After
a run of more “retro” acts of late (I much prefer “retro” to the current favoured
nomenclature of “heritage” or “nostalgia” – that makes them sound like they’re
ruined old castles!), here’s a trip down to my favourite venue on the South
Coast for a fairly new band… Brussels post-punk lot Whispering Sons had
inveigled themselves into my consciousness with their sophomore effort, “Several
Others”, earlier this year. However, whereas “post-punk” seems to currently
define itself as a bloke shouting the odds over a fast-paced but monotonous
one-note beat (see Fontaines DC and their ilk), da Sons offered something
different; spooky, mysterious, bass-led build-ups to startling crescendos, very
early Bauhaus/ Killing Joke art school pseudo Goth, and the voice… well, the
overlaying vocals were the real distinguishing feature; so deep, angst-ridden, resonant
and almost morbid, like Bela Lugosi reading an eulogy to the damned. So, an
intriguing – if gloomy – one in prospect here, no doubt…
A
swift drive down in inky blackness parked me up a few feet from the door at 8 as
usual (love the Joiners!!!). Only a dozen or so folk in early doors – poor turnout,
I thought, which then became poorer as 4 of them took the stage! The support
band Rose’s Diary (for so they were), kicked into some bright if slightly unrehearsed
and raw 90’s indie and dreampop, recalling the likes of Belly and The Cardigans,
in front of family and friends (including the blonde vocalist’s dad, recording
it all. Aptly named too, as each song lyrically felt like a teen confessional
diary excerpt, presumably from said vocalist (Rose?), whose voice, whilst also
unpolished and lacking projection, had a fey nasal charm, recalling the excellent
Basement Revolver’s Cristy Hurn at times. Also currently possessing a clear
paucity of material (2 covers in a 7 song set, including a Strokes one, 2nd
number in!), there was nonetheless definite promise there, and one good, more
robust and uptempo number in set highlight “Cougars”. Early days for them, but
not bad…
They
cleared out, and by 9 o’clock the place was still a crypt! OK, chilly Autumn
Monday and all, but still… Southampton, where are you? So, 13 forlorn souls
were present to greet Whispering Sons onstage, the boys kicking into the “Passion
Of Lovers” beat of opener “Deadend”, the sound dominated by this big bold bass,
full of tension and fear. Then the source of the “voice” joined us onstage –
just a young, skinny, baggily dressed blond kid! Wow! Where do those mournful
tones – like Ultravox-era John Foxx, or The Sisters’ Andrew Eldrich with a
heavy cold – actually come from??? I really don’t understand!
Be
that as it may, it was there; the proclamations from the “other side”, from this
slight figure with an agitated, at times almost frenzied stage presence,
overlaying a dramatically, bleak, dark soundscape, played with strident power
and purpose, all the more impressive given the tiny crowd. “Heat” was faster,
itchier and more angular than the opener, like a vampiric Bloc Party; “Got A
Light” all odd angles and time signatures, and stripped back to that sinister, creepy
bass; and “Alone” was probably my set highlight, more conventional pseudo-Goth
post punk but again with a bleak, insistent mood. Music for “B” Movie vampire
flicks or 80’s black and white arthouse movies set in a decadent but decaying
Europe, this, certainly not a soundtrack for walking home late at night through
an unfamiliar part of town…
After
the slow burn of “Surface” built to a resonant climax, the subsequent “Tilt”
was the set outlier, elegiac and almost pretty, the stormclouds clearing for a
moment, before the strident and relentless punk rock fire alarm clatter of “Surgery”
brought a taciturn but impressive hour’s performance to a close (in front of a
crowd which by now had swelled to 20 – whoop whoop!). Grabbed a list and
complimented the merch stand-bound bassist afterwards on an at-times
outstanding set (him taking my comment about my having not heard such an
impressively bass-dominated sound since early New Order as a compliment),
before I asked, “is your vocalist coming out after the set?” and received the
reply, “no, she doesn’t normally do that…”
Hold
on; she? SHE???? Now I’m even more confused about where that voice comes from!!
After a quick drive home, getting me back to the ‘don at 11.30, I did some
internet research, and sure enough, Whispering Sons vocalist is the clearly
female Fenne Kuppens, who “sings in a dramatic and distinctive low register”.
No fooling! Well, on reflection on tonight’s fine performance, maybe it’s more
Patti Smith with a heavy cold…!
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