The Connectors @The Windmill Brixton

Three bands played at The Windmill in Brixton last night - White Bone Rattle, The Connectors, and The High Commissioners - but I'd not seen my mate in a month, we had a lot of catching up to do, and the only band we paid any attention to was The Connectors. That's not to denigrate the other two bands: it easily could have been them instead had the timing worked out that way.

I enjoyed watching The Connectors a lot. They're a two-man outfit: drummer and guitarist/vocalist. Think 70's guitar melded to punkish drumming and grungy vocals, which somehow all work together pretty well. They have lots of energy for two guys, and they're pretty stylish too, in their grungy way.

You can find out here where to find them out there. I recommend you do it.

Albums of The Year, post 1

One of the things I'm most looking forward to about this Christmas holiday is the chance to listen to some of the music from this year that I've not yet managed to hear, taking various 'albums of the year' lists as my guide.

So this morning I woke up, had a piss, went back to bed, opened up Spotify on my laptop and then reached for my copy of the new RockARolla, very kindly donated by my girlfriend, who just gave me a subscription for Christmas. Lovely stuff.

I won't list the mag's top 10 here yet, but for now will start by saying that two of the top 5 aren't on Spotify, so I will have to find some other way of sampling those. Of the three that are, I already own Neurosis' Honor Found in Decay, and have blogged about Neurosis recently.

Which leaves me with Baroness's Yellow and Green and Goat's World Music. And both start very promisingly musically but are then, for me, quickly ruined by their respective singing. Baroness musically are more like what I would be inclined to listen to often than Goat, although Goat perhaps have the edge in terms of novel interest for the same reason. In fact I found the Baroness pretty exciting for a couple of minutes, but then? Harmonies, and bad, bad lyrics... No.

And then when I stick on the Goat and it's again the singing that turns me off, more because of irritating repetition this time, I start to wonder whether there might be something wrong with me. Am I that misanthropic that while I can enjoy instrumentation, so direct a reminder of other people as the human voice is too much to bear?

But then I remember that the Neurosis album has lyrics too, if not exactly singing, as does plenty of other stuff I like. So no, it's just that I don't like Goat and Baroness. Phew.

Bonus PS
Spotify also doesn't host another of RockARolla's top ten, which I decided to check out after the disappointments above - Amenra's Mass V - however, it does have 2011's Mass IIII (not IV apparently), which I am listening to as I type, and this band, happily, could well be a grower.

Til later...

Neurosis and Godlfesh at Kentish Town Forum

I'd seen Justin K. Broadrick once before, in his Jesu guise way the hell out in Kilburn. I was right at the front, and the shredding immensity of JKB's guitar came closer than anything has before or since to ripping my ear drums apart. Shamefully I left before the encore, genuinely afraid that I might never hear again. 

That experience came back to me somewhat harshly as Godflesh started playing this evening. My enjoyment went up a solid few notches with the second track performed, Like Rats, but then it slipped again somewhat on commencement of the almost equally good third track Christbait rising, and I couldn't escape the fact that I was struggling to get involved. 

I soon realised that I just couldn't really get into two guys strumming along to a drum machine, no matter how superb the sound nor how much effort JKB was putting into wringing the neck of his tool and torturing his vocal chords. For me, not only does drumming drive most music, but a drummer also drives most live performances, and without that beating heart, I realised, I just wasn't getting hooked.

At this point you're probably thinking that I'm an idiot who simply doesn't understand industrial music, and you'd be partly right. But if I told you that Hymns is perhaps my all-time favourite album - I think it's utter genius - I hope that would go someway to placating you and bringing you back on board with what is, after all, just one man's experience.

Still, my inability to get on with the drum machine struck me as weird, even if I am learning to play myself, given that I love drum and bass and have no such complaints there. It wasn't until the pace picked up in the final fifteen minutes of Godflesh's set that I realised that was exactly the point.

I know that JKB writes from a place of despair and pain, and that is what drives him, but if his music made me despair I wouldn't listen to it. Well, not as much as I do, anyway. Much of the music of his that I like - because he's a prolific fella and I don't like all of it - I like because it elates me, and when the pace picked up I suddenly realised that I wanted to fucking move to it, not just stand there nodding my head. Heavy pounding beats and throbbing bass light me up, and so as the pace picked up so did my pulse, so did my adrenaline, so did the muscles either side of my lips, and I wanted to express that enjoyment with full-on physicality. I wanted to dance to that mother like I'd dance to drum and bass, without inhibition. If I couldn't have a drummer to drive me on, I wanted at least to be able to drive myself on. But I couldn't, because the place was rammed, and because nobody else was dancing. Plenty of people were banging, but dancing? No. And I know: this is industrial, you fuck head, not techno, but there's joy in movement, and I know that JKB has dabbled plenty in techno spheres, so I don't think it's as crazy an idea as it might first seem.

Anyway, that was my experience of Godflesh live. I know it wasn't everybody's - far from it, because everybody else seemed to love it - but me, I wanted to throw myself around a little. To each their own...

I'd also seen one-fifth of Neurosis before, when I saw Scott Kelly play his part in Shrinebuilder's Scala gig of late 2010, in what may well be the most enjoyable damn thing I've ever attended. I've never experienced anything quite so techtonic, quite so collossal, quite so symbolic, and probably never will again unless the guys bless us with a second record or I pluck up the courage to squeeze myself into a tiny gap in some Swans gig somewhere.

For me Neurosis aren't quite Shrinebuilder, but at times tonight they weren't far off. Return readers of this blog will not be at all surprised to learn that my experience of Neurosis stretches only as far as their most recent album, purchased about a month ago. Hence, their performance of At The Well was my personal highlight, it being one of the tracks I was familiar with as well as being just sheer goddamn bliss anyway, to the point where I think my eyes may have rolled back into my head for a while there. One of the reasons Neurosis aren't quite Shrinebuilder for me is that they have regular moments of quietness between their bombast, which is fine, although in my current phase of getting to know Honor Found... those moments go on just a little too long for my own tastes, and live they're somewhat ruined by being drowned out by chattering idiots all around.

Nevertheless, this performance was probably the third most enjoyable I've seen this year, after Down and Mastodon, and definitely one to savour. I've spent more time on Godflesh here than Neurosis  purely because of my own greater familiarity with the former - I intend to acquaint myself better with Neurosis in the very near future.

Finally, honorable mention must be made of the fantastic poster art of Simon Fowler. How bloody good is that?

Alexandre Tharaud @ Foyles

The word 'genius' is used far too often these days. Actually, the device that sets up a piece of writing by highlighting that the word genius is used far too often these days is itself used far too often these days. But tonight I think I came closer to witnessing genius than ever before in my life.

Alexandre Tharaud, Foyles' website told prospective attendees of tonight's event, is 'Famed for his dazzling interpretations of Rameau, Bach, Scarlatti and Chopin', and thus this event represented a 'radical departure' from his norm. If I tell you that I had only heard of two of those composers, that would give you a good idea of the knowledge I bring to any classical performance I see, and I know even less about Paris cabaret, which tonight's performance 'celebrated'.

However, I know when I'm seeing something special.

Monsieur Tharaud is one of those men who would make you feel dreadfully inferior, if he wasn't so effortlessly charming that you instantly warm to him, and feel privileged just to be in his presence. I have to remind myself to swallow every once in a while so I won't drool if something surprises me, whereas even when not playing the piano M. Tharaud exudes magnetism, vivacity and grace in abundance. But it was when he took up position behind his instrument and began to play that I realised this was a human who operates - or rather floats effortlessly - on a whole other plane of existence.

I'd been rather skeptical about an evening of cabaret, but within seconds of Thauraud setting his fingers aflight all of my worries subsided. I have seen classical musicians before, but the venue - a little nook on the top floor of everyone's favourite bookshop - was much more intimate than any other into which I've hesitantly shuffled, and from our vantage point about 8 feet behind M. Thauraud in the second row we could see every dip, dance and dive of every finger (every finger that wasn't hidden by the pianist himself - we don't have X-ray vision), and it was this that set the evening apart.

I won't bore you by describing what a superb pianist is physically capable of - suffice it to say that I've simply never seen it demonstrated so capably and winningly as tonight. I enjoyed the music, but in my ignorance of all things not metal, I'm sure much of the humour and many of the flourishes were lost on me. But this is a man who has finer control than I could achieve with a magnifying glass and a pair of tweezers. A man with more wit in his little finger than you'd find in five of me. A man with greater speed... well, you get the point.

This was a superb evening, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Thank you to M Thauraud, thank you to Foyles for putting it on - for free no less - and thank you to my missus for spotting it and inviting me. Mange tout Rodney, mange tout.

Down and Orange Goblin @ The Roundhouse

I quite like Orange Goblin's A Eulogy for the Damned, and I liked their set last night. It was the last night of their supporting Down, and they clearly wanted to have some fun and go out with a bang. They succeeded admirably, delivering the kind of crowd-pleasing heavy anthems that would have you walking away happy if they topped the bill of many a night...

Just not last night. Last night everyone was there for one reason: Down.

I saw Down at Brixton Academy when they toured Over the Under, when I was living in north London. Now that I'm living in Brixton, they decide to play the Roundhouse on a night when the Victoria line isn't running. Come on guys, meet me halfway...

But there are some bands you will happily travel far for, and Down is definitely one of them. What can you say about this band? If they can get to the venue on time, with their instruments, and with power in the sockets, they will deliver the best southern stoner metal to be had anywhere on the planet. I don't think I've ever seen such a level of crowd appreciation as I saw last night. True Anselmo is a force of nature, and if he asks you to raise your hands you damn well raise your hands, but I didn't get the sense anyone had to force it even 1%.We were a bunch of happy worshippers.

Down have an unimpeachable back catalogue to select from, and are a collection of performers to match. Those two things combined couldn't possibly fail. They are simply phenomenal.

Gimme some medicine!

Turbowolf, Black Moth, Wet Nuns, Throne @ The Garage

With apologies to Throne, Gig Buddy and I wanted a real beer, so we went to the Hen and Chicken before committing ourselves to the Garage. Just desserts though: the barmaid misheard my order of two Puritys and gave us two Peronis, so we only hurt ourselves.

We did actually arrive at the Garage (which now serves San Miguel, just to put the icing on the cake mistake) in time to hear 2 minutes of Throne, and from what I saw they're a good band. Actually, if you want to linearly extrapolate from what followed - and I'm not saying that's scientifically viable - but if you want to then they must have been pretty damn good...

Because Wet Nuns were fucking aces. In every respect. For two men they make a hell of a lot of noise, and most of it is very pleasing indeed. Plus they're great fun. Crowd interaction (muffled to the point of almost inaudability): check. One man topless the other dipped in country: check. One man bald the other overhaired: check. Variety: check; heaviness: check; attitude: check. Just totally bloody enjoyable. They were the highlight of my night, in fact.

Although Black Moth were the reason GB and I were present. I'd seen their CD and its frankly phenomenal artwork (by one Vania Zouravliov - one to explore further) in Fopp, but recent experience had taught me better than to buy shit randomly, so I went home and Spotified them. And loved them. And looked for tour dates, and bought tickets. And turned up. And yeah, they were good. In fact they had moments of greatness - genuine greatness - like the first and last tracks, but they also had moments that for me got just a little bit lost within themselves, and could use a bit more work. But given that The Killing Jar (which I bought at the gig) is their first album, I am firmly convinced that Black Moth have the potential to more than fill whole sets with utter greatness in an album or two's time, provided they carry on doing what they've been doing...

Which brings us to the headliners, Turbowolf. I intend to write a post soon about blogging about people you've never heard of, but since I haven't written it yet I'm hoping to beg forgiveness yet again. Because, as I've said, I turned up because of Black Moth, and Turbowolf were an added bonus, and they were just a bit too fast and thrashy for my tastes. And tastes mean nothing at all, except that I personally get off on doom, and I can only report my impressions here, and so I apologise to the proper fans who knew what to expect and got it in spades. This is just what I thought...

Some people have charisma. James Dean had it, and Bruce Lee, and Tupac Shakur... Turbowolf's lead has it. He reminded me of Serj Tankian, except when he was speaking, when he sounded more like Robert from next door. Frenetic, energetic, mesmerising, stylish... How can you not admire a man who fronts a band - a headlining band - in a paisley shirt? The dude seeps charisma. And the guitarist could give a young Steve Tyler a run for his money in the could-be-a-model department, but that's neither here nor there...

Turbowolf were damn good at what they do, I suspect. The front 50% of the audience were certainly loving it, fists raised, circles spun, shoves shared... This was the first time I've felt old at a gig, standing at the back and smiling, but not wanting to get battered. The highlight for GB and I was their cover of Somebody to Love, and although I absolutely think bands should cover with abandon, GB was a bit put out that the song of theirs he enjoyed most was a cover. I dunno. Taste only counts for so much. Their final track was a ripper, and overall they whipped shit up, they entertained, they conquered, they topped the bill like champs.

This brings me back to my last post about why I stopped blogging. Taste - who gives one? Turbowolf were whitehot for most people present, Black Moth will be awesome very soon, and for me Wet Nuns already are. That'll do for a Wednesday night. It'll do just fine.

There was a reason I stopped doing this...

Actually there were several, one of which was having to scurry home and type shit out the night it occurred so that my beer-addled mind wouldn't forget it on the morrow... But the primary reason I stopped was a feeeling of who am I to pass judgement, given that I've done nothing and know nothing?

But as much as that's true - and it's completely true - on the other hand one of my posts - on Teta Mona - has had over 200 views. Now, that may not impress you, but I'm essentially a very lonely man, and to me that's fucking incredible. And what do I want out of this? Well, firstly I want my writing to get better, but secondly I want to shout about the bands I like, whether I'm making sense or not - I want to help them reach more people, and the evidence says that even my sausage-fingered fumblings do that. And if anyone knows me, they know I'm all about the evidence.

So, I guess... I'm back...?