The 1-2-3-4 Shoreditch @ Shoreditch Park

Adventurous music - and toilet paper - in abundance

09/07/11

A fairyland of sky, grass, Mr. Whippy icecream, Ostrich burgers, amusement park type thrill rides and, as expected, truckloads of music welcomed us on Saturday the 9th of July.
The usual East London alternativa (rimes with diva) swarmed in after 11 am and was found strolling around in imaginative diy fashions checking out the 50+ bands that noisily sprawled over the four stages.

Arrows of Love Cheesy name, spicy music.

According to the rockets4solitude book of weirdos, the best of them were found in the sounds and expressions of: Lydia Lunch, Damo Suzuki, Fair Ohs, Patent Saints, Black Lips, Rayographs. Electricity In Our Homes, Rainbow Arabia, The Raveonettes, 5 Seconds Exposure and Blood Music. This goes for the live version only, as some of the newest bands I have yet to check online, and discover whether there's a boring alter ego hovering there somewhere...
All in all, most of the music that meant business had at least one Japanese guy in the band.
Lydia Lunch Having rejoiced in her presence at least five times in the past, in a wide gamut from spoken word rants to no wave paranoia, I approached the stage rather nonchalantly - and regretted every second I spent away. In top form, she left her mature jazz incarnation behind to once more fit snuggly into her punk rock super-chick costume, courtesy of Big Sexy Noise. Gallon Drunk's James Johnston in the guitars, along with fellow super-dudes Ian White and Terry Edwards followed her step-by-noisy-step, as she went on cursing everyone from Pete Doherty to the world in its' whole. It might be coming to an end, but now we know they'll still be rocking it. Doesn't get much bigger, or much sexier than this.
Black Lips If Arabia Mountain is not quite the material I listen to at home - I tend to go for more heavy and...um, mature garage punk - I more than gladly cavorted to the band's jolly chaos. Thumbs up to the massive toilet paper  extravaganza, which started with a wild bunch that run out from backstage and ruthlessly bombarded us with rolls. The vindictive bastards we are, we kept bombarding them back throughout the gig.
You probably know it already, but it's displayed ever more clearly onstage: those Lips are much more serious about their music than they care to look; and, all fun aside, they do it well. That is why we will continue to let them bombard us with all the crazy shit they can think of. Yes, I know I should be careful of what I wish for.
Damo Suzuki He can get tedious, that guy... Half an hour into a sonic marathon of a song, I eventually decided to go check another band. Till then, however, he hypnotized me with a demented vocal roller coaster - and a bunch of genius Japanese guys who were losing it at the back.
The Raveonettes I can't quite put my finger on it, but something looked wrong with these guys. A bit neglected, a bit worn out, a bit fat (for their usual Top Model standards); I wondered if all their previous hype and success had got to them eventually. Good news is that new song War in Heaven is good staff - and they managed also to beautifully revive some of their trademark hits.
Yuki Tsuji The Bo Ningen guitarist was the rocket in my festival solitude whenever he put his foot up onstage: Bathed in thoughtful ambient psychedelia with 5 Seconds Exposure, rocking it wild with Patent Saints, all the way to bordering on schizophrenia for the sake of Mr Suzuki. I got my eyes on you Yuki!
The doppelganger effect A teenage-looking Mark E. Smith sang with Advert, a pretty youthful Nick Cave joined Damo Suzuki's backing band and - in spite of her usually citing as influences Gang Gang Dance and Omar Souleyman - Mrs Tiffany Rainbow Arabia Preston really just reminded me of M.I.A.
The toilet paper You probably thought that toilet paper just earned a top spot in this blog thanks to the instrumental part it played at the Black Lips show. But no; it actually managed to have an equally dynamic presence in the loos, holding a decidedly protagonist role throughout this year's festival.

Lydia Lunch Calling the dealer: "I can't stand rock stars who can't handle their drugs. Give me the drugs - I can handle them!"

Lydia Lunch She's got her eye on you Pete Doherty!! And it ain't looking good...

Black Lips Toilet Paper war on Arabia Mountain

Throwing Up Hole deja-vus. Not bad...

Damo Suzuki Tons of backing musicians - one hell of a voice!

The Raveonettes The world according to Sharin Foo is looking pretty damn good

Patent Saints That goes to say, almost no saints at all

Fair Ohs Obviously fair, definitely oooh!!

Forms We're lucky they didn't call themselves Muscles. It was their first gig ever; we're definitely waiting for some improvement over here...

 

5 Seconds Exposure Half an hour lost in psychedelic avantguardia



Photography by rockets4solitude, aka Danai Molocha

Doctor Blue & The Prescription, Meg Cavanaugh @ Ryans Bar

The blues Musketeers

8/7/11

The weather was whimsical outside, but it was all warm in the Ryans Bar basement.
Meg Cavanaugh and her guitar, with a little help from Doctor Blue's bassist and guitarist, got up on stage to face only a handful of attendees; but she wasn't the one to shy away. Her selection of Roots Rock ballads and a voice alternating from raspy to sweet soon found a bunch of new fans. Reminiscent at times of Sheryl Crow or Norah Jones, the American singer/songwriter warmed up the “cosy basement” (or “sleazy dive”, as a fan teased her!) with babbly introductions and originals from her CD The Musketeers Handbook.

She has become the occasional fourth Musketeer to the Doctor Blue & The Prescription three.   They took over and raised the temperature with a series of electric Rhythm 'n' Blues. Muddy Waters classics, such as “Mannish Boy” and “Got My Mojo Working”, along with a Chicago-Texas mix and tons of the typical Blues harp sound fired the place up.
Maybe it was the band's colourful shirts, or simply the loud, hot music, but whether we were in London or Mississippi, you couldn't really tell!

Review and photography from Danai Molocha, a.k.a. rockets4solitude, for Live At Your Local www.liveratyourlocal.org.uk

Cowbell & Planet Brain @ The Macbeth

From Jupiter to Tallulah

24/6/11

 It's FryMyLittleBrains debut night at the Macbeth and the smell in the air is rock 'n' roll. At least until the minute The Heebie Jeebies pull out of the bill (one of their members broke his hand); and the darn rain never seems to stop, bringing everything down a gear.

In that lazy, family atmosphere of guys shooting pool and the first drinkers of the night having a couple of beers at the bar, Chris Aliano (of Stages of Dan) hits the stage with his guitar. His choice of stripped-down folk songs could have been a comforting voice under the melancholy rain, but he has a hard time drawing attendants from their respective evening sports. Luckily, his sense of humour is enough to weather through and he manages to warm up the atmosphere with an emotive cover of Cry Me A River, or the original Sense a Change.

Things pick up in rhythm the moment Planet Brain take over. The minimal guitar-bass-drums trio from Italy make for an intriguing listen thanks to a basketful of contrasting sounds: There's a heavy dose of Jeff Buckley in Marcello Batalli's voice, while both the vocals and the sonic ambition scream Muse; there are a few idiosyncratic hardcore outbursts that evoke Texas's At The Drive In; and some post rock contemplation also creeps in. Luckily, original tunes like Jupiter Completes Its' Orbit never stick to one sonic recipe, eventually defying references and holding their own in the rock space.

Final call is for Cowbell, the London duo of vocalist/guitarist Jack Sandham and the barefoot (well, at least for tonight!) drummer Wednesday Lyle. Less blues and more garage, they draw the inevitable comparisons to the White Stripes, or Jon Spencer, where their frontman is concerned. But they give out a friendlier guys-next-door feel, which is exactly what the night needs. High-energy tunes like Never Satisfied and Oh Girl ooze sexy electricity and Tallulah – whether it's the city in the American South or a girl - heat up the air. It's our party and we'll dance if we want to – and Sandham, too, comes down to join us for a while. There's great satisfaction in the careless abandon and conviction on the dancefloor. Rain or no rain, crowd or no crowd, you gotta work with what you got.

The party must go on!

Review and photography by rockets4solitude, a.k.a. Danai Molocha, for  
http://the-macbeth.tumblr.com/

Historic Spitalfields @ Charnel House, Raven Row Gallery, Wilkes St., Dennis Severs' House

Historic, melodic, majestic

photo: James Berry

I was appointed Runner at this year's Spitalfields Summer Music Festival; which does not only mean I get to run around carrying flyers and mic stands. I also get to sneak into crypts and travel in time capsules! Well, sort of...
The idea behind Historic Spitalfields was to set up a series of miniature concerts at historic places which lay within a few steps (around... or down under!) the market. These five inspiring, time-defying destinations were chosen to welcome the Royal Academy of Music students and composers, tonight's music makers:

photo: James Berry

Charnel House. The crypt of the chapel of St Mary Magdalene and St Edmund the Bishop, built in 1320 and rediscovered during excavations in 1999.
Raven Row Gallery.  A contemporary art space constructed in Artillery Lane (known as Raven Row until 1895) within 18th century domestic rooms.
The Andaz Hotel Masonic Temple. A century-old, Grecian-style temple with marble columns, a zodiac ceiling and throne-like mahogany chairs hidden behind its studded doors.
Dennis Severs' house. The unlikely lair of an artist dedicated in providing his visitors with the unique experience of stepping into a still-life 18th century painting. A time capsule in disguise!
Number 14 of Wilkes St. The old house came to offer an atmospheric replacement to the Routemaster bus that... run out on the festival the last minute.
My Runner duties keep me mostly under the Bishops Square canopy (and, occasionally, under the rain), but I do get to have a lucky sneak preview. 

photo: James Berry

Accessed through an almost imperceptible door on the wall, Charnel House is game in all its' historic significance! Classical guitarist Manus Nobel has already taken a seat on the gravel, a few steps further down through the debris. You could easily spot him through the glass-and-steel skylight, if you happened to be passing by. He's warming up for some classic Dowland, as well as Laurie Bamon's world premiere of Charnel House; a contemporary piece which borrows the name, as well as the mysteries of this otherworldly place.
Slightly jealous of the steward staying behind, I make my way towards Dennis Severs' house - which is an even bigger treat!
I simply can't get enough of this time-resistant ambiance. Packed with 18th century paraphernalia, the rooms behind the enigmatic front door don't give out a clue as to the modern routine going on in the surrounding Spitalfields streets. The smell, the dim light, every carefully designed detail travel me to an unknown time and place; a voyage that breaks by the fact that I brought a flimsy stand to baroque cellist Emily Smith... I have to leave this beautifully absurd three-dimensional painting behind, but I still got to walk it. Your "Still-Life Drama" is so full-on Dennis Severs!

photo: James Berry

My tasks, eventually, bring me to the Raven Row Gallery, where I happily get to see composer Phil Dawson and saxophonist Daniel Czwartos in action. Raven Row comprises two modern art spaces disguising their 18th century past behind immaculate white paint. It's there, in room one, that the musicians set up their gear to play a traditional VS contemporary cocktail uniting the gallery's past with its' present: Thomas Arne's flamboyant 1756 Keyboard Sonata in F major (he was a popular British composer at the time, thanks to his operas and songs like God Save the King); and Dawson's own On Tenterhooks - another world premiere.
As the latter comes forth to present his piece, we find out that tenterhooks were used to stretch woollen cloth first; and then... to torture people! His goal was to recreate feelings of stress and angst that connect both with the phrase on tenterhooks, as well as with the Spitalfields riots of 1769 (which were partly cause by the demise of the silk-weaving trade). Czwartos' saxophone plays the role of the machine evoking sounds from an 18th century trading house, while Dawson keeps busy stretching these sounds with electronics - 'like a sonic contortionist", as he puts it. Metaphor and resonance at their fullest, with time and sound interweaving in one eloquent music statement.

photo: James Berry

It's with great pleasure - and a historic riot still on my mind - that I wait for the two musicians to gather their gear, in order tow lead them towards 14 Wilkes St. ...Unfortunately, not in time for the concert, as we hear the last notes from Rehana Browne's flute on the hallway between the kitchen and the stairs.
While, ten minutes later, the Historic Spitalfields wanderers meet in the street with the Jack the Ripper tour fans (it is his old neighbourhood after all!) we say goodbye.
It's the majestic dusk - and it's full of history, music and food for the mind and the heart...

photo: James Berry

Neil Cowley Trio, Polar Bear @ Village Underground

Spitalfields Music Crash 

21/6/11

photo: James Berry

 Two bands similar in philosophy but different in attitude joined the Village Underground stage, courtesy of the Spitafields Summer Music Festival.

As an extrovert and experimentalist, pianist Neil Cowley showed himself to be a unique entertainer. Meddling catchy extracts from his third album, Radio Silence and tunes that wittily “may be called Spitafields Road Crash”, he gave a sweeping rollercoaster performance. His whimsical piano dynamics met with an equally playful double bass and drums in a show that, much to the audience's delight, remained unpredictable throughout.

photo: James Berry

Embracing the more esoteric and idiosyncratic aspect of jazz, Polar Bear managed to successfully juggle a plethora of sounds: Two saxophones, drums, guitar, double bass, laptop and the odd... balloon interweaved their unusual noises and melodies, each adding a piece to the band's adventurous music puzzle.

From Cowley's comic flair and unbeatable energy to the Bear's mystical film noir atmospheres, the night covered a sonic palette full of colour – and, above all, exceptional British talent, much to Spitafields Music credits. Be sure to catch them live - wherever you are.

Review by Danai Molocha, a.k.a. rockets4solitude, for Live At Your Local, www.liveatyourlocal.org.uk