Tag Archives: Oxford

Ulrich Schnauss

The Bullingdon Arms, Oxford
28th February 2004

The highlight of the second Peepshow “audio visual treats and beats” night, Berliner Ulrich Schnauss immediately inspires adjectives – beautiful, lush, elegant, simple, refined, ambient, delicate, euphoric, anthemic…

Having released drum and bass under pseudonyms, 2001’s Far Away Trains Passing By was Ulrich’s first release under his own name. Combining the emotional intensity of classical with the electronic warmth of ambience, he simply sits there with a Powerbook and old Siel synth. His melodies swirl and embrace, ebbing and flowing without glitches; reminiscent of Vangelis and Boards of Canada, he’s all curves – an antidote to Matmos’ cut-up angles. The whole act was a mental soundscape, working well with the VJing; if you could see music, his melodies would form beautifully elegant and colourful mathmatical patterns. Taking on a life of its own, it’s much more organic than mechanical; composed rather than tweaked. Luckily I was listening with earplugs, as the Bully’s sound system couldn’t do justice to his subtlety.

Most tracks were from 2003’s A Strangely Isolated Place, but Nobody’s Home and Passing By from his first album stood out for their lush reverberant orchestrations. Though often using skipping breakbeats, he’s not a dance act – the beats are for momentum rather than dancing. Closer to indie than techno, despite the electronic medium, he’s obviously influenced by guitar bands like Ride.

His unrelenting rhythmic patterns don’t really build up to anything, but that’s part of the charm; they swell gently rather than build. Relaxing to listen to, his live act is a presentation of things to contemplate and appreciate, like the simplicity of his arrangements and the attention to detail in his engineering. It’s quite formulaic, but as he releases music under different names, he doesn’t have to marry all his influences in one project. Luckily for us and his growing critical fanbase, he’s confident in his style, and lovely it is too.

 

From Nightshift, April 2004

Polysics

The Zodiac, Oxford
16th September 2004

polysics

At first glance, there’s no reason why we should be surprised by Polysics. Kooky, heavily Western-influenced, frenetic and video gamey, they seem to combine some of the most obvious characteristics of exported Japanese pop music. However, the Tokyo two boy, two girl band – named after an early synthesizer, the Korg Polysix – have more up the sleeves of their matching red overalls.

They tear through 18 short, punchy tracks – the length of their first proper UK album, the compilation Polysics or Die. The influence of American new wavers Devo is obvious both visually and in the band’s philosophy; however, musically they are faster, bouncier, more energetic and far crazier.

Guitarist and singer Hayashi is enthusiastic and captivating, yelping and shrieking a mostly unintelligible mixture of Japanese and English and squealing his way through frantic guitar solos. Kayo, however, is almost motionless behind her keyboards, occasionally performing robotic dance moves and adding vocodered vocals (most prominent on their electro-punk cover of My Sharona, their next single). Fumi, on bass, holds the madness together, her fingers moving like a blur at times, occasionally contributing very girly “yayay”s. Drummer Yano – supplemented by mini disc beats – copes with what must be very difficult speeds and rhythms expertly.

The set’s pace increases to a crescendo and plunges us into an exhausting barrage of riffs. Amidst the noise there are touches of pure beauty, reminiscent of the swirly guitar/electronic genius of Cornelius. Most tracks, like Lookin’ Lookin’ Ga, don’t have a recognisable verse or chorus – just short repeated hooks weaving in and out of each other. Kaja Kaja Goo and New Wave Jacket are more commercial fare but no less noisy. Kayo’s keyboards sometimes lose out to Hayashi’s raging guitar, but the electronic robotic synth sound is just as important in the overall mix.

In short – brilliant. Miss out at your peril.

 

From Nightshift, October 2004

Photo: © Richard Whitelock

The Ordinary Boys and Dive Dive

The Zodiac, Oxford
15th October 2004

Last minute replacements in support tonight are Dive Dive, who seem to baffle the Ordinary Army already amassed at the front. Currently promoting the single release Good Show and preparing for their debut album release in the new year, the Oxford natives immediately look comfortable in their skin – they have a definite presence, a distinctive melodic rock-punk sound and give the impression of “going somewhere”, albeit probably more critically than commercially. The angst of Jamie Stuart’s vocals complements some lovely guitar flourishes over sparse beats, and the whole thing descends into prog-type ramblings. On the basis of this performance, any acclaim is deserved.

The Ordinary Boys start with the early single Maybe Someday, whose lyrics “Waiting for some inspiration/But lack the human interaction” introduce their raison d’etre – promoting the cause of pissed-off, disaffected British youth. The first comparison has to be Morrissey; although much faster and upbeat musically, lead singer Preston’s vocals are a good imitation, which must be deliberate (they’re named after an early Morrissey album track, after all). However, they lack the lyrical articulation and eloquence of The Smiths frontman, or that of The Jam and The Clash – two other acts they seem to be imitating – for that matter.

Tracks like The List Goes On, radio fodder Week In Week Out and Weekend Revolution are poppy and punchy, yet err on the jangly side of “indie”. They play a fair number of tracks not on their Stephen Street-produced debut album Over The Counter Culture, but it’s hard to see how they can develop their sound; maybe they just need a big hit, or cult status. With their current output, neither of these seem very likely, though recent single Seaside (with its anthemic cry of “not gonna wait, gonna wait for the weekend”) is easily their best song tonight, even if it does lack the recording’s distinctive trumpets.

Preston mentions that they’re touring Japan after their current UK jaunt finishes; the Worthing boys are apparently huge there, and you can see how their very British pop-yet-indie sound and attitude is attractive. Why them – and not any other of the many similar young British bands around – is probably just down to marketing. Their familiar “modern life is rubbish” aura makes it easy to understand how today’s generation of teenagers could relate to them – too young for The Smiths, but needing lyrics they can identify with and accessible music that’s still alternative.

Tuneful as it all is, I can’t see how The Ordinary Boys add anything to the current music scene. I leave feeling that they lack something, though I’m not quite sure what; it can’t be originality, because sometimes quite unoriginal bands are much loved and very successful (Oasis etc). Even though they pack 15 songs into an hour, and don’t stick closely to one sound (their forays into ska – like on their cover of The Specials’ Little Bitch – work quite well), they don’t quite hit the mark. There’s a fine line between being the next big thing and the current unfashionable whipping boys. The Ordinary Boys could manage both quite easily.

 

From Nightshift, November 2004

Longview

The Zodiac, Oxford
2nd July 2003

Things are finally looking very hopeful for Manchester-formed quartet Longview, long-signed but seemingly also long-groomed for somewhat inevitable Coldplay-like mainstream success. Recent tours in support of Easyworld, Goldrush, Athlete and Mull Historical Society have led to this headline tour to promote their debut album Mercury.

There’s something about Longview that’s impossible to dislike. They stay resolutely melodic while not letting their overall sound – that of quietly optimistic melancholy – turn to dirge. They have an impressive guitar arsenal – each guitarist, and even the bassist, swapping for most numbers – yet their sound is constant and full. Frontman Rob McVey’s strong voice is highly reverberated to sound winsome and mellifluous; the rest of the band all combine in impressive 3 and 4-part harmonies, and at times voices are by far their strongest instruments, especially on Still, Falling Without You and Can’t Explain.

Nowhere – a past single, but sure now to be re-released – is typical of their sound: not musically groundbreaking, but all parts make a very satisfying whole. Brooding rolling drums and bass coupled with higher guitar riffs characterise I Would, a slower number which Rob said “suited the atmosphere” of downstairs at the Zodiac very well (giving us the impression that it’s somewhat smaller than the most recent venues they’ve played, and proving their recent ascendency).

They closed the main set with Further, their Lord’s Prayer-plundering current single, which has reached the prestigious pinnacle of the Radio 1 playlist and an entry at number 27. Sara Cox recently said it wouldn’t have sounded out of place on the Lost Boys soundtrack, and she’s right, in a way; it seems timeless.

Their catchy lyrics create a mood rather than tell a story; they are eloquent in emotion rather than intellectual pretention, which is good, because that wouldn’t suit their mellow indie style.

 

From Nightshift, August 2003

Dogs Die In Hot Cars

The Zodiac, Oxford
11th February 2004

Every so often a band comes along that picks you up and carries you away on their energetic whimsy about organic veg and loving Lucy Liu, and it’s a very pleasant experience. St Andrews-formed quintet Dogs Die In Hot Cars are such a band. Shunning more modern guitar band conventions, their sound is a refreshing throwback to late 70s and early 80s punchy pop soul. Dexy’s Midnight Runners and XTC comparisons are obvious, but I detected a more Squeeze-y feel, liberally sprinkled with hints of fellow Scottish bands Aztec Camera in their songwriting and, oddly, the Proclaimers in their stomp and vocal harmonies.

Their short and sharp style is cluttered with catchy hooks and odd key changes and at times they wander into cheeky Madness-style ska and jangly tweeness, which could irritate some but must endear them to others – especially V2, who snapped them up last summer. Overall though, they are more enthusiastic urban poets than corny pop urchins.

Lead singer Craig Macintosh, whose earnest and expressive voice reminds me of both Joe Jackson and The Associates’ Billy Mackenzie, looks like he wouldn’t have been out of place in the film Gregory’s Girl – and his band wouldn’t have been out of place on its soundtrack either.

Recent EP lead track Man Bites Man has a great Eurythmics-style lead synth line but their zenith is I Love You Cause I Have To, a Zoe Ball Record of The Week. Paul Newman contains the line “I wish I had Paul Newman’s eyes…” which sounds odd in isolation, but makes sense in the context of everything DDIHC present.

Ones to watch, especially when their debut album – currently being recorded with producers Clive Langer and Alan Winstanley (of Dexy’s, Madness and The Smiths fame) – comes out later this year.

 

From Nightshift, March 2004

The Futureheads

The Zodiac, Oxford
13th October 2003

Sunderland quartet The Futureheads are one of those bands that compel you to see them before – just in case – they get famous.

Energetic and punchy pop punk rockers, they have a good line in short sharp bursts of urban tales, mostly reminiscent of early XTC (though a bit more flippant in their story-telling) but with echoes of early Jam (especially on Ticket) and Gang of Four, which isn’t surprising as their recent EP 1-2-3-NUL! was produced by Andy Gill.

They’re also idiosyncratic, with songs like Stupid and Shallow (which Rolf Harris look-alike Ross Millard dedicates to the act of buying shoes) and Piece of Crap rubbing shoulders with recent single First Day, about the reality of growing up and getting a job, Man Ray, possibly a paean to the artist (though it’s hard to tell) and a cover of Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love.

Ross, Barry Hyde and Jaff, all on guitars and vocals, demonstrate very impressive lyrical play and harmonies; this alone makes them worth seeing. They seemed to have honed this down to a fine, if eccentric, art, sometimes even yelping or yodelling, but always in time with each other. The tune does sometime make way for the vocals and rhythm, admittedly, and they do tend to like one particular note and don’t deviate from that much, but their habit of slightly wandering off in another direction mid-song is endearing and at least keeps your attention.

Everything seems very quick and urgent with The Futureheads: their subject matter, staccato guitar and vocal styles and song lengths. They’re strong enough for the catchiness of their songs to also develop; they’re otherwise very impressive but the tunes you take away in your head aren’t theirs but the songs of artists they sound like, sung by their voices.

 

From Nightshift, November 2003

Fiel Garvie, Roquphane and The Epstein-Barr Virus Band

The Cellar, Oxford
17th June 2003

Norwich female-heavy psychedelics Fiel Garvie made Melody Maker’s Single of the Week with For What I Love in 1997, and, 2 years after their first album, release their second – Leave Me Out of This – in the Autumn. Initially sounding like The Sundays, their slightly unhinged, spookily atmospheric pop gives singer Anne Reekie a perfect platform for her breathy and ever so slightly sinister vocals. At worst sounding like a sparser and edgier Garbage, at best a Tricky-Bjork-Sigur Ros hybrid, they craft electronic intimacy though sparse arrangements, their major keys belieing their doomladen lyrics. Definitely worth checking out.

Roquphane couldn’t have been more different. Reminiscent of late-70s Old Grey Whistle Test funk rock, their upbeat jazz indie funk rock fusion quickly established them in a groove they maintained throughout the set. Their animated singer dominated proceedings with her impressively versatile and accomplished voice, while the guitar and bass, at times meandering into solos and funk riffs, were the glue that made their overall sound much greater than the sum of their parts. Refreshingly different and ones to watch.

The Epstein-Barr Virus Band changed the tone once again. Big Al & Ollie Wills, with a full backing band including members of Spartacus, brought country back to rock and roll. Less twisted than The Broken Family Band, and armed with a set of warm melody-driven full-sounding songs, they are really quite likeable; at times more bluesy and rock tinged, but always in a country vein. Their closing song, New York City Blues, was a bit of a stormer. Always accessible, and not so much quirky as individual, any band fronted by an incredibly tall man in a ten gallon hat playing harmonica solos can’t be all bad. Charming in a different way from the Trailerpark night’s other acts, but charming all the same.

 

From Nightshift, July 2003

Cayto

The Cellar, Oxford
16th December 2003

I am very pleasantly surprised by Cayto. For all their proselytising and “Cayto Ministry of Exploitation” manifesto propaganda (“All sounds will be heard”, “Hate your instrument” etc), I am expecting four loud jumpy shouty Glaswegians with a gripe against the world. But what I get is a hybrid of more styles than I thought possible, all strung together in a very thoughtful way.

Singer Paul Henry’s piano plays a prominent part in the proceedings – at times making them a modest Muse without the histrionic vocals, at other times making them Faith No More playing a prog rock sea shanty with Randy Newman on frantic piano pounding (like on C’Mere). They are not only stylistically versatile but also musically accomplished, forceful yet restrained – they made it sound too easy, even maybe over-rehearsed at times. Paul apologises for being scrappy, but they might just be a little too tight. Their fondness for theatrically varying time signatures, key signatures and tempo keeps them interesting, but pulls them too close at times to self-indulgent jazz; they’re never too dischordant or dissonant, but do sometimes ramble – progressing from XTC melodies via U2-like reverb to Metallica riffs and choruses. Guitarist Nobby looks to be riffing off into his own world, especially on Spiders – a song Paul says is even weirder than all their other songs, though this is maybe playing down how weird the others are.

It’s hard to tell their influences, and whether they’re trying to be one thing through the medium of another, or just doing whatever they want. It’s a shame they play so few songs because I would be very interested in hearing the rest of their repertoire; it seems like we have only had a tiny peek into Caytoworld tonight, and there is a whole world of melded styles and strange chord sequences out there.

 

From Nightshift, January 2004

Panel Of Judges, Byrne, The Broken Family Band, The Maplettes and Spartacus

The Cellar, Oxford
27th February 2003

Here’s a challenge – to describe 5 bands and the atmosphere of another excellent Trailerpark at the Cellar in 300 words. Here goes…

First up were Melbourne-based instrument-swapping new wave-y trio Panel Of Judges, on their first British tour. Unfortunately hampered by bad sound levels and being slightly out of tune, their West Coast-ish jangles were very pleasant and showed promise: if (when) they come up with a killer tune, it could be very special.

Second came mellow indie crooners Byrne, fresh from supporting MBICR at the Union Chapel the night before. Frontman Scot Patrick Byrne is a powerful presence (especially on recent single Tidal Wave), and his angst contributed to the overall mix of strong vocal harmonies set against a backdrop of guitars and occasional organ and other reverbed electronic stuff. They reminded me of the Waterboys in places, and were by far the most emotional – and serious – band on the bill.

Third up were Cambridge-based acerbic alt.country antagonists The Broken Family Band, whose sweet melodies, juxtaposed with sarcastic and hateful lyrics, created a bundle of vicious energy, musically and lyrically redolent of The Eels but with added British cynicism. Singer Steven Adams seemed permanently pissed off throughout the set (though he did say he was ill), but this added to their charm somehow.

Fourth on were “The Maplettes”, AKA Goldrush, now Jef-less and trying out new stuff. Their songwriting is moving on, exploring different areas of melody and rhythm, and these rockier and janglier new songs will surely be developed further live and in the studio.

The exhausting night was rounded off by Spartacus, looking like a local instrumental supergroup of sorts (boasting 2 drummers and 2 bassists) and sounding like TROT’s scrappier but rockier and more daring – if slightly warped – younger brother.

 

From Nightshift, April 2003

Trademark

The Jericho Tavern, Oxford
29th August 2002

From the moment the trio walk on stage, bedecked in white coats complete with red LEDs down the arms, you know this is not just another local indie band gig. Trademark are self-styled “oddball labcoat pop”, unashamedly dated yet with an original and personal sound; while Stuart Meads and Paul Soulsby tap away at their impressive array of synthesizers, singer Oli Horton emotes his way through a set of mini-sagas, some from their new album, Fear: Disconnection.

During the set a video was shown, charting Trademark’s history – including footage of this year’s Truck Festival appearance -and including visuals from gigs earlier in their career. Their new album is their fourth, and their songwriting maturity is palpable: Sawtooth Lust recalls early Human League circa Reproduction, but incorporating the advances in technology of the intervening 25 years. Sine Love is an earnest ballad, highlighting Oli’s sincere and angst-laiden vocal style, and the brilliant Focus a perfect synthpop song, with heavy distortion and a Gary Numan-esque guitar vibe.

New song Breakdown is a proggy three-section epic (the first two sections of which are performed completely live) with a hauntingly dark melody, suggesting twin passions of Depeche Mode (especially Black Celebration) and Yes, but also recalling Bronski Beat’s Smalltown Boy towards the end. Trademark seem to have married emotion and electronica to perfection, reminiscent of Soft Cell but with a fuller, more saturated sound.

Bizarrely, Paul gives a lecture in the middle of the set; this one was about about sawtooth, triangle and square waves, harmonics and “saturating the oscillator”. A previous lecture was about the evils of presets, and it is obvious that Trademark painstakingly craft all their sounds themselves; indeed, the whole set was was a lesson on how to create and construct beauty from the barest elements of sound.