yeah, yeah, it's practically june already, but nonetheless: be sure to have a gander at this before it disappears...
ma bits:
- 'Encounters at the End of the World: An Interview with Sarah Gavron' feature (read here!)
- 'Summit Special: An Interview with Stephen Pastel' feature (read here!)
- British Sea Power/ Casual Sex @ Oran Mor live review (read here!)
- Steve Mason @ King Tuts live review (read here!)
- eagleowl - 'this silent year' album review (read here!)
- The Pastels - 'Slow Summits' album review (read here!)
- Sam Amidon ' 'Bright Sunny South' album review (read here!)
- Brazos - 'Saltwater' album review (read here!)
- Thirty Pounds of Bone - 'I Cannot Sing You Here, But For Songs of Where' album review (read here!)
- Boats - 'A Fairway Full of Miners' album review (read here!)
- Woodenbox - 'End Game' album review (read here!)
- 'Village at the End of the World' film review (read here!)
- 'Hors Satan' DVD review (read here!)
So that's it - bottle rocket has placed its CD-Rs in the decks of Nice N Sleazys for the final time. Five years (or near enough) is a ripe old age all told, and i'll no doubt get all reflective and post something more comprehensive about our demise in the coming days. In the meantime, I'll just extend my heartfelt thanks to anyone who ever came along and supported the night, especially those who shared nice words with us on Friday and especially those chanting 'wan more tune' at the end - from my point of view, it was a heartwarming way to say goodbye to something that's been a big part of my months for flipping ages.
Here's what we played:
1. powder blue - what were you thinking?
2. the cave singers - dancing on our graves
3. blue oyster cult - don't fear the reaper
4. ballboy - donald in the bushes with a bag of glue
5. magnetic fields - deep sea diving suit
6. elastica - waking up
7. rem - driver 8
8. ike and tina turner - nutbush city limits
9. blancmange - living on the ceiling
10. spandau ballet - to cut a long story short
11. paul simon - me and julio down by the schoolyard
12. kate bush - cloudbursting
13. sleeper - nice guy eddie
14. suede - it starts and ends with you
15. camera obscura - french navy
16. split enz - i got you
17. devo - girl u want
18. neil young - we r in control
19. vampire weekend - diane young
20. danananaykroyd - pink sabbath
21. pavement - unfair
22. tears for fears - head over heels
23. pete townsend - let my love open the door
24. depeche mode - real life
25. lcd soundsystem - losing my edge
26. kenny rogers - just dropped in
27. talking heads - psycho killer
28. new order - bizarre love triangle
29. the b-52-s - private idaho
30. the modern lovers - she cracked
31. roxy music - editions of you
32. stereolab - french disko
33. kirsty maccoll - a new england
34. frank alamo - da dou ron ron
35. otis redding - love man
36. the four tops - i can't help myself
37. france gall - poupee de cire poupee de son
38. prefab sprout - king of rock and roll
39. jane wiedlin - rush hour
40. neutral milk hotel - holland 1945
41. the virginia wolves - stay
42. le tigre - deceptecon
43. jeff wayne - the eve of war
44. dire straits - walk of life
45. the beach boys - do you wanna dance?
46. the undertones - true confessions
47. idlewild - when i argue i see shapes
48. status quo - down down
49. fleetwood mac - little lies
50. associates - party fears two
51. en vogue - free your mind
52. pulp - babies
53. the smiths - ask
54. 10cc - dreadlock holiday
55. david bowie - sufragette city
56. weezer - buddy holly
57. bruce springsteen - born to run
58. billy joel - we didn't start the fire
59. bill haley - see you later alligator
OH GOODNESS ME IT'S THE LAST BOTTLE ROCKET AT NICE N SLEAZYS TONIGHT! FLIPPING HECK, BEST DIG OUT YR MOURNING ATTIRE AND HEAD ON DOWN TO CUT SOME RUG TO:
Slow Summits is being billed by some as The Pastels’ first album in sixteen years – a timescale that only fits if you discount their 2003 The Last Great Wilderness
soundtrack and their 2009 collaboration with Tenniscoats. But to strike
both from memory for the sake of implying a comeback would be remiss,
with both projects arguably key to Slow Summit’s graceful
configuration – the former coaxing the band down more wistful avenues
and ushering in a gentler aesthetic; the latter furthering the
transition, and commencing an alliance carried over to this record’s
guest appearances from the Japanese duo.
Opener Secret Music is an impeccable introduction, Katrina Mitchell’s
purring vocals melting into rich (but never ostentatious)
instrumentation, its airy beauty ushering in an album remarkable more
for its sense of wholeness than its individual peaks. Nonetheless, there
are standouts, including Summer Rain’s misty waltz and Come to the
Dance’s lithe sign-off, which closes proceedings faultlessly, if all too
quickly.
Out 27th May
Woodenbox - End Game (***)
They may have undergone a minor rebranding since Home and the Wild Hunt (having
re-dropped ‘…And a Fistful of Fivers’ from their moniker a wee while
back now), but Woodenbox’s second album suggests their influences and
intentions haven’t drifted far from those that informed their gallantly
spit-and-sawdust 2010 debut.
Frontman Ali Downer continues to belt out lead vocals with rugged
fervour, his forefront presence anchoring a robust assortment of
rollicking country-folk sounds, while the three-piece horn section
(arguably Woodenbox’s second cornerstone asset) delivers bolstering
melodies that quicken the pulse of tracks like lead single Courage.
But while the ingredients are occasionally over-familiar, the band
have found convincing ways to extend their reach, with erstwhile rough
edges scraped smooth and a streamlined sense of purpose showing through
in the likes of opener Asphyxiation’s pop stomp chorus or Roll For Me’s
jazzy, jerky verses. A confident, if not quite revelatory, return.
Out 27th May
Brazos - Saltwater (***)
Since his 2009 debut Phosphorescent Blues, Martin Crane (who
performs as Brazos, perhaps to avoid being confused with Frasier’s pop)
has relocated from his native Austin, Texas to Brooklyn, New York,
swapping one fertile creative landscape for another and soaking up
inspiration from both locales.
Of his new neighbours, there are distinct whispers of Grizzly Bear’s
urbane precision and Vampire Weekend’s cosmopolitanism across Saltwater
(both acts for whom Brazos has opened for in the past). The album’s
textured, layered instrumentation evidences Crane’s broad palette, with
much to take in between the afrobeat flavoured pop of opener Always On
and the low-key blues of closer Long Shot. But while there are no major
errors of judgement to spoil proceedings, there are lesser offerings
amidst the tracklisting that fail to impress themselves as confidently
as the album’s highlights, rendering this an assured but
as-yet-unperfected expression of a definite talent.
Out 27th May
With a new album imminent, we chat to Stephen McRobbie of The Pastels about the record’s long history, and the band’s future
In August 1999, two years after fourth album Illumination,
The Pastels entered the BBC’s Maida Vale studios for their third – and
final – John Peel session. Amongst the quartet of songs recorded for the
beardy broadcaster was Secret Music – a then-recently penned track set
to feature on the Glasgow band’s next album. Fourteen years later, it
does, its graceful swoon opening Slow Summits and establishing the long-awaited record’s rich and idyllic aesthetic. As far as waiting games go, it pales next to, say, m b v’s lengthy genesis, but the gap between initial introductions and final, finished form is notable regardless.
And yet, the caesura hardly tells the whole story. In the years
since, The Pastels have applied their talents to a range of projects,
including a soundtrack (The Last Great Wilderness) and a sublime collaboration with Japanese duo Tenniscoats (Two Sunsets) – all the while continuing to drip-feed further Slow Summits
tasters at sporadic live shows. “If you don’t keep up with someone,
it’s probably nice to say, ‘oh it’s their first record in 16 years’,
[but] it isn’t really like that,” says bandleader Stephen McRobbie,
chatting ahead of the album’s release.
Nevertheless, it’s fair to say this particular record’s been
tantalising fans for an awfully long time, belated due to a combination
of factors – most notably the departure, post-Illumination, of core member Annabel (Aggi) Wright. “We
probably would have made a record around 1999/2000 if Annabel hadn’t
left,” says Stephen. “That was a good group with her in it, and it took
us a long time to decide how we would deal with that.” The uncertainty
was partly resolved by the aforementioned soundtrack commission. “I
think when you’re making a normal record you feel a certain amount of
pressure to have some tracks that could maybe be played on the radio,
but when we were doing Last Great Wilderness, it was just about
making the film coherent. I think from working to quite a tight brief
we found real freedom. And even before Illumination, I think we all thought we wanted to try to make some quieter music.” He pauses and smiles. “Not that we were ever Motörhead…”
Were the current band (as well as Stephen: Katrina Mitchell, Gerard
Love, Tom Crossley, Alison Mitchell and John Hogarty) working on ideas
throughout that period? “Sort of – sometimes you can drift away from it
for a little while, but I definitely feel happiest when I’m working on
things. It’s just really magical. A lot of the time we kind of jam for
20 minutes, and sometimes the end of the song becomes the best thing,
and you think ‘oh now I need to get the main part of the song to sound
as good as that.’ In a way it raises the bar. It’s not prescribed – it’s
a group with a bit of freedom.”
"We all thought we wanted to try to make some quieter music. Not that we were ever Motörhead…” – Stephen McRobbie
In addition to the core line-up, Slow Summits features a
range of collaborators, including re-teams with Tenniscoats and a guest
spot from Stefan Schneider and Ronald Lippok of German avant-gardists To
Rococo Rot. “Generally speaking, you want to work with people you
respect and admire,” says Stephen. “Over a record I think it’s quite
nice to be able to introduce a couple of different colours.”
Certainly, the resulting palette is emphatically complementary. While
there is diversity amidst its nine tracks, there is a definite
through-line – a flow that sweeps the listener along with it. Was it
difficult to let go – to say categorically that the album was finished?
“I think it’s human nature to feel you can improve things,” he replies.
“Every time you do something it should be an improvement on the previous
times, because you learn from mistakes – unless, you know, you lose
your mind in-between. But we hadn’t lost our minds. So we just booked
some time in Chicago [home of producer John McEntire’s Soma studio], and
decided that whatever we did, that would be it. I think in some ways
it’s too long” he adds. “I’d like to make a quicker record next time.”
The album has a marked pensive quality, the lyrics teeming with
wistful reminiscences and introspective turns of phrase. We ask whether
Stephen’s self-reflection extends to past Pastels records. “It does, I
think about things a lot,” he affirms. “I maybe overthink it sometimes,
and get quite jealous of people who can just do stuff and move on. I
always imagine how a record from 18 years ago could have been better.
[But] I’m really happy with The Last Great Wilderness, Two Sunsets and Slow Summits. And I like lots of sporadic stuff from earlier…”
Broadly speaking, ‘earlier’ can be split into two phases, roughly
matched to the decades. During the eighties, the band underwent several
line-up shifts before finding temporary steadiness with drummer Bernice
Simpson, guitarist Brian Taylor, bassist Martin Hayward and keyboardist
Annabel. But after second album Sittin' Pretty, more
drastic changes were made, with Annabel and Steven parting company with
the rest of the band for creative reasons. “I never thought we seemed
like a group,” says Stephen of the initial line-up. “Like, the Jesus and
Mary Chain looked like the Jesus and Mary Chain – they all they
had their Jesus-and-Mary-Chain-hairstyles and everything. We just looked
like a bunch of neighbours, like if you formed a band with all the
people in your close. But I’m really fond of that period still… I like
that it was such a different group.”
In 1990, Katrina joined and the trio found an instant musical
rapport. “Me and Annabel and Katrina would just turn up in a rehearsal
studio, just the three of us, and none of us could really play
anything…” recalls Stephen. “A lot of work went in to it, whereas in the
first group there, er, well, there wasn’t…” Their efforts produced two
albums (1995’s Mobile Safari and Illumination two years later), before Annabel quit to focus on art (that’s one of her paintings adorning Slow Summits’ sleeve).
Nowadays, the group feels “quite focussed, quite single-minded about
what our sound is,” though initially, for Stephen, that remit didn’t
extend as far as lead single Check My Heart. “I was surprised and
pleased that we could do something like that,” he says, “Everyone liked
it but I didn’t think it would necessarily be on the record… In a way
it’s kind of simple – it’s a bit dumb, you know?” he smiles. “And it’s
probably not how I naturally play now. I really like it [and] I’m glad
we carried on with it [but] it’s hard to imagine that we’ll write many
more songs like that.”
It was Katrina who convinced Stephen that the song belonged. “When we
were compiling the record, she surprised me with a couple of things
that were very different from how I would have compiled it,” he
explains. “I thought we could have a slightly more downbeat flow. But
then I started to think of records that I really liked when I was just
getting into music – things like Swell Maps and Faust, where the mood
changes from one thing to the next. I started to think maybe it doesn’t
have to be all the one thing. So we probably found more diversity in
this record, in a way.”
In addition to The Pastels, Katrina and Stephen run record label
Geographic, a Domino imprint focussed on smaller, often more left-field
artists. Much likeThe Pastels, the label’s approach to releasing
music is slow and steady, with no urgent rush to sign new acts: if they
release one record a year, that’s enough. Stephen cites records by
Japanese alt-orchestra Maher Shahal Hash Baz as among the label’s
proudest achievements. “In a way they probably fulfilled a certain
creative need, even though we weren’t part of it,” he says. “There’s a
real thrill to introducing something that you think’s fantastic to
people.”
In the early eighties, Stephen co-headed influential label 53rd and
3rd (responsible for releases from Talulah Gosh and The Vaselines
amongst others). How do the two labels compare? “53rd and 3rd was run in
a very haphazard way,” Stephen replies, “and it ended quite ugly, with
people not being returned their tapes and all these ownership issues. We
didn’t have control over key things, so we were able to bring in
incredible music, but long-term we weren’t able to look after the
artists in the way that we would’ve wanted. So with Geographic I think
we had more sense of what [the label] should be… Both were good in their
own way, but with 53rd and 3rd, I wish we’d been able to document it
better. We just lost control.”
Right now, however, The Pastels is the locus of Stephen’s attentions, and Slow Summits
is fully worth the wait. We ask whether the band’s leisurely pace and
occasional line-up refreshments might explain, in part, their endurance –
perhaps helping avoid the burnout that claims other acts? Stephen uses
The Fall as a counterpoint example. “They existed before us and may well
exist after us,” he says. “They’re much more volatile, but then there
are lots of great records… It’s a quite inexplicable career in some
respects. In a way I wish we’d as many records out as The Fall, but, you
know, The Fall can be brilliantly slapdash, whereas when we’re slapdash
it’s kind of… crappily slapdash,” he laughs. “That’s the difference.
The Fall are quite work-ethicy, whereas we’ve probably been more… Well,
I’d say in the first phase of the group there wasn’t much of a work
ethic at all, and I have to say I was the guiltiest. But there is a work
ethic now, and there’s a good level of respect between everyone in the
group. Personally I think that when groups split up it’s usually a
deep-rooted thing – of people no longer liking each other or things just
coming to a natural end. We’re slow moving, but we always wanted to
work together, and in the future I want to make more records with the
same people. These are people that I like to work with.”
Here’s hoping the band’s highest summits are still to be scaled – however slowly they might choose to get there.
Samamidon - Bright Sunny South (***)
A folk singer cast from an old-fashioned mould, Sam Amidon rearranges
and repurposes songs from the ages, his albums to date principally
reinterpreting hymns and trad folk standards – plus, often, a cover
version of lesser vintage, with Tears for Fears and R Kelly gracing past
releases, and Bright Sunny South offering up an incongruously reworked Mariah Carey number.
But while his sources are venerably second-hand, the selected songs
are reborn in novel shapes, with jazz inflections and instrumentation
beyond the banjo-fiddle-acoustic genre hub. That’s not to say the fruits
of Amidon’s latest labours will curry broad favour, with Bright Sunny South
likely to play best to those already partial to roots re-visitations,
or existing fans of the Vermont artist’s work. But then again, Amidon’s
hardly shooting for mainstream adoration, with the aforementioned Carey
cut less an aspirational point-of-reference, more an impressive (and
successful) attempt to find depth where it’s least expected.
Out 13th May
Thirty Pounds of Bone - I Cannot Sing You Here, But for Songs of Where (****)
I Cannot Sing You Here, But for Songs of Where is Johnny
Lamb’s third album as Thirty Pounds of Bone, and its title is
evocatively apt. As Lamb sings these ‘songs of where’ – recorded in
dozens of bucolic locales from Shetland loch-sides to coves in Cornwall;
quartered into sections entitled Past Place, Present Place and
suchlike; and woven through with field recordings that hark to earthy
origins – it’s easy to feel transported.
This applies not only to space (with allusions to and echoes of
landscape in every water splash and wind howl) but time, as Lamb carves
his niche amidst a plethora of traditional folk sounds. But this is no
moribund exercise in revivalism; rather, I Cannot Sing You Here…
is a vibrant collection that combines old and new to great effect, with
special mention owed to drone-backed opener Veesik for the Broch and
tender ballad The Snow in Kiel.
Out now
Boats - A Fairway Full of Miners (***)
On third album A Fairway Full of Miners, Winnipeg’s
Boats convey an array of unruly but endearing quirks that are liable to
be manna to some, anathema to others. Their hyperactive brand of
indie-pop recalls the likes of Architecture in Helsinki, with lyrics
that straddle strange poetry and jolly nonsense (“o mighty cufflink
pincher, o frothy eater of sandwiches!”), and a playful songwriting
style that conjoins carnivalesque abandon (O Telescope’s hollering
noisiness) with extra-sugared electro-pop (We Got Tables and Chairs’
glockenspiel/guitar solos blend).
Mat Klachefsky’s high-pitched nasal yelp needs acclimatising to
(Getting Worst.Jpeg’s shrill assault especially so) and there are
moments where the smorgasbord of ideas starts to sound less like
inspired eccentricity and more like a band in search of a rudder. But
when it works, it really works, with Animated GIFS a squelchy
twee-epic and Advice on Bioluminescent Bears undoubtedly the year’s
finest song about a captive colour-changing grizzly.
Out 20th May
Well, bottle rocket’s tenure at Nice n Sleazy is almost at an end. One more shindig to go, and then – gasp! – that’s all folks.
For nigh-on five years, we’ve had a rare old time playing danceable
songs for y'all to move about to – from ABBA to Archers of Loaf, Bowie
to Beastie Boys, The Cars to Chairman of the Board. And we’re going to
enjoy it one last time goddammit, with an ESPECIALLY AWESOME final fling
on the 17th. Mourning garb is not essential. Nae excuses – it’s your last chance…
No one goes to French filmmaker Bruno Dumont for easy answers or
anything approaching ‘fun.’ His oeuvre is marked by an ascetic
aesthetic, employed to serve sober themes – and Hors Satan may
be his most inscrutable work yet. Actually, semi-scrutable is a fairer
approximation of the film’s arcane qualities: precise meanings may be
elusive, but there’s more to comprehension than whos, whats and whys,
and by the final scene, Dumont’s meditation on good and evil has
punctured through its recondite shell to leave an indubitable mark.
Visually striking throughout, Dumont contrasts rural tranquillity
with shocking violence and abnormal sexual encounters, including one
scene in which the unnamed male protagonist sleeps with a backpacker,
only for her to disturbingly growl and froth at the mouth in response – a
reaction that may signify euphoria, but could equally indicate
something more unsavoury. The ambiguity is typical, the impact
substantial: in short, you won’t necessarily understand every frame, but
you won’t easily forget them either.
Over an 18-month period, director Sarah Gavron and cinematographer David
Katznelson filmed a Greenlandic Inuit community on the cusp of
disappearing. We speak to Gavron about her time at the Village at the
End of the World
For several long months of the year, Niaqornat, in northwest
Greenland, is a cold, dark and demanding place to live. In winter, night
falls and stays fallen, with a muted twilight the closest thing to
sunrise and sub-zero temperatures fixing the landscape into lunar-like
permafrost. The only ways in and out are by sea or air, and the supply
ship that brings the village vegetables, kitchen roll and anything else
that can’t be fished from the sea or hunted across the polar ice is
forced to pause its service 'til spring.
When winter ends, thermometers climb above freezing and flora battles
to make the most of its brief opportunity to flourish. Daylight returns
but does not leave, the midnight sun shines around the clock. What's
more, the relative warmth carries dangers of its own, as unstable ice
sheets make hunting risky.
Whether frozen or thawing, it is a challenging environment to call
home; a landscape of stark contrasts presenting its populace with a
precarious future. Most troubling is the settlement's declining
population, exacerbated by the closure of the local fish factory a few
years prior. With scarce employment options remaining, families
increasingly sought work elsewhere, and Niaqornat started its seemingly
inexorable shrink. By spring 2009, only 59 people remained.
It's a fascinating subject for a documentary, though when director
Sarah Gavron, along with her husband and cinematographer David
Katznelson, first visited the community,it wasn’t with the
express intention of prepping a project. "My husband is Danish, and he’d
been to Greenland and made a documentary there some years ago,"
explains Gavron, speaking by phone from her London home. "He was really
keen for me to go with him, so we went on an adventure." But while
filmmaking may not have been front of mind at the outset, their "tiny
idea" quickly grew and took shape.
"We ended up visiting a few tiny hamlets, and I was immediately drawn
to them – it was just a world apart from anything I'd ever encountered
before," says Gavron. "When we went to Niaqornat we were greeted by
Ilannguaq [the town's affable sewage collector], who was the only one
who spoke English. He was really our way in – he explained the whole
mechanics of the village, and we spent time there and were made
welcome."
The filmmakers quickly identified the denizens with the most vivid
personalities and stories: in addition to Ilannguaq, the 'cast' includes
town mayor and hunter Karl; Annie, the village's oldest resident; and
hoodie-wearing teen Lars. "After that first trip we thought, 'perhaps
there is a story here,'" says Gavron. "One that tells of a traditional
way of life fighting for survival, which will connect, perhaps, with a
global narrative of small communities all over the world fighting for
their existence." But despite the alluded-to global context, Village at the End of the World
avoids turning Niaqornat into a universalised emblem. Its inhabitants
may be struggling first-hand with the effects of climate change,
globalisation and other planet-wide concerns, but they are living,
breathing individuals, not representational vessels – though that's not
to deny the village's microcosmic potential. "I think part of what is
interesting about these tiny communities," notes Gavron, "is that
everything, including relationships, is kind of heightened, because
you've only got 59 people and you're living in such close proximity to
one another. Life is just more extreme in every way."
While largely comprised of slice-of-life vignettes matched to the
seasons – whale butchery in the gloom of winter; visits from haughty
Danish tourists in the lighter months – two key strands structure the
narrative: the first follows attempts to reopen the factory as a
co-operative and thereby save the village from extinction; and the
second, hip-hop loving Lars's dreams of moving to somewhere more
cosmopolitan.
When Gavron first started filming, did she have any pre-conceived
expectations about where these threads would lead? "Well, that's the big
difference between documentary and fiction," says Gavron, best known
for dramatic work such as the Bafta-winning This Little Life and her 2009 adaptation of Monica Ali's Brick Lane.
"You can't control where the story's going to go. At the beginning, we
knew that the fish factory was closed and that it had caused people to
leave in droves. And we knew that there was a young boy who had his eye
on travelling the world. But we couldn't predict the outcome of either,
so our guiding principle was instead to follow the dramatic, extreme
seasons, and to focus on those people who seemed to encapsulate some
aspect of the themes and stories we were trying to tell."
“I think part of what is interesting about
these tiny communities is that everything, including relationships, is
kind of heightened” – Sarah Gavron
Over the following 18 months, Gavron and Katznelson returned to
Niaqornat several more times. For three of the trips, the couple brought
their young children with them, even celebrating their son's first and
second birthdays in the village – an indication of just how accepted the
family were made to feel. "The Inuit communities are traditionally very
welcoming of kids," says Gavron. "Kids have a very free and nice
existence in those villages, and I think that it helped break down
barriers – because they welcomed us into their homes and the kids made
connections with them."
In-between visits, Gavron set about imposing order on the reams of
footage they'd amassed. "It took an enormous amount of time," she
recollects. "Something that I hadn't really appreciated is that if you
film in a foreign language, then you've got the added job of translating
– and [it's] a language that no one in England speaks, so it wasn't
like we could find a translator here! There were people in Copenhagen
who came across and sat in the edit suite and went through [the footage
with us], finding the little nuggets within the interviews."
Also complicating the edit was the early decision to eschew formal
narration. "As a fledgling documentary-maker, I now know that that's a
huge challenge," Gavron laughs, "because it means you have to find ways
of telling what's going on without exposition. Initially we thought we
might not even have interviews – in sort of the same way as Etre Et Avoir [Nicolas
Philibert's portrait of a rural French primary school], we thought we
might just follow life. But when we showed really early cuts to friends
they'd say, 'But how does it work and what do they eat and who are they
and what do they feel?' We realised that, to make it an interesting and
engaging film, we needed to give people some insight into those things –
it wasn’t enough to just observe." The result is something
semi-observational, with no attempt to deny the filmmakers' presence and
influence, but nothing as disruptive as a 'voice of God' voice-over to
encroach upon the audience's engrossment.
Gavron's next project – an ensemble biopic of the suffragette
movement ("I’d like it to see the light of day sometime soon but we
don't yet know when production will start") – will see the director move
back to her comfort zone of scripted and acted drama. I ask whether her
work in one mode of filmmaking influences her approach to the other.
"It's kind of a different muscle in lots of ways, but obviously one does
feed into the other," she replies. "I think as a fiction director I
find it very important to constantly observe the real world and life
around you, because in a way you're trying to create truth – you know,
what would someone do if they're told that piece of news, how will they
respond... And I suppose in documentaries you've got the truth laid
before you, so you're just capturing what's there." In the case of Village…,"what's
there" is an absorbing snapshot of a community in flux; a rewarding
glimpse into an increasingly rare way of life; and heartening proof
that, often if not always, where there's a will, there's a way.
Village at the End of the World is released 10th May.
Akron/Family - Sub Verses (****)
On seventh album Sub Verses, Akron/Family
again manage to sound both formidably outré yet instinctively
graspable. No Room is a brooding beast of an opener; a groove-based
colossus that stretches itself over the best part of seven minutes, all
rippling tom rolls and ever-thickening walls of noise. Way Up follows,
its multi-part vocals dancing atop brutish thuds of distortion to create
one of the record’s most striking couplings.
Its hard-edged beauty then gracefully collapses into Until the
Morning’s soulful psych-folk concoction, which in turn segues to the
hectic bustle of Sand Talk – and so on, through still ambience
(Sometimes 1), discordant squalls (Holy Boredom) and played-straight
doo-wop (When I Was Young). This restlessly contrastive aesthetic
delivers bulk brilliance, imaginatively weaving through disparate
realms; never so sharply as to shake off those clinging on by
fingernails and good faith alone, but vigorously enough to ensure it’s a
stimulating journey throughout.
Out now
Collar Up - Ghosts (***)
Initially, Edinburgh trio Collar Up’s second album seems impeded by
its unwavering melancholia, the overall impression one of
over-earnestness and hand-me-down dream-pop sounds. Then – gradually,
entirely – it clicks, Ghosts proving itself far more than just pretty piano playing and oodles of reverb.
The quiet grandeur of tracks like Tonight demonstrate an un-showy
expertise, while the lyrical bite of Jam Jar Full of Wasps hints at a
heated undercurrent easy to miss on first pass. Vocally, band-leader
Stephen McLaren sets targets his larynx is only barely up to hitting,
but his soft tones are affectingly expressive, matched to an atmospheric
wash of dolorous piano and guitar melodies. And what’s more, it’s not
as po-faced as first feared either, as evidenced by the existential
musings of Every Man for Himself – a song in which the narrator meets
his 8-year-old self playing footie, ponders the passing of time, and
then promptly gets nutmegged by the jumped-up doppelganger.
Out 13th May
eagleowl - this silent year (****)
The family of birds known as eagle owls (easily identifiable by their
ear tufts) are notoriously elusive, spending most of their time
roosting out of sight. The group of Edinburgh-based musicians known as
eagleowl (easily identifiable by their penchant for slow, sad sounds in
the Low/Smog mould) also have a habit of keeping quiet, with this silent year unhurriedly arriving eight years after the band’s formation.
Not that the interceding years have been entirely silent, of course,
with EPs confidently marking their territory and ensuring their debut
long-player is backed by the full weight of their maturing talents – a
long-game strategy that’s borne exceptional results.
From the imposing expanse of Too Late in the Day to the stately
Eagleowl Versus Woodpigeon (a messy match in the bird world but an
unspeakably beautiful pairing in the musical one), the band have
assembled something enduring and elegant – not so much a birdie as a
hole in one.
Ten minutes before tonight’s
headline set is scheduled to start, a projected clock commences a
countdown. With fifteen seconds left, Low take their positions;
the moment the digits hit zero, the Minnesotan trio begin to play. Their
precision is impressive, albeit characteristic. After all, this is a
band of renowned exactitude; an act with a frequently sublime
discography in which every note, every brushed hi-hat and every harmony
feels meticulously placed.
Tenth LP The Invisible Way dominates tonight’s set, with
Holy Ghost an early standout thanks to Mimi Parker’s heavenly,
devastating vocals. Alas, Low aren’t the Classic Grand’s only residents
this evening, and when they hold back and play at a whisper, rumbles
from the rooms beneath intrude on the mood. But Alan Sparhawk handles
the infringement with good humour (his repartee culminating in an
impromptu karaoke detour in the encore), and ultimately, it ceases to
register – all irritations fading in the presence of such assured
beauty.
For whatever reason, it seems to take Matthew E White a
couple of songs to find his feet tonight. Opener Will You Love Me
waltzes past with negligible impact, while a close-following One of
These Days is similarly diaphanous, threatening to render White’s
Scottish debut an anti-climax. But the nondescript start proves a mere
blip; a low-key precursor to a stirring set of gospel-country, shot
through with soul and dusted in psychedelic jams.
Steady Pace initiates the upswing, with a funkier feel than on record
and a spot of choreography from a visibly loosening White. Where Big Inner
featured, in the Virginian’s estimation, “thirty, forty” musicians, its
live retelling comes courtesy of just five, but such is the virtuoso
proficiency of White and his lesser-bearded band that the record’s
layers are only rarely missed. With simpatico covers (Neil Young, Randy
Newman) supplementing the Big Inner cuts, White’s substantial charm secures an uplifting victory.
