The Winter Mountain Band @ The Birdcage – 28.04.2010

It’s against our fundamental British nature to go for a mixed bag. Look at the furore that Revels cause. It lacks guarantee. I’m not saying that we haven’t evolved slightly into the mosaic of cultures that we can enjoy today, but most of us will still have Turkey at Christmas.
Sometimes it takes hold of me, and tonight, I’m obviously feeling British as I approach the Birdcage for one of their regular Wednesday night Cabarets. My best friend is compere this evening. “Who’s on the bill”, I ask, already warming my facial muscles up for a committed frown. “Erm, comedy, poetry… and music – you like music”. Lou approaches the topic with the tentative fixed grin that people will address me with 70 years from now. “Shall we put you near the window, Emma? Next to Jennifer – you like Jennifer”. My aged frustration will make me want to punch Jennifer in the throat.
There’s three parts to tonight’s proceedings, with a total of 8 acts doing a turn. It takes all night until the Redeemer comes to save me in the form of the only musical act of the evening, The Winter Mountain Band. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some sour old affected critic, it’s just I like the coffee ones so much that I find it hard to satisfy myself with the raisin and peanut. I already start to thaw with the engaging comic poetry of Kansas export, Will Averill. He manages to rally the dwindling audience into shanty participation, with a canon of “He’s coming to stop the gays – The Pope – He’s coming to stop the gays – Gaaaaaays”. Even as we’re tiring, it whips us into a juvenile spin and I realise with Averill at the helm, I’d chant bloody anything. Nick Griffin ought to consider a ceilidh or something. And so like a comedy twister – we’ll call him Kansas Will – he whips through the room and then we’re left pulling ourselves together at the end.
To the moment I’m waiting for – and didn’t even know it. The Winter Mountain Band sit at their seats, a piano, guitar and microphone apiece and introduce themselves with calm assurance. It feels good to see confidence. There seems to be a trend at the moment – especially among the poetic cartel tonight – of socially awkward boys that sound like they need a separate classroom or they might wet themselves. They dive into first song ‘Sorrow’ and I’m enchanted. I let it wash over me and get filled with an unshakeable calm. It’s a sharp contradiction to the united crowd that we’d formed for Averill’s set as the room shrinks and becomes just me and the music. I’m instantly reminded of the Americana stylings of Fleet Foxes and Midlake with their tight vocal harmonies and luscious rural melodies, but something else that I can’t place yet. They turn to a bit of preamble before the next song and introduce themselves further; from Ireland and Cornwall respectively, they met on a train from Chicago – one headed east, one headed west and by the end of their journey had plotted their plan to form a band. It’s an enthralling concept. I want to know more about that train journey and how the inexact science of fate drove that particular carriage down the track.
The idea of these independent troubadours put me in mind of ‘Ventura Highway’ by America and Glen Campbell’s ‘Wichita Lineman’, and there I realised the missing influence being late 60s, early 70s folk rock. I hope they like Fleetwood Mac. There’s something also to Joe Francis’ (I later learn their names) style that identifies the Cornish folk tradition – although Seth Lakeman crosses the border in Devon, there’s the same contradictive modern / trad-folk element.
Treating us to three more of their own songs, I’m sold. Then to the last, and they embark upon what I intuitively knew would be a Fleetwood Mac cover – two chords in and I’m positive. A stirring rendition of ‘Dreams’ was the perfect ending. They managed to reclaim that song from the fucking Corrs. I scrabble around for pennies at the end of the gig to lay my mitts on an EP from the band, a sure testament as unsigned EPs get flung in my direction daily.
The good news – they’re sticking in Norwich for a couple of days and play Micawber’s Tavern tomorrow night (Fri 30^th April). Let them own you for a night.

Emma Roberts

Wednesday night's Redeemer

I still hate Facebook (mostly)

Although I kind of like the idea of being some kind of Norwich live music Nazi, telling everyone what gigs to go to every month, it’s starting to get a bit lonely writing Liveline on my own. There’s loads of us Outline writers out there and I thought it would be good to see what gigs everyone else thought would be worth going to. But every time I brought this subject up, I was met with the same response: ‘Get on Facebook – that’s where it all happens.’

You see, I’ve never had a Facebook account. I find it awkward enough avoiding people in real life. I work in a popular local pub, which means that everyone within half a mile of where I live knows who I am. Now don’t get me wrong, I think that people are okay – some of my best friends are people – but sometimes I just like a bit of anonymity. Is that so wrong?

So the internet has always been something of a haven for me, where no-one knows what I’m up to. And, oh God, you really don’t want to know what I’m up to there.

But anyway, against my better judgement, yesterday I signed up for a Facebook account, and within a few hours all my worst fears became a reality. “Would you like to look for other Outline Magazine writers?” chirped some mysterious Facebook voice. WTF? (I had a brief flirtation with Twitter last year too) I didn’t tell you I wrote for Outline. You bastards. And what’s this? You want me to be friends with my mum? How do you even know her? Does my dad know about this? Oh Christ, he does! There he is, under “suggestions”.

I wrote a gently sardonic blurb under a picture of my reluctant-to-join-Facebook face. It goes like this: “This page has been set for Outline Magazine stuff. I did it reluctantly (observe my reluctant face). If you are someone else, then I probably won’t be friends with you on Facebook, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t think you’re cool.” This didn’t help. Two hours later, I had seven friend requests. Only one of them was someone from Outline.

Much of my spare time yesterday was spent sending Facebook messages to a bunch of people – people who I actually do think are pretty cool – that say things like “Um, maybe you didn’t read the blurb that I wrote but I’m not gonna be Facebook friends with you. I’d still like to be real life friends with you though.” I got some enlightening replies, messages back that said stuff like, “That’s ok, stick to your guns” and “Sorry, it’s those evil Facebook grubbers suggesting your name.”

Is it me or do all you Facebook people hate it too? A little bit, I mean. Another of my mates who contacted me yesterday wrote this: “What’s scary though (and also why I get the reluctance to join) is that we have no friends in common yet you came up on my friends suggestions! How did it know I knew you?!?! Scary shit indeed.” Last night I had another peek at my account, and found a compromising photo of one of my new “friends” that someone else had tagged with her name. This was hastily removed, but not before I had clicked on it. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t normally do something like that, It just seems to me that Facebook breeds creepiness. Before this, I’d already found myself casually cyberstalking a girl I quite like. I’m disgusting. We’re all disgusting. We’re living in a world where violation of everyone else’s privacy is normal and – what’s worse – we’re all complicit.

But I do get the attraction. I’ve so far managed to resist filling in my profile information, but I don’t know how long I can hold out. I love talking about myself – I’ve just spent the last half hour doing it right here – but I’ve always thought of it as a negative character trait, not something to embrace. Also, I’m going out for a drink in a few weeks with my friend Vicki, who I haven’t seen in ages, because she contacted me on Facebook. Oh God, please don’t let me become one of… them

Gig Preview: The Great Shakes take over Norwich Puppet Theatre!

The Great Shakes, who are undoubtedly one of Norwich’s best indie pop rock offerings, are taking over The Puppet Theatre with a very special gig on Saturday 3rd April in just a couple of weeks time.

It’s been a busy year for The Great Shakes so far, with lots of high profile support slots around the city, and some great shows in London too. Their brilliant and infectious sounds are rightfully seeing them gain new fans and more and more recognition, locally and beyond.

Join them at Norwich Puppet Theatre on Saturday 3rd April – tickets available here. Support comes from The Loyal Few and James Eliot Taylor, and you’ll find all the information you could ever possibly want to know via this Facebook Event.

Introducing Sarah Class and ‘A New Dawn’

The folk pop genre has thrown up some great artists in recent years, and as more of them emerge, the genre changes. Sarah Class is an example of a hybrid version of folk pop – more folk-inspired acoustic pop music than anything relating to folk in its traditional form, her tunes are perfectly nice, and seem like the sort of thing you’d expect to hear on Radio 2 any day of the week.

Prior to beginning her career in mainstream music, Sarah established herself as a successful classical musician, being nominated for BRIT and EMMY awards, and working with Sir George Martin – the renowned producer behind The Beatles. A pretty impressive musical CV!

Her debut EP ‘A New Dawn’ is released on March 15th through Glorious Technicolour Records and can be ordered/pre-ordered via her official website http://www.sarahclass.com/ – and she’s even donating £1 from every single CD sale to the World Land Trust charity. Listen to her songs before you buy via MySpace, and download a free track not included on the EP here.

Introducing Johnny Flynn

Beautiful nu-folk darling Johnny Flynn is an artist I first encountered at Norwich Arts Centre back in September 2008 – a brilliant gig, and one that made me a longterm fan of Johnny’s after just one show. His debut album ‘A Larum’ was a big hit, and he’ll be releasing its follow up this year.

Between the two albums, Johnny recently released a short EP of four tracks to coincide with an ultra-intimate solo tour of 100-capacity venues before Christmas. All the dates sold out, of course, and every review – of both the EP and live performances – was beaming.

This week, Johnny has announced a UK tour to happen in May, a European tour supporting Mumford & Sons and appearances at the prestigious SXSW event in the USA. Full details of all of the above are available on his MySpace page.

All is go, and I can’t wait to hear the new album. You can hear ‘Been Listening’, a song expected to be on the new release, by clicking here.

TweeOFF!

Has anyone heard of tweecore? Got a tweecore playlist on your iPod have you? Have you? No, and why not? Because it’s an absurd name for a genre, made up by music journalists (real ones that is, not pretend ones like me) and it doesn’t really exist, that’s why not.

The concoction of ever more ridiculous genre descriptions such as tweecore or – I don’t know – mathstep maybe, or shit-hop – whatever – enraged a bunch of music fans at Norwich Arts Centre so much that they decided to do something about it. That was how the NAC’s sometimes monthly, sometimes not, live music event series TweeOFF! came into being. Its aims are simple. Since music genres are essentially irrelevant now – except to the people who write about them – it makes a lot more sense just to bring bands that are doing something, anything, fun and exciting to the people in Norwich who are into fun and excitement.
In the year or so that TweeOFF! has been operating, they’ve managed to seduce an impressive list of names into Norwich, including Scottish band Errors (coming up 12th March) and LA based Health, who later said that their gig at the NAC was the best date on their tour. Bands like coming to Norwich. We underestimate ourselves. We get so used to missing out on our favourite bands when they tour that we somehow think that they don’t want to come here. ‘Band members: us and you,’ is scrawled on TweeOFF!’s MySpace page. ‘If we build it they will come’

And this is the beauty of TweeOFF! They recognise the importance of the relationship between band and audience. It’s two way. Health performed much of their set at the NAC from within the crowd; B K and Dad played a set from the side of the room. ‘We like to give the audience something they’re not expecting.’ Anyone checking out the Errors gig this month may be in for something even more outlandish from local electronica act Sukoshi.
Whereas many of the bands playing at other venues in Norwich are somewhere on the gentle decline from glory (I didn’t mention any names, Reef; don’t get so paranoid), TweeOFF! Specifically look for bands that are still excited about performing live, and will therefore be exciting to watch. You should probably start going – see you on the 12th.

Bearsuit @ St Andrews Hall – 06.02.10

by Maxie Gedge

There are many reasons why Bearsuit continue to be a good meter above most other bands from Norwich on the ‘good-ness scale’, the main one being their prolific and consistent songwriting. In fact, I would go as far to say that with each new song they write, they inch closer and closer to genius territory.

Having hiked through the most turbulent of musical existences, adding and subtracting members here and there, Bearsuit have always managed to keep a solid core who relentlessly ruin every audience that comes their way, effortlessly skipping through new styles, approaches and instruments. Tonight, their Haiti benefit gig at St. Andrews Hall is possibly the strangest time I have seen them, and probably the strangest time I have seen any band. In a massive church where the likes of The Who, Jimi Hendrix and The Beatles have played, Bearsuit are dwarfed by organs, stained glass and crucifixes, and are preceded by a Norfolkian mismatched and apparently bored reggae band. There are kids running around screaming, and a man stoned at the front with flight goggles on waving flags around his head like it’s some sort of art. The room is decked out with massive circular tables and old people, and I’m drinking Strongbow from the can. Something’s not right.

And even when Bearsuit come on and I stand up, it kind of feels like we have all been cut out of comfortableness and pasted into some jokers tea party. The sound echoes around the huge hall, but with minor bass adjustments (louder! louder!), they lock into place, really get going, and knock everyone for six. 

So then all the weirdness starts to make sense. Bearsuit push and push us all to the edge of our tastes, and leave us hanging there, in tantalising and exciting nihilism. One of their newest, ‘Train Wreck’ is a brilliant song that seduces you softly and then betrays you and butt-fucks you with dirty shouty catchy abrasiveness. And I love it. There seems to be a lot of sleazy 80s disco creeping out of their sound, and with the rhythm section tighter than a good fisting, it just makes everyone dance. Hard. And all the hooks! At any one time, Bearsuit are throwing so many interesting and brilliant hooks out there; your average band would cut off limbs for any one of them.

The new album, The Phantom Forest is out in October. It’s produced by Gareth Parton, and after tonight’s preview, I promise it will have you singing “we’ve got to get together, we’ve got to get together, we’ve got to get together, we’ve got to get it on” till the world ends.

NROne Records 5th Birthday Party @ NAC – 12.02.10

by Dan Bleksley

If you’re anything like me then you’re probably a bit sick of everything that’s written about Norwich music referencing that NME future 50 list from last year – you know, the one that says that Norwich is the “home of real indie”. Is it? I thought. Is it really? It was a bit like a guest praising you for the delicious dinner that you thought was burned.

I’ve been following local music for a long time now, and maybe I’m just a little jaded, but I’ve come to think of Norwich as being a perennial underachiever in music. Norwich is the stoner with an MA in English literature and the potential to do anything, rolling another fat one on the sofa whilst watching daytime repeats of Come Dine With Me on More 4. You see, while there are undeniably some fantastic bands in the city, I’d like to challenge anyone from outside Norfolk to name one.

I’d love to be proven wrong though. I want my belief in Norwich indie music back. Tonight the NAC hosts the fifth birthday celebration of NROne, a label that got special mention in that NME article. NROne have done as much as anyone to promote local music, so this should be a pretty good chance for me to get excited again.

Sadly, on this occasion, that doesn’t happen.

I don’t want to be hasty, but come on. Look. The Kabeedies, for example. It’s not just me, is it? They look like a bunch of Blue Peter presenters and young bank cashiers letting off steam. Or maybe like a Christian rock band. They sound like one as well. “Life isn’t like that, so why not relax?” they yelp in unison. I mean okay, they’re really tight and their sound is crisp and precise. I’m not saying they’re terrible – cause they’re not – but please. When I hear a young guitar band, I want to be properly kicked in the balls by them. These Ghosts and The Barlights are a similar affair. Yeah they’re good, sure, but I’m bored. Violet Violet are better, but maybe a bit too oblique for the indie crowd and lacking any real immediacy.

The Brownies are the one exception. Any more ball-kicking from them and I wouldn’t be able to walk for a week. Vocalist Sophie Little owns that stage, with an unruly blend of aggression and mischief. Twins Stevie and Maxie Gedge (eagle-eyed readers may recognise that name) by contrast look like they’ve been transported straight out of an early Hole video, stooped over guitars, all sullen and moody. More of this please. A night with the twins is promised to anyone who can identify the song that they’re about to cover (it was a Yeah Yeah Yeahs tune by the way – no offense for not being vocal about that, ladies, only I was a little scared of what might happen). Listen to The Brownies here. Do it now. They’re looking like the band most likely to escape Norwich and make a success of themselves.

But that’s kind of the problem: the desire to escape. Several years ago, back when I was in a band that was trying to escape Norwich, I was playing a gig at Sound in Leicester Square. After we played, someone asked me if we were from Norwich. I asked her how she could tell and she replied, “You know. You have that Norwich sound.” Somehow that was the worst thing she could have said. I thought that we’d worked pretty hard not to have that Norwich sound and, in retrospect, that’s probably why we weren’t all that good. We can champion Norwich all we like, but nobody really wants to be thought of as a Norwich band.

Here’s what I think: cities like Manchester, like Bristol or Liverpool – cities that have had great influential music scenes – are cities in which bands listen to each other. Each of the bands here tonight, as talented as they may be, don’t really sound like they do that. They might have “that Norwich sound”, but that’s only because they’re writing music in the same place. In terms of their intentions, Violet Violet are nothing like the Barlights or any of the other bands on the line-up. Sure, Norwich is a small city, and it’s geographically isolated – perhaps making for a slightly stagnant musical gene pool -  but I’ll be surprised if it gains the recognition that so many journalists are predicting if we don’t start seeing bands being influenced by other Norwich bands. Maybe then, I’ll get that kicking in the balls a bit more frequently. Listen to The Brownies. Listen to Death of Death of Discotheque (I wrote good things about them here). Norwich, I know you can do better.

Introducing: Vagabond

I first encountered Vagabond in the middle of Thetford Forest last summer, when they supported James Morrison on his Forestry Commission Tour. I was totally captivated, which led me to see the band again – just two months later, this time headline, in the far more intimate confines of Norwich Arts Centre. Again, they were utterly astounding.

One of my favourite tracks, and indeed the title track of the promo CD that landed on my desk recently, was ‘Sweat (Until The Morning)’. It’s an excellent, energetic and naughty little pop song that serves as the perfect introduction to these talented gents. You can listen to an acoustic version of the song and see the guys performing below.

The Guardian has said that Vagabond “could be the world’s biggest new band”, and indeed the energy about these guys – both on stage and recorded – makes me inclined to agree in full.

You can buy their debut album ‘You Don’t Know The Half Of It’ from all good retailers, including Amazon.co.uk via this link.

Introducing: Alessi’s Ark

This next Thursday 18th February sees the lovely Alessi’s Ark visit Norwich for the first time for an ultra-intimate gig at The Birdcage. In celebration, both of the upcoming gig and her latest EP ‘Soul Proprietor’ which is out in April, we thought we’d bring you a little more information about Alessi along with an MP3 track for your listening pleasure…

Alessi’s Ark became an outlet for Alessi Laurent-Marke in 2007 when she was just 16 years old. She signed to Virgin Records on the eve of her 17th Birthday and was instantly whisked away to Nebraska, USA to work with Bright Eyes producer Mike Mogis on her debut album. The album was finally released in April 2009.

Since its release, Alessi has played live in the UK, Europe and the USA with everyone from Mumford & Sons to Jake Bellows (of Neva Dinova fame) to Emiliana Torrini. She has been championed by allsorts of notable publications – from For Folk’s Sake through to The Guardian.

The MP3 track below, ‘The Horse’ was featured on Alessi’s early ‘The Horse EP’ and is also on her debut album, ‘Notes From The Treehouse’. Tickets for the Norwich gig this Thursday are available for £5 (advance) here: http://www.wegottickets.com/event/70118.

MP3: Alessi’s Ark – The Horse