Ceiling Demons / FUQ / The Milk Lizards - Live for ENDLESS WINDOW at The Cumberland Arms, Newcastle

Having often seen bands sloppily indulge in pastiche (convinced a self-awareness of their revivalistic practice alone speaks to some kind of genius,) it was deeply satisfying to watch The Milk Lizards modestly and carefully perform fuzzy surf instrumentals simply for the joy and spirit of that sound. The boiler-suited trio even signed-off with Misirlou; a wink that having fun was at the core here.

Having performed a riotous set for EW at The Tanner’s Arms for NARC Fest in July, tonight FUQ return with slickness tailoring the presentation. A soft spotlight illuminated the stage, and whilst Rezaei painted rhythms and vocals from her colourful MPC, Bothwell stepped in-and-out of the shadows, a microphone in one hand, a mobile phone in the other. Their neatly composed songs rode the rainbow, including pop swagger in Sins and playful disorientation of Zim Bell.

There are few performers from which a ceaseless heartfelt appreciation for life, gig-in gig-out, beams, but that affection is written so deeply within Ceiling Demons conception, even Eeyore could not frown for the optimism within their work. Ritualistically emerging from masks, CD offered another impassioned set, filling the programme with their latest single, Lost The Way, the restless beasts from their Belly Of The Hopeless EP and the euphoric anthems of yore.

[2016.09.16] for NARC Magazine.

KOAN 3: Hapsburg Braganza / Paul Taylor / Zassõ Fukei / Jewel - Live at The Globe, Newcastle

For this concluding night of the KOAN trilogy, curator Martin Donkin invited some personal favourites to guide this special series around improvisation home.  

Donkin and Davey Sax (Jewel) set about calibrating ears for this more gentle instalment, with a continuous piece of saxophone / electric guitar improvisation based around Śūnyatā. The rising tides of sound inside were tonic, but mixed with the Referendum rain outside the windowpane.

After preparing the space meticulously with an array of tools, Ant Macari (Zassõ Fukei) played with the idea of communication; opposing immediate moments (cymbal-head-hit) with lengthy unveilings of written poetry, using looped music and a guitar-paintbrush.

    “the lengths we go / stone / upon stone / to remain / apart”

Introduced as someone who should be “performing on the stages around Europe,” Paul Taylor’s face was bashful, however, such a sentiment was soon proven warranted as the keys took over his form, ingeniously mixing a multitude of influences including Debussy’s Impressionism, and 70’s Fusion.     

As Phil Begg (Hapsburg Braganza) took a seat with his five-string electric, the accumulated warmth upstairs at The Globe rested gently on the faces, and, combined with the dying light, welcomed dreaming. Begg’s shimmering instrumentals lead from Lute-esque dances to slower pieces, evoking such images as sprawling cornfields, perhaps. Turning further to more abstract compositions, his confidence realised itself here, playing with the imperfections. 

[2016.06.24] for NARC Magazine.

Darren Hayman / Nev Clay - Live at The Mining Institute, Newcastle

Studying a display in the main hallway of The Mining Institute of late-19th Century photography, depicting curious social scenes, further resonated how in tune this venue was for Darren Hayman to present his most recent project, a set of songs inspired by Thankful Villages; places where every soldier returned home safely from WW1. 

Nev Clay’s winding wit was the perfect thread to pull our imagination into action at the head of this evening of story, from meandering thoughts on gravitational waves and missteps in Metal bands, through to feather-light performances of songs with intimate observations. Including a cover Women Of The World by Ivor Cutler, with its bold sentiment, sat seamlessly alongside his original work, united in a brave spirit - a faultless hallmark of Clay’s performances.  

To present this new collection, Hayman’s trio assumed the position of the pit orchestra, whilst above them, opposite the audience seating, diary footage of his visits through each of the villages was projected onto the wall. The set amalgamated unique sounds from the trip; including the metronome of Aisholt’s church clock, and recordings of poetry read by residents. The riddling songs were bracketed with Hayman’s humorous expositions of the journeys travelled to find them.

[2016.06.18] for NARC Magazine.

Mbongwana Star / Estère - Live at Hall 2, The Sage, Newcastle

Quickly appearing behind her dashboard of electronics, Estère confidently took the early birds in Hall 2 straight to the heart of her funk; a jam built with bold, brassy and frivolous sounds from her MPC. Splashed in colourful lights, her unabashed and expressive dance moves whipped her pop around the room, flipping speculators over into new-found appreciators. 

From hearing some of their From Kinshasa album prior to this performance, you would be forgiven for not expecting such a rock spirit to Mbongwana Star’s show, but constantly sourcing attention amongst the complex polyrhythms was Liam Farrell’s (Doctor L) guitar: possibly the warmest distortion tones I have heard emerge from an SG.

Dressed in varieties of black clothing, sporting leathers (and in one case, a cheeky green wig) the quintet occupied a certain appreciation for ‘rock-band’ sensibilities, but paralleled that inspiration with songs made fluid through Afro-folk harmonies and rhythms. Dance was the only disposition possible by the third song in, streaming from the five distinct personalities on the stage, out to the venue floor where a wave of happy, smiling movers and shakers could not be broken from the spell. C’est bon? Theo Nzonza checked between songs. C’est tres bien! said the brow-sweat and sore soles at the close.

[2016.06.11] for NARC Magazine.

Super Furry Animals / Ffug - Live at Northumbria University Union, Newcastle

NUU was steadily buzzing, filled almost to capacity at the beginning of the night, as Ffug offered a boring support set sadly their own enthusiasm for could not leaven. 

Out of a pulsating blue flush on the stage, with matching heartbeat, SFA, in their white coveralls, blossomed with Slow Life and Ice Hockey Hair. As the set progressed, drawing from a catalogue reaching back from as far as the mid-90s, these present performances further clarified the strength in the design and imagination of that songwriting; strong melodies and textures that sound fresh and positive today. 

Rhys’ vocals really cut through the PA tonight. At the coda of Run Christian Run, the overlaying cries cleansed like a waterfall. The sonic experience was married with typically playful visual idiosyncrasies, such as laser lights, queue cards and costumes; often registering as absurd and glorious, but somehow never contrived.

After a string of hits, including Juxtaposed With You and Receptacle For The Respectable, SFA finish with The Man Don’t Give A Fuck. As the troop return to the stage with a reprise of that song’s ever-relevant chorus, Rhys raises his final placard with ‘Resist Phoney Encores’ on it, marking out a dignified exit for this band which show no evidence of rust.

[2016.04.23] for NARC Magazine.

Ditte Elly / Caoilfhionn Rose - Live At Trinity Chuch, Gosforth, Newcastle

After many years developing her songwriting, 2016 is the year Ditte Elly is finally ready to gift us her debut album, ‘Songs.’ Elly greeted attendees personally at the entrance of Trinity Church in Gosforth; the pews inside slowly but surely filling up for the celebration.
    

Caoilfhionn Rose’s sombre songs roused the flame of the night, with her musical partner Mitch Williams fleshing them out with gentle and reverberated electric guitar tones.

Elly’s set (split in two for a bar-break in the middle) was built almost completely from the new album. The performance utilised many of the ‘Fables’ musicians; sometimes altogether, and at other times with select members adding an instrument to the texture. Adam Coopers clarinet worked particularly well with Elly’s voice on the song Red.

Having formed close collaborative relationships with both Rosie Caldecott in Oxfordshire, as well as with Matt Stalker in her adopted North-East home, tonight’s performance was the first time that these talented musicians all shared a stage. Their voices melted as closely as true friendship.

With every detail of this evening infused with Elly’s class and character, this landmark is surely the prologue of someone who has the content to build a library.

[2016.03.12] for NARC Magazine.

Matt Stalker & Fables / Jason Thompson - Live At The Mining Institute, Newcastle

Long-term fans, and a healthy amount of family and friends, entered The Mining Institute, in elegant attire, to salvage a last meal with Matt Stalker & Fables; a concert promoted as a ‘swan-song’ and a celebration of the group’s eight years together (in various incarnations.)

Jason Thompson’s film about the making of the band’s final record, Knots, started proceedings downstairs in the auditorium, and offered both a way for those close to the music to reflect, as well as a good entry point for others to the attitudes and ideas of the musicians ahead of their farewell show. 

The Moses Choreography started the main feature in the hall upstairs, with a quartet of strings, including Jenny Nendick’s cello backing Stalker’s crisp and spritely vocal. The rest of the band then joined in, delivering impeccable arrangements, as if writing type on the air with a fountain pen. Ditte Elly’s rich voice was wisely promoted in a number of these newer compositions from a duetting backing vocal to sharing dialoguing lead-lines. 

With confidence overflowing Stalker’s chalice, I doubt this evening symbolises any real conclusion for his own writing, but a breath for him and his friends to try other adventures for a while.  

[2016.02.20] for NARC Magazine.

Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs / Bismuth / Apologies / Supertunes - Live at The Cluny, Newcastle

Supertunes had super-fans down early to the Cluny pit. A much more exciting prospect than their name would suggest, this opening quartet brought bass-lead progressions infused with elements of trip-hop. Their vocalist operated as an instrumentalist, offering further abstraction with distant atmospheric lines.

A tight classic-rock riff modestly starts up the Apologies engine. Various hooks follow morphing through free and wild variations. The trio’s music delights by off-setting changing textures and resonances against solid central themes. Tightening and loosening were used to great effect. 

The courtesy of Tanya Burne muting her bass to tune before the set was cute as, alongside Joe Rawling’s on drums, Bismuth proceeded to take EVERY MOLECULE IN THE AIR HOSTAGE WITH THEIR TECTONIC SHIFTS. Dividing appreciation like thunder, portions of the audience were hypnotised by the might, whilst others ran from the unknown.

The porcine pageantry was unleashed as PigsPigsPigsPigsPigsPigsPigs embarked on Psychopomp to crown the night. This composition has it all, and with each twist and turn, rest is definitely left for the dead. Matt Baty’s majesty was undeniable throughout, singing with full vigour, hanging from railings, topless.

Like the best nights, the total narrative was stronger than the sum of its chapters and we have Leave Me Here to thank for that.

[2016.01.29] for NARC Magazine.

Roller Trio / Leash - Live At The Bridge Hotel, Newcastle

In the charming upstairs room at The Bridge Hotel, the Jazz North East team are poking the stage lights into position with broom sticks whilst the opening trio Leash debate a few last minute form possibilities. 

Adrian Tilbrook, first up to the Gretch Kit, started this night under a different banner six years ago. Paul Bream and friends have now taken over the reigns, keeping its life-blood bellowed. 

With unison whole-tone fusion grooves blended with a peppering of rockier references, Leash play one-extended instrumental for their set, twisting improvisation through thematic check-points. Loyal lights of the club, Andy Champion and Mark Williams, excelled; certain scaling passages were performed with fingers too quick for any eye.     

Roller Trio punched heavy from the off, blasting out the Eastern tones in RollerToaster and ripping up hyper beats in Doris. Though the records utilise lighter and clearer tones, their live sound is powerful for its extra breadth. Redfin-Williams’ rides ring out more, Mainwaring’s saxophone wails longer, and Winter’s guitar sound is spread with a rich fatness in the bass pitches. By the end, January sorrows had been blasted from all faces. The room was a pressure-cooker of energy. Everyone was left hot! hot! hot! 

[2016.01.10] for NARC Magazine.

Nathalie Stern / Competition - Live for ENDLESS WINDOW at The Cumberland Arms, Newcastle

For their eighth and end-of-year chapter, Endless Window have brought together two artists who share a common ground in the way they perform their music; each utilising looped motifs through various ways of sampling to structure their content. 

The stage upstairs at the Cumberland Arms, in stark contrast to the cacophony of instruments and equipment covering it last month, is bare, except for a central podium stand; a table of technology draped in rich blue velvet. Unified at this lectern, in a blue macintosh, Craig Pollard, as Competition, starts his set.

The last time I saw Pollard perform solo he engaged with his instruments and effects at floor level which framed our musician as submissive and jittery as he searched for relevant knobs and devices on the ground, but tonight, by standing up tall to perform, with all of his sound playground apparatus at an accessible distance from his digits, the deeper vulnerability expressed in his music could be shown through his own confidence, as masterfully engineered quotation, without the audience being drawn to Pollard’s own practical stage concerns. His voice and lyrics sit delicately and deep inside the dense textures he samples for his loops, emphasising the delicate character of his voice more than the clarity of every word. 

Competition’s penultimate song, the project title-track, is a perfect encapsulation of melancholic confusion, and you could see it reaching inside the hearts of the focussed faces in the audience tonight. In contrast, the last song had a delightfully bouncy beat which was married with a soliloquy charting an existential crisis of a distracted mind. The song’s narrator kept returning to the burning question: “Seriously - when will I get a dog?”

Substituting the podium with blue velvet for a synth stand of her own (this one adorned with a cape sporting a green, red and yellow flower design) Nathalie Stern opened with a slow drone and steadily interjected vocal phrases. Her presence was instantly commanding and the unique texture of her voice took hold of the space with its characteristic spirit of strength and darkness. Using multiple loop-stations and a Korg synthesiser, she blended her first few songs into one another, with a particularly furtive chant using harsh Anglo-Saxon consonants. Midway through the set, coyly asking the audience for permission to play an instrumental, Stern then turned to her synth and embarked upon building up a fuzzy four-bar phrase; a tune which would not be out of place accompanying fantasy adventures. 

In this self-described ‘second phase’ of her songwriting, Stern’s composition focusses even more around the voice, with these recent performances not involving any guitar orchestration that the previous period had. This direction feels perfectly whole in a new way. The duplication of her own voice with impeccably chosen harmonies, fills the sound, and holds more power in an unshared air. Tonight, once more her bold music, balanced with her natural charm on stage, has fresh and seasoned admirers seduced alike.

The evening’s designer Mark Corcoran-Lettice swiftly followed up on the positive mood hanging in the air after Stern’s set, by launching straight into the disco portion of the evening, which brought a modest, but exuberant, amount of wigglin’ hips to the dance floor, and kept them there with songs by (to name a few) The Breeders, KLF and Kendrick Lamar. For the closing track at 12-o-clock, our DJ summoned the Gainsbourg/ Birkin duet Je T’aime; a gentle and respectfully playful nod to French culture, love and life.

[2015.11.20] for NARC Magazine.

Warm Digits with Filmbee / co￥ﾡpt / Pentecostal Party - Live at Northern Stage, Newcastle

Following on from supporting Razmataz Lorry Excitement’s Without album launch, Claire Dupree, in the name of NARC Magazine, once again utilised the space at Northern Stage, to give a band close to her heart an unrestricted stage to play with.

After a break from performing over the summer, Warm Digits (Steve Jefferis and Andrew Hodson) recently popped down the road to play at Leeds’ Recon Festival in October. Now, the Distraction Records duo return to Newcastle to give their home fans something new. As well as a set written to include recently recorded tunes, they are also relinquishing their light-show element of the show, to give way to collaborate with the film co-operative FilmBee, who will shape the display of visuals for this upcoming evening. 

In terms of the programme, Jefferis explained that Warm Digits were keen to have other acts on the bill that were doing interesting things with electronic music currently. From Pentecostal Party and co￥ﾡpt’s recent output, their inclusion on the bill certainly seems to marry this desire.     

A healthy crowd circulate downstairs in the Stage 3 venue at Northern Stage, shortly after the doors are opened, and lively chatter and the clinking of glasses is lacquering the air. Walking into the space, you discover gorgeous old Elf projectors sitting a-top of wooden platforms, whilst busy members of FilmBee’s team sweep clothes-hangers of film strips into position, ready for their collaboration with the headline act: the promise of Warm Digits’ ever-evolving spectacle supported immediately for those attending, and anticipation blossoms into excitement.

Fading up the outline kicks of what will develop into Night & Day, Dawn Bothwell as Pentecostal Party subtly develops the outline of the beat on her table of toys as the house lights fall. Behind her, a projection screen fills the back wall behind the stage, and a video loops the slithering of an intimidatingly large blue eel underwater. Pentecostal Party uses rigidity in the rhythms of her songs which carve out, what feels like, the blue-prints of physical architecture with which she sits the more vulnerable centre of her music inside: her vocal chants and reimagining stanzas. 

Pentecostal Party’s previous show for the Halloween Hauskonzert put a spell on the upstairs room at The Old Police House in Gateshead recently, with a packed room of people engaged with its heartbeat and cathartic yearning melodies. Tonight, due to a contrasting space and performance time, similar material was digested more reflectively from most of the crowd, with some attendees ignorantly continuing to prioritise the sound of their own voice over someone who actually had something to offer.

Highlights of the set included Lets Storm Heaven, with Bothwell fully immersed, one hand reaching up to the ceiling as she refrained the call-to-arms. At the close, percussion was removed as synthesised chords looped, and improvised melodies were played with, fading this unbroken streaming seance into silence.

Riding high off the back of performing at Manchester’s Algorave event at Texture last night, the live-coding spirit of Sean Cotterill, co￥ﾡpt (pronounced co-opt,) was still restless and keen to dance. Armed at his laptop, (Sunn O))) T-shirt holding his hand,) Cotterill set about creating his set, using phrases of computer code to grow and manipulate sounds and images. The language of his instructions were projected in real-time, whilst other shapes and images were mixed into the canvas, also at his command. 

His improvisation started with swelling chords, with percussion elements slowly entering the fray. Unusual words like ‘Buf’ and ‘pwhite’ built steadily in different colours of the rainbow behind him and slowly but surely the audience partially ingested the links between the visual language Cotterill was speaking and the sounds they were hearing. This first section enjoyed a half-time feel with lots of hemi-demi-semi-definition made up of small clicks and fuzzes. Certain visual motifs were established on the backdrop too, including mosaics of black triangles streaming, and cuboid lines intersecting. After a while of what was a steadily unfolding landscape, a more vigorous style was programmed kicking out the previous scene and from here on in Cotterill moved quickly through various progressive movements. Though the sounds were very different to traditional set-ups, the flow was in the spirit of progressive rock or fusion jazz improvisations. Alongside this playful sonic confidence, the visuals became more dynamic, with the original triangle motifs collapsing together and expanding, as if they were a beating heart.

As the co￥ﾡpt set came to its dramatic finish with ripped up bassy sounds, Cotterill shook his two fists at chest level in triumph; a feeling very much understood by those watching, themselves noticeably thrilled.

The crowd moved forward, embracing the gap of space in front of stage as the main feature took position. Lights circulated around the skin of Hodson’s bass-drum, projected out from the kick. With a quick nod to one another, Warm Digits were off! They opened boldly with Wireless World and then the optimism of Working For A Better Future, with its joyful skipping beat, and Jefferis’ sweet melody lines. 

Though shoulders and two-steps were grooving from the beginning of the set, it was by the time the funk bass of one of their more recent offerings, End Times, came around a few tracks into the set, the waves of movement in the room were banishing all thoughts of an outside world; their groove was in the marrow of every bone, and their imagination leading everyone. 

Throughout, the duo linked songs, maintaining the momentum, which they utilise as an important foundation upon which to build their musical textures. This sense of travel has also become one of the great attractions of their sonic identity, taken to a further, more literal interpretation, on their material for the Half Memory project. Sometimes they melted tracks together with a seamless blending of motifs, and at other times they enjoyed looping and degrading the last breaths of the previous tune before excitedly entering a new track, with a new style, and a new athletic movement. This sonic relentlessness is paralleled by Hudson’s performance throughout, which speaks to endurance. With uplighting around his drum-kit, the drama in his facial expressions and flying limbs were given added distinction. 

Towards the end of the set, the hyper scaling of Weapons Destruction started, and joyous fans made the floor bounce at the realisation; some with arms raised in the air, others hooking embraces around friends. 

FilmBee intertwined their sumptuous visuals around Warm Digits’ music across this special occasion, creating symbolic and textured film-loops on two additionally erected screens. Some of the shapes resembled Cy Twombly circles, whilst others included broader paint marks. Not only did the progressing visuals interact with the music, but both the left and right screens developed relative to one another as well, all skilfully edited live at the two stations at the back of the room. 

It’s not often two separate encores are genuinely coerced from a band, but tonight everyone was in WD’s plane as the wheels left the ground and nobody felt like coming down so the architects of flight kindly kept on going a little longer, finishing with two older classics, including One Trash Groove. Though most of FilmBee’s accompanying work had been more abstract for the evening, in this final coda, humour and tenderness were summoned, with a section of film depicting a very sweet little guinea pig.

With its combination of acts, the evening felt like a celebration of shape, space and angles explored through various styles of music and visuals, performed by artists who possess the skills to go deep within these topics. The thoughtful curation elevated each glorious part to a greater sum.

[2015.11.13] for NE:MM Magazine.

Midnight Doctors / Cath & Phil Tyler / Posset - Live at The Cumberland Arms, Newcastle

With the Midnight Doctors, Phil Begg pulls together some of the regions most interesting musicians and holds a truly unique orchestra in orbit. The first album collates an eclectic mix of instrumental grooves, atmospheres and samples; a seemingly arbitrary collage but each piece lights another up perfectly. 

With each member of the extensive MD family committed to other projects and schedules, the self-titled debut record (released through alt.vinyl,) has been the remaining evidence of their existence since the first launch. There have been no further concerts, but quietly, Begg, along with a slightly altered line-up of musicians, has written another collection, and to the joy of those who had enjoyed MD’s music on record, but had yet to enjoy it live (myself included) the news of their follow-up LP, Through A Screen and Into A Hole’s launch upstairs at The Cumberland Arms was a ticket to jump on.

Sitting behind small, round tables just in front of the raised stage, Joe Murray (Posset / also a contributor to MD’s debut LP) humbly welcomes everyone to the evening and opens with his support set, routed in manipulated tapes sounds. Using several player/recorder devices, Murray pulls squeals and partial sounds and sentences from a range of cassettes, keeping the texture eternal as he inspects new combinations. The room is transfixed on his playfulness and echo the taped applause finishing his set.

Cath & Phil Tyler follow with a typically gorgeous and melodic set of songs. A variant of Fair Mary Of Wallington, with Phil Tyler’s crisp finger-picking and Cath Tyler’s straight and unpretentious lyrical unveiling, cracked a few hearts in the room. To append their set, the duo stepped down in front of the stage to join members of their weekly Sacred Harp society. Cath Tyler suggested we consider the following tunebook songs less as a performance, and more as part of a gathering, of which we are included. The powerful dominant intervals in the harmonies held strongly whilst their choir engaged a range of different voices. This elevating surprise in the night took emotions to a place that could now only be set free by the crowning celebration. 

And so seven of the Midnight Doctors took the stage. Begg was strapped with an electric guitar, ready by his harmonium, which shone in the light. The set started with a new song, opening quietly with the pensive notes of John Pope’s bass. Throughout the set, Sean Cotterill and Niles Krieger voiced the violins stage right, whilst Christian Alderson sternly worked up strong punctuation from his drum kit at the back. Completing the line-up, Emily King and Faye MacCalman paired Alto and Tenor saxophones stage left. Though the sound of each piece was necessarily different from the recorded versions, the band remained dedicated to demonstrating a breadth of expression the self-titled LP has been celebrated for: from subtle melodies treading cautiously like toes in water, to explosive ricocheting blow-outs where all members vibrated as violently as their instruments. Mixing a set with pieces from their latest and original album (along with a few extras,) Midnight Doctors relished in the enjoyment of playing their music, sharing their music and the evening. Each member’s physicality and facial expressions were constantly reacting with the sounds. Big smiles donned their faces as they moved dramatically from the moments of light jazz skipping to the intense moments of chaos in new track Chump Change. In the restrained building of drones in Mount Analogue, these musicians harvested completely different moods and shared them with equal import. 

The End Of The World Carnival Waltz, full of its grand Eastern-European flavour, finished with a climatic energy which communicated the end of the night naturally without the need for explanation. Begg reached for the microphone to praise each band member, but it slipped on the stand in front of him and out of his attempted grasp. He gestured to each instrumentalist, and tried to offer thanks off-mic but his words were dissolved under an ecstatic, and seemingly endless, applause from the audience. This rapture signified how lucky everyone felt to be present and a part of an important moment of community. The music of the Midnight Doctors had brought everyone along together.

[2015.10.26] for NARC Magazine.

The Tempest - Improbable Theatre Company / Northern Stage

Improbable set the tone for their adaptation of The Tempest perfectly with their opening scene. In front of a curtain of tied-together clothing, the main cast stood by a washing machine, to which some Arial powder (wink, wink) was added, and the machine ‘turned on.’ The curtain then lifted as if we were all being spun by the barrel, and the storm, onto the shore alongside the action.  

Dunes of shirts and trousers provided hillsides for characters to emerge from and escape around. Dressed in coherent apparel, the island residents blended in with the background as they made covert approaches, and eaves dropped on the washed-ashore. Throughout, the father-daughter chemistry between Tyrone Huggins as Prospero and Jade Ogugua was perfect and adoringly recognisable, whilst Eileen Walsh’s Ariel kept up a boundless energy as she tormented the selfish and vein lost souls. As Miranda and Ferdinand finally got Prospero’s blessing, the stage was filled wall-to-wall with colour. 

Providing delicate and mysterious music to the show was Brendan Murphy, who danced with wine-glass harmonics and glass tubular bells from his stage-right pit of tricks.

This adaptation took the brighter aspects of the text and ran with them. This packed main room at Northern Stage was left with an audience clapping heartily for another storm soon.

[2015.09.29] for NARC Magazine.

Richard Dawson / Asiq Nargile / Spires That In The Sunlight Rise - Live at St Gabriel's Church, Heaton, Newcastle

Entering St. Gabriel’s Church, we are treated to the memory of incense long soaked into the furnishings.

Sat humbly on chairs in front of the chancel and imposing golden imagery, the duo Spires That In The Sunlight Rise set the night alive, looping flute and saxophone passages amongst samples and synths. Kathleen Baird’s contralto burned lyrics into their aching sonic impressions.

A touring companion, fluent in English, introduced Asiq Nargile, explaining that she would be singing songs that made up portions of epics. Having the outlines of these stories prior to the performance may have helped the audience contextualise, however, standing stoic, using only her head, vocal cords and flying fingers (unfolding the encyclopaedia of her sas,) to demonstrate, Nargile captivated all with strength, beauty and precise articulation.

It is a testament to his expanding reputation that one member of this audience had travelled up from Malvern, Worcestershire exclusively to see Richard Dawson before returning the next day. Dawson ran long with his many facets: a greater range of music (including a Shirley Collins cover,) more jokes, more bananas. His conviction in the distinction for each of his songs shows his skills are as sharp as they have ever been.


[2015.09.17] for NARC Magazine.

Hapsburg Braganza / Yeah You / Kieran Rafferty / Alright Lover - Live at The Globe, Newcastle

Upstairs at The Globe, gig-goers relax on the balcony in a bright Summer eve, whilst sound-checks are completed. On first, Alright Lover (Craig Pollard) starts on his knees, mildly neurotic, building prerecorded phrases with his sampler. These carefully constructed sounds underlie songs sung with fragility and angst.

You may have enjoyed Kieran Rafferty live before, with his impeccable voice of saxophone melodies and bright chordal tensions from his Fender. Tonight, our next act’s sound is expanded, as certain technologies divide the notes he plays on his Jaguar as part bass-simulation, part traditional electric guitar tones. Drum loops complete orchestration, and these new songs grip the room.

The only guarantee of Yeah You live is knowing you will be surprised, and that is a fantastic guarantee.The sonic organisms created tonight, from a square table of toys, are less volatile than many of their previous pieces. One light creature was born when a keyboard demonstration was accidentally triggered and then eaten up into their style of improvisation.

Due to the rhythmic energy of preceding acts, Hapsburg Braganza’s exquisite soundscape painting brought the feelings in the room safely to land for the night. Phil Begg started his set with a minute of eclectic snipped spoken quotations before embarking on a rich collage centrepiece of ambient sounds.

[2015.07.23] for NARC Magazine.

To Kill A Mockingbird - Christopher Sergel

Many will remember holding copies of To Kill A Mockingbird in class many moons ago. Outside the Theatre Royal this evening, a large crowd of teenagers were being assembled by teachers; a new generation exposed, getting ready to see what they have been reading in class reimagined in Christopher Sergel’s now-touring stage adaptation.
   
    As all are finding their seats, the stage is bare, except for a sturdy tree with a rubber-tire swing hanging from one of the branches, and some chairs and a bed tucked to the right hand side. The conversation is lively and loud on this well-attended opening night but a firm whistle from one of the actors raises the attention to the full cast now at the front of the stage, each holding a copy of Harper Lee’s novel, and the play begins.

    Each taking turns to read an opening passage of Scout’s account from the original text, the play outlays a device it will use throughout, helping to move each scene to flow into the next, and to narrate this tale of courage, prejudice and hope for justice with the eyes and innocence of a young girl’s perspective.

    This production benefits from being seen from a balcony, as the cast quickly build the town in a two-dimensional map on the floor in chalk and set the locations that various characters will visit throughout the story, including Mrs Dubose’s and Boo Radley’s homes, and the jail where Tom Robinson awaits his fate. The first half of the play runs quickly from scene-to-scene, introducing various tensions and relationships, each being presented like a miniature fable within this larger essay on humanity. Luke Potter adds a further depth to the spirits in this town with light accompanying music from a tenor ukulele or steel-string guitar, and singing too.

    In the second half, the story is played out in an extended courtroom scene where Atticus Finch (whose enduring strength throughout is portrayed excellently by Daniel Betts,) unravels the lies and prejudices of the prosecuting witnesses, including the drunk and abusive Bob Ewell, whose villainy is instantly palpable the minute Ryan Pope swaggers the character on stage. By the time the wrongly-accused Tom Robinson relays his perspective on the events, the whole theatre was hanging on to Zachary Momoh’s understated and powerful delivery.

    As the original story is given heart and strength from its strong youthful characters, the future of theatre is given light for the acting quality of its cast’s younger members. It’s hard to believe that this is Jemima Bennett’s debut role acting in professional theatre as she confidently moves within Scout’s skin, showing us all of the character’s cockiness and confusion. The chemistry between the actors playing the three childhood companions is wonderfully natural, with each also making individual moments memorable too; Harry Bennett as Jem tearing up the flowers, and Leo Heller as Dill telling his exaggerated stories.

    Though rich in moments and detail, the show flew by and as the lights faded on Atticus and Scout, the audience pounced into applause before the blackout. As the clapping went long and beyond any social formality, each member of the cast humbly raised their copy of the book to show their debt to this brilliant story. 

[2015.04.21] for NARC Magazine.

Richard Dawson / Vibracathedral Orchestra / Phil Tyler - Live at The Star & Shadow, Newcastle

Having launched his incredible album, Nothing Important, at the Star & Shadow in the winter of last year, Richard Dawson returns tonight to play the first gig of his UK Tour once again on this homely stage.

The two supporting acts shine through the evening’s sky like the sun and moon crossing Dawson’s soul. First on, Phil Tyler stands steady and loyal as he retells melodies from both sides of the Atlantic using his banjo for divination. As the opening instrumental ‘No Wealth But Life’ draws focus from the spirited audience, many new eyes and ears fill into the room until it is packed full. Tyler’s performances are always modest, with his presence on stage almost bashful. This allows the instrumentals and songs to be witnessed and understood apart from the person playing them. By seeing such devotion, it is important to recognise Tyler as not just an excellent and skilled musician, but as someone committed to his passions for their own virtue.

As a styrofoam head presented at the front of the stage is adorned with headphones, and an A4 photocopy picture of Lou Reed is casually taped to the back curtain, the signs are set that Vibracathedral Orchestra’s performance will be abrasive, but boy, few were prepared! From a stage littered with instruments, The Leeds quartet took few moments to arrive at a torrent of sound which they then joyously improvised around and within for close to an hour. Phil Tyler’s considered approach is now balanced by this uncertainty and wilderness. Childhood curiosity was ever present in their eyes as each band-mate explored different instruments; from guitars, to synths, to percussion, to recorders. A fake severed hand lay on the floor throughout but was not utilised. Though their faces were lined with a million stories, these men were growing younger as they played. Though some members of the audience were defeated by the power of the sound, this unapologetic tirade was a strangely fitting purifier for the ears about to listen to tonight's headliner.   

With ale gleaming in his cheeks, Richard Dawson takes merriment in being a few minutes early onto the stage and enjoys joking with many characters in the crowd. Though clearly excited by this christening date in his calendar, friendly support in the audience is palpable and Dawson rides the waves with grace. As the opening motif to Man Has Been Struck Down By Hands Unseen is recognised, excitement curls in the faces watching and whatever has lead up to this moment has passed - the night now belongs to this music. 

Perhaps because of the heat in the room, or exhaustion, our singer’s voice is more strained than usual, with some of the falsetto notes falling into breath. This huskier and angular quality in his vocals however helped make tonight’s version of The Vile Stuff as violent a march as it has ever been. The fire in this performance was lapped up as one of the evening’s highlights, with the crowd singing favourite lines loudly, and laughing with its humour.

The setlist was a rich tribute to his album The Magic Bridge, filled predominantly with songs from that record with a few inclusions from the two following albums. 

When Dawson removed his jumper for the final portion of his set to reveal a Thelonious Monk T-shirt, there was something wonderfully childlike about how blushing he was of this item of clothing. Though depicting one of his heroes, he indicated it was an arbitrary clothing decision. Maybe so… 

A plethora of surprises made the denouement anything but formal. From an improvised verse of song playfully mocking his idiosyncrasies, to performing lines of dialogue from the Pacino/De Niro movie Heat, to putting the guitar into standard tuning! and then fumbling his way through Roy Orbison’s In Dreams. To finish he resurrected I Will Make It Up To You from his 2007 album, Sings Songs and Plays Guitar and the song’s bold romance capped the night perfectly.

As goodbyes are said, Dawson gives thanks to The Star and Shadow. Though the rooms now full of life and history are sadly soon to be relinquished, the community that built such a vibrant place, as our troubadour correctly identifies, will start a new lease of life in their next settlement. Long may they live! 

[2015.02.07] for NE:MM Online Magazine.

Richard Dawson - Nothing Important - Album Review

Upon hearing that Richard Dawson was releasing a new album called Nothing Important, a slightly modified version of a famous quotation from the artist Francis Bacon cycled in my head as I tried to manage my expectations in the time leading up to hearing it.

    “I am an optimist about nothing.”

    “I am an optimist about Nothing Important.”

    Bacon’s wonderful statement has the possibility of being interpreted in contradictory ways with both conclusions being held equally true. This is just the kind of paradox Dawson finds liberating, and in a recent interview for the BBC, regarding his musicianship, he explained that it is best “to be yourself as much as possible within the knowledge that you are both nothing and everything.” Through acquainting himself with these limits and possibilities he has found more freedom to play. It would seem The Magic Bridge was his first commitment to this understanding, wanting to share the potential of this viewpoint all at once, but it is in The Glass Trunk and this latest release that we see that original enthusiasm soaked into his instincts. In these most recent records he has had the confidence to narrow his focus, which, in another paradox, has lead to the creation of albums with a greater breadth.

Nothing Important is a collection of four tracks. Two sixteen-plus minute songs as centrepieces, with two instrumentals book-ending the set. As with his previous two records, the form of the album is greatly considered to give weight and dimension to the songs above their isolated merits. By placing his song Man Has Been Struck Down By Hands Unseen as the penultimate track on his 2011 album The Magic Bridge, Dawson uses the powerful climax of that testament to bring together all of the energy and emotion accumulated throughout the record (as well as in that song itself) to deliver a cathartic release as we reach our destination; the magic bridge of the record title. With his previous album, The Glass Trunk, the listener’s ear is brutally cleansed after each of the a cappella songs by two fractured instrumentals following each vocal track in turn (except the last.) This formal segregation keeps the ear alert and listening clearly to each composition fully as each new track arrives. Here, with Nothing Important, the form celebrates the lengthy centre tracks. The outer pieces act as Prelude and Epilogue; introducing ideas and feelings relevant to the Universe about to be described, and then delivering us from that place with a final thought.

The titling of the four tracks is instantly provocative, particularly with the instrumentals being named after two controversial biblical Apostles. As a fractured progression of notes from his trusty amplified and distorted parlour guitar open the programme, the listener is asked to consider this opening track in relation to Judas Iscariot; to some, a traitor to Jesus, to others, an important catalyst in the process that saved the mankind. The opening guitar expressions are deliberately tripped-up and reset for the first minute of the track until the phrasing evolves into a violent stomp, with the open-strings rattling and the fretted notes whining. These more quantised riffs reflect Dawson’s passion for Heavy Metal music. As he punches at the Locrian intervals and beats down on the bass strings we forget we’re listening to one man with a guitar. All of a sudden, the mood changes and the tempo is relinquished as barely touched chords maintain sound just above silence. A thin lead line then falls into the similar folly as described in the introduction before being finally swept into a blasting repeat of those angry riffs. Each section of this instrumental portrays a character disaffected in some way; from their inability to harness a consistent voice, through to their arrogant reactionary swaggering. Dawson uses his Judas to demonstrate a passage of chaos and destruction - and this is where the story begins!

The album’s title track emerges from a singular harmonic; feedback gently expanding the tone until intervals seize upon shapes and nurture a new environment for themselves. Images of The Big Bang and the start of the Universe colour the mind. From this scope, the song lyrics transport the listener to the birth of a child at St. Mary’s Hospital, forty years ago. Our singer assumes the voice of the newborn and relays a collage of peculiar childhood moments. He uses physical description to recall events, avoiding the rhetoric of persuasion or judgement. As the details fill in the picture of a life, he interjects ‘I am nothing / You are nothing / Nothing Important / Death inside a dream,” each time singing the assertion more desperately until the final repetition, where the delivery is almost rabid whilst the guitar support buckles. After the track sprawls through an energised instrumental passage (a skipping section that recalls a similar motion of a former Dawson jig, The Bamburgh Beast) a final sung section takes over. Our narrator sites further memories and becomes increasingly frustrated that these seemingly insignificant objects ‘remain so clear, while the faces of [his] loved ones disappear?’ This song climaxes in an elongated melody, using melisma to stretch out a final desperate cry. The last stanza twists the knife in the story as the singer occupies the voice of the child’s parent, testifying that their child was the most beautiful thing that they had ever seen, and yet he lived for only seven days.

This song uses the concept of time to expose views around what is considered important. Firstly, donating a comparatively large amount of time to express a song titled Nothing Important raises the suspicion that this title is ironic. Over that time, the dynamic, structural and stylistic variety of the sound consistently fights the idea in the mind of the listener that nothing important is happening, for in front of our ears the terrain is constantly challenging. The music spans the life of a person, beginning with their birth and ending with their death. By including little sound before and after these events, our songwriter weights their importance as all that is different from silence.

Though Dawson sings firmly, often in unison with melody lines from his guitar, an amount of his words get camouflaged in the sound. This is in part due to the superior volume of the guitar, the more resonant tone of the instrument over his voice, and a singing style which chooses to soften the diction of certain words for a more legato style. All of these choices are deliberate and such consideration has been a consistent pursuit of his in sound-checks for gigs over the years. Sometimes he performs live without a microphone whilst still amplifying his guitar, demanding the fullest delivery of his voice to rise up and be heard. Where as a songwriter like Leonard Cohen mixes his voice clearly above the rest of the orchestration to direct the listener’s attention to the words first and foremost, to Dawson the overall effect is prime. By balancing his music this way, the listener has two choices - to zoom out and see the galaxy of stars, or to specifically focus in on the singing; to register each word, missing the full effect to discover the detail. Jarvis Cocker writes a request to the listener in the inlay of Pulp’s album ‘Different Class’  that they do not read his lyrics whilst they listen to the songs recognising what would most likely be missed if someone was to do that. Here, through these performance and mixing decisions, Dawson implies a version of that request.

     

The complimentary epic on this album, The Vile Stuff, is a mighty march through a restless dream from a hospital bed, the contents of which is ripe with calamity, mixing the believable with the symbolic. Dawson is fascinated by this situation, exploring it first on The Magic Bridge through his Grandad’s Deathbed Hallucinations. The track is introduced with a seductive swaying guitar riff. As listeners, we are gently rocked to sleep in the sweet major tonality. As the pattern disperses, there are hints of melodic augmentation, creating suspicion that all may not be what it seems, but as each repeating chord lingers longer… and longer… … and longer… … … we are drugged, and in another death of a dream. The world down the rabbit whole quickly forms around a phrygian melody from Dawson’s guitar and an accompanying marching beat, made of a bass drum and clapping. The lucid stream of lyrics are chanted in unison, an octave apart, as unrelenting as the pulse. Many characters are encountered in this Alice In Wonderland-style trip of adolescent experiences. On a school trip, we meet Craig, who cracks his head open and has to be rushed to hospital. Then, we meet a scamp who schemes and covets the bed of Miss Bartholomew. Later we meet Andrew, who is contemplating a dramatic lifestyle change. Did I mention a Horse-Headed King who sings? He’s in there too.

If the previous track explored a relationship between chronology and life, then The Vile Stuff seems to focus on the forces that throw a life around. The listed experiences are framed within a dream our narrator is having following the consumption of a liquid. “I only drank a / Few little droplets / I only took a tiny draft of the vile stuff.” Such a small act triggered this world of experience and adventure. Drinking these droplets fuelled hallucinations of helicopters. The image of someone drinking a small amount of an undisclosed liquid reminds us again of Alice in her story and the vial she drank from, the contents of which diminished her size in relation to the world that surrounded her. Dawson sings this twisted melody at full force, even double-tracking his voice to make himself heard against the surrounding ocean of noise, as if he is attempting to be heard in an environment that stands tall around him.

The instrumental support in this track allows Dawson to experiment with his guitar parts in a different way, ornamenting the central sounds with polyrhythms and splayed arpeggios. As the song proceeds, extra layers of guitars and percussion, tuned and otherwise, are added to the mix, steadily building the power of the sound, until the track finally rides out in a farmyard of noise, with saxophone improvisations and chanting, all competing within the drone.

Finally, the second instrumental, Doubting Thomas, guides us to the end of the record. The slow-moving plagal chords heal feedback as it attempts to grow. The soft repeating progression allows the listener’s mind space and time to reflect on the considerable detail of the past forty minutes of music. By placing us with the Apostle who doubted Jesus’ return with the resurrection, and required proof before he believed, our thoughts are persuaded towards the application of empiricism. With this album, Dawson has written a tapestry charting relationships with the everything, the nothing and places in-between. If you doubted the existence of these places before, it is likely that you will believe in them now. 

When The Magic Bridge was released, I was too heartbroken by it to imagine how this unbelievable painter could improve on this masterpiece. I feel so lucky to have lived locally in Newcastle to witness his concerts around that albums release and in the years following, watching the complexion of his confidence get healthier and healthier. Dawson has said that there was a long period of time in his earlier years making music before a clearer instrument and compositional personality emerged. I recall when I went to buy a record from him after the first time I ever saw him play, and as he handed me Sings Songs & Plays Guitar, he used the interaction to manage my expectations for that recording whilst enthusing that his next shortly-to-be-available release was much better. His comment held no arrogance, it simply reflected the truth of his understanding for what had been happening with his composing, and that it would be the next album rather than the one I held in my hand that would show a light he had now found. I don’t know where and when he would pin-point this rose growing through the concrete, but for me, although Sings Songs & Plays Guitar shows wonderful roots, it is The Magic Bridge that breaks through and stands up tall to the sun; exquisitely designed and utterly vulnerable. I now know why he was excited for that release. It represented change and a brave step. With both The Glass Trunk and Nothing Important following as unique triumphs in this new garden he seems so at home playing in, each new offering makes us more thankful that he took that leap. Wherever his adventures take him next, I hope he is supported and cherished.

[2014.10.21] for NE:MM Online Magazine.

The Cosmic Dead / Pigs x7 / Haikai No Ku - Live at The Head Of Steam, Newcastle

'Life is a journey, not a destination,' wrote Ralph Emerson, and the faces downstairs at The Head of Steam feel this; music is not about waiting for premeditated stunts and hits; it's about emersion and trusting oneself to interact completely with sound in the moment. 

HaiKai No Ku start up; the trios tracks routed in Beckettian reinvention. Pieces often made from three chords, with the wah-wah out swinging, higher and stronger with each variation. A couple in the front row throw their bodies in sync with each protruding beat. 

Next, Pigs x7 embark on their fairy tale, 'The Wizard and the Seven Swines.' Showcasing this track, released in collaboration with the headline act, Pigs x7 take us from steady skipping grooves to heavy riffs, whilst their drummer's facial expressions react vividly to all the changes, and their singer wanders through the band on stage like he is lost in a maze and is roaring in desperation. 

After some technical difficulties, The Cosmic Dead resurrect and raise the energy even further, manipulating wonderful sounds from a Korg synth, at first over steady quantised maneuvers and then diving in amongst all kinds of rhythmic geography. Finally, as guitars are hung up on the pubs avatar at the back of the stage, with the final chords resonating, all minds are left racing. 

[2013.11.08] for NARC Magazine.

Lulu James / Lionhall - Live at The O2 Academy, Newcastle

It feels an eternity since I saw Lulu James open for Ghostpoet at the Cluny, singing along to backing-tracks with carefully organised swaying. Tonight, our Queen of South Shields headlines an anticipated show and we are all keen to see how her ship is fairing these days. 

Support is well-chosen in the compliment of Lionhall, a duo mixing synth and guitar loops to articulate songs of youthful melancholia. Such well-crafted songs deserved a larger turn-out.

Show time! A pre-recorded monologue of James speaking presents an alternative persona before she arises out of the fog to join her band, hidden in a mask of gold chains. This choice of anonymity complimented the opening dark march, removing individualism and focussing all of the faith in the room. It was then a peculiar juxtaposition to hear her typically sassy remarks in between such weighty tracks with the mask remaining.

Ultimately it was this blend of the intimate mixed with the universal riding tightly throughout the set that created such amazing moments of hope; from the crowd singing back the lyrics for the tender Be Safe, to uniting everyones dance moves for Step By Step.

Towards the close, Lulu conducts an allegiance pledge to which the attendees promise 'to love / and support / Lulu James (bitches!)'

It turns out James' ship is actually a spaceship, to which we are all welcomed on board. Based on tonight's performance, our Captain's possibilities are truly endless.  

[2013.08.09] for NARC Magazine.