classy stuff.  Lawrie and his lovely voice ought to go far.

Pete Lawrie on MySpace

Live date:
Tues 18 Aug – The Flowerpot, Kentish Town

Micachu remixes Fool’s Gold’s Surprise Hotel

Micachu has lent her weirdly services to Fool’s Gold, remixing their irrepressible single Surprise Hotel.  It’s what you’d expect: a zanier, more stultified and oddball version of the original.  It seems to me that Micachu’s taken lots of the good elements out of the song and replaced them with goofy weirdness that isn’t nearly as catchy.  But see what you think – it’s available for download here via Stereogum.

Live in London: Bear Hands

Bear Hands are a band that’s been hyped for a couple of years now without seemingly making the breakthrough. It could be due to the range of their songs, and the apparent absence of a cohesive style; as one song verges on thrash, the next has a folk edge.  Or it could be due to the ongoing absence of a first album to follow up  the Golden EP in 2007, something which is soon to be rectified this winter. 

Whatever the explanation, the Brooklyn rockers remain an interesting, energetic well worth checking out, especially if you like mighty drum-led licks or sumptuous string work – both evident on single What A Drag, which came out in the spring.  And check them out you can this August/September, as the fourpiece embark on a short UK tour.  Full details are on their MySpace page, but here are the three London dates:

Live dates:
Mon 31 August – Lock Tavern, Camden
Wed 2 September - Vibe Bar, Shoreditch
Thurs 3 September - The MacBeth, Hoxton

Bear Hands on MySpace

MP3:
Bear Hands – What A Drag (zSHARE)

So you wanna be my friend, do you?

Finally it’s time for the second edition of my one and only regular slot, where I review a bunch of my friend requests (musical ones - no human beings ever add me ) on MySpace at around 100 words a pop.  Here goes:

Not There
If I like Amazing Baby (I do), I’ll like these guys apparently.  How presumptious, how could they possibly dare to assume what I’ll like and what I won’t li… mm, hang on, I do like this, kinda.  Slow, lie-your-head-on-my-shoulders guitars and ballads as cosy as a hot water bottle. But, well, it’s a bit bland. And it reminds me of Mr Big, that obscure 1990s rock band who secretly everyone loved. Remember them? “Just to be the next to beee with you”.  Yes, this sounds like Mr Big mixed with Def Leppard-style torqued-up guitars with the emphasis on power-pop-rock feedback and cheesy chords. At one point, between verses apparently sung by a local girls school, a scary man yells “YOU SAY NO”. And that’s all the prompting I need. Amazing Baby: you should sue.
Friend request: denied
myspace.com/notthereindie

Aunt Dracula
The initial ill signs – mis-gendering Dracula; asking me “yo, what’s up” – give way to a curious, rippling woodwind intro, a hypnotic noise soon interrupted by a crowd of singers. This is Mongo, AD’s one and only offering; and needing to fit jungle, thrash and grime into its 5:34 to justify this Philly threepiece’s genre claims. Three minutes in and there are no signs of any; instead it’s fast-paced chaos, a furious blur of extraordinarily high-pitched male voices, howls and group growls. It’s totally inane but I quite like it; the soft chord behind everything is a nice touch, and raises this from panto silliness to worthy earbender. Ah, what the hell…
Friend request: accepted
myspace.com/auntdracula

Mason Proper
This Michigan quintet’s first three songs sound proper promising but, dammit, they’re samples, and when did anyone get any use of a sample on MySpace?  Now you can’t even rip from File2hd, like, what’s the point? Stuff them, I say, and move onto the curiously-named Out Dragging The River – Hear Ya, and it’s elegant, eardrum-piercingly high angst, complete with a digital meltdown-style ending. It’s good, but a bit too like Explosions In The Sky’s stuff. Ah, but Safe For The Time Being is better: an autumnal, sunburnt, meandering beauty of a song, its makers sounding wonderfully pained and raw before a euphoric, crockery-crashing crest suddenly gives way to morning-after melancholy, like that incredible pier scene at the end of Requiem For A Dream.  Delicious.
Friend request: accepted
myspace.com/masonproper

The Rubicon
My first instinct here was to find out what rubicon meant – turns out this band and the fruity fizzy drink are named after a crucial, defining moment; a climax. Interesting huh – who said this blog was limited to music? Pah. I’ll do dictionary definitions if I want to. What’s that?  Oh – yes – The Rubicon.  Right.. well, it’s nice-sounding, well-sung, professionally-guitarred rock, all very amicable and neatly structured, but – BUT – it just doesn’t feel exciting… I’ve been here before, and I left for a more exciting land of quaint verses, head-hugging tinny riffs, 12-minute banjo solos and a sliver of funk or punk.  This is perfectly pleasant noise and I feel like a git for not liking it, but I’m selfish and spoilt and selfish and I must, I simply must be surprised…
Friend request: denied
myspace.com/therubiconuk

Mon Khmer
Enticing me with the as-cryptic-as-it’s-succinct message of “dancethink”, Mon Khmer turn out to be a five-piece from that super-cool hub of new music, Brooklyn, and threaten to play me new wave.  I’ve never really known what that means, but I’m guessing it’s the laid-back, lo-fi feel that washes over Mon Khmer’s music like a blissful breeze on a still summer’s day. That happens during the softly throbbing, atmospheric guitar-led rhythms of elegant opener Birthplace, and still amid the perkier, slightly forlorn Passwords, either side of a thrilling rubicon. It seems all new wave songs must have one-word titles, too. I’m all for it, though, especially if it engineers these concentrated whiffs of sound, the audio equivalent of having your hair stroked as you fall happily asleep.. 
Friend request: gratefully accepted
myspace.com/monkhmer
Mon Khmer have kindly provided me with an mp3 (or m4a, in fact) – it’s below.

Convict Gypsy
Convict Gypsy’s first-upper, Of Domestic Love, features a silky-voiced auteur singing his agonies over a slightly Latin guitar rhythm and ever-increasing numbers of electronic undulations. It feels exotic and sultry, warm as a log-fire, jigsaw and jumper combination on Christmas Day. Not so Old Sea, You’re Wild though, which is acoustic but regrettably inaudible. I Fucked You To Buffy Saint Marie is much easier for the soundflaps to make out, although quite the puzzle: it seems to be an old classic played at the wrong speed to give the impression of the original female soul singer struggling for air.  O-kay. And then there’s Barefeet: a simpler effort where the singer eerily tells a tale of teenage tearaways. It’s louche, awkward and inexplicably wonderful. All this bonkers is the work of one maverick man, 24-year-old Jady Young, and he very definitely can be my friend. 
Friend request: accepted
myspace.com/convictgypsy
Convict Gypsy has kindly provided me with an mp3 – it’s below.

That’s enough for now.  A stonkingly successful session there, with four new pals for me, and renewed faith in the MySpace friend request process to boot.

As ever, anyone wanting to add me, it’s myspace.com/bankofscotland

MP3:
Mon Khmer – Passwords (m4a) (zSHARE)
Convict Gypsy – Barefeet (zSHARE)

Rotten Hill Gang: a postscript

André from Rotten Hill Gang has written to update me on the gig situation:

“We don’t have many gigs lined up because we’re finishing some mixing first. Well, actually, we’ve done the mixes and we’re polishing off some links between the tracks, which currently comprise Joseph Fiennes reading some Shakespeare over a dub backing, but that may be subject to change. I’ll send you a copy when it’s done and mastered.”  And I’ll pass that on to you, dear readers!

André also commented on Mick’s role in the band:

“Mick’s not actually part of RHG so his availability doesn’t make any difference. That said, he’s a close friend, of course (and indeed my cousin), so he’s welcome any time!”

And finally, on the subject of future gigs:

“The two gigs we do have lined up are at the Rock’n'Roll Public Library on Aug 21 together with Mick’s own band, Carbon/Silicon, and on Aug 30 at the Notting Hill Carnival on the Gaz’ Rockin’ Blues stage.”

And so:

Live dates:
Fri 21 Aug – Rock’n'Roll Public Library
Sun 30 Aug – Gaz’ Rockin’ Blues stage, Notting Hill Carnival

Rotten Hill Gang on MySpace
Carbon/Silicon on MySpace

The strange life of Mick Jones: the Rotten Hill Gang and a rock library

So many hands does he have in so many diverse pies, Mick Jones has the rare ability to make Damon Albarn look dull and inflexible.

 Having achieved fame as The Clash’s lead guitarist, Jones is now to be found strumming his stuff during live shows from the Rotten Hill Gang, a truly bizarre and rather-wonderful fusion band.  A collective of musicians, RHG combine terrific rapping about gritty London scenes with a passionate female soul singer,  and then throw in trumpets, chants, samples, gorgeous violin introductions that instantly recall James Bond themes and grand show-tune choruses (in the sense of everyone singing) straight out of an Oliver Twist-style musica;, among other myriad elements - the unlikeliest of bedfellows in a fiercely-creative musical commune.  It sounds like it should never work, but somehow it gloriously does. I’m no fan of vaudeville, but this is catchy, and often unwittingly elegant, music.

There are no live dates listed, but I’ll keep an ear out and break any forthcoming gig news when I have it.

Perhaps the shows have been on hold because Mick’s needed time… to open a library.  Yep, you did read that right, and I did type it right.  It’s not the kind of library where you swap a Rankin for a Rendell though, but rather a personal rock’n'roll library containing what Jones called ”relics of the last century” in an interview with The Guardian. He went on: “I hope it can be a resource and spark people’s imaginations, create an idea of continual creativity”. The musician additionally hopes his project will highlight the paucity of other music libraries.

Christened the Rock’n'Roll Public Library, and located off Portobello Road mere streets from where The Clash was conceived, it will proudly display 10,000 items from Jones’s personal collection, amassed over three decades and normally stored in an Acton lock-up.  These include evocative Clash clothing, Beatles paraphernalia, retro musical technology and ancient fanzines.  The library will be open only five weeks, between 11am and 7pm, Wednesday-Sunday.  The address is 2 Acklam Road, and postcode W10 5XL.

Meanwhile, Jones himself will be recording with other up-and-coming bands in his studio next door for the Strummerville Foundation.  The man just never stops…

*Thanks to lecool for making me aware of the library…

Rotten Hill Gang on MySpace

Field Day postmortem

Almost a full day after Field Day’s done, drenched and dusted, and here I am still feeling it in the old thighs.  I must be getting old.  After a fairly reckless Friday night following Speech Debelle’s concert, and scarcely any sleep, a full ten hours of dancing, tapping, swaying, walking and sprinting for shelter has definitely left its physical mark.  But, without wanting to offend any Christians, perhaps this sort of achy slumber is just what Sundays were designed for?

Pain aside, I have mixed feelings about Field Day.  It sure rained a good bit in the middle – not such a bad thing in itself, but it means the tents get totally rammed full of cagoule-less desperates. That consequently makes skipping between acts tricky, because you can’t get at all close to any stage, other than the main one. On top of all that, there were irritating sound problems on the main stage, which led to Santigold starting late, and then poor Skream having to pay the price, as he got only 20 minutes.  Why Skream, and not Santigold?  Conspiracy theories abounded. Whatever the reason, it was very strange, and decidedly maddening for fans of the dubstep doyenne, of which there seemed plenty. Other complaints include the programmes no longer being free, with timetables not available elsewhere; beers costing a bargainalicious £3,70 and a cheeseburger £6 (a hamburger was £5, and the cheese was one of those square slivers from a mass-produced pack); and my umbrella breaking, although that’s probably not anyone’s fault.

But there were plenty of good things – some beautiful people, some tremendous performances, and plenty of all round fun, from sack races to free human fruit machines.

Reviewing every band I saw would take ages, so instead I’ll cover each in seven words.  Why seven, and not five or eight or six?  I don’t know.  Anyway, here goes:

First Aid Kit: delicate Swedish country doesn’t wow bleary-eyed earlybirds
Fanfarlo: well-coiffed, shirted sixpiece impress with melodic folk
Dave I.D.: expressionless man strums, sings and DJs impressively
Sian Alice Group: near-pyschedelic post-rock epics leave tent happily exhausted
Aeroplane: Belgian house sounds like any other house
The XX: deep bass, high guitar and vocal murmurings intrigue
The Temper Trap: passionate rock that’s chart-friendly and slightly obvious
Micachu & The Shapes: yes, quirky songs, but where’s the catchiness?
The Horrors: it-band bore with appalling lack of melody
Wild Beasts: heartfelt high-note rock, by band’s regularly-rotating frontmen
Little Boots: dance-pop, huge crowd, glam outfit.. very unsurprising
Mumford & Sons: country corkers performed with ferocious, captivating energy
Four Tet: pretty but rather-shapeless electronica induces unwelcome yawns
Santigold: sassy hip-hop pop relished by patient crowd
Skream: classy DJ suffers for earlier electronic incompetence
Mogwai: rock epics bore visually despite stunning lights

There we are.  Mogwai sounded tremendous, but the lack of lyrics or audience interaction made them a strangely-dissatisfying band to watch, for me at least – even though the stage looked incredible thanks to the pyrotechnics.  It actually made for better watching framed from afar rather than up close and personal.  The same couldn’t be said of Mumford & Sons, easily my performance of the day: that was a belting and surprisingly rock-and-roll set by the Londoners, rapturously received by a crowd grinning with glee, happy and rain-free.  Micachu remains a puzzlement to me, though: she’s quirky yes, but her songs are very stop-start, fiddly and hard to penetrate or float along with. There was a huge crowd for her show, and giddy applause for each song, but the mystery remains for me.  A secondary question is why she always wears that same over-sized white tee-shirt?

Anyway, those are my rather straggly Field Day thought.  If anyone has anything to add, or strongly agrees or disagrees, by all means leave a comment…
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