The Austerity Program

If I were to promise you that you'd love The Austerity Program's Backsliders and Apostates will Burn EP, would you trust me enough to buy it, or at least check it out?

http://www.austerityprogram.com/audio/index.htm

Under most circumstances you shouldn't take anything I say on trust, because I don't know what I'm talking about, but in this case you definitely should.

Musically it's very very satisfying, but it also features some of the best lyrics and delivery I've encountered in heavy music.

And they have a new album coming out later this year. This excites me.

Unfortunately they rarely leave the US, so I'll probably never see them live, but I'm grateful for what I can get.

Just listen, OK?

Metz at Birthdays

I spent twice as long getting to this gig as Metz spent playing. 

We'd intended to catch the support too, but there were six of us and you know how that goes. We tried going to Jan's Bar for some Belgian beers early on, but the place appears to have shut down without bothering to say anything on its website. Which is helpful.

So then we went to the Jolly Butchers, which Gig Buddy had previously seen listed as one of the top ten pubs in the UK. And rightfully so. They have a selection of beers the likes of which I've never seen, and decent seating to boot. It's a hell of a pub.

Which might go some way to explaining why we were about an hour later than planned for our curry at Rasa, which in turn explains why we were late for Birthdays. Damn you excellent beers and superb food!

So we arrived at Birthdays about five minutes before Metz began. I'd never heard of the place before, and neither had GB. And no wonder, frankly. Having made straight for the bar on arrival, I turned around once I'd been served, only to discover that where I was already at was as close to the stage as I would be getting, given the layout.

Now, the blame is no doubt ours, for dwelling on our pre-gig beers and south-Indian food for far too long, but Birthdays as a venue is nothing more than an oblong hole in the ground. It's like a shoebox with the band as the toes and you as the scrunched up paper stuffing the holes before the feet come in. It's a tunnel, in other words.

I may be partisan. Birthdays could be to a Stokey resident as my beloved Brixton Windmill is to me - a place that exceeds its immediate charms by virtue of delivering a certain standard of music night after night after night. But it's hard to guess at that. For me, Birthdays was just a long hole where, after traveling 80 minutes, I then stared at the back of people's heads while a band played for half that time.

In fairness to Metz themselves, they were pretty damn good. If you like reverb-heaviness - and who doesn't - then you'd certainly have dug them. They were a bit noisy and had a bit of attitude and got things a bit rowdy - from what I could tell way back by the bar.

And alright, I may actually even be doing the venue a disservice. My mate and I ordered some thing called Briska initially, which turned out to be a cider rather than a beer, and that soured things right off. But the place allowed us to rectify that mishap and then some by stocking some SF Liberty Ale, and where else sells that? No other venue I could name.

But then I'd hoped to at least be able to pick up some music by the support bands from the merch station afterwards, and that was another disappointment, by then at least if not earlier too, as it offered nothing but Metz stuff. The support were apparently Fair Ohs and The Wytches, and I will check them out  tomorrow when I sober up a bit. And maybe I'll try listen to Metz's album again too, given that in this environ I'll actually have a clue what's going on....

Novella and The Soft Pack at Cargo

Novella reminded me of one of those bands you see in clubs in tv shows when they need to convince you the characters are somewhere cool, like The Bronze in Buffy The Vampire Slayer, or the Crazy Horse in The Sopranos. They were moody but didn't particularly hold my attention, perfect for a pan away to a brooding Sarah Michelle Gellar after five seconds of exposition.

The trendiness of the venue doubtless had something to do with that impression, but mostly it was  that I generally struggled to single out any individual contribution from the trio of strapped-up attractive females at the front of the stage, bar the singing of course. For the most part, lead, second and bass all blended together to form a wash of sound, and while certainly not unpleasant, it didn't give me much to think about.

The drummer was the clear highlight for me, the part that raised the set into something just about worth watching. In fact he stood out so much that I began to wonder what he was doing there with the other three. At first I figured he must have something going on with the sultry vocalist, but when I noticed how little attention he paid to anything but his own good work, I decided this must be a guy who's in about seven different bands and doesn't care how good they are or aren't or how well they're received, but just motors from session to session each evening and rocks out, minding his own business at the back and yet being the best thing about each one.

As I said, Novella's music left substantial room for my mind to wander.

The same couldn't be said of The Soft Pack. I knew nothing of them before I turned up: my gig buddy kept telling me they were 'just so damn garage', and offered me a money-back guarantee if I didn't like them, and that was good enough for me. But I must not really know what GB means by 'garage', as I turned up expecting to see a fun bunch of guys with good ideas and a lot of energy but not a whole lot of polish, and what I actually got was a very tight unit with very considered material. No problem here picking out the individual components, which included very judicious use of a sax - again not something I'd expected from the description.

This was a band that have clearly put a lot of effort into their music, as evidenced for example by the facial straining of the lead guitarist, who throughout the set looked like he was in the final throes of throttling an elephant. Or maybe a whole herd. They started out well and gradually built to a finale that I think can legally only be described as 'coruscating'.

In opposition to my own impressions of the bands, though, the two guys I was with were actually a little disappointed with The Soft Pack, and much impressed by Novella. So either I don't know what I'm talking about, or it's different strokes for different folks. Or both. You decide.

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.