908 HOWLER, Broken Hands, Cursor Major, Bristol Louisiana, Monday 24 March 2014

Two gigs in 3 nights, both checking out young bands with a lot of raw edges but a lot of promise. This time, it’s down to the Louisiana for Minnesota’s Howler; after my initial sighting (gig 838, over 2 years ago now!), I‘d remarked that they were “a potentially great band for 2012 and beyond, I’m glad I got to see them in a small venue”. For some reason the Vaccines-like career trajectory I’d anticipated hasn’t quite yet happened for them, despite continuing favourable press, so I’ve got another chance to see them in a small venue, promoting a new album which, rather annoyingly, came out today but my copy hasn’t arrived yet. Bah!

Still, me and old boys Beef and driver Dean set off to Brizzle in the drizzle, parking outside the venue at 8 and taking the stairs to this small room (which I swear gets tinier every time I go there!) to check out openers Cursor Major. Led by an impressively curly-haired vocalist (who in backlit silhouette could have been mistaken for Phil Lynott!) who insisted on setting up on the floor (making the venue even tinier!), they had some decent chunky pop tunes and shimmering guitar, albeit overly loud and a little unrehearsed, which reminded me on my only time of seeing The Killers, as support at Reading Fez a few years back! They put some effort into their performance, though, and toes were duly tapped. Promising, but better was to come after a break and chat downstairs, thanks to main support Broken Hands. A young black-clad 4-piece, they played an intriguing swirling psychedelia/ Krautrock melange, with languid workouts juxtaposed with some proto blues rock riffery. The vocalist (who could certainly carry a tune very well), dug out a glowing orb for a “concept” double-header of numbers about a meteor landing in Russia when he was visiting (!), the second of which, “Meteor”, was a metronomic and dramatic Krautrock groove and their best number. Music to get drugged and blissed out to, not that I do that anyway, but still very enjoyable and a band to watch.

Chatted with Broken Hands’ vocalist while Howler set up and the place emptied (!) then filled up again at their onstage time of 10.00. A slightly revised line-up, featuring a new drummer, their relaxed confidence was evident from the outset; after the guitarist remarked; “give us 5 minutes, no just joking, we’re ready now,” they burst into set opener, their best track “Back Of My Hand”. Already ensconced down the front, I gave it loads from the outset to this euphoric ramshackle garage rock delight, all the while recognising I’d probably pay for my efforts tomorrow morning…! Mainman Jordan Gatesmith, tall and angular with a green shirt featuring an antler design (!), was a howling focal point throughout this set of raw, raucous, semi-formed yet thrilling melodic US new wave. “Drip” was an old-school thrash punk speed-through with a trademark soaring, euphoric chorus, and a couple of new, frustratingly unfamiliar numbers from the new album, followed, the eerie mutant surf punk riff of “Yacht Boys” galloping into a rampant, 100 mph chorus. This was however capped by the subsequent “In The Red”, the descending bassline (I like those!) tumbling into a manic chorus, the best new song on show tonight. Great stuff.

The drummer insisted on getting the crowd to call back the phrase, “In a wee slooper” (!) midway through the set, then after a doo-wop-tastic newie “Here’s That Itch Baby Girl”, Jordan and the boys abandoned the set-list for a request from my fellow front-row dancer, the plangent shimmer of “Beach Sluts”. A swift 40 minutes set was rounded off with an unplanned encore which recalled the home-made surf punk C86-isms of early Soup Dragons, as raucous and chaotic yet controlled and fun as the set before it.

Breathless stuff. A brief entertaining chat with Jordan afterwards capped the evening well, after a set full of verve, life, colour and enthusiasm. Raw, ramshackle, elemental, garagey; bands like Howler are the lifeblood and essence of rock’n’roll, distilled to its most basic, fun, tuneful components. More power to them! And next time, it WILL be in a bigger venue!

838 HOWLER, Man Made, The Gentry Underground, Six Minutes To Sunrise, Southampton Joiner's Arms, Wednesday 25 January 2012

I need to thank the NME for this lot. Struggling for a reliable outlet to discover new bands (a recent Dara O’Braian TV stand-up performance made reference to new parents having to give up “New Music,” and I empathise with that!), I jumped all over their recent “100 New Bands For 2012” issue, figuring at least one potentially exciting new band might be worth the price. I’m always looking for the next new band to blow my socks off, me! Howler were in fact the lead band, 19 year old vocalist Jordan Gatesmith sporting a cut-off New York Mets t-shirt, which, along with a good write-up, their home town being Minneapolis (home of Husker Du and The Hold Steady) and a snatched YouTube song, “Back Of Your Neck”, persuaded me to book tix for this gig. On lesser things, however, are dynasties built…

A hasty acquisition of their debut, “America Give Up”, reinforced this positive and promising view, but where I heard potentially thrilling crunchy guitar and swaggering new wave melody in a Replacements meets Modern Lovers vein, Rachel heard, “same old, same old.” So I headed down to the Joiners on my own, again glorying in how close Southampton is, and parking up in a handy (and free!) car park behind the easy-to-find venue. Only caught the last 2 numbers of openers Six Minutes To Sunrise, which was unfortunate as one was a fragile post-recovery number about the stylishly black shirted and red-tied vocalist’s recent serious illness, and the other a chunkier and more robust indie rocker. Certainly better than The Gentry Underground, next up; another smartly dressed bunch, but purveyors of an interminable and primitive blues jam howl, with the floppy fringed Ben Kweller lookalike vocalist screaming unintelligibly throughout. They no doubt believe they’re “psychedelic”, but they were just a godawful racket. Julian Cope would probably love them. Dumped merch back in the car just to escape the noise awhile, and compared survivors’ notes with SMTS’ affable vocalist outside instead.

I overheard an excellent snippet of conversation (girl; “who writes their (TGU’s) lyrics?”: boyfriend; “what lyrics?”) whilst wandering back through for main support Man Made at 9.30, following a fiddly soundcheck. He underlined the favourable impression forged by his Buffalo Tom support last year; rocking a spangly gold jacket this time, instead of the green and black jumper of my youth, his earnest set of haunting, slightly US alt-rock influenced angst was effects-pedal propelled and mighty fine, and featured plaintive keening vocals reminiscent of Placebo’s Brian Molko. A cynical and wilful attitude too (“I’m going to play a couple more songs then you can go back to enjoying your evening”!), but another good set.

I stayed down the front against the monitors, stage left – a pocket of space in this crammed little venue! – for Howler’s entrance at 10.30. Led by Gatesmith, an angular black leather clad spider-plant of a man-child, like a stretched “Saint Julian”-era Cope with a floppier fringe and a more laconic, Stan Ridgeway meets Julian Casablancas delivery, they rocked into opener “America” with enthusiasm and gusto. The upbeat, ramshackle 50’s milk bar doo-wop of “Beach Sluts” was an early highlight, their performance bordering on wild chaos but being held in check largely by drummer Brent Mayes, a solid and tough presence and likely the best drummer out of Minneapolis since Grant Hart!

“We don’t have a set-list, we just kind of go,” announced Gatesmith following an onstage band consultation on the subject of, “what are we playing now?” which resulted in a deliciously raucous “This One’s Different”, and the subsequent C86/Strokes collision of “Told You Once”. And all too quickly, their ½ hour set culminated in a moshpit-tastic “Back Of Your Neck”, their best number and the highlight tonight, the glorious soaring rush of the descending “whoo-hoo”s already instantly memorable. And memorable too was a chat with drummer-man Mayes afterwards, who offered to write me a set-list! Great stuff. Like The Vaccines, Howler’s lineage is obvious and easy to trace, but the bands that last the distance always have great tunes. And Howler have great tunes. A potentially great band for 2012 and beyond, I’m glad I got to see them in a small venue…