1,008 MERCHANDISE, EZTV, Manners, Birmingham Sunflower Lounge, Friday 4th November 2016

Merchandise set

(no list – the drummer used a laptop!)

Lonesome Sound

Crystal Cage

In Nightmare Room

End Of the Week

Right Back To The Start

Green Lady

Little Killer

True Monument

Anxiety’s Door

After The End

Flower Of Sex

Time

The first gig of a busy November sees me beating feet upcountry, to a new venue in Birmingham to see nevertheless familiar protagonists – Tampa, FL’s excellent, inventive spacey alt rockers Merchandise, back in the UK after a 2 year hiatus, promoting current album “A Corpse Wired For Sound”. A slight step away from the more structured, conventional and cleaner sound of last effort “After The End” and back to the layered, textured feel of previous efforts, this one, with tunes and vocals hazy, indistinct and submerged, and an occasional strident and blaring 80’s proto New Romantic synth encroaching into the mix. It’s nonetheless a grower, and they’ve been consistently excellent and entertaining “live”, especially vocalist Carson Cox, currently occupying Evan Dando’s usual spot as my favourite impossibly handsome and equally flaky space cadet rock star.

Unfortunately Birmingham was the nearest the tour passed to the ‘don (didn’t fancy crossing London to the earlier Lexington show so soon after returning from our Florida holiday last weekend!), so this necessitated a 5pm leap into Friday commuter traffic, and a reasonable 7.30 arrival at the venue after parking at The Mailbox. An odd place, this; a small bar leading to a tiny downstairs room which was possibly the smallest venue I’ve been to in ages, including Cardiff’s boxy Gwdihw! I checked out openers Manners, on at 8, although I only gave it 3 of their smothered synth pulse-driven songs as they were threatening to induce a Merz-like migraine! Escaped upstairs to the bar and followed the Swindon town game on the BBC website before popping back down at half-time, coincidentally just as main support EZTV took the small stage. A new York trio, they were immediately a considerable improvement, weaving a wide-eyed and innocent Summery vibe with some lovely C86 jangle pop, which recalled a US BMX Bandits or Adam Schlesinger’s side project Ivy. The smooth harmonies of “Dust In The Sky” were almost Gigolo Aunts-like, and the resonant guitar riffery in the Byrdsian “Temporary Gold” also recalled The (UK) Wallflowers’ excellent “Blushing Girl, Nervous Smile”. Then, after some political chat (“we’ve got a recession special on the merch ‘cos the whole world’s going to shit!”), they checked time with the soundman, and before launching into the fine ascending riff-powered “Goodbye Morning” they remarked, “still time to make this set great again!” No worries there, gents, this was a very fine appetiser. Nicely done!

Another quick upstairs break and a quick chat with EZTV vocalist Ezra, a Velvet Crush/ Teenage Fanclub aficionado (no surprise there!), then I took a wander back down and quickly eased my way to the front, as Merchandise were just kicking off their opener “Lonesome Sound”, the chugging, moody best number from their current CD. Immediately it was apparent that this would be a different sonic experience from their recorded output, as they were set up as a conventional 4-piece, eschewing the echoing loops, layers and effects, and even employing an actual drummer behind the kit instead of the drum machine featured on the album! The angular Carson Cox was already off on his own head trip (introducing the slow sway of “Crystal Cage” with the comment, “we’re gonna play some new ones, and some old ones, and mix them together in a confusing way!”), but his deliciously doleful, half-murmured baritone, more exposed “live” than on CD, was immediately a feature, dovetailing perfectly in with partner-in-crime Dave Vassalotti’s resonant and often cacophonous guitar crescendos. The lazy haze and drumbeat stomp of “Green Lady” (“about smoking pot!” according to Cox) was followed with a superb dance-along “Little Killer”, the chugging Smiths-like beat underpinning one of the catchiest songs I’ve heard in many a year. Cox had made reference to the upcoming US election prior to this number, prompting a (hopefully ironic, surely?) chant of “Trump!” from the locals, so quite rightly closed that door with a sardonic, “that’s the last time I bring up politics!”

A stately “True Monument”, with its towering riff a feature, preceded the true highlight tonight – a lengthy and sinuous “Anxiety’s Door”, which saw me throw shapes down the front as Cox urged the front rows to dance to this metronomic and thrillingly absorbing epic. Superb! I’d honestly have been happy with that, but a couple of subsequent numbers, including the funky newie “Flower Of Sex” (“for the kids down the front – you’ve got too much damn energy!”) and a brooding finale of “Time”, saw the set stretch to 1 hour 15. Fine stuff overall, though, with the tunes, stripped of their recorded effects, standing up superbly.

Grabbed my breath before a few quick words with the Merch boys. Both Dave and Carson appeared to remember me from previous gigs (I guess old greying blokes throwing themselves around down the front are at a premium at their shows!), Carson humorously commenting, “you’re from Wigan, right?” “Swindon” “Yeah, Swindon, that’s right…” A quick chat about my recent trip to his home state of Florida with this always gregarious and affable chap ensued, before I excused myself to hit the road just after 11. Good thing too, as motorway closures, no diversion signs, then gridlocked Worcestershire roads at the dead of night, saw me finally and wearily hitting the sack at a red-eyed 1.30. Yikes! However, always worth it for this splendid band Merchandise, although I hope Carson makes good on his promise to play closer to the ‘don (Bristol?) next time!

1,007 AURORA, Xamvolo, Oxford O2 Academy 2, Tuesday 11th October 2016

From the Growling Rock Behemoth of Minneapolis to the Sweetly Chirruping Pipistrelle of Stavanger; let it not be said that my Autumn Dance Card does not at least have some light and shade contrast this year! So tonight it’s off to Oxford for Aurora, a young Norwegian songstress whose debut album “All My Demons Greeting Me As A Friend” is an extraordinarily accomplished and fully-formed work for such a young singer (19 on release; 20 now), merging elements of electronica, hushed Irish-tinged balladry and even mainstream pop to produce a unique, sweeping and atmospheric work. Maybe not my usual cup of tea, but for me elements of the widescreen reach of fellow Scandinavians Mew and The Kissaway Trail, and even Iceland’s Sigur Ros are also prevalent, hence my enthusiasm. I’m also not the only fan in the family; my daughter Kasey loves it too and constantly asks for “the butterfly lady record” (a reference to the album cover design) in the car!

At 7, however, Kasey is too young for tonight (plus it’s a school night anyway), so I flew solo again, leaving early as Oxford is mental for parking, particularly Cowley … Luckily I found street parking nearby, and wandered in just after 7 to be directed upstairs; yup, tonight we’re in the smaller but better sight-lined old Zodiac room! Already busy and full of a predominantly young female crowd, I took my spot near the front, stage right, and waited it out. Support Xamvolo and his band arrived prompt at 8; the man himself was a trench-coated and dark John Lennon-sunglassed individual, backed by a band playing seriously old school blue-eyed jazz/soul which wouldn’t have been out of place in Cottonmouth’s “Harlem Paradise” club in the excellent “Luke Cage” Netflix series, while the man himself dialled through the octaves on his old school radio mic. Good singer – although I suspect not as good as he thinks he is – but thin material of a genre which admittedly doesn’t appeal, so I found his set a bit of a chore. “Who’s excited for Aurora tonight?” he intoned in a seductive late night voice, “she’s gonna be si-i-iiiiicck…” Am I the only one who, on hearing that, still thinks she’ll be unwell?

Kept my spot as the place filled up, then Aurora’s band took the stage prompt at 9, Aurora herself on last after a short instrumental intro, all pre-Raphaelite part-braided tumbling hair, Rapunzel princess dress and big black fuck-off hiking boots. “Black Water Lilies” was a lovely piano-embellished opener, Aurora holding a lengthy note perfectly and singing with her hands as much as with her haunting, almost Irish-inflected keening voice, her hand gestures sweeping and swooping a la Kate Bush. “Winter Bird” was a baroque and medieval madrigal enlivened by a tough and imposing chorus, and “In Boxes” a more upbeat, joyous march with Aurora now indulging in some Kristin Hersh-like staccato movements.

“The architecture in Oxford is magical – I felt like Ron Weasley!” Aurora remarked, recalling a walk around the city this afternoon, to cheers and amusement from the audience. Indeed, when she (often) spoke she was an engaging and delightful – and invariably funny – raconteur and host, revelling in a young fan’s first concert tonight, gushing over some fan art and an origami dragon (“is this the bird that brings babies? Oh, its’ a dragon…!”) handed to her, and continuously praising the, “good energy, people of this room!” Often going off on weird fantasy-related tangents and not able to finish a coherent… a coherent… erm, you get the idea, but this all added to her slightly “away with the fairies” charm. However, her actual performance was flawless; “Warrior”  was a tough and strident Kissaway Trail stomp, an acoustic guitar and voice-only “Animal Soul” (“it’s about… you will know, you will feel it in your belly…” erm, OK then…!) was as beautiful as it was bleak and desolate, and “Under The Water” was a dissonant drama, all seething and pounding rhythm. However the best was saved for last; a superb soaring vocal performance drove the widescreen sweep of “Running With The Wolves”, and set closer “Conqueror” was a celebratory tub-thumping stomp which saw Aurora throwing shapes with gay abandon, indulging in some Sioux-alike high kicks in the process, before taking a bow with the band at its’ conclusion.

A slightly incongruous and elegiac encore of “Eyes Of A Child” brought a nonetheless splendid 1 hour 20 performance to a close; another bow, then the roadie handed out set-lists so I got myself sorted. Yay! Then, after a short wait, patience was rewarded as Aurora appeared for a signing stint behind the merch stand, so I strode quickly forward and got the list signed for Kasey! I also informed Aurora that she’d usurped One Direction as my daughter’s favourite singer  (to an arms-aloft, “Yes!” response from herself!), and that I thought tonight was an excellent show, she was delightfully potty onstage, Jonsi’s mad little sister, and I chivalrously kissed her offered hand then departed for a difficult headachey drive home. A wonderfully engaging and enchanting evening from a singular voice and talent, and I’ll certainly be back – next time hopefully with Kasey in tow!

1,006 BOB MOULD, Thought Forms, Bristol SWX, Saturday 8th October 2016

Minneapolis’ answer to Simon Hall (!) tonight; the legend that is Bob Mould! As punctually prolific as he is prodigiously talented, Bob has kept up his “even number year” album output of late by knocking out another blast of sheet metal popcore, aligned with brain-hugging melody, in 2016’s “Patch The Sky”. Whilst possibly lacking anything as gloriously immediate as “I Don’t Know You Anymore”, the standout track from 2014’s “Beauty And Ruin”, it’s still a worthy addition to a supreme body of work stretching from his formative 80’s Husker Du days, through the definitive 90’s “power trio” Sugar via the magnificently confessional “Workbook” (one of my Top Ten albums of All Time. Yup, All Time…!), into late 90’s and 00’s solo material where guitars ceded to electronica, then to his current rush of releases harking back to that simple collision of guitar overload and soaring melody. And, after having the good fortune to meet the Great Man on his last time out and promising that if he keeps touring, I’ll keep a’coming, tonight was a must!

On my own for the journey – an early one, following an announcement that doors were brought forward to 6.30 – as I drove into a colourful sunset as pink turned to blue (yes, I know that’s not one of Bob’s, but still…!). Parked up in Rupert Street NCP and found this new venue easily for just before 8. The Dreamboys were on in the other room and I was nearly ushered there by a bouncer (!) but made my way into this large-ish new venue, all chrome and disco lighting – very shiny! Ran into Devizes gig buddy Alfie and then met up with my Bristol-domiciled friend Thom, and we chatted down the front before openers Thought Forms, on at 8. I was expecting a shoegazey lot, given they’d appropriated their name from an early Lush song, and the shimmering guitar of their opener, leading into a moody and stompy off kilter drum-propelled Galaxie 500-alike, underlined this. However they then incorporated elements of early 80’s poppy Goth into their work, with growling reverb and textural, haunting effects making me reach for the Ghost Dance and Indians In Moscow comparisons! Ethereal, moody and better when the female guitarist took lead vocals, they were an interesting opener with a particularly accomplished sticksman, albeit heavily mood over substance and tuneage at this point.

A quick bog trip (funny how gig bogs are run down, even in new venues!) before taking our places on the barriers at the front for the prompt arrival of Bob and rhythm section cohorts Jason Narducy (bass) and Jon Wurster (drums). Ambling nonchalantly on, prompt at 8.30, Bob greeted the enthusiastic crowd with, “hey hey, what’s going on?” and an uncharacteristic big grin across his snowy bearded features. This actually set the tone quite appropriately for the set, as right from the off this was a party, a celebration of the awesome, all-encompassing power of rock’n’roll. The opening salvo underlined this, delving into his proto-popcore Husker Du days with “Flip Your Wig”, “Hate Paper Doll” and a blistering “I Apologise” rampaging by in short order, before Sugar’s “A Good Idea” and the magnificent “Changes” followed suit. What. A. START!

Incredibly, this relentless and rampaging pace was maintained, a sprinkling of more recent numbers standing up well to the classics, with “I Don’t Know You Anymore” as thrillingly catchy as anything from Bob’s canon of work, and current CD opener “Voices In My Head” a more considered strumalong, recalling the stripped-back confessional of those “Workbook” days. That aside, the pace was remorseless; raw, ragged and elemental, tonight a growling, prowling Bob and the band delivered as exciting and gut-wrenchingly thrilling a set as ever, keeping hits raining down with the merciless and steely-eyed determination of a prize-fighter with his opponent well and truly on the ropes. “If I Can’t Change Your Mind” was particularly brilliant, the sheer euphoria of the song’s hook shining through, and my set highlight amongst many. No wonder, as Bob introduced the band a couple of numbers later, he remarked, “we’re having fun up here!”

A rarely played and moody “Come Around” from Sugar’s underrated “Beaster”, and the lengthy and epic primal howl of set closer “Black Confetti” were other notables as the set flew by. The 2 encores of the heart-crackingly sombre “Hardly Getting Over It”, juxtaposed with one final soaring singalong to “Makes No Sense At All”, then closed out a brilliantly sweaty and extraordinarily loud 1 hour 20 minutes of prime rock, Bob taking centre stage at the climax for a lengthy ovation. That’s how to do it, sir! We grabbed our breath as a roadie handed me Bob’s list, recovering from the ringing in our ears before going our separate ways for an early home time. Early, but amazing as ever from the enduring, prolific legend that is Bob Mould!

1,005 PIANO WIRE, The Dead Royalties, Sea Mammals, Swindon The Victoria, Thursday 29th September 2016

Third in the recent run of local ones, this; a “Songs Of Praise” night from that excellent and under-appreciated two-headed promotion beast Dave and Ed, and this one also represented the first of a clutch of gigs attempting to bring some higher-profile names to the ‘don, for the Swindon musical fraternity’s general consumption and delectation. Johnny Foreigner and Faith No More’s Chuck Moseley in the pipeline, but for starters here’s Piano Wire, the band who emerged from the wreckage of The 80’s Matchbox B-Line Disaster. A band I was never really enamoured of, in all honesty, but checking out Piano Wire on YouTube, they seemed more coherent and tuneful, so supporting this venture was the least I could do…

Picked up the like-minded Dean, and parked in our usual spot for a walk up the hill and a convivial drink in an unfortunately deserted looking Vic. Joined a very small smattering of folks (mainly the other bands, from what I could see) downstairs in advance of openers Sea Mammals, on at 9. Apparently vocalist Adam had a hand in arranging tonight’s gig through connections with Piano Wire, so props for that. However I wasn’t sure about his band, as a dirty and beefy blues rock instrumental opener segued into a tub-thumping and hairy-chested psych/ proto metal follow-up. Uncompromising and hostile (no word or acknowledgement to the crowd between songs), their numbers were either thrashing dystopian hellrides, or primordial howls from hideous creatures violently birthed into nightmarish prehistoric swamps, half-formed and inarticulate. Possibly the band least likely to attempt a cover of “Shiny Happy People” I’ve ever seen, they should change their name to Primal Scream if that wasn’t already taken – it would fit them more aptly than Gillespie’s lot! Did I enjoy them? Not really sure… endured them would be the better word here…

Dead Royalties, next up after a short break in the pub to regain our hearing, were however a much more together and listenable proposition. Their itchy, insistent and amphetamine-fast opener recalled the likes of Placebo, early Biffy Clyro and even the Sex Pistols in its’ strident chorus and iterative guitar groove, whilst subsequent others featured some taut, angular math rock rhythms and Primus like stop start herky-jerky structures, whilst still retaining an ear for hooky and loud guitar-propelled terrace chant choruses, bellowed by the blond vocalist for all he was worth. “Bring Out Your Dead” was a tuneful little rocker which featured some Matt Bellamy-alike falsetto, whilst the subsequent number (about the descent into madness, apparently, so a cheery ditty!) recalled the dark art-rock of “Dirk Wears White Sox”-era Adam And The Ants, and thus was my favourite of the set. Young blondie collapsed at the conclusion of final number, the buoyant punk rush of “Do You Feel Good”, having put a shift in and garnered a favourable impression in the process. Coherent, inventive, tuneful whilst still being challenging, this was a band I’d like to catch again.

Ultimately, the same could be said of the headliners! Beef joined us midway through Dead Royalties’ set and we chatted in the bar afterwards, before I wandered back in just after 10.30 for a word with co-promoter Dave during Piano Wire’s soundcheck. However the chat was cut short, as da Wire perversely decided to launch, intro-less, into their set… They kicked off in front of a sparse crowd with a swaggering, strutting Stooges/ Heartbreakers NYC proto punk bluesy groove, overlaid by an impressive dual vocal attack from the two guitarists. This seemed to set the tone for their set, with influences such as 70’s proto punk and heavy glam informing their sleazy, growling and primal material, making me think they would have been right at home in the recent 70’s New York cocaine and sex-soaked record biz drama “Vinyl”, blowing off The Nasty Bits for the honour of house band. “Fifteen Year Comedown”, an unhinged punky thrash with a lovely descending guitar line and a great hooky chorus, was my set highlight, although closer “All Roads Lead To God” ran it close, with young guitarist/ vocalist Sean launching offstage early doors, before its’ sinister groove reached a thrashy climax leading to a lengthy Bob-Mould like ear-splitting feedback fest.

Complimented Sean during a chat with Dave afterwards, then left the boys in the pub and headed off for a post-midnight arrival home. I confess there were a few Piano Wire numbers I didn’t enjoy (notably the faster, more 80’s Matchbox-like numbers such as “Hooligan in The USA”, but there’s a promising band here, who play with commitment, energy, attitude and a strut and a swagger. I’d certainly catch them again – and in a bigger (and hopefully more populated!) venue next time, more likely…