bookmark_borderLCD Soundsystem

The Barrowlands is probably my favourite Glasgow gig venue. Large enough to generate a good crowd atmosphere, small enough to feel intimate, and tarnished enough to feel alive, I don’t think I’ve ever been to a gig there that wasn’t good.

Add in a band that has a good live reputation and it was with an intrigued anticipation that I stood and waited through the last couple of tracks of the support act, Hot Chip’s James Goddard, for my first ever LCD Soundsystem gig.

LCD Soundsystem have bounced around my music conscious since they first arrived, I was aware of them but nothing really clicked with me until Sounds of Silver where they started to make sense. That said their tracks increasingly find their way on to my playlists and after catching a little of them at Glastonbury I was keen to see a full show.

They played two nights in Glasgow – apparently they wanted to play more because they only wanted to play at the Barrowlands – and seeing photos and videos of the Tuesday performance only heightened the anticipation. I love live music, I love the way bands can play with a song, I love the altered acoustics, the energy and vitality that can elevate a so-so album track to an uplifting and transendent moment not to be forgotten.

Sometimes those moments are easily forged, if you are seeing a favourite band then it’s a short step to take (for me EVERY Elbow gig is the best ever), but if you are lucky a band can take your impression of them and weave it into something much much more. I had such an experience back in 2007, again in the Barrowlands, with a group that was just about to rocket into the stadium headling stratosphere. I’d listened to both of their albums but, going into that gig, I wasn’t massively convinced that Arcade Fire would be that big a deal…

And so it was last night. A band I know, but wouldn’t make my top 10 (20?) list, took my expectation of at least seeing a good live show, ripped it up, threw it in my face, then spent a couple of hours sonically hugging me whilst bashing me over the head with a ferocity that just isn’t evident anywhere on their albums.

Frontman James Murphy is transformed from a quietly spoken voice to a booming roar, exalting the crowd and pulling us into each moment with him. The songs become all the richer and more powerful as they are rendered into this wonderful communal space, full of passion and energy, which the good denizens of the Barrowlands were more than happy to absorb and reflect back ten times over, and so it continued, through song after song.

Add to all of that a band that were absolutely together (one over-eager drummer moment aside!), a light show that was as simple and effective as it was smart, and at worst this would’ve been a very slick, composed performance. Thankfully the enthusiasm of everyone involved – band and audience – made it so much more than that, and that is where the true amazing joy of this gig was found, a collaboration, a release of emotion, a raw connection.

I’m running out of hyperbole…

At one point last night it suddenly struck me that I was smiling, a great big wide grin, and had been for about an hour. I was utterly engrossed as the setlist lead me through a pitch perfect series of songs that seemed to build and build to the final piano jangling, anthemic chorus where I was bouncing along, hands raised to the skies, singing “where are your friends tonight?”

Answer, right here, all around me. This manic bunch of leaping lunatics, just as lost in the ecstasy of this moment as I was.

Thank you LCD Soundsystem, for bringing us all together for this. Thank you.

bookmark_borderBand of Skulls

First things first, don’t let the name put you off, this is not a death metal (or any other kind of metal) band. Think bluesy rock, think White Stripes, think Slade, think Led Zeppelin if the songs were more melodic? … ohh I’m going to hell for that comment!

I’ve seen them a few times now, from their first album tour where me and another 60 odd souls realised that ‘hey, these guys are good’ to an audience of several hundred a few years later. I am still waiting on their “big breakthrough” but, like Eagles of Death Metal (also NOT a metal band), I’m quite happy that they remain reasonably under the radar; although to be fair Band of Skulls have supported Muse so I’m still not sure why mentioning their name to people I know enjoy rock music still illicits blank stares.

This time around saw them performing at The Bungalow in Paisley – one of four smaller gigs they are doing to support Independent Venue Week – and I joined maybe 100 other souls at this sold out gig. Not a venue I’d been in before, but I’d say it would be at capacity at about 150 so it was a bit odd to see so much room for a sold out gig, maybe Monday night syndrome?

I feel sorry for those who had tickets and didn’t show up because they missed a belter of a gig. It was pretty much a showcase for all of their best known tracks, a few they admitted they hadn’t played all that often, and a chance to bed in a new drummer (which is why these smaller gigs probably appealed ahead of a new album and bigger tour next year no doubt).

There is something wonderful about a venue so small that you are feet away from the band, and their ‘stage’ is raised all of 10 inches off the ground. Even standing at the back I could see the band members smiling, laughing, chatting to the audience away from the mics. The type of gig where you feel as involved as the band and the energy flows back and forth.

Band of Skulls are my type of rock band. Heavy at times, but with good tunes and a sense that they don’t take themselves all that seriously, after all it’s only rock and roll (and I like it). There are no 5 minute guitar wank solos either, just tune after pounding tune, and then a sudden calm for a quieter song that hushes the entire venue. Captivating.

Worth a mention were the support act, Vanilla Sky Mistress. A little too snare drum heavy for my liking, it was only towards the end of their set that I realised they had more than two drums on stage… that said with a lead singer who knows how to use her voice (and what a voice!) they could be a name to look out for or, you know, change?

Not a bad way to spend a Monday evening, and a great reminder of the power of connection that you get in a small venue.

bookmark_borderLet the gigs begin

I mentioned the upcoming run of gigs I have and last Friday was the next on the list. I’d been off work a few days beforehand and if I’m honest I probably should’ve stayed at home and rested, but sometimes you just have to push through. YOLO!

And so me and a couple of friends found ourselves enviously eyeing up the clever people who had brought cushions whilst we sat on cold hard concrete and waited for the ever entertaining KT Tunstall to appear on stage at the Kelvingrove Bandstand.

I love this venue (but must remember a cushion next time!). It’s a wonderful little outdoor amphitheatre in the middle of Kelvingrove park, and even though that usually means you have to be prepared for a shower or two, it feels small enough to be intimate but that wide open space to the sky above you that makes everything a little more magical.

We got there in time for the last few songs from the support act – Pictish Trail – who, whilst having plenty of energy, seemed to have forgotten about some slightly more important things like melody…

It was as the sun started to head to the horizon that our tiny hero of the evening strode on stage and after a quick hello launched into Saving My Face. I mention this only as part apology to my friends, on whom I’d foisted a Spotify playlist of tracks in preparation for the gig, as I entirely missed this one!

The full setlist is here but I think she hit the mark with each choice and remains one of the better artists at mixing old songs with new, ohhh and check out that cover version which had everyone screeching their way to those top notes (and my sincerest apologies to Andy Bell for utterly butchering that song in my attempt to mimic his falsetto).

I’ve seen KT a few times, although mostly solo, and it was nice to hear more of the back story of her breakthrough appearance on Jools Holland where she hilariously explained her ‘costume choices’ that day…

And it’s here where she shines. The in-between moments, the casual banter, the bringing together of a disparate group of people – as she points out, never before and never again will that exact group of people be in the same space at the same time – into one big shared experience. Her gigs are all the richer for it and, similar to Guy Garvey, you get the sense that she would be just a cool person to hang with over a pint or three and ohhh boy would there be a lot of laughter!

Personal highlight for me was watching the realisation on the faces of my friends when they figured out what was going on when KT brought out her kazoo during Black Horse and the Cherry Tree (no spoilers but if you’ve seen her live you’ll know!), and I have to admit that during a couple of her slower songs as dusk set in and the spotlit trees behind the stage slowly cycled through a rainbow of colours I felt a real sense of pride and happiness. There I was, watching a talented Scottish artist performing in my dear green place all in the company of my closest friends.

Not a bad way to start off gig season, not a bad way at all.

bookmark_borderTRNSMT Festival : Radiohead

Last Friday I took a day off work to go and walk about Glasgow Green, on the opening day of the inaugural year of TRNSMT Festival.

And no, I don’t know why they don’t like vowels.

The festival ran the entire weekend – with Kasabian and Biffy Clyro the headliners on Saturday and Sunday respectively – but I was happy enough to score a one day ticket, ostensibly to see one of my favourite all-time bands, Radiohead. The last time I saw them was also at Glasgow Green, on a dreich evening with a weird atmosphere, and it was a bit of a disappointment. Not so this time round!

I arrived around 3pm, quickly made it through security (well organised and friendly too) and set about exploring the site just as Everything Everything started their set. Aside from the main stage, there was a second smaller stage sponsored by King Tuts, the Jack Rocks tent (guess the bourbon sponsor for that one), and the Smirnoff DJ bus. Given the size of the site, I think the layout was ideal, it didn’t feel crammed and there weren’t any noticeable pinch points either. Admittedly that may have changed during the downpours on Sunday.

The line-up on Friday was a bit of a mixed bag for my tastes but I was suitably impressed with what I heard from Rag N Bone man (that guy has got a set of pipes) and although London Grammar sounded very beautiful it seemed an odd choice for a main stage (clearly I was in a minority given the crowds). I spent more time in the early afternoon at the King Tuts stage listening to Be Charlotte, Saint Motel, Honne, and Louis Berry. I even managed to squeeze in a couple of wanders back to the Jack Rocks tent (and so discovered The Sundowners and Black Honey).

A minor criticism would be the on-stage timings; It seemed, more than once, that all the live acts finished their sets around the same time meaning there was a lull in proceedings across the site. It was at those times that I, and many others, gravitated towards the thumping bass emanating from the Smirnoff dance bus, hidden away in a wee glade down next to the river, which had a constant stream of DJs lined up.

It was great to see local businesses strongly represented on-site, with many of the food stalls given over to the likes of Marthas and Nomad, and overall it seemed pretty well organised, even if they were a couple of minor last minute fixes going on (one of which to put up some screening round the gents urinals!).

So far, I was enjoying my afternoon, wandering around and soaking in the fun, friendly, atmosphere, itself a nice change from the moronity that T in the Park had become.

And then, all of a sudden, it was time for Radiohead.

First things first, no, they didn’t play Creep. I wasn’t that bothered myself, although it would’ve been good to hear the mass sing-a-long it would have started. Ohhh and they didn’t play Just either, not that anyone seems to mind that (except me).

It was about 9.40pm when they crept on-stage and immediately launched into two tracks from OK Computer; Let Down which worked surprisingly well as a set opener, and then Lucky which soared much higher than it does on the album.

From there they ran the gamut of newer tracks and fan favourites, treating us to the full range of the exploration and sonic devices they’ve toyed with from OK Computer onwards. There, There and 2 + 2 = 5 were nice reminders that when they put their mind to it they are a very good rock band, Ful Stop and Everything In Its Right Place pushing them out into thumping bass driven dance music, all underpinned by that ridiculous voice that seems to be getting better and richer with age.

One thing you cannot say Thom Yorke lacks is emotion (even if it’s very controlled), and whilst the crowd interaction was minimal, the big screens showed his commitment and love of what he was doing with smiles and fond glances out to the crowd. In fact everyone on-stage looked like they were having fun, with pleny of smiles going round from band member to band member. Age changes us all? A happy Radiohead?

Two encores zipped us back to OK Computer, with a huge roar for Paranoid Android and, yes, I shed a tear when they played Fake Plastic Trees* (I always do), and then it was a quick final trip back to The Bends before a rousing send-off with perennial favourite Karma Police, the crowd well enough versed to continue repeating the final refrain as the band left the stage.

And then it was all over and, as I sat on the last bus home I realised just how perfectly that final song had captured my experience. For one day, in the heart of my home city, wandering round a festival site, bumping into friends, chatting to strangers, enjoying cider in the early evening sun, I was transported out of the city and into the festival bubble where I happily lost myself, if only for a few hours.

* bonus, all three Glasto performances sync’d in one video

bookmark_borderKate Tempest

Head slightly bowed, Kate Tempest casts a slightly shy, almost apologetic figure as she walks on stage to a huge roar. After thanking us for being there, and some heartfelt indications of how much she likes the ‘people and soul’ of Glasgow, she pauses and says she has something to ask us.

She’s there to play through her latest album (Let Them Eat Chaos) from start to finish. The tracks will take us through the lives and stories of random strangers living on the same street. She talks of connection, of pushing aside prejudice and hate, and how we need to learn to love more. She asks if we are up for the journey this evening, and if so, ‘let’s leave those phones in pockets, be connected with the people in this space, right here and now’.

And so we did. Phones remained in pockets as she launched into the opening lines of the album and the journey began.

“Picture a vacuum,
an endless and unmoving blackness.
Peace,
or the absence at least,
of terror.”

Backed by stripped down, bass heavy electronica, at times she whispers, at times she howls and rants against the injustices of the world. Her lyrics are clever when they need to be, quiet and simple when they should be, and bombastically rhythmic when she hits her stride to deliver her strongest words. She is much more powerful on stage than via recording, her passions laid bare, honest and open, inviting you to join her in the revelations.

I was transfixed, veering from admiration of her wordplay, the dexterity of her delivery, and lost in the throbbing pulse of the music. It was only at the end of the hour long set that I realised I had half-full pint of beer still warming in my hand.

Sure, at times her lyrics were a little lost in the larger sound, and sometimes I found myself more lost in the music than the words, but it’s been a long time since I was at a gig and didn’t even realise an hour had passed.

Maybe it was because I wasn’t distracted by anaemic flashes from mobile phones, maybe it’s because everyone around me was similarly taken with what was happening, a collective slow build of joy in a shared experience.

Maybe it’s the sensibility she lays bare that tells us love will see us through, that shared experiences can bring mankind together, that at some point humanity will find a way to rise above the current mood, that we will fight to recover our sanity, and must fight to rid ourselves of fear and self-loathing.

Or maybe it was all of that and more, a perfect overlap of audience desire and artist delivery. Regardless of the why, if you have tickets for her tour I really hope you enjoy it as much as I did.